#so this one goes out to my fellow naughties

[abusivelittlebunny]

Merry Christmas! (If you celebrate)

Boldog Karácsonyt és Kellemes ünnepeket kívánok minden virgács virágnak ♡

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

The Naughty Nanny Chapter 2

Summary:  Bucky had a lovechild from a one night stand.  He barely even remembered it, and was surprised to find a baby on his doorstep 9 months later.  But one look at that little girl and he knew she was his and that he’d die for her.  The only problem was, he knew nothing about babies, and being an Avenger meant he couldn’t just drop everything and be a dad full time.  Then he found the perfect nanny…or so he thought.

**In this universe Steve never left, Tony never died.** **curvy reader** Warnings: talk of sexual harassment, unwanted/non-consensual touching/sexual assault, eventual smut

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“Stupid…fucking…UGH!”  Y/N grunted as she plopped down hard onto the stool in front of the vanity mirror.  She tugged her tall heels off and threw them down on the ground, then pulled the dollar bills from every nook and cranny on her body that she had tucked them into.

“Don’t tell me, he’s here again,” Tiffany, a fellow dancer, sighed and rolled her eyes as she applied more lipstick in the mirror next to her.

“Yes,” Y/N said curtly.  She turned to her mirror and started wiping off her makeup harshly.  “I’m done.  I can’t do this anymore.”

“Officially this time?” Tiffany gave her an unimpressed look.

“Yes, officially.  You just missed the screaming match I had with Benny,” Y/N said, flashing a triumphant smile.  “I quit.”

“Girl, good for you.  Get out of here.  He’s been hounding you for months.  Save yourself,” Tiffany congratulated her with a proud smile.  “What are you going to do now though?”

“I’ve been sending out my resume to a bunch of places.  I got a message from a company about a nannying job.  My interview is tomorrow morning,” Y/N rattled off as she finished wiping off her excessive makeup and shoved her things into her bag.

“You didn’t put this place down did you?” Tiffany asked incredulously.

“Are you crazy?” Y/N laughed.  

Tiffany laughed with her.  “Did you cash out?” she asked as she stood when her cue rang through the backstage intercom.

“Yep.  And hey,” Y/N stood and reached out for a hug.  Tiffany smiled and embraced her.  “You should get out of here, too.  Or go apply somewhere else.  This place isn’t worth it.  He’s not worth it.  It’s not…safe.”

“I know, I’m working on it,” Tiffany said and gave her one final squeeze.  “Text me how your interview goes.”

“I will,” Y/N agreed and hefted her bag onto her shoulder.  “Good luck.”

***

Bucky was up early and ready to go.  He handed Winnie off to Steve so he could finally watch the interviews with potential nannies.  The interviewing process was taking months, with Tony insisting on extensive background checks and finding “the best of the best” as he called it.  Bucky was needed on certain missions, and desperately needed help at night to get the rest for said missions.  Pepper was the head of HR so she would be conducting interviews, while he and Sam watched in the next room with a reflective window between them.

“How many interviews are there?” Sam asked, settling into his chair and opening a bag of candy.

“Eight,” Bucky answered, settling himself down as well while thumbing through the folders of the candidates.

“Ugh, what a great day it’s gonna be,” Sam groaned.

“You don’t have to stay and watch,” Bucky shot back at him.

“I’m an uncle, I know what’s needed for good childcare,” Sam said.

“Sure.  Weren’t you the one who lost Cass at Coney Island a few weeks ago?” Bucky replied.

Sam narrowed his eyes.  “He was perfectly safe.”

“And lost.  At a huge outdoor amusement park.  In New York City.  I wonder how Sarah–”

“Hey!  You said you’d keep quiet!” Sam admonished, throwing a few pieces of candy at him.

Bucky caught one and popped it in his mouth.  “Keep it up, Birdman, and she’s gonna learn about AJ trying out your wings.”  Sam glared at him and sat back quietly.  “That’s what I thought, ‘uncle of the year,’” he smiled mischievously.  

Pepper stepped into the next room with a young man and had him sit down.  “Man whatever.  It’s starting,” Sam griped as he watched the interview.

Bucky was bored by the third interview.  He’d read each candidate’s profile and reviewed their background checks thoroughly, but so far each of them just didn’t seem to have what he was looking for.  He wasn’t even sure what he wanted, just someone who seemed like they could take care of Winnie but also care for her personally.  

“Lucky number seven,” Sam chimed as Pepper shook a woman’s hand.

Bucky looked up from the folder and did a double take.  The woman had a wide, pleasant smile, her plump cheeks making her eyes squint.  She was short next to Pepper’s tall frame, and plus size, her curves slightly jiggling as she walked and took a seat across from her.  She was beautiful and exuded a confidence and self-assurance that made him watch her more carefully.  

“And how do you pronounce your name?”  Pepper asked.

“Y/N,” she answered.  He even liked her voice, soft spoken but firm.  

“She’s pretty,” Sam remarked, seeing the look on Bucky’s face.

“Yeah,” Bucky agreed quietly, leaning forward in his chair.

Pepper asked her a number of questions.  “So it says here you got your degree in early childhood education with a minor in music, you were working in a daycare for about ten years, and all your daycare certifications are still up to date.  Is there a reason for your gap in employment on your resume?”  Pepper inquired.

“Yes, I, uh…” Y/N paused, looking down at her hands.  The confident facade slightly slipped as she bit her lip hesitantly.  “I was looking after my mother for a few years, and taking whatever odd jobs I could.  When she died I couldn’t find anything in child care again.  Everything was full.  The job market has been rough the last few years since the Blip,” she replied.  She met Pepper’s stare.  “I’m going to be completely honest with you because, well,” she gestured to the facility around her.  “You guys either know already or will find out.  Um…I was working at a burlesque club before this.”

Sam sputtered, looking down at her folder again.  Bucky’s eyes widened.  Pepper showed no sign of surprise.  “Really?” she asked.  

“Yes.  I’ve always loved the art of burlesque and thought I’d give it a try.  That being said, it was a toxic work environment and I felt unsafe, so I started applying to other places.  I understand if that pulls me out of the running, since it’s not exactly a very ‘upscale’ type of job to have, or could cast a not-so-pleasant light on an institution like the Avengers–”

“Not necessarily,” Pepper chuckled.  “I mean, we have the likes of Tony Stark here, so it’s not that scandalous.”

“True!” Y/N laughed.  “No offense to your husband, of course.”

“None taken,” Pepper laughed with her.  “Of course I’m just the middle man, the parent looking for childcare will make the final decision.”

“Of course,” Y/N agreed, her eyes flicking to the glass behind Pepper.  Bucky almost flinched, realizing she knew someone was watching.

“Otherwise, your resume looks good, and I have no other questions.  We’ll reach out to you with a decision by the end of the week,” Pepper said as she stood.

Y/N quickly stood with her, offering another smile and shaking her hand.  “Thank you.  I look forward to hearing from you.”

As she left the room she looked back at the window and flashed a knowing smile, waving at the people she couldn’t see.  Bucky almost waved back but stopped himself.  “Huh, I like her,” Sam said as he watched her leave.  

“Me, too,” Bucky said, a small smirk growing on his face.

@angelbabyyy99 @capswife @julvrs @bellabarnes1378 @mostlymarvelgirl @mega-kittyglitter-1 @buckitostan @drdbnkl2008 @wintrsoldrluvr @danzer8705

[toxictigertonic]

Hiii soeey for bothering u but do u have any Mother gooseberry and franco hcs? Those 2 have been in my head all day

I have infinite headcanons that I can spit out about these two. Coyle is a little harder bc sometimes all I can think about is beating him up for the funnies, but these two? They make up my brain chemistry.

MOTHER GOOSEBERRY

- Reagents picked up on the "the goose in on the loose" line and will now use that to tell their fellow reagents that she's out and about.

- Sweet tooth, but not to the same level as Franco. She likes cakes and pies and cookies and will choose those first over anything else, while he goes for candy and sugary drinks.

- I'm projecting here but she LOVES cinnamon. The only complaint she's ever gotten about one of her baked goods was there being too much cinnamon. She had to politely explain that that simply wasn't possible, and then Futterman had to explain that they needed to shut the fuck up, and then shut the fuck up.

- She likes to hum to herself a lot. I feel like she hums and sings whenever it's too quiet and Futterman gets mad she just won't let there be silence.

- Massive fan of comfy sweaters. She likes the light fabric of her blouse but a good comfy sweater is where it's at for her.

- Her favorite season is spring! She also likes winter (for the cozy sweaters and baked goods, obvi), but spring is when everything comes to life. Futterman would eat a bee though.

- She loves to sniff flowers but I think she'd have allergies :( But the funny thing is she's not the one who sneezes, it's Futterman.

- Likes the thought of having her nails painted but as soon as they chip she's gotta take all of the polish off. Partially nervous picking, partially bc she thinks it looks bad.

- If she's not feeling absolutely bloodthirsty and catches you she just picks you up by the back of the neck and holds you there. Naughty reagents go in air jail.

- Has a collection of pretty skirts but she feels like she never has anywhere nice to wear them. Someone let her show off her nice skirts.

- This woman is a lesbian and I will not be debating. Futterman says some... awful things about it. Damn homophobic goose.

FRANCO

- Even though he tells you to watch the suit, he knows that thing is a mess. Having something nice on just makes him feel a little less ugly and you BETTER not ruin it.

- Cuddles with Lupara sometimes, it brings him comfort even if it's genuinely uncomfortable.

- Winking at him if he catches you in a hiding spot will get you a 5 second head start to run for your life. God help you if he catches you though, you don't play with his feelings like that and get away with it.

- Would have, without a doubt, been the kid who tried to drink a spoonful of vanilla extract bc it smelled good.

- Would also eat a spoonful of sugar but he'd actually enjoy that. He's not kidding about that sweet tooth.

- I don't care WHAT the game shows, this man is itty bitty. 5 foot 3 at best. I'm leveling this playing field, give us our short king Red Barrels!

- His hearing is bad on the side with the visible injuries. It's why he shoots first when he hears a noise, he doesn't know what the hell he just heard and he'd rather be safe than sorry.

- Has a hard time keeping what he's drinking off of his shirt or from running down his chin. Not like he's trying to be elegant when he drinks that cocktail.

- If you offered him skim milk he'd kill you on the spot. This is a WHOLE MILK HOUSEHOLD.

- I don't think his "mommy" would need to be a woman tbh. I think fulfilling the mothering role would be enough for him most of the time. Besides, tiddy is tiddy.

It's so tempting to put in all my silly headcanons for Franco bc I love him but I will refrain from the Cringe

[holylulusworld]

So Y/N is almost done preparing her world famous pie which the whole gang loves. She puts the portion on different plates and goes to the kitchen table and puts one in front of charlie, one for Sam, one for Cas, one for Jack who looks at the plate like a 5 year old looks at disneyland for first time in real. And finally she puts the final plate in front of Dean with a little more thud and takes her seat.

Y/N- Oh Guys plz dig in…I hope you all like it!!

Cas- Yes Y/N, i must say it is very delicious, i would like to share the recipe with my fellow angel friends in heaven.. If you don’t mind ofcourse

Y/N- Yes ofcourse Cas, thank you, well i hope everyone in heaven atleast likes it and not like on earth!

*she gives a annoyed side look to Dean and goes back to eating*

Dean on other hand is staring at her plate, a plate which has a burnt toast on it rather than a pie. He looks at Sam giving him an expression with Sam reciprocating him with only an apologetic look. It is now he realises he was in huge trouble.

“Oh god dean , plz don’t stop” says Y/N as he makes her way down to her body, now ascending peppering kisses up her thigh.

“Can i take these off babe?” he asks tugging at hem of her shorts.

“Yes plz” she says whimpering, her whole body on her but also because she has a surprise planned underneath those shorts for him.

Finally after dragging her shorts off her body, agonisingly slow whilst no taking his lust blown eyes off her, he keeps on sucking his way till he reached to his prize. Kissing on top of her soaked panties “ Baby”, he goes in again and smells something fruity, well it is a fruit for him, that he loves to eat *wink wink* but why does her panties smell like his favourite apple pie. “ Babe?” he asks Y/N who has her eyes closed and fists balled in pleasure “Yeah Dean” she replies with a low voice. When he doesn’t reply she open her eyes and looks up to caught him staring confusingly between her legs . “ Babe , not that i mind, but why do my 🐱smells like apple pie.

She sits up nervously, “Oh Actually Dean, these are edible panties, and i, actually i ordered them in this flavour just for you…you know because apple pi…” before she could complete her sentence, Dean starts laughing “ Oh my God Y/N, an apple pie edible panties, that’s so fucking hilarious” . He continues to laugh not noticing how Y/N’s face drops in embarrassment. He didn’t mean to make fun of her, i mean his favourite pie and her 🐱, it was like a Heaven for Dean, but he was so caught up in the moment, he didn’t even notice Y/N get up and get dressed. His laughter dies out when he sees her finally.

Dean- Hey, why are you dressed babe?…i haven’t eaten yet..like literally

And he burst into laughter again which only stopped when he heard the door slammed shut and Y/N no where to be found

And the realisation dawned upon Dean

“Bollocks”

Charlie’s voice brings him back to current

“oh my god Y/N, this is so fucking delicious, damm girl, you are so good”

“thanks charlie, i have got some left in the fridge and since you appreciate it so much, it’s all yours”

Y/N replies to charlie hugging her, while giving Dean her death stare.

Dean looks down at his well Burn Toast Pie and knows he has to do something. FAST!!

🤓🤓🤓🤓

Oh Shucks!!!

Who is gonna help Deano

Sam?

Charlie?

Cas?

Jack…uhm no i guess

Or maybe Lulu?🤔🤔

Aw, I loved it. ♥♥♥ It was so funny seeing Dean pie-less.

He only got burned toast...OMG. My beloved pie enthusiast didn't get pie.

Dean, you fool. You don't laugh if your girl tries to do something sexy/naughty for you.

How can we fix this?

---

The only way to get back in your good graces is to apologize and do something special for you.

So, Dean was looking online for eatable thongs for him to wear. 😈

He placed candles all over your shared room, and put on your favorite romantic music.

Dean will try to make things up to you tonight. And maybe, you'll get to taste his eatable thong too...🥵

[caffeinatedowlbear]

Some Mercenary Day Lore, courtesy of yours truly

Merry Mercenary Day to all you Vault Hunters and corporate scum-- *checks notes* Ahem, I meant to say: season's greetings, esteemed fellow capitalists and dirty bandits!

Much as I wanted to get the new L&F(A) chapter to you guys by now, I'm still editing. It's a big one, in every sense of the word. But it'll be worth the wait, I promise. (Said the author of the 300k slow burn.)

In the meantime, I thought I'd share a couple of BL holiday myths I made up as and when writing called for it!

The Reason for the Season

According to Marcus Kincaid, Mercenary Day was invented by the the Dahl Corporation. But Rhys, who claims to have done extensive research, says that the holiday actually goes back a long way. Its real origins, somewhere on Old Earth, are lost to history, but it is widely considered a time to be with your family. It can be biological family, or family of choice, but either way, this is a day to spend with people who’d be there even if you weren’t paying them.

The Holiday Sweaters

Once again, as per Rhys's findings, gifting and wearing decorated sweaters on Mercenary Day is a tradition that goes back a few centuries, to early colonization of the six galaxies. As courageous space explorers of yore had set out to forge new frontiers, their tearful parents back on Old Earth would send handmade sweaters to them halfway across the galaxy, to remind them of home and keep them warm as they conquered the stars.

The Honest Mercenary

Considered by many the spirit of Mercenary Day, the Honest Mercenary can bring you good or bad luck in the coming year, depending on whether you've been naughty or nice: by mercenary standards, of course, where 'nice' means honoring the contract to your original employer unless the competitor outbids them by 100% or more. It is customary to leave out whiskey and bullets casings for the Honest Merc, and if they're gone by morning, you can rest easy: he's decided you deserve good luck (and good aim!) in the coming year. (If you're worried you might've been a bit too naughty, don't lose hope! Remember that, honest or not, the man is still a mercenary, so you can always try to bribe him with the most expensive booze you can find.)

Hope you enjoyed these lore-lets! And if you haven't read my holiday-themed Rhack fic Meet Me Halfway, in which Rhys and Jack keep trying to steal a Mercenary Day market from each other, no time like the present-> this way for fic.

💰🔫💰 Merry Mercenary Day! 💰🔫💰

[amplesalty]

Christmas 2024 - Day 2 - Violent Night (2022)

On the second day of Christmas my true love gave to me...

...two snifters of brandy!

Much like Red One is getting a lot of attention this year (though apparently not so much at the box office), I recall there being a lot of talk around Violent Night a couple of years ago and, whilst I didn't see it at the time, it was one I tucked away in the back of my mind to cover on here. I probably had it earmarked to watch last year actually but, you know, old twofer over here had to skip out early. With the name and move poster I was initially worried this might be a horror movie that I'd have to put off until next year but this falls into the action genre with some comedy mixed in. Director Tommy Wirkola is someone I have stashed on the horror list in the shape of 2009's Dead Snow but looking at his other work, 'Spermageddon' might have just earned a place on my watchlist as well from the name alone. Violent Night opens with a disgruntled mall Santa taking a quick break on Christmas Eve to knock back a few brewskis and rant to a fellow patron about 'those damn kids' who don't even believe in the spirit of Christmas anymore, they're just take, take, take and only want Santa so he can deliver them some video games. As Alfred once taught us, there's a lot of bad isms floating around this world but one of the worst is commercialism. Erm, actually, I'm pretty sure racism is worse but maybe that's just me. The bar tender thinks she's going to have a job on her hands when he goes to leave but ends up taking a door that leads to the roof. When she goes to find him, she finds the roof empty but up in the sky…could it be?!

It is!

The majesty is lost a little when he promptly throws up seconds later, his chunks landing squarely on her head.

Meanwhile, seperated couple Jason, Linda and their daughter Trudy are visiting Jason's family home for the holiday's and it proves to be an icy affair despite being surrounded by such oppulence. As part of the wealthy Lightstone family, Jason's sister is vying to be the center of attention in their mother's eyes in the hope of being selected as the next in line to run the family business and inherit the power and wealth that comes with that title.

Santa just so happens to be passing back and makes his way down one of the many fireplaces in this grand mansion but, much like John McClane in Die Hard, Santa is in the wrong place at the wrong time as a band of mercanaries siege control of the house, killing the hired help and taking the Lighstone family hostage. At least Santa is still wearing shoes when all this goes down. For this is just one in a long line of 'It's like Die Hard but…' movies that brought us such classics as Die Hard but on a boat (Under Siege), Die Hard but on a train (Under Siege 2: Dark Territory) and Die Hard but in a football stadium (Final Score). This time we have Die Hard but it's a Christmas movie. No, wait, Die Hard but Santa is John McClane.

There's all sorts of little nods to the film along the way, such as Santa's use of a walkie talkie, a character named Al and Santa's 'Naughty or Nice list' serving as a checklist of sort of the baddies that are still alive. Sort of like that list that McClane makes as he's piecing together all of Hans' associates. I'm pretty sure the film even gets name dropped at one point when Santa pulls out 'Die Hard on blu-ray' whilst searching in his magic sack for a weapon.

There's also an extended homage to Home Alone which grated on me a little at first as it felt like a bit of a tonal shift and a bit too on the nose of a reference but they manage to save it by making use of their more adult rating to push the boat out a little on the violence. There's even a kill which Kevin couldn't even manage in 2 when he was lobbing bricks off rooftops, tricking people into dunking their flaming heads into flammable liquids and electrocuting people. Quite frankly, I'm ready to declare this as a new alternate Christmas classic alongside the likes of Die Hard, Home Alone or Lethal Weapon. The thing just oozes charm, the action is great, lots of funny moments, it had me invested in the characters and even got a bit schmoltzy at times which I'm not opposed to in a Christmas movie. That little deaf Dutch girl in Miracle on 34th Street gets me every time…

Santa is a total badass here but is also shown to be mortal and susceptable to injury. The suggestion seems to be that because he's grown so weary of the job, he's lost a little bit of that Christmas magic that is presumably kept him alive all these years. It adds a lot of weight to each fight that he gets involved in and feels like it has an element of that 'war of attrition' thing that McClane goes through where he's really fucked up by the end of the movie. The fights really lean into the thematic elements as well with nearby ornaments and decorations being used as makeshift weapons. Garotting someone with fairy lights, anyone? There's always a Christmas song to soundtrack the occasion too, including a Bryan Adams song I wasn't aware was a thing. Adds an interesting layer of juxtoposition as you've got this cheerful music accompanying brutal violence.

Luigi Mario himself, John Lguizamo, has a great turn as the main villain who starts off playing up to the occasions with all sorts of Christmas referneces, he's essentially doing schtick whilst his guys murder a whole bunch of dudes. But we also learn of Christmas essentially being responsible for his super villain esque origin story. At least he has something of a moustache here unlike Luigi, even if it's just stubble. Seriously, how did they fuck that up? You gave Bob Hoskins a moustache!

I feel like their showdown at the end could have had a better one liner to go out on. I was getting vibes of that 'Call an ambulance' meme: "The last Christmas…" "But not for me!" I totally called that ending as well, Pokemon The First Movie ass motherfuckers. If you haven't seen this one yet, absolutely go watch it. I can easily see this earning a place in people's holiday rotation for years to come alongside the classics. Sure it's a little derivative but I think the fact you're throwing Santa into this situation just adds a ton of novelty value and it's just tons of fun from beginning to end.

[doctorstrangereview]

0074: Doctor Strange #178

Cover Date: March 1969 On-Sale Date: December 5, 1968

Thus we begin phase two of The Sons of Satannish arc. After casting the spell of fire and ice just before dropping dead, the stakes are higher than ever. I said Doc would need help to wrap this up. Here he'll recruit The Black Knight. For the final show, he'll have even more sidekicks.

After the title of the story takes an entire, multi-panel page, we delve into a multi-page recap of the previous story. Asmodeus/Benton sneaks into The Ancient One's pad disguised as Doc. The real Doc arrives disguised as new Doc. Both get into a slap fight. The Ancient One holds back. Asmodeus/Benton is about to attack with all he's got and drops dead. As he dies, he casts the spell of fire and ice to release Surtur and Ymir. Four pages later we get into the story proper.

I gotta say, while Colan doesn't give The Ancient One the hot, mature, bearded daddy vibe that Ms. Severin did, he looks might fine in that lovely green ensemble. We see Doc without his mask for the first time since the redesign. I'm not particularly enamored of the changes, but the slight reshaping of the collar is a positive.

While going over their options, we learn that Asmodeus banished his fellow cult members to Tiboro's Sixth Dimension. Not seen since just after Doc got his red cape.

Tiboro seems to have dyed his costume new colors. Perhaps editorial felt he didn't have enough green for this series. Anyway, the Sons may be the only way of reversing a spell invoked my someone empowered by Satannish. Guess he's got to go rescue the naughty boys. Trouble is, he needs a mystic on Earth to help him come and go. Despite numerous mystical allies having been revealed throughout the run of the series, he feels he's got only one person he can turn to. Yes, he must once again endanger the life of Ms. Victoria Bentley. Doc goes ghost and travels to England.

Even though Vicky's been through severe mental and physical trauma she still finds time to through a raging, sexy costume party. Conveniently, Dane Whitman, The Black Knight is attending the party and showing off his, um, sword! Having recently met at the Van Dyne/Pym wedding, Doc recognizes his, uh, sword.

Doc makes all the guests that aren't Vicky and the Knight disappear. He introduces himself and Vicky is horrified at the new look. Doc must be relieved that he's found a way to give Vicky the brush off and can full concentrate on his main side-piece, Clea. Doc explains to Dane the he needs him and his, uh, sword.

Doc tells Dane they need to get going and tells Vicky her party will soon be raging again. Vicky promises to keep in mental contact. Dane's winged horse appears out of nowhere and they're off. Gene gets to draw weird stuff again!

Tiboro is waiting to meet the pair along with the Sons of Satannish, whose cult robes have turned a boring grey. After calling himself invincible, Tiboro presses his attack on the magician and the knight. It's so awesome it takes two pages to depict it.

Tiboro conjures a mystic wall which the Knight shatters with his, uh, sword. Tiboro throws a mystic bolt at the pair that seems to miss and the Knight is like "that was lame" but monsters suddenly start growing out of the ground. At first they seem easy to strike down, but each hit causes two more to pop up.

Doc causes the air around the demons to crystalize. Tiboro himself re-enters the fray. He and Doc have a short dick measuring contest. Tiboro attacks Doc. Doc turns it aside with a psychic shield.

Tiboro prepares to keep repeating the attack until Doc weakens. The Black Knight reminds Tiboro Doc isn't alone and Tiboro refocuses his attack on the Knight. Tiboro blasts the ground under the Knight away and he starts his eternal fall. Doc manages to rescue him. Tiboro is about to strike Doc down while his back is turned. The Knight sees what's about to happen and throws his sword, destroying Tiboro's wand. Tiboro is mostly powerless without it and the pair claim victory. Doc doesn't banish Tiboro into nothingness. He just wants the cultists. "I can do that," responds Tiboro. Doc, The Black Knight and the Sons of Satannish leave the Sixth Dimension.

I think the story was a bit spartan which caused an extended recap of the previous issue. Very much like a show that's short a few minutes and we see way too much of the previous episode in the opening. Even using five pages for flashbacks and several more for Doc and The Black Knight to team up things drag more than any previous Roy Thomas story. It does establish Dane Whitman and Victoria Bentley as friends and neighbors which will play into a future storyline. Sadly, it's the last we see of Vicky for a long time. I liked Tiboro's return, but the colorist made him look bland with all the earth tones. He really needs the purple from his previous appearance to make that costume pop. The battle seems to take too long with not much happening. Roy seems to be relying on Gene to extend the meager story with lots of crazy panels. It's not quite as bad as a Dan Adkins stretch, but it takes its toll. The penultimate tale of The Sons of Satannish is a middling affair. Hopefully the conclusion picks things up.

[inawearyworld]

so while writing this epilogue, i’m researching, etc etc, and i’ve learned that lofty saying in the end “so goes a good deed in a weary world” is a misquote of 1971 wonka’s “so shines a good deed in a weary world” which itself is a misquote of shakespeare-portia from the merchant of venice says “so shines a good deed in a naughty world”-which is Very interesting to me

the merchant of venice is basically a tragedy presented as a comedy; it uses and has bolstered many antisemitic stereotypes over the centuries, and i never got very invested into the play because of that, so i never knew that’s what the quote was from (it was always one of my favorite parts of the original movie, though, hence my username)

maybe that was intentional somehow. portia has just ruined a marginalized man’s life, and is talking about good deeds; wonka has just perhaps killed but definitely traumatized four children and is talking about good deeds. in the original stories, the audience is meant to root for both of them; both of the quotes come just before the designated happy ending, and both stories have been criticized by later audiences.

1971 wonka is apparently something of a shakespeare aficionado-he quotes r+j and as you like it, and maybe some others, i haven’t watched it in years-and, esp in wilder’s portrayal, everything he does seems intentional, so he wouldn’t misquote on accident. “weary” does sound more poetic and fit for his situation than “naughty”. this wonka is indeed a weary man, and charlie’s sweet earnestness is a balm to him-surely reminding him of his younger self. peter ostrum’s boyish hope and idealism is keenly felt in timothee’s performance. if it’s that wonka that grows into wilder’s, one can imagine that his mom might have read him some of shakespeare’s plays and did all the voices when he was a kid. maybe, in his later travels, he saw a few live.

and i’m not sure why lofty says “goes” instead of “shines” in the prequel. maybe paul and simon just remembered it wrong (but on the one hand, simon was in a literal movie about shakespeare-on the other hand, that movie was never really aiming for historical accuracy, it is such a delight though). idk man i’ll figure out some way to work meaning out of it for wren’s epilogue

and as for the prologue, all my fellow fickelgruber simps are about to have a field day

[a-student-out-of-time]

Why is Wolfs game chapter 3 bad?

//I decided to let Timeline Anon answer this one in depth, and I hope this is the last we have to discuss this ^^;

________________________________________________

Hey, everyone, it’s Timeline Anon! Long time no see. I promise I will finish chronicling the V-Day arc eventually, I’ve been busy with life and my own personal projects. But for today, since Bubbles is too squeamish to answer people’s questions about the world’s worst fangan, he generously agreed to allow me to provide the explanation instead! After all, I'm the one who's introduced him to every non-Another fangan he's ever played, so it's only fitting.

So, my friend, CAN YOUR HEART STAND TO HEAR THE SHOCKING FACTS ABOUT DANGANRONPA: THE WOLF'S GAME?!?!?!?

(I will try to keep this tale as sanitized as possible.)

Danganronpa: The Wolf's Game is a fangan that is written in a text format, but still uses picture sprites (rather like how ASOOT is written). They have videos for body discoveries and executions and stuff, but the rest is as I said. It's on Wordpress for the most part. Also there is a character with Cotard's syndrome just like in that fangan Bubbles sometimes works on and off on, but that's not really important.

The killing game itself is heavily inspired by the game "Ultimate Werewolf," so there are two masterminds hidden among the cast, called the Werewolves. The Werewolves are like the Voids, but with less people and no redeeming qualities. The developer, a fellow by the name of Aquamarino, once said that he wants DRWG to be the darkest fangan ever made, saying that he hopes that it can dethrone even SDRA2 in that department. This will be important going forward.

Now, by all accounts, the first two chapters weren't so bad. I haven't actually read them because I don't have time for this shit in my life, so I don't know how good they were, but there was no Bad Stuff in them. It's Chapter 3 when things took a sharp left turn into pukesville.

Several things happened in Chapter 3. To start with, one character was accused of actually being a famous serial killer in disguise (she wasn't) on the grounds that they looked similar, and she was bullied and gaslit so hard that eventually she actually believed that she was said serial killer. As a result, she became so overcome with guilt that she committed suicide by, I shit you not, throwing herself into a vat of acid.

Then the typical double murder happened, because we will never be free of that curse. One of the victims was found horrifically murdered in a bathtub, wearing nothing but her underwear, and it was revealed that whoever killed her also sexually assaulted her. FUN!

Now we come to the Chapter 3 trial. A trial which, I would like to note, originally had no trigger warnings on it whatsoever and only added these warnings after getting backlash. The fanbase, mind you, was mostly made up of minors, but it's okay because, to quote Aquamarino, "most have a very strong stomach!"

But what's so bad about this trial, you ask? Well, it turned out that one of the victims, the one who was supposedly assaulted, faked her own death/assault and was the actual culprit of the case. and also one of the aforementioned Werewolves. Specifically, she was the Twilight Werewolf, aka the Avatar of Sin, and her whole schtick is that she has committed every mortal sin ever. Yes, all of them. Including cannibalism. And all the sex crimes. And inciting nuclear war?? She has a whole list she goes through. Also, she SA'ed the corpse of the other victim, and while she explained this to the surviving students, she ate his leg right in front of them. Disgusting. Why does she do all this? What is her motivation? Got me. She really likes to sin, I guess. I'd say that this was written by an edgy teenager obsessed with grimdark, but Aquamarino is, like, 28.

(Also, her evil design is just atrocious. She wears a long red hood and nothing else. Her hair covers up the naughty bits.)

She talks about some executions she's done in the past that are so disgusting I will not even tell you what they were. All I will mention is that children were involved.

Here's the kicker: After all that, our heroes get to decide what to do with her. No less than FOUR of the remaining students suggest SA'ing her to death. These are supposed to be the good guys. (Thankfully, that's not what they end up doing, but still!)

And that's Wolf's Game Chapter 3! I'm sure Review Anon can go into a lot more detail if they ever decide to, but suffice to say, there's a reason it's considered by everyone who knows of it to be the worst fangan of all time.

[blackgirlyearning]

"just for you"

Synopsis: Ellie wants to do your beautiful Afro-textured hair. 

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 READ: this account stands with palestine, and so— i require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1 and 2, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this. DO NOT BUY THE REMASTER, TLOU2, TLOU1, OR ANY GAME FROM NAUGHTY DOG! neil druckmann (the creator) is a zionist. PLEASE READ THIS. AND REBLOG THIS.

Note 1: I’ve never played the Last of Us. Either game. But, I do know what it was inspired by and therefore, I want to say that I support Palestinians. Free Palestine/Falasteen. Keep protesting. Keep writing to representatives. Boycott anything that the creator of this game does. Once again, from the river to the sea Palestine will be free.

Note 2: This one goes out for my fellow Black people! Especially those of us who be searching for new fics under ‘ellie x black!reader”.

Warnings: some mentions of sex and joel being dead.

“I’m afraid you gon’ do me like one of them infected.” 

“I’m trying not to, but you keep moving.” Ellie goes to raise the wide-tooth comb to trace another part between your coily tresses. A few products sat next to her on the couch. Whipped shea butter and a mousse.

“I’m chillin’.” You smile to yourself as you feel the tooth split your hair in half. 

Earlier, when the Sun was painting your face just right, Ellie was sitting up beside you in bed. She was folded like an open card with her back parallel with the headboard. Perhaps she was folded for you, rather than solely finding a comfortable position to draw in. Along her raised thighs, her sketchbook laid split open - similar to how you were some nights. If you looked further down her legs, you would see that her knees were bruised from getting down for you. You, the Goddess on Earth.

That’s probably how you found yourself in this situation. Both of y’all were naked; the only censoring of your bodies being the grey duvet that laid over your bodies. 

Ellie’s diluted chlorophyll eyes shifted over to you once more. They widened in surprise when she found your brown eyes and a smile stretched over your two-toned lips. She turned her head away to hide the shy smile that ripened the color of her cheeks. Her freckles were now lost in a dusting of reddish-pink.

You rose up from your side of the bed. Today, it was on the right side - the one closest to the door. You didn’t remember how you ended up there, since Ellie had managed to suck everything outta you the night before. And yes, literally suck. That mouth was magical, man. 

“You gonna look at me, hotshot?” You chuckled with half-lidded eyes. The duvet had fallen down onto your lap, revealing your brown breasts, complete with darker nipples. The other woman dared not to look at you. And because she didn’t answer you, you took her journal with a soft touch, knowing damn well that book was basically her child. Well, besides JJ, of course.

A gasp escaped Ellie’s lips when she felt the loss of her journal. 

You looked up at her with widened eyes. “Sorry, I should’ve asked-”

She raised a hand for you to stop. “‘T’s fine,” She nodded over to the journal. “-go ahead.” 

You stared at her for a moment. She looked back at you. A small bulb of light swirled from your iris and fell into hers. A wordless confirmation.

So, you let your gaze fall down onto the pages. An etching of somebody with a carefully crafted afro with the smallest of curls squished against the pillow, penciled-in skin (a representation of darker skin), closed eyes, a round nose with a highlight on its end, and full two-toned lips with the upper one also penciled in. It was you.

The further down you examined the sketch, you noticed your hand with a tiny arrow a little bit away from your finger. ‘I wonder if we’d get married’. You wanted to peek at her for just a moment, but you decided to hold your gaze. 

In true Ellie fashion, of course, your boobs were squeezed together. Another note by them read ‘wowza!’. You laughed to yourself. 

You moved your eyes from the center of the page to the other fainter sketches that found themselves on it. There were four heads in each corner, each at different angles. The top left corner was facing away from you. Her cornrows danced down scalp. Tight enough to hold their form, but not enough to rip out your scalp. The one on the right corner got twists. She was smiling at you. You could find yourself in her. You knew you were her. The bottom left corner was you in bantu knots. A quarter-view of you with braided balls of your magic decorating your head. You couldn’t see your full face, but you could see your round nose, your lips … and a side-eye. Wow. In the final corner, a coily mo-hawk with braids on the side.

Finally, you tore your eyes away from her drawings and back up into the forest that was her eyes.

“You okay?” She rasped.

You blinked away your tears. “Yeah.” You gave her a close-lipped smile.

She placed a hand on the side of your face and pressed her lips on your left cheek. 

No, not the lower one, you freak.

“This better not be the Infected Line-up.” You say as you gyrate over to the bathroom door. Smooth Operator was playing and you couldn’t not dance to it. Ellie had your hand in hers to spin you around once. The other one found itself on your left hip, dancing with you until you got through the door.

You gasped when you saw yourself. 

“What?” Her eyes widened once again. “Did I do good?” Suddenly, she didn’t know what the fuck to do with her hands. Joel was probably laughing at her from wherever he was in the atmosphere.

You turned to smile at her. “You didn’t fuck up my edges.”

And here you are again with small cornrows. The braided heart on the side of your head faces her as you leave the bathroom. 

Today, a toothy smile replaced your usual close-lipped one.

If you had looked on the side of that page that day, you would’ve seen the page of products she had written down. Just for you.

[hope-is-yellow]

Aziraphale Isn't a Hedonist

A lot of Good Omens fans, in comments sections and essays and other venues, claim that Aziraphale is a hedonist, usually when mentioning the pleasure he takes in food. But the dictionary definition of a hedonist is a person who practices hedonism, the doctrine or belief that pleasure is the most important thing in life. A true hedonist would organize their life around seeking pleasure (usually the word is connoted to mean physical or bodily pleasures) the way a religious devotee would place worship and prayer at the center of their life.

Aziraphale deeply enjoys food; there are several scenes in which, verbally or nonverbally, he indicates his savoring of the sensations that food offers. But I think that calling him a hedonist goes too far and is not a legitimate label to apply to Aziraphale. It overstates things, and I think that the fact that many American (and possibly other) fans describe Aziraphale this way gives an interesting window into how my culture views and thinks about (or shrinks from) the concept of pleasure.

Aziraphale doesn’t organize his life around food or other pleasures. He expresses what can and should be just a normal thing: he takes great pleasure in food (and books, and music), but not an inordinate amount. They are important to him, and pleasant when he can get them, but they aren’t the central motivation of his life and actions it seems to me. These things don’t override other priorities for him. From what we’re shown in the series and book, he seeks out opportunities to eat and drink, but he doesn’t obsess over food or other pleasures. Pleasures don’t get in the way of Aziraphale’s work as an angel, or his dedication to protecting humans (from heaven if necessary), or his love for Crowley.

Unfortunately, “hedonism” has mostly negative associations in the mouth and mind of most Americans. And pleasure itself is looked at with deep suspicion and distrust, frequently (if unconsciously). Even in my own thoughts, when I repeat the word “hedonist” to myself, I’m aware of a deep-seated reaction of disapproval and judgmentalism. Now, why? No one ever told me in so many words that actively looking for pleasure—prioritizing feeling good, enjoyment, delight—was wrong. But somehow it got into my skin and my lizard brain and my heart—all the hidden parts of myself—that pleasure is kind of selfish, a bit naughty and dirty and scurrilous and nearing sordid, that it needed some justification; it might be all right as a lowly and secretive side effect but it's not really okay for its sake. I imbibed somehow, without quite realizing it, that pleasure needs to be hidden behind tight walls and kept on tight leashes, that pleasure is to be looked at askance and not to be trusted.

And I don’t think I’m that different than a lot of my fellow countrymen and women. A great number of the white people who invaded this continent and enforced the United States on the societies already living here were religious zealots, extremists, literal Puritans (among others) who frowned on music and dancing and vivid colors in clothing and women laughing and children who asked questions. And holiday displays and banquets and wine and song.

Pleasures. Shameful. Selfish. Dirty. Exciting, but dangerous.

And while the country now encompasses—wonderfully and thankfully! —people from all over the world, these attitudes have seeped into the cultural consciousness of how we educate and advertise and govern and employ and recreate ourselves.

By the way, don’t worry, I’m coming back around to Aziraphale. I promise. But just to examine a little further how our U.S. culture often sees pleasure:

Take sex. Look how we write about and react to stories about “porn stars.” Rarely does the media (or dirty jokes, or social media posts) just call them models or actors or performers or even sex workers, it’s always “porn stars”, so people know exactly what kind of performer they’re reading about and how to feel about them. They’re that kind of person. Stories about porn stars having a fling with the president, or getting run out of their post-porn jobs because of their past work, or the abuses they suffer in the industry—the use of the term invites naughty giggles, titillation, fascination with comforting undercurrent of moral disgust.

Our culture fetishizes sex, but abominates it at the same time. We’re hyperfixated on it—to the point that predators seek it out from the most vulnerable in our society, who should be protected—but we also consider it, deep down, to be shameful and dangerous, especially the sexual drives of marginalized people. Their libidos need to be controlled and dampened.

And then there’s Americans’ ugly, suspicious attitude toward food—which spreads out and intensifies into almost an obsession with weight and body shape, our own and other people’s. Food is advertised in incredibly visceral ways in our media. We even call pictures and videos of appetizing food “food porn.” Yet eating itself and—god forbid enjoying what we eat, taking pleasure in it—the way Aziraphale does—we treat almost as a vice (hence, hedonism). We treat loss like a virtue and celebrate it like a heroic achievement. It speaks to that person’s character, their resolve and fortitude. Conversely, those who are the wrong body shape we judge, shame, bully, anathematize, and push aside. We feel quite free to make assumptions about their health, habits, history, flaws, sins, and lives in general. I’ve had strangers yell things at me about my size as walk and drive by, make remarks about what I have in my grocery cart, and walk up to me in restaurants and give me diet advice. I’ve had family members tell me to my face that they don’t feel comfortable with fat people.

We fetishize certain “fit” body types yet we tolerate and allow food manufacturers to put sugar and other additives in almost every processed food we eat—additives that deliberately stimulate and manipulate our appetites and cravings (I am not a conspiracy theorist; there is clear evidence readily available for this deliberate engineering of food to physically cause cravings for salt, sugar, and fat. Food executives and scientists readily admit it. See here https://www.npr.org/sections/thesalt/2015/12/16/459981099/how-the-food-industry-helps-engineer-our-cravings)

When giving advice (often unsolicited, a form of policing and also of shaming) to people with unacceptable bodies, healthcare practitioners, the media and ordinary people continue to espouse the use of health indicators science has proven are inaccurate and misleading (https://www.businessinsider.com/guides/health/is-bmi-accurate?op=1 https://theconversation.com/body-mass-index-may-not-be-the-best-indicator-of-our-health-how-can-we-improve-it-143155) and regimens that studies have shown time and again do not work long term to make people healthy (https://www.eatingwell.com/article/8019040/eat-less-move-more-doesnt-work-for-weight-loss-new-study/ https://time.com/2809007/eat-less-exercise-more-isnt-the-answer-for-weight-loss/ https://slate.com/technology/2015/03/diets-do-not-work-the-thin-evidence-that-losing-weight-makes-you-healthier.html

In fact, stigmatizing and shaming people whose bodies society deems unacceptable leads to much worse health outcomes for them, including and especially in the area of weight (which is what the dominant US culture tends to deem most important about a person’s body). See here https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC6092785/, here https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC6565398/ https://www.nationalgeographic.com/science/article/weight-shaming-frequently-backfiresso-why-are-doctors-and-family-doing-it When I know strangers and family members feel free to criticize and comment on and shame me for my body, I am much less inclined to leave the house to walk (or shop, or go to a museum or a concert or a friend’s house) and more inclined to stay home and isolate. Increased shame leads to increased anxiety and irritability and self-loathing, and I find it harder to stay away from unhealthy behaviors (such as overeating) to soothe myself.

When Gabriel tells Aziraphale to “lose the gut”, he’s making it easier for Aziraphale to gain weight, not lose it. He’s also making it more likely that Aziraphale will hate himself, find it hard to form relationships with others (because of self-loathing and shame), deliberately hurt himself, and (if he weren’t immortal) kill himself.

I’m glad that Good Omens shows us a character with a curvy, chubby corporation who takes pleasure in food. It’s a strike back at the heavy, deadly forces of shame at around us. But he isn’t a glutton or a hedonist. He just loves food. And that should be all right and no big deal.

[transfemme-floofer]

We then needed to fit the other bridesmaids dresses, whorish once again but in many styles

Valentina chose ruffled and cute

Kat chose a dress as low as she could, I wisely chose to tell Mistress on my tabula to take it back and order a sheer, see through skirt of exactly the same size. “Good Girl” she replied too quickly “I shall also have Kat spanked when she gets home”, Great, Mistress, thank you for making me horny now, I thought

Victoria chose a ballet style sheer skirt and leotard, a songbird and performer at heart, although for a wedding seemed a little much, but Miss Claudia seemed comfortable “I’ve known about my slaves’ interests for years” she grips Vicky’s wrist “we’re even married ourselves” Victoria giggles “I’m fairly sure she knows” Claudia continues “your mistress might need to know your interests before marrying you out of love

Kat intervened “Mistress knows about our interests!”

“Name one”

“We both taught ourselves to sing”

“How original”

Before Kat could escalate I smacked her on the bum and said “I know this is new to you but for Venus’ sake be good!” She whimpered slightly but shut up so that everyone else could get fitted with input from the other slaves and their mistress

Afterwards we went out to get Ionia (extremely cheap third and fourth press wine) and fruit posca (second press) for the later hen party, when Kat asked “shouldn’t we ask mistress if we can have wine at all?”

“Kat, that’s very good for asking, but we both have medical conditions, we’re allowed anyway, but more importantly, nobody cares about Ionia, do they Miss Claudia”

“No Julia, it’s less than 5% alcohol, averaging at about 1.6%” at this point, Victoria and a slave named Maria lean in

Maria points to Kat and asks “she new? To slavery?” I nod, she continues “then we must warn you, though it is medicinal and nutritious, it tastes like goat pi…” Victoria smacks her fellow enslaved person’s arm “Maria! Bad girl! About to swear” she then addressed us “so sorry about her, she’s very poor about naughty language, what she means to say is that it’s essentially just ascetic acid, or in more vulgar, Germanic terms, vinegar, flavoured by fruit and cane sugar” Kat cringed, so I comfort her “you get used to it, girl”

We went our separate ways and used my tabula’s navigation device to find Mistress

“So, Kat, I have access to a pretty cool wedding present, it has four wheels, it can do any terrain, including the sea and intelligent controls”

“Julia, I’m not slow, I know what it is, she brought the Fiat Chariot MR-22G Amphibi10 Sportiva, she showed me when she told me what was going on today”

“and you kept it a surprise?”

“Yes”

“Thank you”

Silence

“Hey, I saw you creaming yourself earlier, what was that about”

“Just telling mistress about your dress being too long”

“Julia! Too long? It was above the knees! Minerva on a pogo stick! Is everyone a massive pervert!”

“Kat”

“… and another thing” she turned me to face her and poked her finger into me “why are YOU into it? Hmm? You’re a slave too! You’d get whipped if you stepped out of line even for a second!”

“Kat, you get used to it, besides…” I hesitate, would she judge me? She shouts “Besides what, Julia? BESIDES WHAT?!” Oh god, a crowd’s formed

Gulp

“Besides… I’m kinda into that, I don’t ever want to be free” before I could defend myself, Kat pushes me hard “YOU FREAK” I stumble, she punches me again, it all goes black

I wake up in hospital groggy, Mistress is sat there fuming mad “what happened? I ask”

Kat’s been sent to the police, you were knocked out for saying that you loved your slavery, thankfully, two male slaves helped stop you knocking your head, one called the police and a freedman neutralised Kat

A free nurse checked my vitals, and found us to be good to go, so we went to check on Kat

When she saw me, she hissed “the happy slave here to gloat with her owner’s permission? This is beyond Stockholm Syndrome!” I butted in “that’s fake, that was proven fake, but I’m not here to gloat, just making sure you know what you’re charged with”

“Misdemeanour Assault of another’s property”

“Yes, on two counts”

“Injury on another’s property”

“Yes, one count”

“Hate crime against a happy slave”

“Not quite in those words, but yes, on five counts”

“Both are felonies”

“Yup, and do you know where felonious slaves go?”

Then it hit her, she started crying, because she knew, felons went to the salt mines, the workhouses, and if they’re lucky, to a brothel or a bar

Mistress announced “We’ll see if we can get a reduced charge or sentence, then you’ll just be sold, but not to anywhere nasty, maybe to a tradesman where you can learn your place” she spat out the last part causing Kat to cry even more, loud enough for a guard to beat her with a cane “Silence, Slave!”

We promptly left to go back to our home “so that’s it on Kat?” I ask

“No darling, I’ll get her sent to a tradesman and then after the sentence has been done, I’ll buy her back”

Part 4?

I was dusting the house as normal, like I did every week when I saw a strange golden card note on the kitchen table labelled “for my first ancilla”

“Strange” I thought, Mistress Luci was not normally like this, sure she was affectionate at times, but that’s normal for humans to feel that way about their pets. Curious, I opened it, it said: “3pm, on the private beach, near the cove, dress your best”

The time came and I walked down the garden and down the cobbled steps onto the beach. I was dressed in Merrel sandals instead of the standard Imperial Serva heeled sandals, a pink and white pleated skirt given as a gift for good behaviour instead of my summer cherry skirt or my standard issue skirt , a Very Special Occasion (MEO-Mucha Especial Ocasión) scented wick away slave blouse instead of the standard version, and a Peugeot love heart shaped chain link Titanium alloy collar instead of the standard oval chain link medicollar

Mistress looked at me up and down like five times before saying a word. “You’re… beautiful” she finally said, clearly rendered speechless. I curtsy in front of her, “thank you Domina” i replied, remembering to use Latin as well as my native British “where are we going” she had no obligation to reply and so kept silent as we walked to the cove admiring the waves and the cool afternoon, until I could see it, her Amphibicar Fiat Chariot (think like an Italian Ford Crown Victoria or Opel Omega), those things had been around 2610 AUC (1867), but this was a 22nd generation rear mid engined 2766 (2012) Amphibian vehicle variant (itself in it’s 10th generation since 2680 (1947)) with a 5.5L Ferrari Turbo V8, modular and hydraulically adjustable bench seats front and rear, four wheel drive courtesy of Lancia and a luxurious 3-speed hydraulic automatic transmission (with three electro-locked overdrive gears tacked on in the 2760 refresh for fuel and performance, as well as to hide its age) yanked out of the Buick Sappho coupe “Mistress this is wonderful” I turned to see her and say thank you, but found her on one knee

“Julia, I have legally submitted a form for us to be married, so that you won’t have to worry about losing me, your first constant and comfort in a long time” she pulled out a finger print scanner, “all I need is your fingerprint”, I pressed down excitedly, then my tabula got a notification

“Married to Doctor Luciana Antonia Presenti MD, PhD”

And another, from Fiat Intelligencia Automobilli “Authorised Guest of Luciana Presenti’s Intelligent Control System on her 2766 Fiat Chariot”

Mistress added on, “use it wisely”

I oblige “Fiat, open doors-“

Mistress chides playfully “No slave, stupid slut, type it out in the app”

I open the app and find the command room, where I find Mistress had already done test runs, I type in, “open driver door and say “welcome Domina””. It does so flawlessly and without hesitation. Mistress blushed “thanks pet, really appreciate it” she found the 2730s Buick touchscreen still in there with updated visuals and apps, but the same size of the screen and the same working concept. She typed in, “open passenger left back door and give the back ambient red gel lights and put on brothel music”. It did so. “very funny mistress”

(Another case of part two when I feel like it)

[final-girl96]

Joseph Quinn’s upside-down year

He’s gone from hustling for bit parts to playing a beloved character in one of the biggest shows on TV, thirsted after by fans and fellow celebrities alike. Inside the surreal year of 2022’s buzziest British breakout

By Jack King

5 December 2022

Coat, £1,970, Jil Sander by Lucie and Luke Meier. T-shirt, £7.90, Uniqlo. Hat, £325, Lock & Co. Hatters.Ben Parks

When Joseph Quinn took the call that would come to change his life for good, he was standing in his kitchen in South London. His agent was on the other end of the phone. “He called me, like, ‘Who’s that?’ And I was like, ‘What do you mean?’ So he goes, ‘I’m sorry, is that Eddie from Stranger Things?’” Quinn recalls. “I literally fell to my knees. Like, What? Are you sure? It felt like it’d just fallen out of the fucking sky.” It was November 2019. Only three weeks prior, in the very same flat, he’d recorded his first self-tape for the hit Netflix series with the help of his then-girlfriend and flatmate. “Obviously, at that point, I’m just fucking suspicious about the whole thing. This never happens. And here we are.”

Flash forward to today: after storming into the public consciousness as the sci-fi throwback’s latest anointed breakout, starring as punkish pariah Eddie Munson in Stranger Things series four, the 28-year-old has just flown out to LA for the third time in his what-the-fuck year. It’s a rhythm he’s still very much getting used to. Resultantly, we’re chatting over Zoom, myself in London’s Mile End, a short swim down the Thames from the unassuming world of his adolescence. “I love South London. I still live there – you get accused of heresy if you leave,” he jokes. “I might want to branch out somewhere different, because you don’t want to feel stagnant. But my life’s there: I went to school there, it’s where I met all of my friends.”

Jacket, £1,400 and trousers, £725, Etro. Shirt, £99, Boss. Boots, £1,750, Dior. Ben Parks

He scored his first job, on the 2015 TV drama Dickensian, in his third year at LAMDA (“I was a jammy fucker,” he says), the hallowed Hammersmith drama school where British acting royalty – Cumberbatch, Cox, Ejiofor – cut their teeth. It was while he was in his graduating class, in fact, that he met Fabien Frankel, then a first year, now enjoying his own rise apropos of the Game of Thrones spin-off House of the Dragon.

“It’s fucking hilarious,” Quinn says of Frankel’s new-found stardom. “We’ve shared similar anxieties about the ridiculousness of our situations.” The two are good friends; Frankel, for his part, brims with praise. “As much as it pains me to say, he was always just a brilliant actor,” he says of Quinn. “There was always some magic on stage. Sadly we’ve never got to work together, but we’ve always stayed close.”

Quinn’s early luck with Dickensian, as it turns out, was a touch premature; after that show ran its course, Quinn didn’t work for nearly a year. But an influx of parts eventually came his way: first a gig as a Stark soldier in an episode of Game of Thrones, then, suddenly, a job on stage opposite Olivia Colman at the National Theatre. “He is utterly joyful, naughty, and fun,” Colman says of Quinn. “He puts the work in. You know you’re in safe hands.”

Coat, £3,200, shirt, £1,950 and trousers, £1,300, Prada. Shoes, £980, Church’s. Ben Parks

A steady trickle of work followed: BBC’s Howards End mini series, opposite Matthew Macfadyen; as the tragic revolutionary Enjolras in the Beeb’s not-a-musical adaptation of Les Mis, reuniting with Colman; under Steve McQueen in the first part of his critically acclaimed anthology film series, Small Axe. “I’ve been so lucky that I’ve not had to graft, and wait tables, and do the traditional catering jobs in between to keep the lights on,” Quinn says. “I’ve been fortunate enough, and savvy enough with my money just about, when things are looking a bit bleak, to book another gig. And that keeps the wolves from the door.” It was around the time of the London Film Festival premiere of his first major indie film, the psychosexual slow-burner Make Up, that he sent in his Stranger Things audition tape.

A few days after the call came in, he met the sibling duo who puppeteer Stranger Things, the Duffer brothers, over Skype. “They were very nice, and very kind,” Quinn remembers. “I was very disarmed by the whole thing. Kind of like, ‘Are you sure?’ And they said, ‘Yeah, we really want you to do it.’” In total, 287 actors read for the part, according to the Duffers, who describe the process as one of the longest casting searches they’ve ever had. “At one point, we remember getting nervous,” they say. Munson was abrasive and unlikeable on the page; they needed him to be lovable, without wanting to be loved. That confluence of traits seemed an impossible bullseye, until Quinn’s reels arrived. “Joe was hilarious and charming, but with an unpredictable, wild edge about him,” they recall. It was a no-brainer. The call was a formality. “He’s a director’s dream because he takes what’s on the page and sprints with it.”

Blazer, £2,360, and shirt, £500, Gucci. Ben Parks

Quinn’s anecdotes from those early days are cut with the sincere self-deprecation you might expect of a guy still scrambling to catch up with his own ascent. This is the stuff that Faustian bargains are made of, after all: over a billion hours’ worth of Stranger Things series four was watched within the first month of release. That’s a lot of eyeballs. “I was talking to Dan Cohen, the [executive] producer of Stranger Things, about it,” he says. “He talked about the over-nightness of these experiences now, with these streaming platforms. One moment you’re fine, and then it drops. It’s on in millions and millions of houses. After that, it just kind of snowballs.”

The first table read came next. “It was a very weird experience. I was sat next to the lovely Jamie Campbell Bower, who’s had experience in these bigger shows before,” he remembers. “Obviously, because everything has to be documented on this show, they were filming the table read to keep the fans satiated. The setup was that the pre-existing cast were on a very long table, and we were behind them, being kept secret from the cameras. We were shouting, delivering the lines to the back of the cast’s heads, which felt very odd.” Both he and Campbell Bower, as Quinn recalls, were “shitting it”. Following that, he had weeks of fittings, kitting him out in the idiosyncratic metalhead threads that form Munson’s outcast armour. He had his first day of shooting, and then… whiplash. “[Stranger Things co-director] Shawn Levy came out at the end of the day and said we’re going into… a lockdown of some kind,” he says. “A hiatus of two weeks. Which would’ve been nice.” It would be another six months before Quinn returned to set.

Shirt, £500, Gucci. Trousers, £924 and loafers, £650, Dolce & Gabbana. Ben Parks

What felt to him like a decade later, the show finally bowed to the masses. He watched the Stranger Things series four finale, wherein Munson goes out with self-sacrificial aplomb, with his little sister, dad, and his dad’s wife. Do they treat him differently now? “No, definitely within your immediate circle you hope nothing changes. It’s a very weird thing to comment on… [if] you take into consideration the actual fucking fresh hell that people are going through now, it feels like an arbitrary thing to feel threatened by,” he says. “Eighty per cent of it is amazing. Professionally, 100 per cent is amazing. 20 per cent of it is… fucking bizarre.”

Somewhere within that 20 per cent: the online drama between co-star Noah Schnapp and Doja Cat soon after the season aired, when the former publicly shared a DM from the rapper asking Schnapp to play Cupid between her and Quinn. “I’m kind of hesitant to talk about it really, because I didn’t do anything,” Quinn notes. “It’s not something that I put out into the world. But I do think she’s an incredible artist. It’s flattering.” This intrusive level of public scrutiny obviously comes part and parcel with sudden, incandescent fame. The tyranny of Instagram gossip and fans reading telescopic paparazzi photos like tea leaves are the unfortunate by-products of being at the top of the screen-acting game. Nevertheless, it must be difficult to adjust to. “People will weave narratives about you that aren’t true, I guess,” he says. “And I think accepting your powerlessness over that [is best]. If you’re going to correct people constantly, you’re going to end up exhausted.”

Blazer, £2,360, shirt, £500, trousers, £890 and boots, £1,230, Gucci. Ben Parks

But being famous, a term he loathes to use for himself, isn’t all bad. Take the sudden groundswell of cultish Munsonmania, perhaps no better demonstrated than at London Film and Comic Con this summer. “It was the first time I’d ever encountered the fandom,” he recalls. There were rumours that Quinn was “mistreated” by the staff during a meet and greet, blindsided by the sheer number of Munsonites, but he was quick to debunk them, a point he reiterates now. “It was very overwhelming. I don’t think the Con were prepared for the numbers. I certainly wasn’t.” In a viral video widely shared online at the time, a fan expressed their impassioned gratitude: for Quinn’s time at the Con, for bringing Munson to life. Quinn seemed emotionally overwhelmed, dabbing away tears with the inside of his elbow, barely conjuring a murmur. An outsider might conclude this to be the moment that the pin dropped. “I don’t want to sound too saccharine about it, but it is moving,” he says. “If you have a curiosity about people and storytelling, for a character you’ve created with the help of others… for that to resonate with people, it feels very profound, you know?”

And then there are the holy-shit moments. First up: in late July, he made his chat-show debut on Jimmy Fallon, though that came within a whisker of being cancelled. “I was sick before I went on,” he says. “I stupidly had oysters for lunch on the day, thinking that I needed some vigour and vitality and that’d get me through it.” Turns out his mind was playing tricks: that stir in the pit of his gut was the product of acute anxiety, per the show’s backstage nurse. But he still went on. He met Kevin Hart, “a consummate pro,” in the green room backstage. “The nerves just bounce off him, I think, whereas they were just leaving bullet holes in me,” Quinn says. A month before our interview, he was named one of Variety’s 10 Actors to Watch for 2022. Patton Oswalt introduced himself to Quinn at the swanky brunch coronation thereafter. “He just feels so many miles away from my life. For him to come up to me was very weird.”

Jumper, £1,050 and shirt, £680, Dior. Ben Parks

Stratospheric parts like Eddie Munson are a “lottery ticket,” as Quinn puts it. And at the end of it all, he’s effectively coming away with a blank check. Is he going to put his energy into indie roles, like the drama he finished shooting over the summer, Hoard, or is he marching up to the Broccolis to demand Bond? “Yeah, I’ve just got off a Zoom with Barbara, actually…” he jokes. “I don’t know. It’s such a fucking cliché, but it’s about connection to the material. With Hoard, I’m specifically excited for the director, Luna Carmoon, and the lead, Saura Lightfoot Leon. That’s a lovely experience, completely different to these behemoth sets. But you want range.” A judicious answer. Really though: Bond? “I think I’d be fucking stupid to say no to that,” he says, laughing. “But, come on, it’s not even worth entertaining.”

Even that is on the presumption that Munson’s Stranger Things journey is over. “Yeah, I’ve said I don’t know because I really don’t know,” Quinn says. “Shawn Levy has said it publicly. I think [his return] would be very, very, very unlikely. He seems pretty fucking dead to me,” he says, punctuated by a sharp chortle. He takes a moment.

“It’s just a beautifully written arc. The beginning, middle and end are so powerful as it stands, so I think to just crowbar him into a narrative… you don’t want him to overstay his welcome,” he continues, ever the diplomat, seemingly wary of disappointing the legion of fans who made him. But a sense of certitude undergirds his prudence; the feeling that, after years of cohabitation, he’s ready to let Munson go.

“He did the job that the Duffers wanted him to do,” Quinn says. “By no means am I ruling it out. That’s a decision for the grown-ups to make. But Stranger Things was doing fine without Eddie. I think they’ll be fine next season without him, too.”

PRODUCTION CREDITS

Photographs by Ben Parks

Styling by Fabio Immediato

Grooming by Brady Lee

Jacket, £239, shirt, £99 and Boss Bottled parfum, £86, Boss. Ben Parks

[bubuli-3110]

Cover to Cover

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Characters: Uzui Tengen X Fem! Reader

CW: NSFW MDNI: Explicit sexual content, teasing, rubbing, unprotected sex, cum inside, slightly demeaning, fingering, slight lack of self confidence, modern era.

Synopsis: Tengen's left one week for work, however when, he returns he's quickly swooped off by his friends for a boys night how. You plan to repay him for making you wait with a little inspiration from your novel.

Word count: 1.67k

Requests are: Open (JJBA, JJK, AOT, and KNY) A/N: Yay!~ first time writing a drabble like this coming from fanfiction~ I hope my fellow Tengen stans enjoy~ P.S. you may be able to tell I watched Howl's moving castle again recently.

______________________________________________________________

It had been quite awhile since Tengen had had a boys night. While you really didn’t mind your lover going to hang out with his friends, you were a little antsy and bored waiting for him to return. After all, he had just returned from a week long business trip for work. You wanted to see him and spend time with him, but it has been a long time since he’s got to hang out with his friends. So you let it slide when he asked if it was ok, and tried to ignore the fact that you’re bored out of your mind and missing him like crazy.

You tried everything that you could think of to fill the quiet evening in your shared apartment. You tried watching TV, browsing the internet, and listening to music, but nothing filed the void of bordom.

Your last resort was something you hadn’t done in a long time. Read that novel that you started forever ago. Because of your busy schedule and your boyfriend that takes up a lot of your time, you hadn’t had much time for reading. Not that that bothered you. You’d rather be doing things with Tengen than anything else. The novel you started a while ago is a romance. You struggled to remember what was even happening the last time you’ve read this novel. You took a comfortable laying position on the couch and began reading from where you left off. Surprisingly enough the scene that you dive into quickly evolves into something more naughty. You blush at the words written on the page. This is not what you remember happening at all. The words of two characters were getting hot and heavy after a long time away. The female partner goes out of her way to tease her male partner and make him crave her after being away for so long. Sounds familiar.

While your boyfriend hadn’t been gone very long, you did think it might be nice to surprise him like in the story. The novel scene had your stomach in knots. Tengen was only gone for a week but you craved his touch more than anything now. You fidgeted uncomfortably remembering some of the other passionate encounters you two had together in the past. He hadn’t even come home, before going to meet with his friends.

Upon finishing the erotic scene you had made up your mind to try to tease your boyfriend a little whenever he decided to show up. You’d wait for him to come home and become the most irresistible thing he had ever laid eyes on. 

You toss the novel aside and went digging into your closet. You were quickly able to find the unopened box of laundry I’ve been saving for a special occasion. You carefully let the sheer lace lingerie cover what small parts they did. You took one look at yourself in the mirror and for a moment hesitated feeling a little self-conscious, however your desire to please your boyfriend outweighed any doubts you were having about yourself or your ability to do what you were about to do.

With everything set now all that was left to do was to wait for him to come home. So you waited with the mood set, lights out, only a few candles lit, and you sensually leaning on the made bed in your lingerie. The clock read 11pm. You finally heard the door nob turn, and fixed yourself up one last time. 

“Y/N? Where are you? I’m home!” You hear Tengen say. 

“In here!” You say.

You were laying on your stomach, gently swinging your legs back and forth. You rested your chin in your palms pushing your breasts together. You wanted show them off since it was one of  Tengen’s favorite parts of your body. When he walked in the room and locked eyes with you and the scene you painted, you flashed him a slight smirk and you could see he was caught off guard, but his face quickly creeped into a pleased smile. 

“I missed you darling~ I’ve been waiting for you.” You smile, leaning your head to one side cutely. 

“I’ve missed you too, princess.” He says dropping everything and making his way over to the bed.

Your lingerie left little to the imagine seeing as it was more or less stands of lace barly covering the important bits. Tengen’s eyes turned to thirst he knelt down in front of you and gently cupped your cheek in his large hand. 

“You’re simply the most beautifully flashy girl I’ve ever seen Y/N.” He says smiling before attempting to pull you into a kiss. You pull away gently with a smirk. 

“Not so fast Mr. flamboyant. I’m gonna have a little fun with you since you made me wait until now.” 

You saw Tengen chuckle nervously. This would be your first time being in total control. You were a little nervous, but ready to give it your best shot, and see how long you could tease him before be broke. 

You sat up and motioned Tengen to come lay on the bed. You took your place on top of him and he looked pleasantly up at you. This gave you the confidence you needed. You pulled his shirt off over his head and let you hand trail down his sculpted chest. You planted a few gentle kisses before finding a spot near his neck to nibble and suck on. Your hands rested on his shoulders. You felt his hands rest themselves on your hips and heard his breath hitch. 

You smirked a little to yourself as you started to grind your hips into him. This elicited a moan from your silver haired lover which turned you on more then anything. His low groans were music to your ears and meant you were doing something right. A few more rough grinds and you could feel his hard cock through his jeans and his fingers squeeze into your hips more. The thin lace between your pussy and his jeans did nothing to stop your wetness from seeping onto him. His hands started to wander up your body, but you quickly placed his hands back on your hips. 

“Comfy?” You says teasingly. 

“I must be in a lot of trouble.” He sad biting his lip. 

Time to try something from your novel. Using the courage you mustered, you quickly go on the attacked, roughly and quickly taking in his lips which he happily returns. You lock onto his tongue and begin to suck earning another moan from Tengen. He squirms slgihtly underneath you. You felt the need to push him farther.

You break the kiss and slowly begin removing the lace on your body. Letting it drop to the floor. Tengen watches with lust filled eyes, his fingers fidgeting on your hips. Leaving only your thin lace panties. You smirk down at him pushing your breasts together. Tengen digs his fingers into your hips. You could tell how much he wanted to touch you. He worshiped your body and not being able to explore it was killing him.

“Don’t make me beg Y/N.” he whines.

“You know, I like the sound of that” You smirk.

You lean down, pressing your breasts to his chest running you thumb across his lips. 

“Should we get these jeans off you?” You ask.

He nods vigorously and is all too eager to help you get them and his boxers off. He just needs one more push. You wanted to see that desperate Tengen take control and ravage you. He was near his breaking point. That much was obvious. He wasn’t used to not getting what he wanted when he wanted it.

“Do you want me darling?” You ask while working to get your lace panties off.

“More than anything.” He says desperately. His cock is rock hard by now dripping slightly with pre cum. 

“That badly?” You taking his length in your hand. 

Tengen’s expression seemed to relax thinking you were about to grant his wish. Instead you place his length between your wet folds. Rubbing against it. Tengen moans loudly gripping the sheets. You couldn’t tell if he was moaning from pleasure or frustration. 

“This is too cruel Y/N.” He whines and pants.

“What are you gonna do about it?” You smirk down to him. Even like this, his cock felt amazing agsaisnt your core.

It only took a few seconds of rubbing for him to snap. His eyes darkened and he let out an almost animal like growl. Quickly flipping you on your back pinning your wrists above your head. 

“Ok brat, now it’s my turn~” He purrs.

This was what you were waiting for. Him to demand and take control. He pulls one of your legs over his shoulder roughly leaving no time to prepare before he rams his large cock inside you, bottoming out instantly. You both moan loudly together finally getting what you’ve been waiting for. 

Tengen starts at a quick pound, determined to bruise you. Payback for edging him on no doubt. Your wet skins slaps together forming a symphony of clapping, moaning, and panting. Pure ecstasy. Nothing and no one compared to how he felt inside of you.

Tengen’s pace started to become uneven, but no less hard. He released your hands only to take one of your breasts in his large hand. He planted head face between them, licking at them viciously. You throw you head back and gasp at his tongue. Your legs lock around his hips and you grab onto his silver locks becoming a moaning mess. 

“T-tengen” you moan.

“Cum for me Y/N. I know you’re close.” He grunts.

He was right. His rasp animalistic voice was nearly enough to make you lose it alone. He sits back up, quickening his pace once again and moves his hand down to your wet clit working perfectly with his thumb. Tengen was a master with his hands. Within seconds, your back arches and your vision blurs. Your walls clamp down hard on to Tengen as your body seizes into a raging high, releasing a cry as you cum all over his cock. Tengen lets out a deep groan of his own as he bucks, climaxing inside you. His twisted orgasm face was a sight to be treasured.

Your body finally begins to relax and you loosen your grip on Tengen. He pulls his head back up and grins at you.

“That’s my girl. Even if you were being a brat before.” He chuckles. 

“Ok, maybe no more extreme teasing for awhile. I’m sure I’m going to be sore and bruised from you.” You chuckle at him. 

“Good, maybe you’ll remember that the next time you feel edging me on after being deprived of you.” He says planting a gentle kiss on your forehead. 

“Noted dear.” You smile.

“Come on, let’s go get cleaned up and go to bed before I get the urge to punish you again.” He says pulling out of you.

“Alright darling.” 

[littlemissvincentvega]

holy... oh my god, ur alex imagines are so hot, esp the one with the misbehaving s/o omgggggg, could i request alex having rough hate sex (or jealousy sex) with his s/o and fucking them stupid?? i just need more alex delarge smut, and thank u for the amazing works omlllllll

thank you lovely 😭💕 ahh i love writing for alex. luckily i rewatched aco a few weeks ago (made ryan watch cos he'd never seen it but he loved it) so i have a little muse for alex :') here goes lol i hope you enjoy! <3

wc: sex and boobies

You stood in the Duke of New York with a tray loaded full of empty glasses, waiting to take them to the kitchen. It was just a part-time job, but one you enjoyed-- mostly because Alex would visit rather a lot. He liked to know what you were doing, how you were doing. Make sure nobody was giving you any shit. The previous day, Georgie had paid a short visit. He had only come for a cider or two, just to chat and relax after a day at work, but it just so happened that you were behind the bar that afternoon. Of course he recognised you straight away and the two of you ended up having a lovely little chat, getting to know one another a bit better. Alex could be very cryptic; a very difficult fellow to read. "Darling?" a familiar voice called, and you turned around to see him approaching you. "Fetch us a little lager, there's a good girl."

"Alex!" you beamed, tottering over to him to plant a kiss on his cheek. He liked you to do that whenever you first saw one another. "Just give me a moment and I'll sort you out." With that, you whirled around and disappeared into the kitchen to put the glasses down. Moments later you were behind the bar, pouring a pint for your dearest Alex.

"So, 'ows the shift going, sweetheart? Rabbiting 'ard?" he asked you, watching your hands work the pump. Thinking about how he liked to see your hands work his pump, so to speak.

You smiled, placing the pint on a coaster. "Hard enough. What've you been up to?"

"Bit'a this, bit'a that."

"Captivating."

He chuckled quietly, looking up to meet your gaze. His baby blues were more intense than usual. Darker, perhaps. "Now," he began slowly, "did thou have something to tell me?"

You felt your brows knit together, stomach dropping slightly. "What?"

"Been chatting with Georgie-boy, have thee?" He leaned forwards, not once breaking eye contact. "Been 'avin' a little govereet, have we, darling?"

Your gaze fell to your feet. "He came into the bar--"

"Go to the toilet," he instructed, interrupting you mid-sentence. That was what irked you about Alex; he never gave you chance to explain anything.

"Why?"

"Get that pretty little backside of yours to the toilets before I give it a good tolchocking," he warned through gritted teeth, "unless you want every veck and cheena here to see what a naughty little girl you are."

-

There wasn't much you could do at that point. Alex could have easily gotten you fired then & there, but something in the back of your mind told you to obey him. His words mattered more than your manager's. Without another peep, you coyly made your way to the ladies' toilets-- you knew just what was coming.

Shortly after, Alex entered the bathroom and pushed you into one of the cubicles, quickly shutting the door behind him. You could feel his erection as he got you against the wall with nowhere to move. "Talking to other chellovecks, hm?" he muttered, yanking up your top to expose your breasts. Cold fingers squeezed on your nipples, earning a quiet gasp from your lips. "Do we need to be taught another lesson, darling?"

His hands roamed up your thighs, thumbs hooking under your underwear to pull them down. Your clit was already throbbing from the way he spoke to you. A single finger gliding across your slit drove the two of you up the wall-- you were already glistening, dripping with arousal. Alex tutted quietly, "Naughty naughty," and forced his finger between your lips. You had no choice but to taste yourself, to taste how much of a good little slut you were. How his words could flip you on your head just like that.

With his free hand, Alex unbuckled himself, unzipped his pants and dropped them slightly. He removed his finger from your mouth and picked you up, holding you against the cubicle door. Whining quietly, you lowered yourself onto him and let out an involuntary moan at his cock filling every inch of you. "You be quiet, darling," he purred, beginning to fuck you. There was no build-up to it, he simply started fucking you with no mercy, watching your tits bounce as he pounded you against the door. At that point you didn't care if people heard you, but Alex said no. And what Alex said went.

You truly did your best to stifle your moans, but it was all too much. Even he was struggling. "Fuck, Daddy!," you squeaked, holding onto his shoulders desperately. No response from him, but he clamped his hand over your mouth.

"Quiet," he warned, maintaining an intense eye contact with you. "Just sit there and take it like a good little devotchka, yes?"

A pathetic nod was given from you and he smirked, continuing to fuck you up against the door. "Good girl," he praised, squeezing your ass uncomfortably hard. His cock was throbbing inside of you, eager to release, and he definitely didn't hold back-- seconds later, you felt his hot load inside of you, sticky and relieving. He fucked you a few more times before helping you get up off of him, a smug look slapped across his face. Hands fumbled to zip himself back up and Alex opened the door, letting himself out, not giving a fuck that you were still standing there with weak legs, tits out and skirt hitched up over your ass. He turned to admire you, a wet slutty mess in nothing better than a ladies' room cubicle. "I hope we've learnt our lesson now, sweet'eart."