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tparker48 · 1 year

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The summer session of congress had begun as the politicians gathered in the hall. Sitting in their seats, they discussed what makes the communities better in the long run. Among them, would be a giant named Robert, Who would be seated in a large desk higher above the others. He proposed legislation to help make resources become more accessible for the giant folk among the community. This way, they could have a prospering life just as their counterparts.

But a few of the politicians didn't agree, claiming that the giants were already consuming too much with their size. Instead, they proposed that they should cut the limits of what the giants could have, while increasing the availability to the other little folk. Robert tried to convince them they mean no harm, and they were also trying to live. But they didn't listen, instead they casted their votes on the screen, other members dismayed to judge so hastly before coming to an agreement.

To stall for time, Robert called for a day off for the meeting. The chair agreeing as he announced it to the others. He grabbed his things and made his way into a hall accustomed to his size. Losing himself in his long strides as his dress shoes clicked through the corridor. But when commotion was heard up ahead, he slowed down. Peekling around the corner as he took note of who it was. It was the politicians that proposed their claims against the giants, all huddled up in their own circle.

"Did you see that oaf's reaction to our proposal? He was starstruck." A nasaly voice said.

"To lend our resources to a bunch of overgrown cyclopses? Hah! Blasphemy!" a female said.

"We need not worry about them gaining the upper hand, they shall receive only what we give them. If not that." Another said.

Laughter spewed from their group as they trailed down the hall. Boasting their words as if they were scripture for only them to hear. But little did they know, another was listening in on the commotion. Peeking back into their corner of the hallway.

Robert gripped his fist as his knuckles popped, his teeth gritting as he reflected on their words. So they have no intention to help his fellow pupil? Then he shall take it into his own hands.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

That very night, the politicians had a party that their own could attend. Placing it in the middle of a grassland where nothing but their music could be heard. Inside, they all had drinks and talked amongst each other. Some lending out new partnerships and making new bills to bring up.

"What a delightful idea, charging more on taxes would benefit our party greatly! What say you?" A man said.

"Tis a splendid idea, what better way to make ourselves more rich than tax others for theirhard work." A woman said.

“Yes, we shall make an announcement to the chair and-"

The power suddenly went out, the music pausing on its own cord, before the politicians came to a halt. They ran for their flashlights, shining them to illuminate the surrounding room.

"What happened?!"

"Who cut off the power?!"

"Blasted thing must of blew a fuse!" A man. looking around as they spotted a few of the guards, confused as much as politicians were as they scanned the room. "What do we pay you all for?! Go and check the box outside!" He demanded.

He swatted his cane as they dodged its trajectory, scampering to the exit as they went outside. Meanwhile, the politicians watched from inside the house, watching their flashlights turn as they headed to the box. When they disappeared, the man looked to the other members for any clarity. "Can someone tell me what's going on here?!"

"Don't look at us, we're as confused as you are!"

"Well someone's got to know damn it!" The man yelled, unease filling his emotion. Looking to a switch, he pushed away any in his path, flicking the trigger aggressively to get it to work. "Come on..Damn thing!"

"Aaah!" A scream came from outside. Catching the man and the other politicians as they looked out the windows. Nothing but pitch black sky was all they could see, wooden trees and bushes shining in the moonlight. When the man panned to the left of the window, he noticed a flickering glow off the corner of the house. A flashlight laid in the grass, its battery dimmed as it cast its shadow upon the grass.

Wha..where did they go!?"the man yelled.

"One of us should go check." a female said.

"Are you mad!? No one's going out there!"

"Well i'm not standing around to get assassinated!" A member yelled, shoving the man to the side as he stormed out.

"No you fool, wait!" The man said. His words falling on deaf ears.

He watches them walk out as he went to his cars. Opening the panel as they proceeded to get in. But just as a leg entered the car, the man was snatched, dragged into the black of night. The man stumbled backwards upon the scene, hitting the end of a table as he tripped on the couch.

"He-he vanished!" He pointed shakily at the window, the car's headlights still shining between the trees.

"Call the police! Or hell, the damn guard."

"Calm yourselves!" The man said. "Whatever's out there can only get us from outside! It cannot reach us."

“But we can't just sit here, we-"

Stomps from the outside silenced them, their beat shaking the house. The man raised a hand to tell the others to be quiet, eying the windows for any sign of their assailant. Shadows danced along the windows, a corner of a foot filling the frame as it trailed around.

"It's a giant.." The man whispered.

"A giant? But none of them know about this maison. None except us."

The stomps continued as it circled the mansion. The sounds of shattered pavement popping before its transition to snapped branches. But suddenly, they stopped.

"Shh.. Listen." The man said. "They've stopped."

The politicians eyed the windows for any signs of the giant, but they seemed to have found nothing. The man looked to the corner of the house, hoping to catch a glimpse of them himself, but even he came across nothing. "Where did they go?" He asked, shakiness in his voice.

"Maybe he gave u-"

Crash! The man eyed the farthest window as a palm reached inside, snatching out into the night as wooden trickled from the breached window. Chaos began to break out, politicians toppled over as they moved away from the window. "Calm yourselves! Damn it, Calm yourselves!" The man shouted. Knocked over as he fell against the couch. He looked to the ceiling as everything started to break, a palm smashing in from the left side, before another crashed from the right. Each palm grabbed a handful of the folk, The man watching in horror as they disappeared into the hole in the ceiling.

They were sitting ducks. Like fish in a bowl as each was plucked out of the mansion. They started with 55 politicians, but they were snatched, that number dropped 40. Then to 35, then 25, then to 10. When five remained, including himself, the man shrieked as he ran for the exit.

"Screw this!" He yelled, slamming out the door as he bolted for the trees. Racing to the parking space as his car rested behind a tree. He could still hear the sounds of the remaining politicians inside, along with the sudden crash as the mansion's boards creaked and snapped. But he didn't look back. Hopping into his car as he slammed the door.

He fumbled at his keys, jamming it into the ignition as he tried to start the car. But a snag at the trunk shook him off, the car lifting a foot off the ground as it dangled in the air. The man could feel gravity pull at him, the wheel hugging his chest as the air squeezed out from him. "Come on, come on!" He shouted. Pounding at the wheel.

The door would snap off as the tree next to him came into view. The other car door slammed as well before the car began to turn. Rotating parallel, the man rolled out of the car and onto the ground. Landing between a pair of large shoes as he followed it up its length. A figure in a cloak standing tall, holding his car as if it were a toy.

The man looked down when a silent muffle lingered below. The cloak flapped behind them as the fabric thinned out from their legs, their shaft laying there as it laid limp. He couldn't see what else was there, it was too dark to see. But when the giant pointed the car's beams downward, his eyes widened. Sticking out from the tip of the bare shaft, a hand stuck from it. Its fingers clinging to a portion of fabric before it was pulled off.

Glrrk! A messy sound lingered from the shaft, the hand slipping into its depth as it traveled upward. Disappearing by the extra layer of cloth. The man stumbled backwards, kicking away to create distance from the giant figure, but the space was quickly diminished. The figure taking a single step before loomed above.

"What is the meaning of this?! Who are you?!" The man yelled. Bending his legs as the giant took another firm step. They soon rose their arms over their hood, drawing it back as the smooth head underneath revealed themself. It couldn't be, it can't be. "Robert?!" He called them.

"You shouldn't have targeted my proposal" He simply said.

A hand soon reached for the man, growing wider as the giant's fingers stretched around. He tried to fumble to his feet, kicking up dirt as his shoes skidded across the parking lot. Henwas too slow, the fingers clamping at his leg before they hoisted him to the air. The man's mind raced as the world flipped upside down. Bumping against Robert's thigh upon his ascent

"No..no no! You can't do this!" He shouted, slapping his arms against the legs. Hoping to at least injure him to let himself go. But the grip on his body never faltered. Instead, Robert's second palm, reached down below, plucking at his cock below as he ushered into his hand. Watching it pan upwards, his heart sank when he pinched at the corners of the cockhead, the slit oozing pre as it drooled onto its underbelly.

With a slight lift, his heart skipped a beat as the finger holding him up let go. Sending him towards the gaping maw of the slit. With one last breath, he shrieked as everything grew dark. Flesh crowning at his head before he slid inside.

Glrrk!

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The very next day, congress started back up as the politicians returned to the house. Robert was one of the few who had first entered, taking a position at his chair as he scaled the room. The seats in front of him filled with his colleagues, each increasing the more came through the wooden doors. But the same could not be said for the others on the other side, their seats hollow, empty as the cool conditioning flowed over them.

"We..have some eager new." The chair said, Robert detecting the sense of unease. But beared it no mind. "Our colleagues were recently attacked by an assailant. They came in the black of night and have now taken out a portion of our democracy.

Hearing the announcement, Robert looked to his party below, their commotion becoming more vibrant as more joined in.

"They're missing?" He heard one say.

"Who could have done this?"

The promotion grew.louder.before the chair smashed his hammer. "Settle down, we shall investigate their whereabouts and what happened. We will hold whoever's accountable to the highest order."

"Forgive me, chair" Ribert tapped at his mic. "I know this is a bit subtle, but I would like to touch base on the bill from yesterday."

"Go on." The chair said.

Robert nodded as he stood up from his chair. "If the assailant easily disappeared, it would be beneficial to hire a team to tackle the task. Giant's have been known for their vast sight, they could help find this perpetrator and Bring them to justice."

"I see..I shall leave it up for discussion at a later date. But will duly request the details for the house to decide." The chair said.

Robert bowed his head, before pushing the mic closer. "Thank you Mr. Chair."

"With that, we shall call an early end to this meeting. And find out what we can about this assailant." The chair slammed his hammer along their desk before he and the other members moved out from their seats.

Robert was one of them as he made his way to the back hallways. Stepping into the bathroom where he went to relieve himself. Standing in front of the toilet, he pointed his cock at the bowl before he released his fluid. Sighing blissfully as it traveled from his body.

Glorp! He felt movement below as the fluid ceased its flow, Robert shaking it before he let it drop place. "You bunch have certainly been the talk of the afternoon" he said to the wall, digging into his dress pants as he scooped his balls underwear. Even in his palms, its weight sagged over the side of his hand. The testicles danced as imprints pressed, a fist extending from the clammed skin before vanishing underneath its soft surface.

Muffled responded to his call, a buck from the inside sending the bull size bulge off of his hand. He merely scooped it up into his other hand, tossing it in place like it was a bean bag. "Settle down, I won't hurt you despite all your claims. I just need you in there until a bill passes for us giants. Ome that benefits both them and little folk."

He felt the left testicle stretch, watching its slide forward as drooped over his finger. it curled around the round edge and started to caress it, a soft huff escaping from him before he adjusted it back.

"For now, you all stay in there." He finished. Wiping his cock of any loose fluid, he stretched his underwear to have a clear view of his inner thighs below. Letting them slip on their own, he dropped them inside and let the waistband snap against his body.

Flushing, he made his way back outside as a couple of his colleagues stood around. Passing them by them with a stride before he made his way to the hallway. All this staring was making him peeved, but sighed as he gazed at his crotch below. Holding over it with a fist as he made his way to the parking lot. Without the other party member's meddling, perhaps they could get some real work done for a change.

#cock vore

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sansaorgana · 1 year

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Hi! May I request AU modern times headcanons for Otto Hightower, where he has an affair with a female student (or something similar for his occupation) and falls in love with her? I’m hoping for some NSFW content, but also sweet ❤️

hi! 💚 tbh I imagine him being Viserys' business partner / friend from work and working something politics related. maybe a PR consultant for the politicians 🤔 and you can be his assistant! (I'm also not a fan of professor x student dynamic because the power balance is just not right)

SFW

• Otto is a widowed workaholic who is super ambitious and he doesn't accept any failures from his co-workers

• He's the worst boss ever when it comes to discipline but he's also known for being very good at his job and it's a big deal to work for him

• You hope that with time you're gonna prove your worth to him and he's going to treat you kinder

• However, that is not happening. He seems not to pay attention to you at all

• Until that one day when one of your clients has a PR crisis because of the scandal and even Otto Hightower seems to be out of ideas

• And you speak up, proposing a new strategy. You can see how Otto's eyes sparkled all of sudden

• He compliments you and since then he starts to pay more attention to you

• Just like he keeps asking for more advices

• Otto is not shy. He knows he's attractive because of his money and the status. One evening, when you work with him after hours, he asks you out. Just like that

• First date place: super fancy restaurant where he brags a lot about his business and his successes and his wealth but he also asks a lot about you and he is genuinely interested

• He wants you to be his partner during some upcoming very prestige event. You're nervous but you accept the proposition to go there with him because of course you do

• You're a candy on his arm but he also entertains you with conversations to get to know you even better. You notice that he is actually interested in you for real

🔞 NSFW (18+)

• After the event, he invites you to spend the night with him at the hotel. He isn't pushy and he tells you that he is aware of the fact it might be too early for you

• However, you agree to go there with him and it all starts with a bottle of an expensive champagne

• Yes, Otto loves to show off but it's also his way of spoiling you

• While having sex, though, he doesn't feel the need to impress you. Don't get me wrong, he's not bad. He's experienced and he knows exactly what to do. But he doesn't feel the urge to show off, which feels nice. He's confident in what he does

• I have a feeling he'd be into lots of sweet talk full of praises. You're his pretty girl, his smart girl, his brave girl... you name it

• He might be older than you but he won't stop at one round. Prepare yourself for more because that man is hungry for you

• He's still sweet to you in the morning and genuinely asks have you enjoyed it. He also asks you out for another date. You just know he treats you seriously

• Especially when he kisses your forehead before you leave the hotel room

• On the next date, he brings flowers. You're definitely his girl now

• And since you're his girl... he would love to go down on you

• Even in his office. He'd sit you on the chair and disappear under the desk

• He's addicted to it, what can I say...?

#i feel like a sinner for posting about him lol #i dont even fancy him #i do it for the team green xd #lovely anons #sansaorgana: Answered #otto hightower x reader #modernhotdau

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blindrapture · 1 year

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added a new section, which I will quote here for the fun of it

Some Additional Stuff To Know

Joyce's books take place, generally, at the turn of the 20th century in Dublin, the capital city of Ireland. That was a culture more similar to ours than one might expect, but separated by the ravages of time. Here is where I'll list some general tidbits of context that may help bridge that gap.

WHO THE HELL WAS CHARLES PARNELL? (a skimming of a complex situation)

Ireland was a colony of the British Empire, who kept a financial and political grip. The history of that is, uh, long and strained. There were, of course, nationalist elements throughout Ireland seeking independence-- the late 1800s saw a number of radicals attempting assassination, rabblerousing, terrorism (I should really refresh my knowledge of this and give a better list sometime), but the State prioritized their neutralization and the People generally tried to keep distance from them. Instead, it was far more common for Irish citizens to live with general discontent and political apathy, as the status quo was entrenched and they saw no way out anytime soon.

Then came Charles Stewart Parnell. From the 1870s through the 1880s, Parnell came to be known as a noble and respected politician who supported Irish Independence and had the know-how to pursue it democratically. He condemned the violent acts and commanded parliament the 'right' way. And so he gave people hope.

HOWEVER. Around 1890, when other attempts to smear his name fell through, one campaign succeeded in ousting him: Word got out about a scandal. Parnell had been keeping a long affair with a married woman (Kitty O'Shea). There were letters. The press took the story and ran with it. Parnell assured his supporters he would be exonerated, but it was too late. The Catholic Church were disgusted; its priests instructed their congregations to view him as a symbol of immorality and danger. And, y'know what, it worked. Parnell lost his public and never got them back. His health rapidly deteriorated and he died shortly after, in 1891.

This is all important to know, as James Joyce was a child when this scandal broke out. His father and uncle were diehard Parnell supporters, even through the scandal, while his governess piously kept with the Church. He witnessed the violent fracturing of a united home, furthermore of a united people. The next few decades were marked by generational grief and a sense of betrayal-- the pious felt betrayed by Parnell's immorality, the fervent felt betrayed by the People's disloyalty. Joyce fell on the latter side, and thus so did his fictional Stephen Dedalus.

If you read any of Joyce's books, you will find references to Parnell, and the broader symbol of a public that wants a hero so they can tear him apart ("Ireland is the sow that eats her young"). In Dubliners, the story "Ivy Day in the Committee Room" shows the remnants of a parliamentary party haunted by Parnell's shadow. In A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, you'll see the impact this had on a young Stephen. And Ulysses takes place over a decade after this all went down, so it's less direct, but the memory of Parnell still rests with the city. (During the "Wandering Rocks" episode, Buck Mulligan and Steve Haines see Parnell's brother!) And Finnegans Wake, finally, allows Parnell's ghost a chance to blend in with the rest of history as another HCE figure, builder of cities, father of peoples.

TUBERCULOSIS (was not to be scoffed at)

At the time of writing this website, we have a global, uh, sensitivity to viral contagion. Covid has us rethinking our place in the world. So it's with that in mind that I bring up TB, the scourge of, uh, a lot of human history, and certainly of the era in which Joyce's books are set.

look man, I'm not the best source for a well-informed overview of a serious disease. forgive me for the casualness here. the truth is, Joyce's books hardly mention TB explicitly, and this is in fact a subject I only became truly aware of like a year ago, so you'd be forgiven for glossing it over too, BUT THAT'S WHY THIS SECTION IS HERE, because TB is absolutely an implicit presence.

The people of Joyce's books know about TB and want to avoid it, but they would rather not go around talking about it because it's a bummer, and Joyce felt no need to spell any of this out because everyone was aware of TB back then, we are an outlier because we actually got a vaccine for it in the 20th century and it was a huge deal. TB is bad. You cough up blood, you deteriorate, you die. And it is very contagious.

People obviously did not have an internet back then, nor did they have airtight ways of spreading helpful information, they just had pillars of tradition that were optimized for specialized subjects and the robust if sometimes slow networks of gossip. General knowledge of TB was "it's bad, and it spreads somehow." There were theories as to how it spread, and therefore how to avoid it, but the common ones... well, their hearts were in the right place. The theory that struck closest, if still inaccurate, was "it spreads through dust and spit. do not make intimate contact with someone before marriage, and keep your house clean." Joyce himself had studied medicine and tried his best to keep up to date with this kind of thing, and that is the theory he sticks to in his books.

So. Dust, and intimacy (specifically with someone who already has TB). When characters in Joyce have dusty furniture, when characters are aware of the dust, keep in mind the deadly implications. When characters long for an intimacy that feels incredibly out of reach, I mean there are a lot of factors there, but remember this one in the back of your head. There is always more context than you know.

#talkin about joyce

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elisethetraveller · 2 days

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Continued from; zaunrising

There was no smile on Silco’s face. If there was any expression, it was a somber, quiet one. An adult tired of the complaints of children, and yet one who was called upon once again to step between those who as far as he was concerned should know better. All the same, in his dark ruined eye there was a strange gleam. That fiery orb seeming a touch brighter than normal, or perhaps it only seemed that way due to his blue eye seeming colder. Another difference was Sevika’s presence, the strong woman who was Silco’s right hand standing behind him and to one side. Close enough to step up, and in if need be, but with no sign of intending to do so unprovoked. In this moment Sevika was not a threat, and seemed as composed as ever with her shimmer fueled arm at a standby. She was, however, a warning. For as friendly as Silco had been to the new foreign chem-baron, that could change if need be. “Are you finished?” Before The Table, before he had nearly died, before things had changed, Silco would have been more measured in his response. Now, however, he found his patience lowered. It was a dangerous thing, patience sliding away reminiscent of when he’d been a young man, but with the self-control and consideration of an older man with years of experience. There had been Silco, who worked with Vander and had crawled out of the mines. Silco, betrayed, and who had found power in the shadows that allowed him to pull Zaun upwards into something new. Zaun, the Enterprise, on the way to the Free Nation of Zaun. Now, however, there was a different Silco. Exactly who he was, and what he was capable of, was something many had yet to see. One thing however was for sure. He was still one of the primary powers in Zaun with Sevika still standing by his side. “If I was here to “rush along negotiations”, on her behalf, it would not be only myself and Sevika standing here.” Voice quiet, and controlled, this was clearly not the sociable Silco that had visited Elise more than once. This was the Eye of Zaun who be it through information, shimmer, strength, or any number of things ran far more than most thought he did. “No, I am here to ask a very simple question, Elise.” This new chem-baron had a weakness, but it was one Silco could respect. She cared for her people, or at least cared enough about what they could do for her, that it might as well be the same thing. Certainly, she cared more than most other chem-barons, and that created a kind of loyalty. Loyalty, which by its very nature, would go both ways. A weakness of a sort because it’d guarantee certain behaviors, but it was also a strength as it’d make it harder to turn her people against her. Sad, really, that Elise was what Silco had originally hoped the chem-barons would be, and she wasn’t even a Zaunite. Still, she also wasn’t a Piltie, and if a yordle could be a chem-baron… well why not? “How far are you willing to go, to get your people back?"

Most people would call Elise a trusting individual who wore her heart on her sleeve. She wasn't a politician or a liar. Most people would be wrong. One had to be a liar to look a parent with a dead child in the eyes and tell them everything would be okay. And she had seen far too many failing institutions to trust any of them. Perhaps that was why she walked into the room alone. Because while there was no reason to believe Silco was here for blood, the little voice in the back of her mind insisted otherwise, and she would be damned if someone else's blood was spilt over this. So Elise sat there with her empty, pleasant smile, eyes sharp and drifting from Silco to Sevika.

"Yes." Was that a rhetorical question? Most likely. Elise didn't care. The mage held no pretence that Silco didn't deal with his own garbage-can of issues every day, but as far as she was concerned, he was here to help, or he was in the way. And the thought he was here to help felt delusional. She was an outsider; she got it thrown in her face every time she tried to deal with this sensibly. Why would he choose to help an outsider?

Though Silco's arrival was a relief. No matter why he was here, it would shake things out of the frustrating stagnation. She didn't have the resources to go into the other territory and get her people, but her own territory was well-protected. The other chem-baron couldn't force their way to the valuable water. Despite all of Zaun's technology, this was a siege.

"What do you propose?" It was the first time Elise moved, and she could feel it in every muscle. Residual energy dispersed like an anxious breath escaping through gritted teeth. Leaning forward, her fingers drummed against the table.

"I can't just go in and get them. There are too many people for me to get them out safely." And while she could survive the gunfire, they wouldn't. "And I am not throwing fifty people at a problem when half of them won't return." There were plenty of people who wanted to volunteer, even after they had discussed the odds and chances. The loyalty was heartwarming. But it was also dangerous. Sooner or later, they would try to rush the territory despite her insistence not to. They weren't of the temperament to wait things out.

( @zaunrising )

#ic #zaunrising

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seph7 · 2 months

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The Overlooked Hotel, having found a spare room for Stephen Tobolowsky, now welcomes another deserving guest, the late, great JT Walsh. You know, that really talented guy from that thing you really like.

JT Walsh, in many ways the definitive supporting character actor, passed away suddenly in 1998. He succumbed to a heart attack at the relatively tender age of 54, but left behind a quite astonishingly varied and accomplished body of work, despite never being nominated for anything other than a Primetime Emmy and a couple of SAG cast awards. If nothing else, this amply demonstrates that far too often, real talent goes unrewarded and although (of course) not every0ne can be lavished with awards and in any given year the same performance is likely to hoover up every award going, the fact that Walsh never received an Oscar, Golden Globe or SAG award (or even a solo nomination) is a glaring omission. He certainly invested the time, energy and talent. Consider the evidence:-

To much greater success (and more universal acclaim) than the similarly themed Dead Poets Society, Good Morning Vietnam managed to anchor Robin Williams’ freewheeling improvisation to an important and affecting story and a thoroughly appealing and sympathetic protagonist. For JT Walsh there was, as was so often the case, the relatively thankless role of the stick-in-the-mud, the uptight superior standing in the way of freedom, comedy and truth. The butt of several of Robin Williams’ more biting digs (“in more dire need of a blow job than any white man in history”), Walsh’s Sergeant Major Dickerson manages to kick back against the insults and insubordination with ferocity and genuine impact, elevating what might have otherwise been a one-dimensional role (spoiling Williams’ fun) to something much more meaningful and memorable. Quite the polar opposite of Cronauer, Dickerson believes in what he is doing and sees no place for flippancy or casualness amidst the carnage he is witnessing. As General Taylor rightly notes, Dickerson is mean rather than crazy, but it is to Walsh’s enduring credit that Dickerson is fully-formed as a character, acting consistently and aggressively whilst finally succeeding in running Cronauer out of town. As his actions ultimately lead to his own relocation, the look of bewilderment on his face lingers with us. A real sense of “but what did I do wrong?” amidst the lunacy of Vietnam.

JT Walsh has never really been a leading actor. His skills are more subtle than that and he has tended to excel by going toe to toe with better known (though often less accomplished) stars in ancillary scenes in ensemble films. A case in point would be Backdraft, Ron Howard’s under-rated fire-fighter film, wherein Walsh plays a corrupt politician whose decisions are presenting grave consequences for Chicago’s firemen. He comes across as predictably sleazy and compromised in his few scenes and although the pyrotechnics are on display in the film’s many exhilarating fire-fighting sequences, there is a memorable heft to Walsh’s scenes with (amongst others) Kurt Russell, Billy Baldwin and Robert De Niro. A Few Good Men represents another case in point. All of the kudos went to Jack Nicholson’s grand-standing General and his protestations of inability to truth-handle, but JT Walsh’s turn was, while less conspicuous, all the more affecting for its sense of moral conflict. In Red Rock West we see Walsh in full-on rage mode, squaring off against Nic Cage. A phenomenal sense of danger leaching through the pores of an actor who often plays stiff characters.

Breakdown was perhaps the closest Walsh came to a lead role, although of course the lead credit was Kurt Russell’s exasperated and desperate everyman. Breakdown seems to rarely attract as much attention as it warrants, but it is an intelligent and invigorating film, with Walsh’s antagonist providing the perfect degree of ambiguity against Russell’s tireless search for his wife and the truth regarding her disappearance. Although we’ve seen menace and villainy from Walsh plenty of times, when he blankly tells the State Trooper, “I’ve never seen this man before in my life”, we genuinely believe him and it gives the film its effectiveness. A more obvious and less subtle actor in the role and the game would have been blown.

Outbreak is a peculiar film with interesting casting choices all over the place. Dustin Hoffman seems ill-suited as the protagonist, but his skill as an actor wins through. Donald Sutherland is suitably slippery and Morgan Freeman slots in alongside him as his more conflicted, less self-assured colleague. JT Walsh crops up in a scene where a final decision is being made as to whether to completely destroy the town carrying the (now air-borne) virus in order to eradicate it and despite it being tempting to go with histrionics and over-acting, Walsh instead delivers a fierce, but contained speech, keen to ensure that when the fall-out arrives from the President’s unenviable decision, no-one is left hung out to dry and also, wanting to raise the issue of constitutionality, an important and worthwhile exploration amidst the carnage taking place in Cedar Creek, CA.

[yframe url=’http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oJ6zQZ9GGTY’]

What more can we say? In Walsh’s case, plenty. Ace turns in The Negotiator (another slippery bureaucrat, yet imbued with a personality), Miracle on 34th Street (a more conventional villain, but again toned perfectly in the circumstances), The Last Seduction (if there is any genre that he seems most effortlessly suited to, it would be neo-noir – see also Red Rock West), Misery and The Grifters. There is an ambiguity about his best characters, which one cannot help but feel would not be there if the roles had been left to less accomplished actors. As variously noted above, Walsh consistently steers clear of cliché and predictability, bringing life and depth where it is needed. With 74 acting credits to his name, it seems wholly unfair that he has not received one single award, but perhaps with much of his best work lining up against more obvious, “award-friendly” competition it was destined to be thus. It is difficult to think of another contemporary character actor who can be relied on to fill these sorts of roles to such great effect. A great loss to the film industry and a worthy resident of The Overlooked Hotel.

#j.t. walsh #jt walsh #underrated actors

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rayoutside-blog · 4 months

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Jeannette's last interview

This morning my boss called me, once again reminding me that I haven't done much work, that it takes me a long time to submit my articles, and how tired he is of me in general. I usually don’t tell you about this, dear diary, but I remember that I promised to tell you a little about my work.

Well, now that moment has come. I work as a journalist, although this is just a word. I'm more like a freelance writer for an online newspaper that often sends me assignments... that I rarely complete. To be honest, I don’t really know how to do anything else. My parents pay for my entire existence, but it just so happens that sometimes my conscience torments me, forcing me to earn at least some money with my labor. And so it happened that I ended up in this newspaper. This time the boss said that if I didn’t interview one person today, I wouldn’t see any more orders from him. Of course, I sighed and agreed. I thought that it would again be some kind of politician or a well-publicized representative of social networks, however, this time my guest turned out to be even more provocative and confusing.

You see, this online newspaper is called “About You”, many people work in it, and its main topic is absolutely anything. If you asked me, I would even say that this is not a real online newspaper, but some kind of trash bin, where absolutely any topic is put on public display, but at the same time with proper editing and details for adults. Let's just say that this is a vile and disgusting newspaper that occasionally pleases people with positive things, but at the same time it is terribly readable for some people. And in general, even if they pay me money for articles, then that already says a lot about them. I mean... look at me.

In short, today, around lunchtime, the “strange person” that the boss was talking about showed up to me.

- Hello, you are Jeannette, right? - Leto turned out to be a middle-aged man, quite large, with a surprisingly high-pitched voice and dull gray eyes, in which an eternal note of arrogance could be read.

- Yup. its me, and you must be Leto? Can I have your last name? – I escorted the guest into the living room, where a hot kettle and a small table with everything necessary for a comfortable conversation were already waiting for us. At this time, I continued to look at the man, but I could not draw any confident conclusions regarding his character. He was dressed in a black raincoat, expensive in appearance, underneath which lay a somewhat casual blue shirt and black trousers. He smelled nice, but at the same time I couldn’t shake the feeling that this man wanted to look better than he actually was. On the outside he is an expensive and well-groomed man, an exemplary match for any woman, but on the inside... it’s like a drunkard who has lost the meaning of his life.

- A surname is not needed, I told Gerald about this. – Leto snapped, sitting in a chair, carefully looking at the set table, as if waiting for permission to take cookies or ask for coffee. Gerald Clarke is my boss and he actually mentioned something like this.

- Please, help yourself. – I pointed to the cookies. - Coffee? – Leto nodded, and I filled our cups with a drink. - Sorry, but I would still like to clarify. – I began to carefully look at the sharp features of the man’s face. – Gerald said that that I can use any name or any pseudonym for the article. This is possible, but if you do not want to reveal your real name, then…

- Should my story be of a sensitive nature? – Leto finished for me, grinning. He stirred the sugar in his cup, looking at the cookies with some disgust. I continued to look at him in silence, he was clearly ready to continue on his own. It's always a good sign when you don't have to force information out of your interlocutor. - My story, Jeannette, is not what I’m here for. I’m here to give you a couple of Others people stories, but which ones you prefer is another matter. - Leto took a sip of tea that was clearly too hot and continued. – As for my name, “Leto” comes from a Latin name for the profession. Roughly speaking, “chronicler”. You and I have similar hobbies, so to speak. But the surname is something more personal. You see, I don’t give my last name or origin precisely because of the same story collectors as you and me. Journalists, as a rule, begin to tirelessly dig for names and surnames. They start getting into your family, your closet and end up sniffing out your panties. This may not be the right metaphor, but you get the idea. Simply put, I have my own reasons for not giving anyone my last name.

- Ahaa.... - While my guest was answering, I managed to finish my coffee, make a couple of notes and think properly. Of course, I didn't have to get used to strange people. In general, I’ve never gotten along well with any people at all, but a person “without a name” that comes to tell “me” some others people stories, and even “not about himself” was the first time I’ve had one. This thought confused me so much that I involuntarily lost myself. My guest had to intervene.

- So, what stories would you like to hear from me? About what? I am not very familiar with the activities of your newspaper, since for several years now I have been considering the Internet as a kind of new milestone in global corruption.

- Sorry. I'm still interested in what exactly you do for living. I understand that you don’t want to share your personal story, but I won’t be able to ask you some other topic right away. If you and I really have a similar profession, then secrets should be alien to you, shouldn’t they?

- Well, if it helps us get started, let me tell you what I do. But I would not say that secrets are alien to me. You see, a secret is not a secret at all if its owner does not have a name. Have you ever thought about this? – Leto grinned; it took him some time to come up with these sentences. But it’s true. If my secret, for example, is to love sweets, then it turns out “Jeannette’s secret is to love sweets.” And if “someone” likes sweets, then this is no longer My Secret. At the same time, it remains Mine, but only I know about it. Another person will simply receive information that “someone” loved sweets. This is no longer a “secret” at all.

- I think I get it. - I answered briefly, receiving an approving nod in response. Maybe Gerald, for the first time in his life, provided me with an interesting interlocutor? It can not be.

- So, as I said, I do almost the same thing as you. The difference is not big. You write articles for money and most likely you are looking for information about what you were told to do. I on the other hand choose myself what kind of information to look for, where, when and how. – Another confident sip of coffee. The drink had to be refreshed, which I did. Frankly, his phrase sounded almost offensive. Am I some kind of slave, and he is a king here?

- So you have a means of subsistence? Sorry, but what are you living for? Or did I misunderstand you and you are the manager of some media outlet?

- Oh no, what are you talking about? You understood everything correctly. I am a free bird, no one pays me, and I don’t live anywhere. You could even say that I am a beggar! – With a small exclamation in his voice and a smile, Leto deftly picked up the cookies from the plate and threw them into his mouth.

- So... you're traveling? – I tried to process the information received for some time. This all explained his appearance. Soon I had to admit that I didn't know which question to ask next. There were too many of them. – But you need somewhere to sleep and eat something, don’t you?

- Yes, I travel very often, and yes, I need to eat something and somewhere to sleep. – The answer sounded somewhat tired and sad. Almost doomed. - But I’m coping, let’s put it this way. You will be surprised, but there are still good people in the world, although there are terribly few of them left. I have my ways to live.

- Hm – I took a short pause, wondering whether it was worth delving into this topic further. Most likely, my guest either considers such a discussion a waste of time, or simply does not want to discuss why and where he lives. However, as he already admitted, he was not going to tell me a personal story. Well, let's see what else he has then. - Let's do it differently. What would you personally like to tell me about?

- What a good question. Jeannette. You'd be surprised how few people are interested in this kind of stuff these days. In our society there are only egoists; they are only interested in discussing Their problems and Their stories. They may ask about you, but often this is either an act of manipulation or a question out of tact. So… which category should I put you in? Just please don't lie.

- Me? - For a couple of seconds I wondered whether it was possible to be frank with him, but I quickly remembered that revelation opens a lot of doors. - I just don’t know what we’re doing here if we’re not talking about your story. This begs a simple and logical question. What do you want to tell? You could even say that this is not an act of manipulation or a sense of tact, it is just business. My job is to conduct an interview, and now I have little idea what to write about in our dialogue.

- Commendable honesty. – Leto complimented me, and I finally understood what motivates him in life. Or I thought I understood. It's about his exorbitant arrogance. It seems that this man considers everyone around him to be bad, evil, stupid, primates, and so on. He does not consider it necessary to waste time on them, but nevertheless he is forced to interact with other people. In a way, it even reminded me of myself. – Okay, let me tell you that I’m exploring various mysterious places. You can call me… let me think… - Leto scratched his chin with timid stubble, looking at the fan on the ceiling. Two minutes passed in complete silence. - A careful exorcist.

- A careful exorcist? – I couldn’t help but grin.

- Yes. – The man smiled faintly in response. - You know, I simply couldn’t think of a better description for myself than “chronicler” or “cautious exorcist”. The world is very fast, almost elusive. Any person has heard more or less about “exorcism”, some believe in it and, in fact, this is a separate topic for discussion, because modern priests are... well some Ghost hunters and similar people are, for the most part, ordinary charlatans. And there is almost nothing vicious about it. Everyone earns as much as they can.

- Except for you? – I dared to tease my interlocutor. After all, he “doesn’t earn money” and it’s generally unclear what he lives on.

- Cheers. I condemn any connection with material values and think it’s stupid to hold on to them, but at the same time, it’s practically impossible to survive without money, and you won’t be satisfied with the clergy.

- Sorry, but this is a rather banal and groundless idea. So, you hate money and everyone who loves it, but at the same time you use it? Isn't this too immoral? Almost contradictory.

- And you are apparently a good journalist or psychologis? But no, for me this is not immoral or contradictive. – How could I even ask such a thing? He has pride of a lion. - Let me explain before we continue the “cautious exorcist” thing. – I shrugged indifferently, burying my nose in my notes. Like I have a choice but to listen to him. - For me everything is very simple. I may be hypocritical, and I admit it, but… at the same time, this is my life policy. As long as I am not starving, as long as I am warm, and so on, I will condemn everyone who runs headlong for any money. People spend their lives on this. This is what bothers me the most. Judge by yourself. You work half of your life, sleep the other half, and spend the rest raising your offspring. Don't you believe that you deserve better?

This is how society works in many countries. You work just to live with very short breaks, in the form of weekends and vacations to “take a deep breath”... what's so funny said? – Leto stopped noticing how I could barely contain my laughter.

- Forgive me, for God's sake, you didn't say anything funny, you just don't know Me at all. My life, according to your policy, is more like “freedom from money and matter” or something like that. The funny thing about this is that you said “you deserve better.” And I... well it doesn’t matter, please continue.

- Why? If you are not burdened by the money bustle of the world, then you are free. You can reach your full potential and do whatever you want. – Leto’s face showed a mixture of admiration, joy and confusion.

- Oh. - I took a deep breath and slowly exhaled the air from my lungs. Just for a minute, I allowed myself to forget that I was at work. – I just don’t agree with some of your… life policy.

- You do not?

- No. Lately I've been… well, drop it, Leto, please. – I wanted to say that I am not “free” at all. I wanted to say that my practically unemployed life does not open all the gates to self-realization and so on, but rather resembles a cage. It increasingly seems to me that if I spent half my life on sleep, work and family, I would be happier. But I'm at work. I'm at work for the first time in a month, and I shouldn't be frank with some person without a last name.

- If you say so. Fine. I don't collect stories that don't want to be told. - Leto spread his arms to the sides, which almost forced me to start pouring out my soul to him, but I restrained myself.

- What was there about “exorcism”?

- Yes, you can say I’m one of those people who just want to believe in mysticism.

- Quite interesting. Anyway, now I understand what I should write about.

- Hah! I doubt it very much. You see, I won't tell you about demonic possession, exorcism, and so on. More precisely, such stories, of course, will be found in my arsenal, but as I already said, they are often about scammers.

- Then what will you tell me?

- About thing that exists. About real… things.

- Real ghosts and spirits! It should be exciting! – I tried to say this without sarcasm, but it came out pretty bad even from my point of view.

- Laugh as you will. – Leto said a little disappointed. I think I offended him. But does he really believe in some kind of mystical nonsense and witchcraft? - But let me give you something that your readers will always be happy about. I'll tell you about one “game”. A real-life “game” that is often played in “closed” communities. There is not an ounce of mysticism in it, but there are a lot of emerging themes and dirt. Is this what you want?

- Sounds intriguing. Shall we play this “game” after that?

- No. – My guest answered too quickly. Apparently my curiosity was not helpful at all. I looked questioningly at the man, preparing to take notes. I knew of many "games" in "closed" communities among rich people and so on, but there was always the hope that something new would add a zero or two to my paycheck. – This game is very simple. Of course, by bringing it out to the public, I am somewhat spoiling our community, because some people may start playing it and it could end very badly for them, but you know what? Our community, therefore, is absolutely vicious. When kids have open access to pornography, violence, dark net and everything else, some game will just drown in all this crap, won't it?

- Perhaps. – I answered without thinking too much.

- The game is called “Real”. This means a “real person” or “a person without a mask.” I found out about this game when studied people who do not fit into the framework of society.

“Real” can be played by many people, which changes the rules a little, but by the most popular standards it is played by two, rarely three, people. Two players and a referee. A referee is a person of the most neutral views who ensures the fairness of the game. However, given that the meaning of the “Real” is revelation and obedience, a judge is much more often unnecessary, and by some is even considered a burden. Other players consider a “referee” IS necessary.

The rules are elementary and resemble many of the rules of similar games. Both participants discuss the place of the game in advance. It can be absolutely anything, but as secluded as possible. When the place of the game is chosen, the participants, by drawing lots or by mutual agreement, choose the first one to “start”. The beginner orders an action to the opponent, for example, to pick up a pen from the table. If the opponent raises this pen, he orders an action in response. At the same time, he must hold the pen in his hands. This concludes the first round.

As an “action”, the person holding the pen, in our example, can ask the opponent “Can I put the pen back?” If he receives consent in response, then his turn is completed, and the opponent again asks the “action”. So, it the firs one whant to put pen down he must use his "action"

- I think I understand, something like “playing the king”?

- Not certainly in that way. Let me continue.

- Please do.

- If the first player holds the pen and it is not difficult for him to hold it, or perform any other given action, then he moves in response by asking the “action” of his opponent. Thus, “Real” resembles the game of twister and, as you already said, “the game of the king.” But there is some difference. In the “Real” game there are a number of rules that some players twist or stipulate in advance, but there are rules that no one ever changes in this game. At least in the places where I learned about it.

- And what are these rules?

- There are only two of them. – Leto showed the number two on his fingers, bending them to the beat of the words. – First: no dialogue after the start of the game. That is, if you are told to raise your pen, you either agree or perform two other "actions". And second: you cannot leave the game before the tenth round.

- And this round ends… when both players asked each other to take action?

- A round is any 4 actions. Refusals do not count.

- It turns out that if I was told to raise my pen, and I raise it, then I give an action to the enemy, right? Eat an orange, for example. Then he tells me to do the splits, and I tell him to eat a candy wrapper and that’s a round? – Leto nodded. I thought about it, trying to understand what exactly was forbidden in this game. – And if I refuse to perform an action twice, then I need to perform 4 of them, after which one round is over, right? – Another nod in my direction. – So why is the game so scary?

- You don’t know much about people, do you, Jeannette? What if my Firs Action was to take of all of your clothes? Or… – There was some disgust on Leto’s face, but more towards the “Real” than towards me. I didn’t know what answer he expected from me, so I remained silent and allowed him to continue. It’s interesting that throughout our conversation he looked at me somewhat lustfully, but at the same time clearly kept his distance. There is a man and there is a woman, no more and no less.

– Even if we do not include a “referee” and other “rules” in the game, it remains “requested” for a reason. People who play "Real" don't play to pick up pens and eat candy wrappers. They “ask” frankly bad, vulgar, dirty... black “actions”. Moreover, people who agreed to the game cannot leave. They are required to carry out at least 5 orders from another player. And if you think that these orders are harmless, then you do not know humanity well.

Some see the game as very positive, considering "Real" a game for people who want to erase boundaries of decency, ice walls, and so on among themselves. Ask honest questions and get honest answers. Others, who are the majority, see the “Real” differently. A game in which you can absolutely legally maim your opponent. In every possible sense. The judge usually even gets the players to sign a document that releases them from liability. – A long silence hung in the air. I imagined playing live, but I couldn't see it in a good light. Not after what Leto said. He himself looked at me intently as if I had become a complete disappointment in his eyes. Or did I just imagine it?

- Shall we return to the “cautious exorcist”? - Without thinking, I blurted out the first thing that came to mind and immediately cursed to myself. I was right. Leto looked at met me with disappointment.

He had already gotten up from his chair, thanking me for the coffee, and quite quickly found himself at the front door, throwing on his cloak. - Did I say something wrong?

- No, I came in vain. - There was an answer. Looking at me, the man added with a hint of annoyance in his voice. - For me, there are no stories in this house. Just wasted time. - He turned the lock on the door, letting fresh air into the apartment.

- Wait, Leto, what should I write about? What will I tell Gerald? – The guest stopped, already going outside. He answered without turning around, after which he walked away.

- Write about your guest under the name Leto, who, instead of expelling demons from people, simply watches them. It's safer this way. Write that he also collects Real Stories, I realy dont care. - I was that didn't saw hes face at that moment.

#visual novel #18+#ray out #town

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alldogsarecomrades · 7 months

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Strike Against the Reich

We have seen and heard the war-like attitudes of Amerikan capital. For generations they've infected every layer of society with the “if you don't like it, go work somewhere else” ethic. A sitting Senator is being charged by UAW with making threats against strikers, although the NLRB is not a serious regulatory agency and predictably saves all real repercussions for workers and their representatives. And contrary to the cosmetic changes that have been trumpeted by labor officialdom, the Board will do nothing but protect capital when the inevitable class war counteroffensive begins. It's not a matter of “if” but “when” another air traffic controllers strike happens, and both organized labor and the left must be prepared.

I don't know which is more likely: that capital is so hellbent on returning to the days of the Pinkertons, or if they have enough forward-thinking minds in the room to know that labor cannot be controlled with blunt force alone. If the former is the case, a capital strike will occur just before the election in order to torpedo the re-election of Biden in favor of a Republican that will swiftly use jail, fines and state violence to put down the ensuing labor unrest. If it's the latter, mass layoffs and plant closures will proliferate no later than December 2024 in response to the current labor renewal we are experiencing and a Biden win is secured.

This leads us to the question of which strategy we will end up using to respond to either Biden's or Trump's responses. A Republican administration will reliably use heavy-handed Reaganite tactics. Biden is also a Reaganite, and let's be honest, Reaganism is the dominant ideology of American fascism, just as Hitlerism was to the Third Reich. But Reaganism is also chiefly interested in maintaining the status quo, by hook or crook. In this case, the hook may be wielded by a man who needs to do any and every thing possible to regain the confidence of the elites if he's going to avoid dying in prison. The crook, we all know, is the accomplice in office who has allowed the military and police state to seize virtually all public assets, and granted them broad discretion to re-establish order. But even now, after 3 years of the Biden counterinsurgency, labor has entered the chat and we have some words.

Before I arrive at my fucking point, let's establish one thing: I believe working class people are the only class of people that contribute any godamn thing of any actual value to society. White collar, unemployed, disabled, caregivers, industrial proles, the precariat, you name it, we do it. Anyone that's not a boss, a landlord, a politician, a lawyer, a bureaucrat, a social worker, you get the idea. As a member of the only class that matters, I don't mind telling you that we are capable of absolutely anything. And more to the point, no one can seriously argue that even a badly-run society of self-managed stateless communes could somehow be worse than how things are being run right now. If we wait much longer we may never see it.

But this polemic isn't about 'after the revolution.' I told you that so I can tell you this: we can run entire industries—now, today—better than the ruling class does. In fact, the only thing that is currently keeping our society afloat is the fact that working people bring skill and planning everyday to every workplace in the Fourth Reich of Amerika. We already run this shit, we're just not paid like it.

When push comes to shove, the time will come when broad multitudes by the thousands of working people will find themselves with a renewed purpose and vision for the organizations they've spent the last few years building and revitalizing. Starbucks would rather close every last store in Amerika if they expected (reasonably) that the federal government would bail them out, if it means not having to tolerate a union contract in the temple of customer worship. Corporate is currently testing the NLRB to see how far they'll go to enforce the law, and so far General Counsel Jennifer Abruzzo has said or done nothing to suggest that she will ever escalate to anything that might approach a serious confrontation with capital. Starbucks has racked-up record numbers of sustained ULP complaints, and yet the company is still free to ignore their legal duty to bargain under the most pro-union president in history. Starbucks knows firsthand that only the working class can emancipate itself, and they are preparing to liquidate our nascent capacity to carry out that task.

Under Biden in 2024, the federal government will undoubtedly launch a counterinsurgency program akin to Defund the Police that will use the carrot of redirecting labor militants down blind alleyways of the state bureaucracy long enough for the insurgency to fizzle. This will be coupled with the stick of violent scabs with badges, in the same manner as what was done to the movement against police violence in 2020, and what the Sanders campaign did to the elements of Occupy Wall Street that survived Democrat-led police assaults nationally. That is the essence of Amerika.

In 2023, labor is the vanguard, just as the Floyd rebellion was the vanguard in 2020. A riot and a strike are two means with the same ends. Capital knows this, and (just like the knowledge that the task of our emancipation is ours alone) so should we. If we don't we will fail to anticipate once again the shape of counterinsurgency.

Here's the main point: a capital strike can be defeated, but only if labor and the left are prepared. Like the UE union members at the Republic Windows and Doors factory occupation of 2008 declined to wait for the incoming Obama administration to rescue them, today's working class must seize the moment and up the ante. The Republic workers were prepared because they were members of a democratic rank-and-file-led union, one of the few at the time who could credibly claim that mantle. As syndicalists have always demonstrated, rank-and-file democracy is the new world in the shell of the old. If we run our labor organizations without bosses, so too will we run our industries in the service of society and the Earth.

Don't get me wrong: I have no illusions that we're on the cusp of social revolution. Indeed, we've never been closer to losing that possibility forever. We are, however, very much at a stage where power vacuums will be filled and it is critical that working class organizations are the ones to fill them.

Another example (aside from occupying shuttered businesses, expropriating them and administrating them under workers' control) would be the likely scenario in which the 2024 election will once again be contested aggressively by both sides. Elsewhere I've written about the likelihood of civil war and how it will likely be a showdown between, what I'll call, “status quo Reaganism” versus “insurgent Reaganism.” Or how about this: Reagan as he apparead on Amerikan television, versus the Contras. That's basically where the Overton window is at in the Fourth Reich.

Anyway, the terrain as I see it tells me there has been a very slowly awakening giant in the federal government since January 6th. It took two years but the sectors of the security state that remained neutral on that day for fear of committing too quickly to one side or the other have finally decided to try and muster some semblance of a challenge to the Neo-Contras. Indictments have piled up, the mainstream is at least pretending to deny Trump ballot access (ha), and most interestingly, Fulton[?] County made a very loud political declaration. Perhaps the first loud anything in the history of status quo Reaganism. In one breath the DA declared war on both the far-right and the far-left.

Not since the Johnson administration has centrism managed to get off the can long enough to say something about the Klan, and we must be clear that in 2023 and 1963 alike, every inch of breathing room we find ourselves with is due without exception to our efforts as militants. The strategy was always to turn the ruling class's strategy in on itself by pitting one faction of the state against another. In the near future, our many years of battle may finally yield an opening while the rank-and-file-far-right of the security state slugs it out with the federal bureaucracy. I think there's an outside chance that Starbucks might be on its own for this fight, and even if not we should act as though they will. The truth is we can only win if we believe we'll win.

#capitalism #union #wga strike #actors strike #general strike

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spidey-sophie · 3 years

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Red Light || Tom Holland Smut

Pairing: Mob!Tom x Stripper!Reader (p.s. If mob!Tom isn’t your thing, you can still read this. It is never explicitly confirmed that he is a mob/criminal. Only implied once/speculated. He can be any kind of millionaire!Tom you want to imagine!)

Summary: Every night there are a variety of customers. But this night is different. As you’re doing your usual dance routine, you notice the hottest guy you’ve seen in a while, and he is looking back at you, his eyes are burning your skin way more than the blaring stage lights. Who is this man and why do you feel this way? It’s almost like you’re doing this dance for him and his eyes only.

Word count: 12.2k

Warnings: drinking, smoking, smut, soft!dom!tom, guided female masturbation, edging/one little orgasm denial, oral (female + male receiving), fingering, spanking, ring kink (is there even such a thing?), multiple orgasms, squirting, slight choking, mirror sex, exhibitionism, cum play + swallowing. She also sucks on his fingers a lot, but it's me, so is that even a surprise? Explicit smut - minors dni.

Notes: This is the longest and dirtiest fic I ever wrote! After a loooong break it is finally here! I had so much fun writing this story and I hope you will enjoy reading it. I feel like I talked to so many people about this fic and I want to thank everyone for supporting me! First of all, thanks to everyone who liked and reached out to me after I sent that ask to @duskholland. I had no intention of writing it, but after all the feedback, I had to do it! Biggest thank you ever goes to miss impulsive gemini aka @sinisterspidey for editing this and beta reading it! You're a boss, chlo! Another big one goes to my bday girl @worldoftom who helped me with editing and HYPED me up to finally post this. Also, lovely @hypnotized-so-mesmerized and @nowayhomeparker for jumping in with a few ideas. I hope you'll enjoy reading it! Please let me know what you think, I am vvvv excited to read your comments!

♡ Ily and happy reading ♡

“Are you nervous?” Your friend and coworker Natalie asks. You’re sitting in front of the large vanity mirror, LED lights showering you with brightness. This is probably your favorite part of the night - putting your makeup on in the right places, transforming into someone else for an evening. But, no matter how much you love doing this, going up on that stage makes your heartbeat rampant. You just smile at her, trying to hide the fact that indeed you are nervous.

“You’re going to be amazing.” She tightens her arms around you, leaving a trace of her glitter on your body. You watch her as she starts removing her wig, humming to the barely audible music from the stage. You’re the newest addition to the current setup, so everyone is being especially nice to you, always asking you if everything’s okay, offering help whenever you need it.

You don’t exactly hate your job.

Sure, it isn’t something that you ever thought you’d do, but here you are, trying to smear the right amount of highlighter over your chest and shoulders. Since backstage was a bit too crowded, you put on your headphones and play the song you’re about to dance to help you relax in the process. After six months, you still get a little nervous before going on that stage. Even though your coworkers often say there’s no reason for it, customers are either too drunk or too thrilled to see you and enjoy your talent. Still, you can’t control your nerves and you need music to stay calm. And sometimes you like to go through the dance routine again before going on stage.

Yes, your dream has always been to be a dancer. You've been showing talent since you were little. Some would say that you first started dancing, and then began walking. However, when you finally started dancing professionally, you never believed that you would do it without clothes. On the pole. In a strip club.

The salary is good. Customers are mostly decent. When, in rare cases, they aren’t, you can always count on the help of the security. You see this job as something temporary, until a better opportunity arises.

The club you work in is extremely popular. The owner made quite a reputation for himself and his club, so people from all parts of London often come to visit the famous “Cherry on Top”. All of the dancers have their own ‘thing’. You’re all shiny, oily, and sexy, and yet every one of you have your own flair. Ruby, who you’re the closest with, is on stage at the moment. She’s best known for her impressive pole skills. You witness her muscular arms holding her entire body on the pole, swinging and swaying. She was the first one who accepted you into the club and offered to give you some tips about pole dancing and flirting with customers.

Once she’s done with her routine, it’s up to you. You watch her collect the money from the floor, thanking the audience and running backstage.

As she passes by you, she whispers, “show them what they came for”, before running off with a wink.

Being the only professionally-trained dancer in the current setup, you made a name for yourself fairly quickly. Everyone already knows that they can expect a great show from you. You don’t only display your body, but also your talent. Or at least that's what you tell yourself. The owner of the club recognized your talent and enthusiasm and made you his main star.

You try to always put on a great show for your audience. Every Thursday night is your night - it’s the night when you do your routine for the first time. And then, you do the same the following Friday and Saturday nights. This time, you picked a rather unconventional outfit for a strip club.

You decide to start dancing wearing a suit. Under your loose-fitted black suit, you’re wearing the tiniest pair of lingerie, with jewels and matching pasties for your breasts. Getting naked in front of an audience was a bit odd at first, but you’re used to it by now. The owner of the club has strict rules and lots of security so you and the girls always feel safe. If someone is causing trouble or tries something that you aren’t comfortable with, all you need to do is to give a quick nod to the security and that guy will be out of the club in the next few seconds.

As you’re finally getting ready to get on the stage, you wink at Tuwaine, the security guy working today. He stands next to the stage, watching carefully over all of the customers, making sure everything is right and stays right throughout the night. You walk slowly up the few stairs until you’re finally on the stage. Just a few seconds ago, Tuwaine set up a chair in the middle of the stage. It’s not unusual for you to use props while dancing, but you’ve been excited for this routine for the entire week. You spot Ruby and Natalie at the bar, giving you thumbs up and cheering for you. They never miss your performances.

The lights are off and once you hear the first beat of the song, you take your place on stage and wait for the lights to come back. You stand in the center of the stage, keeping both hands raised above your head. The chair stands next to you with one of your legs on it, while you stand firmly on the floor with the other.

With the first ray of pink and purple lights you start moving, seductively swaying your hips, but only lightly at first. At the same time, you slowly move your right hand across your left one all the way down to your shoulders.

As soon as the lights are completely on, your movements become more noticeable, stronger and more precise. You drag your right hand over the entire length of the leg that is on the chair. You finally move and strut provocatively behind the chair and caress the back of it with your hands while checking the crowd.

The first piece of clothing you throw away is your hat and you throw it at a table where several young men are, one of them obviously having a bachelor party. You wink at him and turn back to the center of the podium.

You get out of your suit jacket and since your eyes are now finally used to the bright lights you take a moment to look a bit through the crowd. You’re so used to doing this every week, so that you don’t even miss a beat now while exploring the faces of visitors.

Your dancing consists of lots of seductive movements--grinding on the pole, provocative thrusts with your hips, and lots of you touching your body. You want the audience to imagine their hands instead of your own. You love to be in touch with your body, to use your every little move to your advantage. While other dancers usually pick popular hip hop and trap songs, your taste is a bit different. You prefer dancing to softer, slower, more sensual tunes.

There is something about all that attention that you get when you are on stage--being the only thing that the sea of watching eyes is focusing on. Controlling them with your moves. Listening to gasps, moans, and applauses every time you peel off another layer of your clothes. The thought of being their fantasy, the center of their desire, excites you.

The room’s filled with guys, and sometimes girls, too. Every night there are a variety of customers. Businessmen, tech nerds, college boys, bachelorettes, middle-aged men who bring their sons, middle-aged men who want some fun, older guys, younger guys, politicians, celebrities, but also your neighbors. This night isn’t any different.

You recognize some familiar faces, the usual customers who are there almost every night. You nod to Gary, the nice guy who brings you flowers and offers to walk you home every night after you’re done with work. He never tried anything, and he never even paid for a private booth with you. He only brings you flowers and sometimes cards for your birthday or holidays.

Just as you are about to turn around and sit on the chair, you notice the hottest guy you’ve seen in a while. He’s sitting at the table behind Gary’s, while pink, purple, and blue lights illuminate him. And he’s looking at you. Once your eyes finally lock, he gives you the cutest smile. He’s wearing a black suit with a light blue shirt underneath, slightly unbuttoned to put his perfect chest on display. You quickly turn around, trying to hide the smile that he most certainly caused. It is not unusual for you to find someone cute in the audience, but this guy is truly something else. From the moment you saw him your heart started drumming and it’s no longer in sync with music. It’s beating faster, doing it’s own thing.

You slowly take off the lower part of the suit, and the cheering of the customers becomes so loud that it emphasizes the music. You sit on the chair and turn towards them and smile as soon as you make eye contact with any of the customers. But still, your smile is most sincere when it meets his honey-colored eyes. You can't describe exactly what attracts you to him so much and why you can't look away.

Is it because of his beautiful face, piercing eyes, or lips that are twisted into the most seductive smile? Is it because of the fact that he sits so casually, and again so masculine, strong, dominant? He is not sitting alone, and there are a couple of other young men at the table with him, two of them that look so much like him and another blonde sitting closest to him. But none of them radiate the same energy as him.

You have to remind yourself, again and again, that you have to dedicate your attention to other customers and take your eyes off of him. At that moment, you are only in a white shirt, and as you reveal one of your shoulders, you hear more and more sighs from the audience. The bottom of your shirt flares enough for all of them to see your shiny pink thong. The dance floor is already flooded with money, but they keep throwing you some more.

You slowly unbutton one shirt at a time and once again look at the mystery hot guy. As you do this, your hips move to the beat of the music and the speed at which you unbutton follows the rhythm. He can't take his eyes off you, as his eyes follow your hands like a magnet. And that's why you decide to tease him. You slowly move your hands from the already unbuttoned shirt and run them along the inside of your thighs. Spreading your legs apart and running your hands painfully slowly over your heat you can see him licking his lips, eyes glued on you. It’s almost like his eyes are burning your skin way more than the blaring stage lights.

You play with the hem of your underwear, teasing the audience, but more so teasing him. He now has a fist in front of his mouth, squeezing it tight, so tight his knuckles are turning white. As much as this teasing is fun, it is that part of the song when you go up on the pole. You get off of the chair and finally take off your shirt.

As you throw away your shirt, you stand next to the pole taking your position and get ready to hop on it. The men howl at the sight of you clasping both of your legs around the pole and grinding upwards using the strength in your upper arms. Once you get high enough, you unclasp your legs from the pole and start slowly swinging back down, holding yourself with both of your hands.

Quickly, you hook your right leg over the pole and hold it tight with your thigh muscle, releasing both of your hands from the pole, and using all of your strength to keep yourself on the pole with just your leg muscles. It took you some time to master the art of pole dancing. You still considered yourself a beginner, but it was fun. It brought more tips.

And now, it’s time for the big move--you’re supposed to turn upside down, hook your right arm over the pole and do a split. It’s a move you kept practicing with Ruby for the past few weeks and now you finally decide to try it. Turning upside down is easy; the harder part is doing a split from this position. In that moment your eyes wander to the mystery cutie and his eyes haven’t left your body, not even for a second. As your legs start spreading apart, his head is slowly moving forward, he’s totally lost in you, watching you in awe with his mouth slightly open.

Almost perfectly synchronized with your legs, his body leans forward. When you finally do the whole split, you notice an almost proud smile on his face. Who is this man and why do you feel this way? It’s almost like you’re doing this dance only for him and his eyes only.

When you're done with the pole portion of your routine, you slide down, grinding your ass on it. You smirk at all the bills the customers keep throwing at you. You lean your back against a cold, metal pole and start grinding your ass up and down. Almost everyone in the club is cheering for you, but he’s the only one you care about, the only one you’re looking at.

And you’re also the center of his attention. The boys around him are talking but he’s not leaving you out of his sight. He brings one of his hands to his shirt, unbuttoning it a bit more and you notice the rings he has on his fingers. You run your hands up and down your body, while grinding, imagining your hands were his and the pole behind you was his lap.

Your song is almost over, so now it's time for the grand finale. You get up from kneeling next to the pole and strut your way a bit closer to the group of excited men in the front row. You turn around, bend over a bit, and slowly run your hands over your butt cheeks. You move your hands over your hips, waist, all the way to your shoulders. With an innocent expression you turn your head around to face them as you tug your bra strap. And with a faux surprised look on your face you do the same thing with the other strap.

Everyone in the room is howling now, and you finally unclasp your bra and throw it away in the crowd. You can’t help but smile at their reaction. No matter how many nights you do this, that feeling never goes away.

You turn around to face them now, and the first person you look for is the mystery guy. His eyes are now glued to your exposed breasts, only covered by two glitter pasties. He looks up to you and genuinely smiles, with an open mouth, his tongue slightly peeking from the edge of his lips. And then he does the hottest thing you’ve seen in a while--subtly, he tilts his head a bit, and burns through you with his eyes. The right corner of his mouth twitches and moves upwards, forming a devilish smirk. He nods at you, so fast and subtle that if you blinked you would’ve missed it.

You slowly get lower until you are on all fours, face down, ass up, twerking to the sound of beat. You smile to the guys around you, but you can’t help but feel a bit sad because you can no longer see the one you care about the most. Since the song will be over in a couple of seconds, you do another split, this time on the floor, close to your audience. You pick some money from the floor and throw it all over your head.

Slowly, the lights go off and you wait for the stage lights to completely shut down on you and rush backstage, trying not to drop any tips that you collected while dancing. You try to take one last look at the mystery hot guy, but the people around you are standing up, chatting, moving around, or dancing. The little wave of sadness rushes over you and you feel a slight embarrassment in hoping that he’d be waiting for you, cheering for you, or something else.

♡♡♡

After your performance, you quickly change into something more decent and hurry to get out to the bar for a few drinks. Or, to be completely honest, look for the curly haired guy. It’s not like you plan to do anything with him, you just want to look at him a bit more, admire his pretty face and his smile.

Unfortunately, you can’t find him. Your eyes travel from one part of the room to the other, but he is nowhere to be seen.

“Hey, superstar!” You can hear Ruby waving at you and inviting you to join her and Natalie at the bar.

“That was so hot! I got turned on, can’t even imagine how these wankers were feeling,” you hear Natalie from behind and, judging by the way she is hanging around your neck, she’s a bit tipsy.

“Thanks, turning you on was my main intention.” You and Ruby smile at her and order your drink while listening to Natalie gushing about Tuwaine, speaking about how sexy and beautiful he is. She always does this, speaking more to herself, every night after she gets a bit drunk. They have some sort of friends with-benefits, complicated relationship, and you know way too many details about it --way more than you want.

You just roll your eyes at Natalie giving him heart eyes and whisper to Ruby, “Uhm, did you, by any case, notice a ver…”

“OMG, here he comes, I can’t talk to that arsehole right now!” Natalie practically screams near your ear and leaves the two of you confused. Once Tuwaine approaches you, her behavior suddenly becomes clear.

“What was that?” he asks, “Nevermind, Y/N, someone asked for a private booth with you. You have ten minutes to get ready. Don’t kill the messenger.”

“What? Fuck, I told the boss I want to stop doing that.” You aren’t very fond of private booths. It’s one thing to be on stage, distanced from everyone, enjoying yourself and flirting with them while dancing. You don’t even mind occasionally strolling through the audience and making small talk with the customers. But being face-to-face with a customer always makes you nervous. The rules are strict – no touching, no kissing, and absolutely, in no circumstances, any kind of sex. And you’re thankful for those rules. Every booth even has a camera installed, something else you like.

“Yeah, he knows, but this is a very important client and he asked specifically for you.” You’re left confused and drain your drink before you go get ready.

“Who is that client anyways?” You ask while coughing a bit since the shot you just drank was a bit too strong.

“Someone from the Holland family.”

“From what?” You ask, having no idea who they are talking about.

“Oh my God, THE Hollands?” Ruby almost spills her drink all over her once hears the name.

“Who are the Hollands?” You are still clueless, but from the look on Ruby’s eyes, you’re the only one in the room who doesn’t know who the Hollands are.

“I can’t believe you don’t know who they are; they own, like, all of London. No one knows how they got so rich--probably some illegal stuff involved. Dad and four sons. I had no idea they’re here. Oh my God, please be safe, they might be dangerous.”

“I’m a big girl, Ru, I can take care of myself. But thanks. If anything goes wrong, I can count on this guy anytime.” You throw your hand over Tuwaine’s shoulders. You really have a genuine friendship, and whenever it’s his shift, you feel more safe.

“Yeah, yeah, but you better hurry up.”

“I am, I am, thanks T.” The last thing you want right now is to go and dance for some stranger, and especially not for some fishy millionaire. You’re tired and you want to spend some time with your friends and get a couple of drinks. As you walk backstage to change your clothing, you can’t help but feel a bit embarrassed over the fact that just a few minutes ago you were looking for a cute guy who watched you dancing. What were you even thinking could happen? The owner of the club is always very clear - no sleeping with customers, not even after the show. He doesn’t want any allegations or anyone to think that his girls are up for anything other than dancing.

You put a pink wig on your head and pick a baby pink lace thong and a bra with rhinestones on it and rhinestone fringes falling from the bra cups all the way down to your thighs. You add a little lacy garter on your right thigh, and opt for a pair of five inch heels. After one last look in the mirror, you finally feel pleased with the way you look, and start walking towards the area with the private booths. Just as the name `private` says, the area is separate from the rest of the club. The club has six private booths, and almost all of them are always occupied. You nod to the security guy waiting in the hall, and get inside the booth where you’re supposed to be for the next fifteen minutes.

Every booth looks the same--round room with mirrors instead of walls, bordered with leather red furniture. A mini round white dance floor with a pole is located in the middle of the room, and it’s surrounded by the red couch. The lights are dimmed, and red, black and white colors dominate the room.

At first, you can’t see the face of the guy sitting in the center of the room. You can only trace the silhouette of his spread legs. The first thing you notice is his hands, holding the glass of whiskey. There are rings on his fingers and you’re sure you’ve seen them already. Once you’re close enough and you can clearly see his face, you recognize him right away. It takes you a lot to hide your smile, but you probably didn’t do a good job hiding since the first words he tells you are.

“Were you expecting someone else?” His voice sounds even hotter than you could ever imagine, mixed with soft R&B music that is pulsating lightly in the background.

“No one other than you, baby boy.” This is a line you used a lot before, but for the first time in a while you’re actually thinking it. He chuckles at your remark, still wearing that cocky smirk on his face.

You can’t believe that you’re face to face with him now. And that you’re about to dance for his eyes only. You get up on the dance floor and now you’re standing above him. Just looking down at him turns you on so much. You start swaying your hips to the beat, not breaking eye contact with him. He brings his cigar next to his mouth and your eyes are following his every move. The way his jawline tenses while he inhales the smoke drives you crazy.

“How long have you been working here?” he asks, smoke coming out of his mouth and his voice sounding a bit raspier thanks to it.

“Six months.” Usually, you don’t answer personal questions, but there's something about him that makes you open up to him. It’s not just his looks. It’s the way he is sitting, looking, and talking to you. It makes you a bit nervous, vulnerable, but also excited.

“I used to come here more often, can’t believe I never saw you before.”

“Well, you’re seeing a lot of me now,” you wink and turn around. He can now watch your barely covered ass, but you can still see his face on the mirrors around you. And his eyes follow your every move like he’s hypnotized.

“What are the rules now? I haven’t been here in a while.”

“No touching, no kissing, no fucking. Just watching.” You say, as you slowly sway around the pole.

“You can undress, right?” He asks, his eyes lingering on you.

“Yes. Do you want me to?” You grab one of your bra straps, and pray he’ll say yes.

“Not yet. Can I ask you something while you dance?”

“Yes.”

“Will you be honest?” You start moving up and down the pole, now facing him and your back pressed to the pole.

“Anything for you, baby boy,” you wink at him and try to seem as calm and collected as possible. Everything inside you is burning now, palms sweating and legs shaking. You still cannot believe you’re one-on-one with the most beautiful guy you ever saw. And by the glint behind his honey eyes, he is just as infatuated with you. You can feel yourself getting turned on from dancing and from him.

He sits comfortably on the huge bed. His legs are spread, and between them his hand holds a glass of whiskey. You watch the way he brings it up to his mouth, the way his lips spread and the peek of his light pink, wet tongue. You can't help but imagine how much better his tongue would feel on your ass, instead of this cold metal.

“What’s your name?” he finally asks, once he gulps one big sip of whiskey, not even a little twitch in his eyes after swallowing the bitter beverage.

“Oh straight for the hard questions. My name is Destiny,” you smile and he smiles back. It catches you a little bit off guard how much his face softens once he smiles.

“Okay, let’s try this again. Hi, my name is Tom, what’s your name?”

“Hi Tom, my name is Cherry,” you get on all of your fours now, crawling towards him. You stop once you get to the edge of the dance floor, waiting for his next move. Tom lifts up from his seat and leans closer to you, now only inches apart from your face. All of your senses immediately focus on his perfume. He smells sharp, warm and sexy, like vanilla mixed with cigarettes. Not breaking eye contact with you, he reaches for his back pocket, takes a bill and rolls it.

“How about now?” he asks and brings the rolled bill next to your face. Since you’re still on your fours, the only way you can get your tip is if you take it with your mouth. Slowly, you open your mouth and take the bill from his hands. While you do that, you gaze into his eyes and notice the way they get darker, more lustful as you remove the money from his fingers with your teeth.

In a split second it almost seems like he starts leaning forward, like he wants to kiss you, but you quickly hop on your knees and stand up.

“Harmony,” you say as you pull the bill out of your mouth and hook it under the thong, “or Doll, or Spice, or…”

“Fine, fine, I get it.” He says, now sitting back like he used to. “I’m sorry if I crossed any lines, I just can’t wrap my mind around the fact that I’ve never seen you before.”

“Thank you, Tom. This might be your lucky night.” You try to tease him, but you’re still thinking about how sweet he seemed as he apologised. For a supposed extremely wealthy criminal millionaire, he is way too kind. And that turns you on even more.

You wrap your hands around the pole and start swinging, performing your usual routine. And for a few minutes he just sits there and watches you. For the entire time you’ve been in the booth with him, he always had his full attention on you. Tom watches your every curve, every move, every gesture. You reach to remove your bra, and with a slight nod, he gives you the approval to do so.

Once again you’re naked in front of him, his eyes leave yours and your nipples become the center of their attention. They’re so hard for him that it almost hurts. He can now clearly see how turned on he’s got you, and a smirk lingers on his face.

You tease him a bit more and run your hands over your breasts, fingers gently caressing your nipples and slightly pinching them. Tom shakes his head and whispers something to himself. The music is a bit too loud for you to decipher; the only word you can hear is “fuck”. Which, coincidentally, is exactly what you want him to do to you right now. He takes one big smoke of his cigar and runs his long fingers over his thighs, silver and gold rings shining under the low lights. The pants he wears are so tight that you can see the way every muscle on his leg flexes to the rhythm of your dancing.

Your hands travel down to your thigh and just as you grab the garter, you hear him say, “Leave that on.” And you do as he tells you.

“Do you like working here?” he asks and now you sit on the edge of the dancefloor. You spread your legs a bit, just to tease him. You’re still positioned slightly higher than him, so that his face is now on the same level as your core.

“Yes. Do you like doing whatever you do?” You decide to play his game. No matter how much your friends warned you about him, somehow you feel safe enough to ask him that.

“Actually, no. My turn now, have you ever desired a customer?”

“Yes.” And you spread your legs a bit wider as you tell him that.

“Am I one of those customers?” Tom is once again too close to you, looking up at you with a devilish smile.

“You really want to know that?”

“I’m dying to know that,” and the smirk is now gone, he is playfully smiling at you, lighting the entire room as he does that.

“And why would you like to know that, huh? Does the thought of me getting wetter and wetter and touching myself while thinking about you turn you on?”

“What if I tell you that it does?” He leans so close to you, you can almost feel his breath on your inner thighs.

“In that case, my answer is maybe, but maybe not.” You enjoy playing this game with him way too much. And you are fully aware how dangerous everything is, but you just can’t stop flirting with him. The thought of him being turned on by you, the way he moves his hands over his legs, adjusting his shirt, the way his chain moves up and down as he is breathing, everything exhilarates you. You never behave like this with other customers. There was something about Tom, some magnetic force that keeps pulling you to him, from the moment you first saw him.

You can’t decide if it is his smile, his hands, his chest or the way his fingers kept holding and playing with the cigar, drawing all of your attention to them. Or maybe it’s about his innocent eyes and the fact that they are so contrary to his wicked smirk and sinful words coming out of those pretty pink lips.

You are in trouble, you can tell right away, but you love it.

“Can you do one thing for me?” he asks, finally breaking you out of your thoughts.

“Of course.”

“Can you do one of those splits like you did on the stage?” He asks so innocently, yet so demanding.

“Yes,” you say and you spread your legs wide, sitting on the edge of the improvised dance floor waiting for his next move. He takes one big gulp of his whiskey, a little drop coming down on his chin and dripping on his bare chest. He doesn’t even bother to wipe it off, just licks the excess from his lips with his wide, pink, skilled tongue. You can't stop looking at that wet spot on his chest, traveling down to the unbuttoned area of his chest. At one point you even feel a bit jealous of that drop, since it can explore his body the way you never could.

“Show me.” Tom doesn’t have to tell you what he wants to see. It feels like you can read his body language perfectly. You do what you’re told. You grab your panties and pull them slightly to the side, exposing yourself completely in front of him. It’s surprising, even to you how wet you actually are. This never happens to you, so you can’t help but smile to yourself. As you move your panties to the side, you lightly brush your clit with your fingertips and your legs twitch. You let out a soft moan but quickly manage to keep your cool.

You are dying for him to touch you, to do anything to you, but you know damn well it’sagainst the rules. You can’t even bring him home after work, because that can put a bad reputation on the club and the last thing you want right now is to lose your job.

“You have no idea how much I want to taste you.” he mutters. The thought of him tasting you brings shivers to your spine.

“Unfortunately, if you do that I might call security.”

“And what if you don’t?” Tom answers almost mechanically, not even fully listening to you, his eyes completely lost in your pulsating cunt.

“See this little red dot on the ceiling,” you say and finally pull your panties back in their place, covering yourself. He looks up, “That’s a camera over there. So if you lay even one finger on me, the security will come bursting in here.”

“I think that is the last thing we both want, right pretty girl?”

“So you better behave yourself, Mr. Holland.” Tom raises his eyebrow the moment he hears his last name coming out of your lips. In that moment you realize that he never actually told you his full name. You felt your heart drumming a little bit faster in your chest. You’re wondering if you crossed any lines with your last sentence.

“Don’t you think that it’s quite unfair how you know my full name and yet I know nothing about you?” He teases, while adjusting and rolling up his sleeves a little bit. You feel an instant wave of relief mixed with joy.

“I can’t give you my name, but I can give you a lap dance instead.” You offer, daring him with your eyes to say yes.

“Only if you want to,” and you do. You can’t even begin to explain how much you want to grind on him, feel him under you, tease him, play with him and drive him crazy. You don’t tell him anything, you just stand up and start walking towards him.

You turn around and steadily start winding your hips and getting lower, until you can feel his thighs on your heat. The only thing you’re wearing right now is a tiny pink thong, which is more than revealing. He can see everything and you decide to use that in your advantage.

You keep switching your moves, swaying to the rhythm, leaning forward so that he could see your entire behind. Fortunately for you the room has mirrored walls so you can see his face for the entire time, even now, when you’re not facing him. He is leaning back on the bed, his eyes completely lost in your body, observing your every move. Whenever you lean forward and reveal more of your ass, you feel his thigh twitch and flex under you. And oh, does that feel good. You’re trying really hard to grind on his thigh and to do that subtly. You’re desperately trying to get some friction, some release and motion.

It’s undeniable that you’re turned on right now. You don’t even care that he can obviously tell that as well, since you can feel the wet traces you’re leaving on his thigh. The music is quietly murmuring through the speakers as you move your body perfectly in sync with the beat. Suddenly you feel something cold, a strange, sharp object running up and down your spine. At first you think it must be your nerves, but once you feel it again, you turn around to face him.

“You know I said no touching?”

“I am not touching you, gorgeous,” Tom says and he brings his hands forward, right above your thighs. He brings the back of his hands so close to both of your thighs but his skin is not touching yours. There isn’t any skin to skin contact, the only thing touching you are his large rings. And he runs his hands like that all over your inner thighs, the cold metal making your skin melt. You feel goosebumps as you watch his hands in awe. His fingers are long, bony with a few tiny veins popping on them. As he moves you manage to notice his bruised knuckles and those make his hands looking even more captivating.

“Are those for me?” He asks and you twitch a little, you didn’t expect him to talk, you got so lost in your thoughts about his fingers on you. Inside of you.

“Sorry, what?” You ask and finally turn your whole body, straddling him completely with just a few inches between your faces.

“The wet traces you left all over my thighs? Are those for me?”

“Yes,” you say as you watch a proud grim appearing on his face. It is too late to pull back now, even though you have no idea what he’ll do next.

He keeps his hands next to his body but you can see the way his biceps is tensing through his thin shirt. He wants to touch you just as much as you want him to do so.

“Also, about that question you have been dying to know the answer…” you say and notice the way he furrows his eyebrows while waiting for what you have to say next, “the answer is yes.”

His eyes are now completely lost on your lips. He swipes his tongue over his pink, chapped lips and leans in. Instinctively you lean forward as well. You feel his nose brushing over yours and you close your eyes, completely forgetting where you are and that you are in a club and that he is just a customer. You pull back a little once you’re aware of that and hear him whisper on your lips. “Wait here one second for me, okay?”

You nod and stand up so that he can move. He furiously storms out of the booth, not even turning back, and you have a sinking feeling in your stomach. Did you do something wrong? Nervously waiting for him or for anyone to come back, you start walking from one corner of the room to the other.

After what feels like forever, you grab your bra and start to untangle the little jewels and beads. Maybe you’re a fool for trusting him and revealing way too much, but you decide to get dressed and look for him. Just as you finally untangle the last bead, you can hear someone walking inside the booth.

“Hey, I was just about to…” and you can’t even finish your sentence, as he interrupts you with his lips. Crashing them into yours, finally.

You never experienced a first kiss like this. He isn’t going slow or taking his time. He presses his lips hard on yours, not wasting any second now. Almost instantly he flicks his tongue over your lips and you part them, letting him in. The moment his tongue touches yours you can taste the alcohol mixed with mint. His tongue feels soft and warm as it eagerly glides over yours.

You’re so focused on his tongue and his lips that you haven’t even noticed that his hands are now all over your exposed back. His hands are cold, almost as cold as those rings felt on your skin. It’s such a sharp contrast between his warm tongue and his cold hands. As they trail down to your ass and squeeze it lightly you moan into his mouth. It’s almost like the sound of that moan was your call back to sanity and you pull away from him immediately.

“We can’t, I might lose my job, the owner will be so mad at me,” you blurt this all out while trying to catch your breath.

“I’m sure he won’t mind.” Tom says and you blink at him, still not fully understanding what he’s trying to tell you. You open your mouth, trying to come up with the next question and he gives you the answer before you can even ask him. “You work for me now, I just bought the club.” He doesn’t even flinch when he tells you that. You smile at first, thinking that he must be joking but the more you stare at his dead serious face the more you are convinced that he actually did buy the entire club because of you. Just for you.

“Fuck…” is the only thing you can say before you crash your lips onto his now. You can finally touch him and you do that carefully, dragging your palms over his jawline and delicately placing your fingers onto his soft hair. His hair feels so soft under your touch, almost as soft as his tongue. You still cannot believe that you’re kissing the hot guy who you were eye-fucking with just an hour ago, so you open your eyes just to make sure that this is all real. And it’s almost like he felt what you did, so he opens his eyes, too. You smile at this and break the kiss.

“What?” Tom asks, stealing a little peck while he waits for your answer.

“Nothing,” you smile, running your hands up and down his while he is holding you by your waist.

“You want this, right?”

“Yes,” you put your lips on his and moan into his mouth and bite his bottom lip. As you start kissing him again, your hands travel down to his shirt. Without breaking the kiss your fingers start working quickly to remove his shirt. Once he’s out of his shirt you can see the way his chiseled abs are moving up and down as he is breathing. You trace your finger over his chest all the way down to his abs and he leaves a small moan into your mouth.

As he breaks the kiss, he throws his shirt on the floor and starts sucking on your neck, leaving cold wet traces underneath your ear. He has no problems finding your sweet spot and sucking on it even harder. There will most definitely be a mark, but at this point, you don’t even care.

Your hands move to his zipper, but he stops you.

“Turn around, take off your panties and bend over while you’re doing it.” He tells you sternly, and you just nod in response.

You turn around and grab the waistband of your panties and start pulling them down slowly, revealing more and more of you. They’re soaked with your wetness, and as cold air hits you down there you start clenching at nothing. You take one look at Tom and throw your panties at him. You want to catch him off guard, but he somehow manages to catch them. He doesn’t even look at them, just quickly puts them in his pocket.

“I want you to touch yourself, just like you would later while thinking about me.”

“And what makes you think I’d do that?” You turn around to face him and chuckle.

“I saw the way you were looking at me while you were dancing over there, princess. Also, I have this as proof,” and he points to his pocket, where he put your panties.

You spread your legs and lay on the dance floor. Taking your time, you move one of your hands slowly over your breasts. You try to maintain eye contact with him while running your fingers up and down your stomach. Almost involuntarily you start clenching and you can feel your belly tensing under your fingers. Tom looks so hot, sitting down, taking one more sip of whiskey, shirtless, the only thing he has on his upper body being his silver chain. You were naked in front of him for the majority of this evening and yet he is once again too lost in you. If you thought you had him wrapped around your fingers while you were dancing, you were wrong. Now it almost feels like you’re hypnotizing him with his movements. You can swear he even stopped breathing, waiting for you to finally start touching yourself down there.

You take a lot of time to finally get your fingertips where he wants them. You can’t help but look over at his chest, his glowy skin as you’re running your fingers over your own. Still, you’re not touching yourself, you’re just running fingers over your folds, slightly spreading them so he can have the better view of you entirely. You’re so turned on that even this slight movement gets your fingers moist.

“Rub your perfect clit for me, princess,” he says, now propped up on his elbows, eyes dark and focused.

Slowly, you start rubbing small circles over your swollen bud. From the moment you touch your over sensitive clit you start moaning. There is no way you can stand propped on your elbow now, so you lay back down and break eye contact with him for the first time that night. Yet, now you can focus more on his voice and his silent moans, mixed with your louder ones.

You don’t want to go too fast, because then all of this will be over too soon. You tease your entrance with your index finger, just a little bit to collect your wetness and spread it over your clit, making your movements even easier. This feels so good and you don’t want to stop. You can’t slow down now, you’re too close to the edge.

“Slower, I don’t want you to cum like this.” You lift your head up to look at him. He is palming his cock through his tight pants, clearly very impatient and yet he decides to tease and torture both of you.

And you run your fingers over your clit gently and slowly. Yes, this feels good but you want his hands instead of yours. Those slim, lean and bony fingers, you want them on you, rubbing and fucking you.

It is so hard to keep yourself calm and away from cuming. If you open your eyes you’ll see him, shirtless, with the exasperated look on his face and his chest flexing with every small breath he takes. If you close your eyes, you’ll imagine his fingers, those rings and bruised knuckles buried deep inside of you, rubbing you instead of your own.

“Put two fingers inside,” and you do as he tells you. Your fingers go inside with such ease. As you start moving them inside, the sound of wetness echoes the room. Almost instantly, your hips start bulking up, trying to squeeze your fingers even deeper. You’re hitting just the right spot and start shaking, your movements becoming sloppier and faster.

“Are you close?” he asks.

“Fuck...yes.” You can barely answer, your words mixed with moans.

“Then stop.” It takes you a lot of willpower to stop, now that you’re so close to reaching that high. But you listen to him. You are so sensitive and close to your orgasm that it takes you a few seconds to calm down and stop shaking. Eventually, you get up on your elbows, with your legs still spread and hanging down from the edge of the dance floor.

After what seems like a century, he finally stands up and comes closer to you. Tom is smiling and bringing the glass with what’s left of his whiskey in his hand. You watch his every move and breathe fast, still trying to calm yourself down from that previous edge. He walks towards you and comes near the edge of the dance floor, between your legs.

“Open your mouth,” he asks, now standing above you. You look up at Tom and do what he tells you. You watch him as he brings his glass over your mouth and starts pouring some whiskey down on you. It tastes so bitter and warm since the ice already melted a long time ago. As much as you try to catch the most of the strong beverage with your tongue, a few drops start leaking down your chin all the way to your breasts. You gulp it down, wincing as it burns on your tongue and down your throat. He chuckles at your reaction and slowly pushes you down on your back again.

Tom puts the glass next to you and starts kissing down your neck until he reaches your niple, covered with whiskey. He sucks on it, licking it clean. It feels so good, the way his warm tongue traces over your nipples. You’re squirming and moaning under his mouth and nothing but a few “oh my gods” and moans escapes your lips. Tom’s skilled fingers are playing with your other nipple while he is still licking your other one, making sure to lick all of the whiskey off of it.

He takes his time on your nipples. As much as you enjoy him there, you’re burning with desire and want him to help you ease some of the tension that has been building ever since you first laid your eyes on him. Your blood pulsates in every direction, leaving you dizzy, heart beating, breathing heavy and melting under his tongue, teeth and lips on your nipples.

Finally, it feels like Tom decided to end this sweet torture and starts moving lower and lower on you. Without any intention you start buckling your hips when you feel his warm lips glading over your belly.

“Someone’s impatient,” Tom smiles and lifts his head up. He leaves one peck on your pubic bone and completely ignores that area. That sweet place that is yearning for him so much. Instead of kissing, licking or doing anything to your swollen bud, he moves to your inner thighs. Tom leaves plenty of kisses on them, biting and marking your skin, making you his. He is breathing heavily, but his breathing can’t even match yours. Your fingers are now entangled in his curls, guiding him as he keeps sucking on your thighs. He starts moving lower and lower until your hands can’t no longer reach him.

Once you open your eyes, you prop yourself on your elbows. You watch him leaving open mouth kisses on your inner thighs and once he reaches your lacy garter he puts it between his teeth. Slowly, he begins pulling it all the way down your leg, his hot breath making your skin shiver.

“Aren’t we supposed to be married first?” you ask him once he has you undressed completely. Tom chuckles and brings himself near to your face.

“Don’t you know that I always try to bend the rules?” you moan into his lips and he kisses you. “But, if a lady insists, I can give you one of this,” he lifts his hand up and puts it between the two of you. “I saw the way you were looking at them, you can have one.”

After giving him an ‘are you sure’ look you decide to take it. And since you’re propped on your elbows, the only way you can take the ring for yourself is if you do it with your mouth. Which is exactly what you do. You open your mouth and put his entire index finger inside while not breaking eye contact with him. You look up at Tom, with the most innocent look you could muster. He is not saying anything to you. The only thing he can do is mouth an inaudible ‘oh’ while shaking his head in disbelief.

You wrap your lips around the base of his finger tight until you hook the cold metal ring between them. His fingers are so long, they almost make you gag. You close your eyes while you suck on his finger, pulling out the ring, sliding it over each of his knuckles. You can’t help but imagine that instead of his finger you’re sucking something else. Something bigger. You start moaning and sucking a bit harder. With a wet plop you pull the ring out and open your mouth. You put your tongue out, showing your conquest to him.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” Tom says while he watches you hold the ring between both rows of your teeth and lift a hand towards your face. You study his ravenous face while you push each of your fingers through the loop, testing them out and looking for the one that perfectly fits

Finally, he kneels until his face is at the same level as your core. You spread your legs a bit more to give him easier access to your warm core. He licks one long strap, from your clit all the way down your entrance. You can feel him smirking once he feels how wet he got you and he hasn’t even touched you down there yet.

“You taste even better than I imagined,” the vibrations as he talks that close to your clit make you shiver. Tom starts moving his tongue against your clit, flicking it so slowly and lightly, but you are already so worked up, you start jerking your hips almost immediately. He takes his time, licking long straps at first, not putting any pressure on your bud.

Both of you moan as he starts lapping your clit with his tongue, slowly and steadily. Being too sensitive from the previous edge, you can barely hold yourself up on your elbows. He keeps licking your inner lips and occasionally slipping his tongue inside of you, fucking you with his mouth. He seems to know what he’s doing, teasing you even more like this. As soon as you start buckling your hips up, he moves his tongue from your pulsating clit to your entrance. Your moans keep getting louder every time he comes back and once again focuses on your clit.

“Will you please let me cum?” Your voice trembles with anticipation.

“Since you’re asking that nicely,” Tom smiles and kisses your lower back before going back to your heat. You’re still not used to how much his face softens when he smiles. But it’s the dark spark in his eyes that turns you on and makes your heart race even faster. It feels like he’s unravelling you with his tongue.

He flicks his tongue over your clit a few more times, before beginning to suck on it. As he does that, you roll your eyes and start breathing even harder. And it’s almost like he knows exactly what to do to you and where to pay more attention. He tries to hold you in place with one of his hands, while keeping your legs apart with others.

You can feel your heat building in the base of your stomach, pulsating. Warmth moves all over your body, coursing through your bloodstream. Tom starts sucking harsher on your clit, pulling it between his lips. His face looks like a wet mess right now, spit and your wetness leaking down on his chin.

“Please don’t stop doing that,” is the only thing you can say before you start falling apart under his mouth. Your hips ride the way his tongue flicks over your clit. You grab his hair with both of your hands and glide over his wet tongue, stimulating your oversensitive pussy, moaning and heavy breathing. It almost feels like a dream, this intensity of the pleasure that came over your body. Tom has to hold your stomach, just to keep you in place so you won’t ruin not even one second of this ecstasy.

Tom helps you ride your orgasm to it’s last drop by keeping his strong, muscly tongue in place, letting you control the rhythm and ride it the way it works best for you. Curses and his name are the only things coming out of your mouth as you come down from your high. Finally, his lips leave your sweetest place and he starts kissing your stomach, nipples, all the way up to your neck. Once he reaches your lips he kisses you hard, teasing you and opening them with his tongue. Instead of kissing you back, he pulls away and whispers over your lips.

“Now get on all fours,” and you do as you're told, with your face down and ass up in the air, facing him. Even though you have your back turned on him, you can still see him if you look at any of the mirrors around you.

He runs his hands over your butt cheeks and playfully smacks your right cheek.

“Is this okay for you?” you nod.

“Can I go a bit harder?” Tom asks while looking at you through the mirror. You nod once again. “I need your words for this, love.”

“Yes.” And as soon as you say that you feel a slight tingling on your cheek as he has finally smacked you. Not too rough, but hard enough for you to quiver. Unexpectedly, this turns you on a lot more than you ever imagined.

“Should I stop, was this too hard?” he asks, with a genuine worry in his voice, soothing the skin where he slapped you.

“Please don’t,” you moan and feel his hand on your cheek again, slightly harder this time. It tingles, the warmth spreading from your cheek all over your lower back. He soothes your skin one more time with his fingertips. So delicately and gently. And it’s almost like those few slaps heightened your already sensitive skin and you can now feel his every movement. As he caresses your cheeks, his fingers tenderly nudge your wet entrance.

You expect his next move, already prepared for the burning sensation but you don’t feel his hands on your ass anymore, “You sure about this?”, he asks and you look up at him in the mirror and see Tom holding a condom in his hands.

“Yes,” you moan and in that exact second you can hear him ripping the condom and positioning himself from behind. You instinctively spread your legs for him, waiting for him to enter you. Tom places one of his hands on your waist, digging his fingertips into your skin. He is moving his dick over your folds, getting him nice and wet before sliding it into you. With every little move that he makes you can feel your belly and thighs clenching.

Only a few more strokes after and Tom gently starts stretching you out with his member. It takes a few seconds for you to get used to his girth and with a loud gasp you let him know that he can start moving now. And once he starts moving it feels so good, so exciting and pleasurable. It feels so fulfilling to finally feel him inside.

Tom takes no time before he is already balls deep inside of you. With every thrust he leaves a deep groan filled with pleasure. One of his hands is still on your hips and you can feel him slightly pushing you upwards, all the way up to his chest, still not pulling out of you. The first thing you feel once your back hits his perfectly toned chest is the way his cold chain is bouncing, caressing and sliding over your warm skin. It is almost embarrassing how turned on you are by him and everything he does. So much that even the way he wears his chain makes you so aroused.

“I want you to watch how beautiful you look while I’m so deep inside of you,” Tom whispers into your ear and as much as you enjoy having your eyes closed, you manage to open them up and see his hand wrapped around your breasts while the other one is trailing down your stomach, his lengthy fingers reaching for your clit.

Thanks to the way the mirrors are hung on every wall in the booth, you can see his movements from every angle. The way every single one of his muscles is flexing, his hips swaying once he is bottoming in and out of you. Once his fingers reach down your pulsating core and starts rubbing the pleasure becomes almost unbearable to you. You reach for his hands to get more stability and start trembling in front of him. The only thing you can see right now is the smug on his face as his merciless fingers and thrusts are making you cum so hard on him. With the loud moan you reach your high and ride it, his fingers finally slowing down but never completely stopping.

“Fuck, gorgeous, you look like an angel,” Tom says and starts leaving warm and wet kisses on your neck and ear, still holding you tight. After a few long and slow thrusts he picks up his rhythm again, that ruthless and fast rhythm that gets you on the edge of another orgasm in no time. After a few thrusts he starts rubbing your clit once again, pressing that lovely spot of pleasure both from the inside and outside.

The wave of pleasure comes even faster now, leaving you no time to adjust or open your eyes and focus on him. His hot breath is all over your shoulder and once you hear his voice, moaning into your ear you can’t help but let go, moaning and thrusting towards his arm this time even harder.

“Tom, please don’t stop,” you moan a desperate cry for more, for another release, another round of pleasure. He picks up his pace and you can feel your legs trembling involuntarily next to his. The familiar surge of another orgasm makes your moans and breathing erratic. Once it finally hits you, you leave a high pitched cry and Tom pushes you down, stopping his movements, just holding you in place.

“Fuck baby, if I start moving now, I’ll cum as well,” he is not thrusting, the only movement you can now feel is his dickf throbbing while still deep inside of you. You open your eyes and look at him in the mirror. Your eyes instantly lock with his. You can see the way he smiles at you while there are a few drops of sweat traveling between his chest.

“Cum in my mouth,” as much as you want to keep him inside of you, you also want to taste him. He pulls out of you and you immediately feel so empty while cool air brushes over your folds. Tom stands up and removes his condom while you turn around and starts licking his shaft up and down. You start sucking on it, taking it in as much as you can. Tom puts his hands on your head, but he is not forcing you towards him. He is removing the strands from your pink wig off of your face.

You open your eyes and look up at his face, his eyes shut down and curse words coming out of his pretty pink lips. As you look in the mirror behind him, you can see the way his ass cheeks are tensing, gently fucking your mouth. That sight excites you so much. If you thought you were done after your third orgasm, you were wrong, cause you can feel the familiar pulsating feeling deep down inside of you. You reach down and start lightly pressing on your clit, not going too fast cause you don’t want to lose focus and mess with the way you’re pleasuring him.

“I’m cumming,” Tom says as warm, sharp and salty liquid fills your mouth. You keep moving your head up and down, guiding him through his pleasure. Not stopping until he backs away, trembling from pleasure. Your mouth suddenly feels so empty, even though there are still traces of him there. You tried to gulp it all down, but the thickness and saltines of his cum and the way he pulled out of your mouth so abruptly makes you spit a few drops on your chin and chest.

"Sorry…" Tom breathes out as he tries to calm down from his orgasm.

"No, no, it's okay…" your fingers travel down your chest to pick up a few drops of cum sliding down. Your other hand is still down there, pressing your clit and drawing out the heat you felt just a few moments while you were sucking him off.

"Wait, I'll help," Tom kneels down in front of you and picks up the traces of him from your chest. He looks around, "I need to find a tissue to wipe my fingers off," but you grab him by the hand and guide it towards your mouth. You start licking his fingers clean and his face quickly turns from surprised to turned on. He makes sure you lick them all, pushing them deeper and deeper into your mouth, until a few tears form in your eyes. It is only then that he finally notices that you've been teasing and dragging your fingers over your entrance the entire time.

"I fucked you so hard and you still want more, princess? You are insatiable." He quickly pulls his hand out of your mouth and you release a disappointed grunt. But it doesn't last long, because he slides two of his already wet fingers into your pussy.

"Yes…" you moan as he starts picking up the pace. But Tom doesn't go fast this time. He keeps teasing you, pushing his fingers slowly, so deep inside of you and then pulling them in to rub your clit for a few glorious seconds. He repeats this motion way too many times for you to keep up. It’s almost like you’re floating.

You are overstimulated, all of your senses focus on the pleasure he keeps giving you with his fingers. It isn't until he speeds up and starts fingering you that you finally start letting go and giving up to him completely. Tom tries to keep you in place, but your legs are trembling and you are not sure how much longer it'll be for your knees to give up.

"Is this okay?" Tom asks as you feel his long fingers gently wrapping around your neck. You nod and moan, not being able to produce any coherent word. Not quite sure is it his delightful movements on your g-spot, his voice or the way his other hand keeps pressing on the sweet spot on your neck, but in almost no time you can feel the oh-so-familiar feeling finally building up enough to explode.

It’s like you’re in slow motion, the only thing you can feel are his fingers pressing the right spot at the right speed. A loud low growl escapes your lips as you ride the most joyous orgasm you ever felt. Wetness is dripping out of you, all over the floor and him. He kisses you breathlessly, like he never wants to let go of you. You're sure he can still taste himself on your lips, but he doesn't seem to mind. Tom looks so hungry for you, cupping your face with that same hand that was on your neck just a few moments ago. Once he stops, he mumbles a little "fuck", his forehead resting on yours.

"Let me help you clean up," you can barely speak, your voice still shaking.

"Of course not, darling, wait for me 'till I get you some towels," Tom hands you your panties from his pocket once he finally pulls his pants up. He doesn't even bother to properly button up his shirt, he just throws it over his shoulders, having his toned chest and that silver chain on display. You can't help but smile once you're on your own. You have no idea what you have gotten yourself into, but you're more than excited to try it out.

Once he gets back, he immediately starts cleaning your wetness from your thighs, going thoroughly over your skin.

"It's Y/N by the way."

"It feels like we’re doing this backwards, but it’s nice to finally meet you, Y/N." Tom lifts his head up and gives you a disarming smile.

"I figured, since you're my boss now, it's only fair that you'd know my name, y'know, to sign my paychecks and stuff like that…" you can feel the butterflies forming in your belly and there was no turning back now.

"I know they say that the boss shouldn't have any favorites, but I think I already have one."

"I just hope you won't change your mind once you meet the others," you lift your head up and your bliss gets interrupted once you see one little dot blinking. The red light you completely forgot about. That's when you feel a sudden change in your heartbeat. "Tom, there is a camera up there!"

"So..? I mean is that a problem?"

"Well, if there was anyone in the back office, they could've seen us!"

"I'm sure we gave them one hell of a show," you can't help but feel relieved. The way he handles things that could be a problem somehow makes you feel more attracted to him. You smirk and he starts leaving soft kisses on your inner thighs, "speaking of, wanna give them another one?"

"Right now?" You laugh and playfully mess with his curls, completely ruining his hair. Tom lifts himself up and comes near to your face. He leaves a few pecks on your lips. You part your lips and deepen the kiss. His kisses are different now. Less needy. Slower, deeper. Meaningful.

Once he parts his lips from yours, he says "Right now."

"Well, look who is insatiable now," you say and grab his silver chain, pulling him back to you and kissing him once again. Seems like it’s going to be one long night.

♡♡♡

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!

Taglist: @thefallenbibliophilequote @beverlyparkerr @ladykxxx08 @devotion @dvhling @svturtles @mlmarint @lovelytholland @nehirsu @veryholland @hollandcrush

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invisibleanonymousmonsters · 3 years

Text

This Game of Yours

Father of Mine – Part 1 and Part 2

Jason was beautiful.

And somehow that scar that went from the right corner of his mouth up to his temple only made him that much more beautiful to Y/N.

Those blue eyes were the same color of water on a stormy day in the Irish sea. And somehow Y/N knew they held the same tempestuousness.

The white streak weaved with his jet black hair so naturally that Y/N would’ve believed he was born with it.

His shoulders were so broad, making his 6’3 height feel even more imposing. He had a presence. People noticed every time he walked into a room. It made Y/N wonder how he was ever able to sneak up on people as Red Hood.

He was wearing a black hoodie underneath his black moto jacket.

Y/N knew Jason didn’t give a shit about fashion. Yet he was well-dressed without any effort – more so than most of the models Y/N had shot throughout her career.

Not being able to control herself any longer, Y/N raised her camera and took a photo.

Jason stopped surveying their surroundings and his gaze snapped to her.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

But his growl didn’t scare her in the slightest.

“Anyone who’s by me when I have a camera is at risk of getting their picture taken. No one is safe. Not even you,” she answered his question unapologetically.

Y/N was working on a personal passion project for her next show. Her collection would be about the poverty and crime of Gotham. Half of the photos would show the heaviest crime areas of the city. And the other half would expose the lifestyles of the wealthiest people in Gotham.

Why did so many suffer from the same system that helped the rich get even richer?

When Bruce found out Y/N was going to Crime Alley and the Bowery by herself, he was visibly upset.

But he realized that Y/N would do as she pleased, so his plan b was to give her protective detail.

However, Y/N didn’t know that Jason had volunteered, almost immediately.

Instead, all she heard was Jason grimly telling her, “You’re lucky you haven’t been fucking murdered yet.”

She had only responded with a roll of her eyes.

“I’m not your escort so you can take my picture. I’m here so you don’t get raped or murdered.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you have a way with words?”

His only response was a glare.

Jason loved playing this game. The game of pretending to be irritated with her when actually he was absolutely infatuated with Y/F/N Y/L/N.

“The easiest way to stop getting your picture taken is to always be the one holding the camera,” Y/N added with a smirk and wink.

Jason didn’t answer, only thinking what a shame it was that no one got to photograph her.

Suddenly, the sunlight hit the top of his head perfectly, creating a halo around that thick and messy hair of his.

Y/N snapped another photo.

“Will you stop?” He warned.

It only succeeded in making her laugh.

And that just excited his heart even more.

“Jason, you were born to get your photo taken.”

There was no joke underneath her words, only sincerity.

“Whatever,” he mumbled.

Jason had a hard time believing that. His skin was riddled with scars. And he was convinced that she’d be singing a different song if she saw his chest, with its thick autopsy scar amongst the so many others. The absolute last word he’d use to describe himself was beautiful. Strong and imposing? Yes. But never beautiful – or any other positive adjective, for that matter.

“I’m not kidding. If you ever want to stop the whole vigilante thing, you can easily become a model.”

Y/N had noticed it as soon as Jason took of his helmet that night. His domino mask had done nothing to prevent her from noting the obvious.

It didn’t take long for Y/N to realize Jason wasn’t like his “brothers.”

“Brothers.” What a strange word.

Should she consider all of them as hers?

Only Damian was actually related to her – and technically he was only her half-brother.

Y/N had watched Jason get on his motorcycle and leave the cave that night she’d almost died.

She’d agreed to stay for dinner and get to know everyone. And a part of her brain was excited to get a better read on the masked man that sat by her bedside as she’d recovered.

“He’s not staying?” Y/N had asked Bruce as he guided her to the stairs that led back up to the manor.

He only shook his head, but she noticed the disappointed expression.

Soon she found out that Jason was the black sheep of this strange family that had taken her in.

Dick was the one who told her about Jason’s dark past. All of it seemed unbelievable: murdered by Joker and brought back to life from a mysterious pit. Only to return to the family who appeared to have replaced him and never sought vengeance on Jason’s behalf.

But it was true; Y/N had seen no lie in Dick’s eyes when he filled her in.

Suddenly there was yelling coming from around the corner.

Without hesitation, Jason shoved Y/N behind him.

He reached for one of his guns and then realized that he didn’t have any.

Y/N was rather vocal about hating them, claiming they made her extremely uncomfortable.

Her expression alone as she said it was enough for Jason to swallow his stubbornness and leave the things at home.

Bruce was rather taken aback by the gesture. Nothing he’d ever said was enough to get Jason to do that.

A gang of young men came marching around the corner like they owned the place…because they did. This was their territory.

Jason immediately recognized them as some of the Russian mob.

Despite pulling Y/N behind him, they still caught sight of her and looked her up and down without an ounce of shame.

“Hey, beautiful. How you doing?”

“Продолжай идти, придурки,” Jason growled at them.

He was outnumbered. But there must’ve been something about his body language that made the gang realize they shouldn’t pick a fight with him. Maybe it was the muscles or his height or that he looked like he wouldn’t even blink before murdering them.

So they just…walked away. Some of them mumbled threats or insults at him. But they realized they shouldn’t even so much as look at Y/N.

A split second before they were gone, Y/N took a picture of Jason.

“Really?” He asked.

She shrugged. “You look like a different person when you’re protective.”

Y/N was beautiful.

Jason watched as she passionately explained her work to a potential buyer.

He recognized the man as a local politician – luckily, one of the few that hadn’t been corrupted from this shitty city.

Y/N had the intimidating energy of her father, but the kind eyes of her mother. At least, that was what Bruce had told everyone, and they all took his word for it.

She wore a stylish white jumpsuit that made her look like a 1980s villain and black stiletto heels.

Jason watched as men cowered in her presence, hating the fact that she proudly stood taller than them. She was just one less woman they could intimidate or manipulate – and they couldn’t stand it.

But Jason loved watching the emasculation in real time.

The bastards didn’t deserve her anyway.

Dick was one of the very few men Jason knew who didn’t blink at a woman towering over him. In fact, his older brother had a track record of preferring it.

“Surprised to see you here,” Bruce said beside him, catching Jason watching Y/N.

“Well, I was her personal bodyguard through all this. Figured I should see if it was worth me wasting my time or not.” Then he tossed back his champagne and slammed it on the tray of a waiter passing by. “Plus, free alcohol.”

Bruce just quirked an eyebrow, silently telling Jason that he knew he was lying.

“Are you buying something?” Jason asked, trying to change the subject.

“I have been strictly forbidden,” Bruce sighed.

Jason chuckled.

He knew if Bruce had his way, he’d buy every single on of Y/N’s pieces.

“I have to know,” Bruce began. “What exactly is holding you back?”

Jason finally ripped his gaze away from Y/N to give Bruce a questioning look.

“What are you talking about?”

“Y/N. You care about her.”

“All of us do,” Jason brushed off. “Even the demon spawn.”

Bruce knew there wasn’t a chance Jason would admit his feelings – especially to him.

“Not that I think you care…but you have my approval.”

Little did Bruce know, Jason did care.

Jason had convinced himself that their rocky relationship and past fights meant that Bruce would die before he let Jason be anywhere near his daughter.

And Jason could hardly blame him.

He didn’t deserve to be loved. He lost that right after he died and came back a monster. And that was the story Jason told himself over and over again.

So he would love Y/N from afar. And hope she would pick someone who was worthy of her love.

“She’s basically my sister,” Jason groaned in fake disgust.

It was quite the performance.

Bruce narrowed his eyes. “We both know that isn’t what’s stopping you. And you’ve made it clear you don’t consider us your family.”

“Whatever, Bruce.”

Jason walked away, having enough of the subject.

“What was that about?” Clark asked as he joined Bruce’s side.

“Jason refusing to let himself be happy,” Bruce sighed.

Clark already knew what Bruce was talking about. He’d seen Y/N and Jason dancing around each other for months now. He’d never really seen Y/N take an interest in anyone before, so it was all new for Clark.

“Don’t worry. Y/N won’t let him get away with it for much longer,” Clark said through a smirk. “She gets what she wants.”

And Bruce believed him.

“It doesn’t bother you – the two of them together?” Clark asked with genuine curiosity.

“Jason reminds me every day that I’m not his father. And I’m hardly Y/N’s.” A soft smile formed on Bruce’s lips. “He’ll look after her. And she…I think she’d be good for him. I just want them to be happy. Both of them.”

——

Jason headed home rather early.

He’d never actually went to say congratulations or even hello to Y/N.

Every time he was about to go over, someone else stole her attention. He didn’t want to get in the way of her talking to potential buyers or even just friends.

Jason was just about to make himself something to eat when there was a knock at his door.

He froze.

Very few people knew where his apartment was.

Jason grabbed a gun and tiptoed to his front door.

With a peak through the peephole, he let out a irritated sigh.

Jason whipped the door open, “You’re lucky I didn’t shoot your head off.”

“Maybe don’t own guns and you wouldn’t have to worry about shit like that,” Y/N snapped back.

“What are you doing here?”

“You come to my gallery opening and don’t even say hi?” Y/N accused as she stepped around him and into the apartment, not waiting for an invitation.

Jason eyed the paper bag that was in one of her hands.

“By all means, come on in,” he called sarcastically as he slammed the door behind her.

Y/N started searching through his cabinets. “Where are your glasses?”

“The one to your right. What are you doing here?”

Y/N had the brightest and almost mischievous smile as she pulled a bottle of champagne from the paper bag.

“I brought this as my thanks for you making sure I don’t – and I quote – ‘get raped and murdered.’”

Jason glared at her.

Here was the game again.

Y/N being charming and hilariously provoking..and Jason pretending like he hadn’t fallen for her.

She poured them both a glass. They weren’t flutes or coupes, but she couldn’t care less.

“We’re chugging these, by the way,” Y/N informed Jason as she handed him a glass.

He sighed, but obediently clinked his glass with hers and tossed it back.

Barely giving them a second, Y/N immediately refilled them.

“So, why didn’t you come over and say hi?” She repeated.

“Didn’t want to bother you,” Jason mumbled with a shrug.

She narrowed her eyes at his answer. “You’ve never bothered me before, Jason.”

Now he felt guilty.

Jason bowed his head. “I should’ve come and talked to you,” he agreed. “Your work…it looked – it’s amazing, Y/N. Congratulations.”

Apparently Y/N hadn’t expected such a sincere compliment from him, and she was stunned to silence.

“Thank you,” she managed to whisper once she’d recovered.

She cleared her throat, trying to maintain her edge. “And really…thank you for being my own little security detail.”

If Jason was healthy about expressing is thoughts and feelings, he would’ve told her that it was the highlight of his weeks. That he looked forward to her calls or texts, telling him that she was going to photograph another shady area. “Be there or don’t. I’m going no matter what,” she’d text him with her usual snark.

But Jason didn’t express his thoughts and feelings.

He kept them bottled up – with the same energy he used to keep Y/N at a distance.

So instead, Jason said, “If it wasn’t me, one of the others would’ve done it.”

Y/N winced slightly at that.

‘You’re such a fucking asshole,’ Jason told himself.

“You know…we can see each other even you’re not my bodyguard.”

Jason was impressed by her boldness. But she didn’t know what she was doing. She didn’t understand that he wasn’t good. He couldn’t play the loving boyfriend role. She belonged with someone like Dick or Clark – or literally anyone but him. And Jason was willing to be an asshole to make sure she understood that.

Y/N took a step closer to him, invading his personal space.

Without breaking eye contact, she threw back her second glass of champagne and then placed it on the nearest counter space.

She stepped even closer.

This was simultaneously Jason’s worst nightmare and most desired dream.

Her eyes moved from his eyes to his lips.

But before she could make her final push, Jason took a step back and cleared his throat.

He looked down at the ground as he said, “You should go.”

When he looked up, he expected to find Y/N heartbroken or embarrassed.

But she was neither.

No. She looked irritated.

Not because she wasn’t getting what she wanted, but because she was sick of his games.

Y/N sighed and stepped back. “Fine.”

Jason rubbed his face in frustration as she grabbed her purse and started for the door she had walked through only minutes ago.

She opened it and paused.

“You know what? No. Fuck that,” Y/N snapped before slamming the door closed.

She whipped around and strutted back to him with purpose.

Jason was suspended with both fervor and awe.

Y/N grabbed his face and pulled him down to her lips.

All self control went out the window. Jason couldn’t continue his game. It was all over for him.

He kissed her back almost immediately. How could he not?

Y/N bit his lip slightly, making him hiss in surprise. It was his punishment for making her wait all this time.

Eventually they needed a moment to breathe.

But Y/N didn’t let go of his face when their lips finally parted.

“Choose your next words very carefully,” she breathed.

He swallowed nervously. “You’re kind of fucking terrifying. You know that?”

Her smile was pure evil.

Apparently this was the right response.

“Are you done being an idiot?” She asked.

He nodded quickly.

Her hands moved down and then lingered on his neck, tracing the bottom lines of his jaw.

She smiled again and then looked him up and down.

“What?” He questioned.

“Nothing,” she laughed. “I’m just…I’m not used to being shorter than men.”

“Is that the only reason you like me? Huh? My height?” Jason goaded.

“Of course not,” Y/N scoffed. “It was the whole ‘I look like I could murder everyone and I can, but deep down I’m a big softie’ that did it for me.”

Jason’s grip tightened on her waist. “Oh, yeah? You’re one to talk…”

“Me?!” She yelped. “I couldn’t kill anyone, even if my life depended on it.”

“Maybe. But your terrifying in basically every other way.”

Y/N laughed at that.

Jason couldn’t stop himself from smiling at the sound

“So…still want me to leave?” She asked.

And this time, she would if that’s really what he wanted.

“Fuck no,” Jason answered, almost threateningly.

Then, for good measure, he picked her up by the back of her thighs and carried her to the couch, before he started to kiss her once again.

Y/N knew things weren’t always going to be this simple.

Jason had his demons.

And honestly, so did she. They were nothing like his. And maybe they were silly in comparison. But she wouldn’t be the perfect partner. Just like he wouldn’t be.

They’d drive each other crazy. But it would be the good kind of crazy.

------------------------------

+ Childhood

#father of mine bonus content #father of mine #bruce wayne x daughter #bruce wayne x daughter!reader #batman x daughter #batman x daughter!reader #bruce wayne's daughter #batman's daughter #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd reader insert #red hood reader insert #clark kent x platonic!reader #superman x platonic!reader

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just-here-for-the-moment · 3 years

Note

Tell me about Reader who’s only dated assholes (arrogant tech bros, flaky politicians, unfaithful artists, ghosting athletes, etc…) from different walks of life until she meets Frankie 👀 maybe pure FILTH ensues after a while, maybe… 👀 like. Pure fucking nasty filth. Also, beaches. 😊 maybe not at the same time tho sounds painful tbh

Ok this may have ended up softer than "filthy" but not by much!! Hope you enjoy Frankie and his magic hands, dude. Those Hands

Word count: 1200+

Rating: explicit, 18+ only

Outline: Frankie Morales x “You” (cis/het female reader, “blank canvas”/no physical description/no name/no use of “Y/N”)

Warnings: coffee shop meet-cute; beach vacation; oral sex/F receiving; vaginal fingering; P/V sex; shower scene; mentions of food and alcohol

It was the hands you noticed first. Work-worn and calloused, but somehow also soft-looking. Big hands, nice hands, they held the door of the coffee shop open for you to enter as he left, and you almost tripped over the threshold with how distracted you were. You didn’t know you could be attracted to hands until you saw his, but somehow they were different from the soft, manicured hands of all the men you had dated before. Guys who only worked at keyboards in nice offices, who played golf or maybe drew sketches for upscale galleries, guys who didn’t mow their own lawns. Guys who got bored and left you after five days or seven weeks or four months. You hoped you would see him again.

And a week later you did, and then a few days after that, and then again the next day. And then one day you timed it just right, or he did, and you actually ended up in line together. And when you both picked up your orders, you ended up sort of fighting to give the other person the last open seats, a little two-top table, until you both just laughed and decided to sit with a stranger. Well, a nice stranger anyway. And there’s no way to sit at a tiny 2-person table like that without talking, and so it was very nice to find out that the pair of nice hands belonged to a nice man who finally gave you his name, and by the end of the conversation, his number. And so that’s how you ended up with ‘Frankie Morales’ listed in your phone and a date for the following Saturday.

And oh, wow, what those hands could do. Over the next few weeks you found out how warm they felt holding your hand, how well they fit around the side of your hip as you walked, how good they felt cupping your jaw for a kiss, and how thick they were when he slid them inside of you while he worked magic with his talented tongue.

Weeks turned into months turned into a year, and then suddenly there was an anniversary weekend to plan and a beach vacation to arrange, and you found yourself laying on a white sand beach holding one of those big hands in yours as you napped under an umbrella. You were just drifting off when Frankie’s big hand gave yours a squeeze. You cracked your eyes to watch him walk away, because you never got tired of that particular view, the broad shoulders and the golden skin and the easy confidence he carried himself with. Your Frankie.

And then he came back and offered you a cold drink and you sat up and brushed his fingers with yours as you took the cup and smiled at him over your sunglasses. And when he smiled back little stars burst behind your navel, better than butterflies because the starbursts were backed up by 365 days of knowing what those hands and lips and body could do, to you and with you and for you.

And the afternoon passed in lazy naps on the beach blanket interspersed with squealing moments in the water, Frankie splashing you or carrying you piggyback into the waves. And one big wave knocking your sunglasses loose into the water, lost forever until Frankie gives you his to wear, and tells you how cute you look with his big aviators on. And then the sun sets and it’s time to go wash up, have a romantic dinner, take a bottle of wine back to your beach view room. And when it’s dark you turn off all the lights and let the moon stream in through your open balcony door.

Frankie takes his time with you that first night, working you open with his lovely soft lips and tongue, licking and swirling you up into knots of desire until his fingers push you over the edge and you burst into pieces, moaning wordless sounds into the salt-scented night air that’s rolling through the room. And then he does it again, one more time just to feel you squeeze his fingers hard before he strokes himself and slides into you with hardly any friction at all. You cling to him with your arms and legs wrapped as tight as you can until he chases his own high and pins it down inside of you, thrusting into you and releasing his own deep groans, then making you sigh with contentment as he tucks you under his big arm to sleep.

The second day passes in a blur of laughter and a boat trip, sightseeing and catching a few precious glimpses of dolphins, and then more beach time and dinner. And another long night of lovemaking in your room, but this time with Frankie taking you on your hands and knees, feeling him pound deep inside of you, hitting that ticklish spot over and over as you gaze out the balcony door over the moonlit ocean. And then again at 1:00 a.m. when you wake up and feel Frankie’s cock hard against you as you snuggle, and you shift your hips back into him, and bump him playfully until he wakes up. And then you straddle him and he cups your breasts with those big hands as you grind against him and make him moan in the near dark.

And you wake up the next morning and he’s absent from the bed, but you hear him in the shower and you sneak in to join him. And Frankie puts those hands to good use one more time, scrubbing your back and rubbing suds all over you, tip to toe, and then rinsing you off before he makes you come on his fingers. He wraps you tight with your back to his broad chest, one big hand under your ribs and the other rubbing tight circles into your clit and dipping up inside of you by turns until you collapse and shatter for him and then come back to yourself. And then you kiss him and tell him you love him and he says it back, and you know he means it.

And you wonder how you did this before, without Frankie. How you put up with the arrogance and the dullness of the disinterested men that you dated. How you ever believed that they were worth your time. Because now you see it, the way that Frankie uses his hands and his whole heart to love you. How he listens to you and sees you, how you won’t ever be alone as long as he’s there.

And you dress and go down to breakfast and intertwine your fingers with his beside your orange juice, and you lift his hand to yours and kiss his magic fingers one by one. And he just looks at you, glowing at you like you’re the sweetest thing he’ll ever see. And then he tells you how soft your lips are, and how much he’s looking forward to tonight. And you tuck into your breakfast and you swear nothing has ever tasted this good in your life, because you’re finally with the right person, and that makes all the difference in the world.

--- Frankie "Catfish" Morales character masterlist Just-here-for-the-moment’s main masterlist

The only tag list I have for fics: @quica-quica-quica @anaaaispunk @justanotherblonde23 @gracie7209 @nicolethered @honestly-shite @driedgreentomatoes @dihra-vesa @1800-fight-me @the-queen-of-fools @juletheghoul @kesskirata @honeymandos @silverwolf319 @mourningbirds1 @greeneyedblondie44 @spacedilf @maxwell–lord @anxiousandboujee @cevvie @sherala007 @writeforfandoms @libellule2001 @deadhumourist @mandoalorian @javierpinme @eri16 @mandocrasis @pilothusband @bastillealmighty @eri16 @jitterbugs927 @babiiface95 because Frankie!!

#pedrostories #pedro stories #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x female reader #francisco catfish morales #frankie catfish morales x you #frankie catfish morales x reader #frankie catfish morales x female reader #you ask and JHFTM delivers!

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malarki · 3 years

Text

Harry Potter FanFiction I greatly enjoy (it’s just tomarry and sevitus)

Fair warning, I’m not good at describing stuff, and most of these are not complete (yet) but if you have similar tastes as I do then you’ll definitely like these stories.

Meddling of a Mischief Maker - by Athy

https://archiveofourown.org/works/5380535/chapters/12427268

I enjoy this fic because it shows a more human Voldemort with him still being an asshole as per usual. They do a good job of having Voldemort believably change into a not crazy murderous bastard haha. It also has Sirius interacting with Voldemort and for some reason I find those scenes hilarious in any fic I read.

“Harry's being a horcrux is a bit reworked here in this AU Story set during the summer after 5th year. A Mischief Maker intervenes in the Ministry during Voldemort and Dumbledore's duel, changing the course history. MorallyGrey!Dumbledore, Sirius, Restored Souls, HP/TR”

Draw Me After You (Let Us Run) - by ToAStranger @toast-ranger-to-a-stranger

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22327684/chapters/53334382

This story is a delight, it’s tone is very good and they do a great job of writing in the characters ‘voices’ for their pov’s. I especially like the posh way Voldemort talks and acts. This story is also hilarious on top of just being a very good slowburn, AND it has Sirius, which as you might have guessed, I love dearly. They also don’t bash any of the characters, and instead make them well rounded but flawed individuals, which I really appreciate.

“Harry Potter,” comes the soft, sibilant hiss of a voice he has heard in his dreams, in his nightmares, in his waking hours for years.

Slowly, carefully, Harry twists over and pushes up onto his hands and knees. He stays there, short breath fogging in front of his face, and his pursuer lets him. Harry has no doubt of that; he’s being allowed this respite. This small moment to catch his bearings, heart pounding in his ears, blood singing.

“It seems I have finally caught you.”

Consuming Shadows - by Child_OTKW @childotkw

https://archiveofourown.org/works/7040089/chapters/16011331

I’ve read two of childOTKW’s fics and both of them are fantastically written and attention grabbing stories. This one was the first one I read, and it has a very interesting take on lily Potter (one which I really enjoy) and the plot can leave you on the edge of your seat at times. The characterization is great, and the process of Harry and Tom getting to know each other is done very well.

“His attention skipped passed the students and moved to the politicians’ pavilion. His gaze locked with crimson, and he nearly faltered under the sheer hunger in those eyes.

It unnerved him how fixated the man was on his dirtied, exhausted figure.

But what troubled him more was the slight smirk he could make out on the man’s lips. It was almost pleased.

On the night of the attack, Lily managed to escape with her infant son, but at the cost of her husband’s life. Distraught and distrusting of her friends, she fled to France with Harry, to raise him away from the corruption in Britain and the rising influence of the Dark Lord. She trains him to the best of her abilities, shaping him into a dangerous, intelligent and powerful wizard.

But when Britain re-establishes the Triwizard Tournament, and Harry is forced to return to his once-home, he finds himself questioning whether he really wants to kill the Dark Lord. Voldemort finds an unexpected challenge in the child, and as his intrigue and amusement grows, so too does the desire to possess the spark in those defiant green eyes.”

A story that is kind of similar but not really: The Train to Nowhere

You Belong To Me (I Belong To You) - by child_OTKW

https://archiveofourown.org/works/11270490/chapters/25203408

This is a story inspired by the manwha ‘At The End Of The Road’ by Haribo. A comic I read before reading this, which is very good I recommend it. They do not take the exact plot from the comic though, obviously changing significant details for it to work properly as a Tomarry Fic, but one main thing stays the same, which is that this is a body swap. Honestly I really enjoy childOTKW’s works, and this is no exception. The characterization is wonderful as always, and Harry is Fantastic. Plus I’ve always been a fan of time travel fics. (Fair warning this is another slow burn and Harry centric)

“What I find absolutely fascinating,” Riddle said, stalking closer, “is you.” He marched forward, backing Harry up until he was pinned to the cool wall of the common room. “Do you know why?”

“No. And I’ll be honest here, Riddle, I don’t particularly care.”

The taller boy grinned at him, small yet infinitely pleased. “That. Right there.” One hand rose and brushed some of Harry’s fringe from his face. “Nathan Ciro was a spineless little boy too afraid of his own shadow to dare even glance in my direction. But you…”

He leaned closer, “You look at me like you want to stab me.”

“After an accident, Auror Harry Potter wakes up in the body of fourteen year old Nathan Ciro, a tormented Slytherin who recently tried to end his own life. Seeking answers to his strange predicament, Harry returns to Hogwarts, and causes quite the stir through staff and students - especially when they come to realise he is not the same boy as before.

He tries to avoid suspicion, but as his quest for the truth draws more and more attention to him, Harry begins to think that he might not like what he will discover.”

Some Bonus AU tomarry

A Thousand Paths Among The Stars - by Haplessshippo @haplesshippo

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12015060/chapters/27191238

This is a star trek au and it’s honestly my favorite tomarry au fic. Granted, I am a huge sci-fi fan. There’s also a bit of a twist at the end, or at least it surprised me, due to the way we usually expect tomarry plots to go.

“Harry Potter, newly appointed Captain of the Marauder and son of the famous Captain James Potter, was falling apart at the seams. His crew didn’t respect him, he was lost in the empty expanse of space, nightmares plagued his sleep, and his Commander deserved the Captain position more than he did. Good thing multiple attempts on his life and a vicious warlord after his head was all it took to turn it all around.

Alternatively, that space fic in which Harry Potter almost dies too many times, Tom Riddle slowly becomes the most smitten fool on the ship, and the rest of the crew are all just a bunch of assholes with popcorn watching the show. And exploding ships, don't forget the exploding ships.”

The Matchmaker - by TanninTele

https://archiveofourown.org/works/16507676/chapters/38664089

I am ALSO a huge true crime fan, and this story has a criminal that kinda reminds me of one that might appear in Hannibal (but with less murder). I enjoy the characterization, though tom is pretty tame in this compared to more cannon fics, considering he’s not the criminal and instead an investigator. Harry is also different from how people usually portray him, but I still like it.

“'The Matchmaker' is a serial abductor whose modus operandi consists of pairing two same-sex individuals together in a coffin, six feet underground - buried alive. He isn't a killer. He's a kidnapper with morals, and Detective Chief Inspector Tom Riddle finds himself obsessed with solving the case.

Unfortunately for Tom, the Matchmaker is just as intent on knowing him.”

And on to the Sevitus Stories

Far Beyond A Promise Kept - by oliversnape

https://archiveofourown.org/works/547431/chapters/974693

A classic, Harry stays with snape and unintentionally proves all his assumptions wrong and makes snape care about him. Both the stories have this aspect, but this one has snape a bit nicer from the get go. Probably because it takes place during the third book, so they’ve only known each other two years. It’s quite wholesome though, and I rather enjoy the progression of their relationship.

“Snape never wanted anyone to know of his promise to Dumbledore, but has realised that he can protect Potter much better by taking a less passive role in the boy's training. Actually liking Harry Potter has never been part of his plan. mentor/guardian.”

Crime And Punishment - by melolcatsi

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24102232/chapters/58018174

Snape and Harry have way more of a rocky start in this one, and Snape having to pick Harry up from the police station Really Doesn’t Help Snape’s opinion of him. This story very realistically shows the progression of their relationship, going from enemies to family, and near the ‘end’ (it’s not finished) it becomes very wholesome with Snape trying to help Harry with his mental and physical health after years of abuse/ neglect.

“Harry is accused of burglary. The Dursleys leave him to rot. Dumbledore sends Snape to remedy the situation. Harry finds himself in the care of an irate Snape. Not slash, gen-fic w/ focus on Sevitus relationship. Angst galore. Warnings: coarse and suggestive language, mentions of abuse/neglect. Un-betaed and un-Britpicked.”

#tomarry #tom riddle #harry potter #sevitus #severus snape #fanfic #fanfic reccomendation #ao3 fanfic #ao3 #archive of our own #tom riddle x harry potter

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cocobeanncteez · 3 years

Text

Ateez Hongjoong: Tame (Final Part)

Genre: Fluff, angst, smut, mafia au.

Pairing: Mafia!Hongjoong x OC (written in 2nd person)

Word Count: 17k in total, 2.2k in this part. (Part 1, Part 2, Part 3)

Warnings for all parts combined: Mafia themes such as torture, abuse, violence, human auctions, murder, drugs, guns. Mentions of rape, human trafficking, sex slavery, organ trafficking, unprotected sex, pulling out, facesitting.

“What are you guys up to?” you questioned, plopping down on the couch beside Wooyoung. Yunho, Jongho, and San were seated on the opposite couch.

“Just talking about one of our hostages who we will kill tonight,” Yunho replied while playing with a rubik's cube.

“What did they do?” you asked.

“He tried to sabotage our latest drug deal with a secret dealer from Russia. We didn’t know how he found out about it, but he spilled the beans on his gang,” San answered. “So we don’t need him anymore.”

“Well… rest in peace, I guess,” you remarked, making Wooyoung snort.

“Would’ve been better if we killed Yang Daeyoung instead.”

You turned to look at him. “Who exactly is he? I’ve heard his name a few times, but I’ve never gotten the opportunity to ask.”

Jongho gently cleared his throat. “He’s the man who raped and murdered Hongjoong’s sister. Him and three of his men. He wasn’t from a very powerful gang or anything, but he does his work extremely well. He wanted to take us down, and he used Hongjoong’s sister as bait to trap him. Hongjoong refused to give up on Ateez. By the time we managed to track Hongjoong, the damage was already done.” You felt your heart break; you couldn’t even imagine what your boyfriend had to go through.

“Where is Yang Daeyoung now?” you asked.

“Rotting in our torture chamber as we speak.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. “What?! Why haven’t you killed him yet?”

“We are looking for his child,” Hongjoong replied, joining the conversation. “The man has over five trillion won kept in a secret bank account. He also has information, good and bad, on every mafia gang and the corrupted politicians and locals involved. That’s why all gangs are still on the lookout for him even though we captured him eight months ago. He has a secret place somewhere in the world and only his child can access his possessions as he used iris pattern recognition. He has covered up everything though. We can’t find shit on any of his family members.”

“No amount of threatening or torturing works on him. We even told him that we’ll find his child and torture them,” Jongho added. “But he won’t reveal anything to us.”

“Maybe I can try?” you suggested. You did learn how to torture someone for information, but it wasn’t something you really enjoyed.

“Your chances are extremely low,” Wooyoung remarked.

“I’m aware of that. But even a little information could be helpful, right?”

“Go ahead then, sweetheart,” Hongjoong said with a smirk. “I’d love to see my girl torture that filthy bastard.”

You pecked his lips. “Then let’s go now, shall we?”

You made your way to the torture room, Hongjoong, Jongho, and Wooyoung following you. Seonghwa joined you after finishing his work in the interrogation room, satisfied with how much information he was able to obtain. Jongho entered a passcode for one of the rooms, letting everyone inside.

The room was pretty dark and looked like a jail cell. You saw a plate of untouched food on the floor. There was a chair in the middle of the room and a cot at the end of the room where Yang Daeyoung was sleeping, his back facing you all, long chains attached from his hands to a pipe.

Wooyoung moved to the sleeping form, giving the man a kick on his back to wake him up. “Get up, fucker.”

Yang Daeyoung groaned in pain before sitting up, looking at the faces of everyone in the room. As soon as you made eye contact with the man, your heart dropped to your stomach.

His eyes widened. “Kiah?! What are you doing here?!”

The boys immediately turned to look at you. You weren’t able to utter a word due to how shocked you were at seeing your own father there. His hair was quite long and he had a long beard and moustache. There were a few scars on his face and arms.

“How do you know her?” Hongjoong interrogated.

“Run from here, Kiah! They’re gonna kill you,” your father yelled at you.

“Do you know him?” Seonghwa asked you, but you weren’t able to answer. You felt sick. You felt terribly sick that it was your father who raped and murdered your lover's sister.

Tears rolled down your eyes when you glanced at your boyfriend. How could you ever face him now?

“Kiah!” your father yelled, tugging hard on the chains, grabbing your attention. “Get out of here! They’re gonna torture you in front my eyes! They said they will find you and torture you!”

Hongjoong looked at you with an emotionless expression, finally understanding the situation. “You’re his daughter?” You couldn’t respond.

“Are you this bastard's daughter?!” he yelled at you. Before you could answer him, he rushed out of the room. You couldn’t help but cry, burying your face in your hands, feeling your heart ache.

Your father glared at you angrily. “Why are you involved with Ateez?! What is wrong with—"

“Shut up!” you shouted, cutting him off. “You’re fucking pathetic! How could you r-rape someone when you have a daughter?! How could you lie to me all these years that you’re a cop, when you’re nothing but a heartless monster!” you sobbed loudly, collapsing onto the floor. You felt someone kneel beside you, wrapping their arms around you.

“Get away from her, Park Seonghwa!” your father spat.

Seonghwa turned to glare at him. “Shut it,” he said, before helping you stand up, taking you to your room.

You blankly stared at the window of your room from your bed, watching the horizon darker as night was approaching. It has been four days since you last saw Hongjoong. You felt nothing but emptiness and agony. You didn’t know if he was at the mansion or if he went somewhere as you haven’t left your room at all ever since Seonghwa brought you to it. The girls tried to make you eat, but you barely had the appetite to.

You sighed, forcing yourself to get out of bed to take a shower even though you were going to crawl right back into it.

Stripping out of your clothes and entering the shower, you pushed the tap, letting the warm water soak you. Closing your eyes, you could feel a dull ache in your chest when you began to think of Hongjoong. A sob got stuck in your throat, but escaped a few seconds later. You couldn’t hold it back anymore. You sat down, hugging your propped up knees. Your sobs got louder, and your throat was aching, tears mixing with the water running down your face.

After spending a few minutes crying until you couldn’t anymore, you finally washed your body and your hair.

Stepping out of the shower, you wrapped a towel around your body and another one for your hair. You exited the bathroom after putting some clothes on, having no strength to dry your hair with a blow-dryer. You stopped in your tracks when you noticed a figure seated on your bed.

“I'm sorry…” Hongjoong apologized, getting off your bed and moving towards you. He stood in front of you with a pained expression on his beautiful face. You wondered how long he was waiting for you and you really hoped he didn’t hear you cry. Even if he didn’t, he could still tell you were crying as your red, puffy eyes gave it away.

“F-For what?” you stuttered, voice shaky.

Hongjoong sighed, looking down at his feet. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I shouldn’t have left you alone when you were going through much worse. It was a shock for you too…”

Your eyes filled with tears. “I understand why you did it. It’s okay…”

He shook his head. “No, it’s not okay, baby. I’m ashamed of how I acted. You didn’t deserve that.”

You blinked, causing the tears brimming at your eyes to slide down your cheeks. Hongjoong reached up to cup your cheeks, gently wiping your tears away with his thumbs. He placed a gentle, lingering kiss on your forehead. “I’m so sorry.”

You closed your eyes, shaking your head in his hold. You pulled away from him, taking a deep breath. “Hongjoong, I-I think it’s best if we end things.” His eyes widened, heart aching due to your words. He opened his mouth to say something, but you spoke before he could. “I’m the daughter of the man who raped and murdered your sister, Hongjoong. I-I can’t…” you paused, sobs taking over. “I can’t live with that fact. I can’t look at you without thinking about it.”

“I don’t care, Kiah,” he reached out to hold your hands, his own eyes filling with tears. “I love you. Do you understand? I fucking love you. Yes, I was furious when I found out that you were the daughter of that bastard, but you shouldn’t have to suffer because of him. You didn’t even know what he does for a living. It’s not your problem.”

You sniffled. “You don’t h-hate me?” you couldn’t help but ask.

“Baby…” he sighed, pulling you into a hug, his own tears rolling down his beautiful face. “I could never hate you. Never. You’re the love of my life. Fuck, I can’t even live without you. These past four days… I felt like I was gonna go insane if I didn’t see you, but I had to give you some space.” You didn’t know what to say.

“There's no me without you,” he continued, gently pushing you away so that he could see your face. “So please… never try to break up with me again. I’d rather die than live without you,” he cried. You wrapped your arms around him, burying your face in his chest while you both cried together. Hongjoong placed soft kisses onto your head, trying to calm himself and you down.

When your sobs stopped, he gently pushed you away so that he could look at your face. He cupped your cheek, titling your head back before he leaned in, capturing your lips with his own in a soft kiss.

He pulled away, resting his forehead against you. “I love you,” he murmured.

You smile slightly. “I love you more.”

Epilogue

“Oh my god! We’re finally here!” Jiwoo squealed, running on the cooling sand. Ateez managed to find out the location of your father's secret hideout in Fiji with the help of Yeosang who used your iris pattern to track the computer. Ateez managed to receive all your father’s possessions and now you all had flown across Fiji for a mini vacation.

“Jiwoo's dream destination is Fiji and now we’re here,” San said, watching his girlfriend with love and adoration. You chuckled, watching San run after Jiwoo to join her little hyper session.

“We’re gonna go rest for a while,” Seonghwa stated, holding Aeji's hand.

Wooyoung smirked. “I know what that means,” he said, earning a smack on his head from the older man before the couple went to their beach house in the chain of houses.

Hongjoong took your hand in his, intertwining it. “We’re gonna rest too. See you all for dinner,” he said, dragging you along to your little beach house.

The two of you walked in comfortable silence, sandals leaving prints on the sand, observing the various hues of orange, red, blue, and purple in the beautiful sky as the sun was setting. Hongjoong let go of your hand when you reached your beach house, pausing in his tracks. You gave him a questioning look, wondering why he wasn’t going inside.

He cleared his throat, moving his hands to wrap around your waist. “You’re the only one who could tame my temper, as the boys always say," he started, making you giggle. “The only one who could make my heart beat so fast. I’ve never wanted anything more in life than to be with you. You aren’t just my girlfriend, you’re my best friend and the love of my life. But now I’d like to change that,” he reached into his pocket, taking out a small velvet box.

Hongjoong got down on one knee, and you gasped, realizing what was about to happen. “I’d like to be upgraded from your boyfriend to your fiancé.” You chuckle at that and he opened the box, revealing a beautiful oval-shaped diamond ring.

“Moon Kiah, will you do me the honor of marrying me?”

“Yes!” you squealed, face beaming with happiness. Hongjoong took your hand in his, sliding the ring onto your finger. He got up and you pulled him into a bone-crushing hug. When you pulled away, he grinned before placing a soft kiss on your lips. “I love you. Thank you for bringing light to my life.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck. “I love you too, Joong. So much.” Hongjoong chuckled, pulling you into a sweet kiss.

You couldn’t wait for this new chapter in your life, spending it with Hongjoong by your side for the rest of eternity.

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themayforce · 3 years

Text

Pretty in Pink - Part 2

Link to part 1

Summary: After the events down on the planet, you're not sure how to talk to Rex about it. But luckily, Fives and Echo are here to help.

Description: Things get steamy again in this one. Afab!Reader (no gendered language), foursome, double (or i guess triple) penetration (in both holes), unprotected sex (wrap it up fellas), some degradation, and a little bit of spanking

Rating: 18+ explicit

Pairings: Rex+Fives+Echo/Reader

Words: 7481 (literally i only just found out about this word count and uhhhh i don't know how this happened)

There aren’t enough hours in a day for all the work you have to get done. Since getting back to Coruscant, it's like you've been stuck in an endless meeting with every possible senator, advisor, administrator, or whatever title these politicians had chosen to use. The first few meetings had been important, but soon you had no real part in the discussions anymore and you just watched from the back of the room, exhausted.

It doesn't help that events from a certain planet keep replaying in your mind like a holovid stuck on a loop, glitching and catching on moments and phrases you should not be thinking about in the middle of a meeting room. The heat in your face and your anxiety about it make you even more tired, and after a week of these negotiations you're very glad when you can finally get home before dark for once.

The lights in your apartment automatically switch on when you open the door. The soft pink and orange hues from the sunset outside drape over your living room like a blanket and you spend a few minutes just looking out the window, admiring the view over the city, something you didn’t take as much time for as you should.

No matter how hard you try, it’s impossible to empty your mind these days. Your little … adventure with your three clone friends left its marks on you, both emotionally and physically. They’re fading now, but every time you see yourself in the mirror before showering they jump out at you: two rows of bruises on either side of your hips, unmistakably finger shaped. Rex’s handiwork. And the worst part is that it turns you on more than you’d ever care to admit.

You haven’t spoken to Rex at all since flying back on the shuttle. He had been in two of the same meetings as you, sure, but only awkward glances were exchanged, no words. It bothers you, having these feelings fester inside you, but you have no idea how to approach the subject. If you send him a comlink message, what are you even supposed to say? ‘Hey Captain, I think we should discuss how you fucked my kriffing brains out and then pretended it never happened?’

The day after you got back, Fives and Echo had been waiting for you after your checkup in the medbay, bless their hearts. You had all agreed to leave out the specifics of what had happened in your official reports, but a warning had been attached to that planet’s datalog. Avoid the pink flowers: toxic to most humanoids. With those two guys, you can laugh about it now, and you’re grateful for it. Fives seems more relaxed around you, more open. You haven’t forgotten that he called you beautiful, that he held your hand and brushed the hair out of your face. You see the way he looks at you, and it melts you, the way a hot cup of caf on a cold day does. But you just can’t seem to examine your feelings about Fives, not while Rex’s fire burns inside you so vigorously.

If you don’t talk to him soon, you probably never will, and you’re not sure you can take that. You get a glass of water from the kitchen and down it in one go before laying down on your couch, comlink in hand.

Should you call him? Leave him a holo message? Or just a text message? He’s probably very busy, probably doesn’t even have time to meet with you, but there’s no way you can talk it out over the com. The little device feels heavy in your hand as you type out the message ‘Can we talk?’, and your thumb hovers over the send button. What if he says no? Or just doesn’t reply? What if he’s trying to forget what happened, and bringing it up will just anger him? But he’d called you perfect, had fucked you like a man possessed. You look like such a good little whore. Those words won’t stop echoing in your mind.

You press your face into a throw pillow and groan. “Stupid clones,” you mutter to yourself. “Stupid, sexy clones.”

It’s only when the buzzer to your front door wakes you up that you notice you had dozed off in the first place. Quickly, you smooth out your clothes and flip the throw pillow over with the drool-stained side down. You're not expecting any guests -- you were too tired to make plans this week -- so you're frowning when you open the door.

Your frown turns into a surprised smile when you see Fives and Echo standing in front of you. Their helmets are tucked under their arm, and Fives is holding a bottle of something that looks like alcohol, while Echo has a plain white box in his hands.

"Hey there, sunshine," Fives says with a sheepish grin that nestles itself in your heart.

"Guys! What's all this?"

“Hope this isn’t a bad time,” Fives starts, but Echo interrupts him.

“Fives wanted to-” A sharp look from his friend makes him rephrase his sentence. “Fives and I wanted to check up on you.”

“We saw you in one of the meeting rooms today, and you looked tired, so- oh, not that you look bad, you still look great, just-” You laugh, and that puts Fives at ease. He smiles back at you.

“You’re really too sweet. Please, come in.”

You step aside to let your friends into your home, both of them still wearing their armor. They must have come here right after their shift, and it warms your heart that they chose to see you instead of getting their well-earned rest.

“Brought you something,” Fives says, handing you the bottle he’s holding. “Thought you might like a drink.” It‘s a familiar bottle to you, the most common type of Corellian Red on the market, and one of your favorites, which Fives remembered.

“Aw, you shouldn’t have. But you’re absolutely right. I could really use a drink.”

Echo’s white box happens to be the best kind of box: a cake box, and time flies by while the three of you eat cake and empty the wine bottle. It’s nice, really nice, to just hang out like this. Despite the unspoken truth between you and Fives, it doesn’t feel awkward -- instead it draws something giddy and flirtatious out of you, though that may be in part due to the wine. One third of a bottle isn’t enough to get you drunk, but it’s definitely enough to get you tipsy, and soon enough you have your legs in Fives’ lap on the couch. He rubs circles on your calves with his thumb. He blushes. Echo laughs. The whole thing is adorable.

For the second time tonight, the buzzer of the front door interrupts you. This time, aided by the buzz of alcohol, you’re a lot more relaxed as you make your way across the room, glass in hand. There’s music playing from a concert on your holoscreen -- you don’t know the song or the singer, but the rhythm puts a spring in your step and there’s a smile on your face when you open the door.

Your expression shifts to one of open-mouthed confusion when you are met with another set of blue and white plastoid armor, worn by the man you so desperately wanted to talk to earlier today. And that's not all -- clutched in Rex's hands is a beautiful bouquet of yellow and white flowers, perfectly arranged like it's come straight out of a holo-ad for one of those high-end florists from Naboo.

You're speechless. Absolutely floored. Not just by the fact that Captain Rex brought you flowers, but that he decided to do this now, tonight, after ignoring you for over a week and- oh no. Did you accidentally send that comlink message? Is that why he's here? You would never even have considered sending it if you knew you'd have company tonight, but Rex doesn't know that and now he's here and so are Fives and Echo and every possible explanation you can give will bring trouble.

Blood rushes to your head as you try to think of something to say, but Fives and Echo beat you to it.

"Captain!" they exclaim in almost perfect unison while they jump up from their seats.

"Captain…" you repeat, at a loss for any other words. "I- I wasn't expecting-" You can't finish your sentence. Rex looks like he's going through all stages of grief simultaneously -- jaw tightening, brows furrowing, while his gaze darts between you and the clones behind you.

"I'll come back another time."

“No!” you say before you can stop yourself, “I mean, you’re welcome to come have a drink?” It’s embarrassing, the sheepish way you’re smiling at him, but he did just bring you flowers.

“Are those for me?” you ask, gesturing at the bouquet. Rex looks at the flowers like he had temporarily forgotten he was holding them, then hands them over to you.

“Yes. I hope you uh,” he hesitates, “are feeling better.”

“I am, thank you.”

This is unbearable. You want to scream, to either pull him inside or slam the door in his face, anything to make this painful situation end. You can feel Fives’ eyes burn into you from behind you, knowing that you have to explain why his kriffing Captain is bringing you flowers, when you can’t even explain it to yourself.

“So do you w-” you begin to invite Rex inside, pointing your thumb towards the living room, but he starts speaking at the same time.

“I’ll talk to you later. Goodnight. Troopers.”

With a curt nod and a sharp turn, he marches down the walkway, away from you.

You rush over to the low table next to your couch where you left your comlink and after you lay the bouquet down you check your message history. The words ‘Can we talk’ are still blinking up at you from the bottom of the display, unsent. The whole thing was a kriffing coincidence.

“So,” Echo says, pressing a button on the holoscreen to mute it, “what just happened?”

You groan as you let yourself drop down on the couch. Fives sits back down next to you, but his posture isn’t as relaxed as it was a few minutes ago.

“I don’t know if I should talk about it,” you say softly, burying your face in your hands.

"He …" Fives sighs deeply and turns his body towards you. "He also got involved back on that planet, didn't he?"

You nod without looking up. No point in lying about it now, and besides, it was Rex who decided to be weird about the whole thing.

"Said so, didn't I?" Echo says.

"Kriff, yeah, you were right. I really must've slept through it."

Now you sit up, bouncing your gaze between the two of them. “You knew?” you ask, confused.

“Not for sure,” Echo replies, “I stepped away for half an hour or so to fix the transmitter. But something was different about the Captain when I got back.”

Yeah, you could say that. It would’ve been a lot easier if he hadn’t been so secretive about the whole thing.

"I wanted to talk to him about it, but I thought he was avoiding me… Well, until-"

"Until he showed up unannounced at your apartment with flowers," Fives interrupts. There’s a small grin on his face as he shakes his head. "Stars, he's hopeless. We should give him some pointers."

Pointers? He wants Rex to be, what? Better at courting you?

“Wait… I thought-”

“I’d be jealous? Eh, a little, I can’t deny that. But one thing you need to know about clones,” Fives says with a knowing look to Echo, “is that we’re very good at sharing.”

His words make your face burn, your cheeks feel like the twin suns of Tatooine with how hot they are, and your breath hitches in your throat.

Echo chuckles at your reaction and moves to sit down on the couch as well. Stars, why was it making you so flustered to be sandwiched between the two of them?

“Fives was right. You really are cute when you get nervous.”

“I’m always right,” Fives jokes in return, “but more importantly…” He leans over and gently presses his thumb and index finger against your chin, turning your head to look at him. “Would you like that, sunshine? The three of us sharing you?” His thumb now grazes over your bottom lip. If he keeps this up, you might forget how to speak. Or forget your own kriffing name.

“Y-yes,” you whisper.

“Good.” He holds your gaze lovingly, his eyes darting down to your bottom lip. You’re hoping he might kiss you, but then he takes his hand away and smiles slightly.

“Better ask the Captain to come back, then.”

You fumble with your comlink and almost drop it while you type your new message to Rex. ‘Please come back. We want to talk to you.’ That’s the line you all agreed upon.

“While we wait…” Echo leans closer to you and lowers his voice. “Fives here never shuts up about wanting to kiss you.”

“Echo!” Fives hisses, embarrassed.

“Sooo,” you say, turning to him with a bashful grin, “what are you waiting for, then?”

Fives blinks a few times, and then with one swooping motion he pulls you into his lap, and puts his mouth to yours. His lips are sweet from the cake and the wine, his hands warm as he holds onto your waist. He’s firm and soft at the same time and it’s perfect -- until you move slightly and part of his armor pinches your skin, making you wince.

“Okay, you better take this off now,” you say, tapping one of his thigh plates with your fingernail, “or someone’s gonna get hurt.”

“That a promise?” Fives mutters against your cheek, making you giggle.

It’s touching how much care they put in taking off their armor. Just by watching them undress you can tell how important it is to them, almost sacred. They put every piece neatly on top of the other in the same way, like they were taught precisely how. Soon they stand before you in their tight black underclothes, still completely covered, but softer to the touch. The stretchy fabric doesn’t hide much. In fact, it accentuates the shape of their muscles and, well, other parts. You chew on your lip while you watch them move closer to you.

“Your turn, sunshine,” Fives states. “Let’s give the Captain a little surprise when we open the door for him.”

A small whine escapes your lips when you process his words, but you gladly oblige. As soon as you stand up from the couch, they’re on either side of you, so close it’s almost dizzying. They help you undo the clasps on your outfit and soon enough, you’re left only in your underclothes. Nothing fancy -- it was supposed to just be a regular work day when you got dressed this morning -- but at least it was a matching pair. Fives can’t seem to help himself and nuzzles his face into your neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses that send shivers down your spine and he makes his way back up past your jaw, until he captures your mouth again. His second kiss is more intense, deeper, hotter, and as his tongue moves against yours, you feel the wetness between your thighs increasing. While Fives kisses you, Echo runs his fingers down your breastbone softly, before brushing them over your nipples through the thin fabric of your bra. He’s gentle, like he doesn’t want to distract you from Fives’ kiss, but it still makes you shiver, the hairs on your arms standing up with the thrill of it.

And then, the buzzer again. When Echo goes to open the door, you instinctively want to turn around, too shy to face Rex in your state of undress, but Fives holds you with your back to his chest and his hands on your shoulders, rubbing them softly. He presses a kiss to your temple.

When the door swings open, your eyes meet Rex’s almost instantly.

"What's going on?" Rex asks, but his voice isn't demanding. Quite the opposite, there's almost a quiver in it as his gaze moves over your body, then quickly away again.

Echo leads him into the room by the back of his arm and smirks.

"Well, Captain, Fives and I have a little … gift for you, if you want to join us."

"We know you got involved, sir. With the toxin situation. No need to be ashamed. In fact, I think we can all benefit from this situation." Fives’ mouth comes up right next to your ear and you can feel the tickle of his goatee. "Why don't you tell him what you told us?" Fives whispers to you. Kriff, he wants you to proposition Rex? Out loud?

"I-I… well…" Alright, breathe, you can do this. You know what you want.

"I want… I want all three of you."

Rex’s eyes seem to darken, his posture heavy when he walks over to you. Fives lets go of you now, taking a step back to give the two of you more space.

"Stars," Rex breathes, "y-you're sure?"

"I'm sure." To help ease his doubts, you trace a path up his armor with your hands, resting your arms around his neck, and kiss him. He seems frozen for a second against your lips, but then he returns your kiss eagerly, warm hands grazing over your hips. When he touches you, his breath hitches, remembering you are near-naked in front of him. He breaks the kiss and rests his forehead against yours.

“I felt- I thought I had taken advantage of you. You were so vulnerable, and I was- I couldn’t control myself, I was too rough-”

"Look," you say softly, turning around to show him the remnants of your bruises.

"Is that- did I do that? Kriff, I didn't intend to-"

You interrupt him. "You can do it again, if you want. Keep doing it, so they never fade.”

Rex swallows, but before he can reply you come up with a new idea.

"I want to thank the three of you for saving my life," you say, and you can't help the shy smile that graces your face as you unclasp your bra, shaking it off and revealing your breasts. You take Fives and Rex by the hand and look Echo in the eye sweetly as you lead the three of them to your bedroom.

"There's no need-" Fives interrupts, but you shush him with a finger to his lips.

"I'm going to thank you," you say more firmly this time. You press a quick kiss to his lips before sinking to your knees before him, your eyes lining up with the visible hard-on under his clothes. Your fingers find the waistband of his black compression pants and his briefs below them.

"Oh, stars, sunshine-" His words catch in his throat when you peel the fabric down, revealing his bare cock to you, exactly the way you remembered it. Fuck, you'd fantasized about this late at night, pushing your own fingers into your mouth, imagining how much their cocks might fill you. You can't help but lick your lips before gently wrapping your hand around the base, drawing soft curses from Fives' lips. Your tongue finds the head of his cock, giving it a few kitten licks before letting your lips wrap around it. You hum contentedly as you let him enter further into your mouth, gently licking and sucking and reeling with pride whenever you draw a noise out of him. When you take him in as far as you can go without gagging, you feel his hand coming to rest on top of your head and you let him guide your pace.

"Fuck, your mouth feels amazing, sweetheart. You- you wanna show the other guys what you can do too?"

You whine when he takes his cock out of your mouth, but then you realize he meant show them right now, at the same time, because both Rex and Echo have taken their compression pants off (and Rex his armor, too) and you're greeted by two more of their cocks, hard and leaking and so close to your face.

"My lucky day," you joke, but your heart is beating fast with the knowledge you haven't exactly done this before. You just hope you can give all of them the attention they deserve.

Rex stands closest to you, and his cock twitches as you reach to hold it. His hips jerk forward when you press your tongue flat against the underside, tracing a vein that runs all the way along it. Just like Fives, he reaches for your head -- when you take one of his balls into your mouth and suckle on it softly, his fingers tighten their grip into your hair, his breath hitching with every stroke of your hand along his cock. After you give the other ball some attention, you move back to his cock, bobbing your head along it gently until he suddenly thrusts forward, hitting the back of your throat, making you gag.

"Kriff, sorry-"

But you persevere, spurred on to try and take him even deeper even with tears forming in your eyes. The sounds of you struggling to take him down your throat are joined with the sounds of Fives and Echo stroking their own cocks lazily on either side of you. It's lewd, but deliciously so, and your cunt throbs knowing that it's the sight of you that's turning them on.

You swallow around Rex's cock and he curses again, pulling himself out of your mouth.

"I won't l-last long if you keep that up, beautiful," he says, wiping some saliva mixed with precum away from your chin. Your stomach flutters at the pet name, a silly youngling feeling that feels unfitting to the current situation, but you find yourself wanting to hear it again and again.

Instead you turn again to take care of Echo, who seems to be enjoying himself -- his hand is wrapped tightly around the base of his cock and he smiles down at you.

"Your turn, mister," you tease, and a small chuckle escapes his throat.

"Stars, baby, you’re so cute."

Smiling, you lick up the sizable drop of precum that has formed at the head of his cock, drawing small circles around the opening with your tongue. Then much like before, you try to fit as much of him inside you as possible until you gag again -- the unpleasant feeling is somehow unbearably arousing to you, just knowing that his cock is so big, knowing your throat and jaw will hurt after, it sends lightning straight down between your legs.

"Look at me, baby," Echo coos fondly, "that's right, you like my cock, don't you, pretty eyes?"

You nod weakly, turning your attention back to the rhythm you had found while hollowing out your cheeks, when he pulls out of your mouth.

"Gotta keep it fair," he says with a grin while you feel a pair of hands turning you around again.

You service the three of them like this for a while, switching between their cocks while using your hands on the others. You must be an obscene sight, lips swollen and plump, saliva dribbling down your chin, and with every passing minute you're grinding your hips more and more, rubbing your legs together to find pleasure.

"Getting needy, aren't you, sunshine?" Fives teases, his voice raspy as you stroke his cock which is now slippery and shiny with precum and your spit. You hum around Rex, who has gotten to the point where he's thrusting shallowly into your mouth. Your gag reflex seems to have been conquered for the time being. They do say practise makes perfect.

It's Rex who comes first with a groan, his cum filling your throat while he holds your head in place, your nose grazing the hairs around the base of his cock.

"Fuck," Fives says, his hand finding the back of your head, "open your mouth, sweetheart, that's it." You swallow as much of Rex's cum as you can in one go, then open your mouth wide, tongue sticking out. Rex lines himself up with your tongue, pumping his own cock in quick hard motions. He cums with a low, rumbling sigh and his release ends up mostly on your tongue, with some of it on your nose and cheek. Before you realize it, you hear Echo curse beside you and he also finishes, his cum landing on your face and chest, like a marking you're all too happy to wear.

The three of them seem pretty out of breath, and Rex sits down on your bed with a sigh. "Stars," he breathes, pulling the high collar of his shirt away from his neck to let in some cool air. "That was some kind of thank you."

It makes you giggle. He seems more at ease now, having been convinced by the benefits of this arrangement.

Seeing the three of them panting and sweating in your bedroom sends another molten shot of arousal straight to your cunt and you realize your underwear must be soaked by now.

Fives must have realized you were rubbing your legs together, a teasing edge appearing in his voice. "I think you enjoyed that just as much as we did, didn't you? Did that get you wet?"

"Mhm," you admit coyly, "very."

"I think we should do something about that."

With a yelp from you, Fives pulls you up off the floor with ease and you crash into his chest with his nose pressed into your hair.

"Why don't you lie down and let us take care of you?"

Your face turns hot and your cunt throbs with anticipation at his words. But there's one thing that needs to happen first. All of them are still a lot more dressed than you are.

"Shirts off first, all of you," you say with a grin, which they all return.

"Yes, general," Echo jokes, peeling his sweat-soaked undershirt over his head. Now all of them are naked before you, and you can see the differences in their bodies. Echo, despite being the lithest of the three, has the most defined musculature. Fives is slightly broader in the shoulders but narrower at the hips, and seemed to have a little bit of an edge in the body hair department. Rex is the broadest overall, and also the most scarred, with gashes and blaster burns all over his chest, arms, and back. All three of them are beautiful, perfect, and somehow in your bed.

You get comfortable on the mattress, back propped up against a pillow. Surprisingly, it's Rex who finds his way over to you first, the mattress dipping under his knees. He puts his hands (big, warm, calloused) on your knees and spreads your legs so he can get between them.

"B-been wanting to taste you for so long," he says, his voice a dark rumble that strikes you in your core.

"You better take what you want then, Captain." You're not sure where the daring edge in your tone comes from, but after just making three men come with just your hands and mouth, some confidence has gathered in your chest.

Rex slides your underwear off and spreads your lower lips with his thumbs, and you can hear him suck in a breath. Fives sits down on the bed next to you and chuckles.

"Naughty, so wet from sucking dick." You give him a playful nudge which turns into a desperate grasp the moment Rex starts licking your slit in long lines, his tongue putting pressure on your clit repeatedly.

"Oh, fuckkkk-" you moan, your head falling back onto Fives' shoulder. Echo has now sat down on the other side of you and has taken it upon himself to lazily stroke and pinch at your nipples, the small licks of pain making you whine louder. Rex's pace is relentless, not gentle at all, and you find yourself on the edge much sooner than expected. Your nails dig into Fives' arm when Rex adds his fingers into the mix, pumping them in and out and curving them to hit the perfect spot while he sucks hard on your clit until you see-

"Stars!" you cry out, your hips lifting themselves off the bed as you buck into his tongue, your first orgasm of the night hitting you hard and deep. Rex keeps his tongue pushed against you for a while longer, until you come down from your high, slumping back down into the mattress with your breathing heavy and your skin shiny.

"Didn't know you knew how to do that, Captain," Echo jokes, still playing with your tits almost absentmindedly.

Rex wipes some of your slick off his face with the back of his hand and grins. "There's a lot you don't know about me."

When he sits back up, you can't help but notice he's well on his way to being hard again -- so are the others. There's a glimmer of pride in your chest at the moan Fives lets out when you wrap your hands around his cock again. You roll over, knees tucked under you, and bend down to wrap your lips around him again. In this position, you realize your ass is up in the air at an inviting angle, and you spread your knees a little further apart to give the man behind you a good view. It works, because it only takes a few seconds for Rex to grab your ass roughly with both his hands. His fingers line up with the bruises he left there before, and you hope he remembered your plea for their renewal.

"Look at you… you need a cock to fill you up, don't you, sweetheart?”

You hum around Fives’ cock in response, who fists his hand in your hair.

“Or maybe…” Rex’s voice is dark and rumbling, a sound that goes straight to your cunt, but that’s not where he touches you next. His thumb brushes over your exposed asshole and you stop moving your hips instantly in surprise. "... more than one? Think you could do that for us?"

You let Fives' cock slide out of your mouth to reply, spit and precum leaving a stringy trail between you. "Yes, please, I'll be so good for you," you whine, wanting nothing more than precisely that, to be good, to be of use to them, to make them feel good because they deserve it, and you're giddy and proud that they want this from you and no one else.

There's a bottle of oil in your nightstand for occasions like these -- a gift from a friend months ago who swears by this brand, but you hadn't gotten much use out of it yet. After all his nervousness earlier, you were surprised Rex took charge now, although you suppose he had just needed some time to settle into this commanding role that seemed to come so naturally to him in everyday life. The three of them briefly discuss among themselves how they should take you, but you have a hard time paying attention to the specifics. You bite your lip at the thought of the three of them filling all of you, and you can't help but sneak your hand between your legs to put some pressure onto your throbbing clit.

"Uh-uh," Fives tuts at you with a crooked smile, "none of that, now." He grabs the offending hand first and then the other so you can't touch yourself anymore. He laughs when you pout, and it makes you want to kiss the corners of his mouth. "C'mere," he says, pulling you forward to straddle his lap, his erection pressed between your bellies. It feels good, being this close to him, your skin against his. His smirk is still there and so you do steal a kiss, softly rutting against him just to feel him moan into your mouth. "How about the two of us stay like this," he says in your ear, pulling you tighter towards him with a hand on your lower back, "and I get to see your pretty little face while the other guys fuck your ass, hm?" Oh stars above, nothing coherent can leave your mouth in response to that. You press your face into the crook of Fives' neck and whine a breathy please that makes him chuckle. "Alright then sunshine, up you get." His strong hands lift you upwards so you can position yourself over his cock. Like it's the best thing he's ever felt, his eyes flutter closed when you sink down onto him, giving an experimental roll of your hips that tightens his grip on your waist.

"Fuck, I forgot how fucking hot your pussy is," he groans, and you can tell he's exerting some self control not to start fucking your brains out right away. You feel another warm hand on your back and turn to catch a glimpse of Echo.

"Yeah, Fives, you do know how to pick 'em," he jokes softly, but there's something different about him -- out of the three of them, you keep feeling like Echo might not have been attracted to you as much, like he might be happier with some girl from 79's, but now… You wonder if he reeled his feelings in so he wouldn't hurt his friend-- no, maybe that was just your vanity talking. Regardless, you pull Echo in for a short kiss while slowly starting to move with Fives inside you.

The sound of the glass bottle opening behind you gives you goosebumps. Rex's silence feels like the calm before the storm, and you hold your breath in anticipation. The liquid is a little cold when it trickles onto your skin, and you notice Rex also put a generous amount on his hand as he spreads it out, circling your little hole with his thumb. He works one finger into you gently, but you can feel the stretch and you cling onto Fives' shoulders.

"You alright, sunshine?" he asks and you nod, soothed by his voice and the circles Echo is rubbing on your back. Rex works you open gradually with his fingers, adding more oil when needed while Fives whispers words of encouragement into your ear. He keeps his hips painfully still -- your cunt throbs around him and you know he can feel it, too, but he doesn't budge, not yet.

“You’re doing so well, sunshine. Do you think you’re ready?”

“Mmhm,” you murmur against the skin of his shoulder.

“Ask Captain Rex nicely, then.”

You tilt your head up to look at him in slight bewilderment, only to find a playful smirk on his face. Before you can think of what to say, Rex starts slowly pulling his fingers out, grazing them along the sensitive skin in and around your ass, and you whine as you bury your face in Rex’s neck again.

“P-please, captain,” you cry, “please, please.”

His hands firmly dig into your asscheeks, rough and purposeful.

“Please what?”

Your words come out stifled and choked, both held back by your embarrassment to say something so filthy out loud, and shaken up by desire.

“Please fuck my a-ass, I need your cock, Rex, please!”

“Well done, sweetheart,” he says in that low voice that makes you quiver. He lines his cock up with your ass and you can’t help but buck your hips back slightly. His hands take hold of your sides and he starts pushing himself in, splitting you open easily with the help of the oil.

You’re full, so very full, and it’s so much, on the edge of being painful but not quite. Every part of your skin that touches one of your lovers is on fire, burning with arousal like it did when you had those toxins in your body, but better, now that your mind is sound. Whenever you think he can’t go any deeper, he does, and all you can do is hold onto Fives, digging your nails into his skin in the process.

“Fuck, stars, you take me so well,” Rex says behind you.

Echo pets your hair softly. “How’s it feel, baby?”

“F-feels good,” you respond, your words slurring together. Now both Fives and Rex are holding still with you in between them. The waiting is unbearable, like when the ocean pulls back before its biggest waves, and you are waiting for the water to crash.

The smallest roll of your hips is all it takes -- Rex groans as he pulls out about halfway, then thrusts back into you. From below you, Fives starts tilting his hips upwards, and you feel your cunt getting wetter around his cock. With the way you’re lying forwards on his chest, your clit rubs against him every time Rex slams his hips forwards. They move faster and faster, their skin slapping against yours and all you can do is sob, warm tears of pleasure mixing with sweat as they roll down your cheeks.

You can take more. You want to take more, and you look up at Echo through your wet lashes, reaching out for him, trying to find your words.

“Echo,” you whine softly, “my mouth, you can-”

You don’t have to tell him twice. He shifts so his cock is directly in front of your face instantly, unbearably hard and leaking. Your mouth opens almost instinctively, tongue lolling out to taste as much of him as possible.

Rex chuckles behind you as each thrust of his hips forces Echo’s cock further down your throat as you moan around him.

“Seems I was right the first time,” he says, not halting his speed even a little bit, “you really are a good little whore, aren’t you?”

Fuck, why do those words turn you on so much? Being called names was never something you wanted, but the way he said it, in that fucking delicious voice of his, it set you on fire and makes your cunt clench eagerly.

“Kriff, you liked that, didn’t you? Got all tight around me.”

Your mouth is too full of Echo’s cock to answer, but your throat lets out a noise that Echo clearly likes, because he moans and his strong hand finds purchase on your scalp. They fuck you mercilessly, all three of them pounding and thrusting into your body while you bounce on Fives’ cock and grind your clit against him. There is a deep focus to it, this steady rhythm while holding Echo’s cock into your mouth, but it feels so good and so complete, all of you moving together, thinking of nothing else but chasing the pleasure building in your cunt, and once you start slamming your hips down at the same moment Fives thrusts his up, it’s like the ocean wave crashing into the shore with full force, dragging you along with it. You come hard, a white-hot orgasm that shakes you to your core. You let Echo’s cock slip out of your mouth the moment you scream, and Five holds you against his chest where you can hear the pounding of his heart.

Fives halts the relentless thrusting of his hips for a moment, but not Rex -- he gives you not a moment of rest as he uses your ass with the same ferocity he used your cunt back on that planet.

“Fuck, fuck,” he swears behind you, “I’m gonna fucking- gonna cum, gonna fill this t-tight little ass up, would you like that? You wanna take my cum like a g-good little whore?”

“Yes, please, Rex,” you sob in reply.

He buries his cock deep inside your ass, his grip on your hips so tight it hurts, and then suddenly you feel a hand in your hair at the back of your head. Rex grabs a handful of hair and pulls, lifting your head up and back. He keeps you there while he coats your insides with his release, swearing throughout it, before letting you fall back onto Fives’ chest.

Echo stands up from the bed the second Rex pulls out of you and switches places with him.

“You can take a little more, can’t you, baby?” Echo says, lining his cock up with your ass. Some incoherent noise comes out of you as an answer, and Echo pushes in. Rex has opened you up enough for him to enter you easily, but knowing he’s fucking Rex’s cum back inside of you fans the flames in your belly and you can’t help but start bucking your hips back to feel it more, while Fives’ cock is still hot and throbbing in your cunt.

“Look at you,” you hear Rex say, “you can’t get enough of it, can you? Fucking yourself on two cocks at the same time, and looking so pretty doing it.”

“Mmm,” Fives agrees, and you can hear he’s trying to keep his composure but his breathing is ragged as he comes closer to his own release, “such a pretty little cockslut.”

The way they talk to you spurs you on, which they probably intended, and you start riding Fives like your life depends on it, pushing your upper body up a little straighter so you can look at him. He’s beautiful like this, face flushed, beads of sweat between his knitted brows while he intensely chases his pleasure. As soon as you look him in the eye he grabs the back of your head to pull you down, your forehead to his forehead, your nose to his nose, his eyes closed.

“You’re so f-fucking perfect,” he mutters, then lets out a long groan while he spills inside you, his head crashing backwards into the pillow. Echo’s thrusts get shorter and faster now and you buck back against him, wanting to give everything you still have left inside you. Rex’s hand sneaks up between your body and Fives’ to find your clit.

“Cum one more time, sweetheart, I know you can, with two cocks inside you.”

It’s too much -- you want to, but you don’t know if you can, don’t you if you’re even capable.

“I-I can’t, I-” you try to plead, but he rubs your clit roughly and you sob, hot tears wetting your cheeks. Echo tenses up behind you and you know he’s going to finish soon but-

Slap.

Rex’s hand comes down and strikes your asscheek so hard you squeal.

“I said cum.”

You do. You can’t explain it, but you do, an almost painful orgasm coursing through you while the sting of the strike lingers. A curse leaves your mouth but is caught by Fives’ lips pressing to yours and his tongue in your mouth. Echo spills his release into your ass with a moan, and with all three of their loads inside you, you have never felt so full.

After Echo pulls out, you climb off of Fives and let yourself fall backwards onto the mattress, every inch of you covered in sweat. Rex leans over to move some hair out of your face.

“Was that too much?” he asks, and the gentleness in his voice is almost heartbreaking.

“No,” you answer, a blissful smile on your face from how unbelievably good you’ve been fucked, “that was just right.” He leans over to press a kiss to your forehead, and you feel an ever so slight trace of stubble on his jaw, less than a day’s growth. You’ve never thought about him shaving, but you’d like to watch him do it, some day. Fives sits up, grabs your hand and puts it to his lips, pressing a firm kiss to your knuckles. Moments later, Echo appears with a towel from your closet and starts cleaning you up, dabbing the cloth between your thighs where their cum has started trickling out of you.

“So,” you start, grinning playfully “are we even, now?”

Rex chuckles and gets up off the bed to find his underclothes -- no doubt duty will call for him again soon. You feel so, so lucky, that these three men have chosen to spend what little free time they have with you, and a warmth spreads through your chest as you look at them, eyes half-lidded from drowsiness.

“Not a chance,” he jokes, stepping into his briefs.

Fives lets go of your hand and strokes your cheek with his thumb, grinning down at you, and Echo, too, has a smile on his face. Rex kisses your forehead one more time.

“You won’t get rid of us that easily.”

#captain rex x reader #fives x reader #echo x reader #clone troopers x reader #the clone wars #captain rex #fives #echo #if you read all of this thank you ilu

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lune-hime · 3 years

Text

Daddy (Chocobros x Reader)

Who knew a single word could have such an effect.

↞Noctis↠

One forceful kick to Noctis’ calf and a squirming body in his arms was just enough to awaken the prince from his deep sleep. Opening heavy eyelids, he lazily blinked to adjust to the blurry limbo between dreamland and the world of the living. Another swift kick to his thigh, dangerously close to the royal jewels, snatched him out of his purgatory and had him puffing for air. Feeling more tossing he hazily regarded your disheveled form. He groaned in sleep-deprived annoyance and attempted to calm your writhing body by tightening his hold on you. It worked for a few moments, but just as Noctis had started to drift back off to sleep you commenced your movements again. This time, however, they were softer and more distracting. Instead of thrashing about you were now gently grinding against him, brow knitted into a firm line and soft heated gasps emerging from your slightly parted lips.

“Mmm, Noct just like that.” You mumbled huskily, moving your body lightly against his. The enticing lull of sleep he had felt a few moments ago was entirely washed away and now the prince was fully awake in more ways than one. He propped himself on one elbow to get a better view of your facial expressions. He smiled when the slight loss of contact made you whimper.

Your subconscious sinful ministrations had him planning ways he would punish you for disturbing his sleep.

“Daddy...please don't-” You whined, grinding harder and increasing the friction between your two bodies. Noctis’ wandering thoughts immediately ceased and his features contorted in confusion. He gingerly shook your arm.

“Y/N, wake up.” He called gently, tone still coated in sleep. When your eyes fluttered open the only thing you could see were brilliant sapphire orbs against the bleak grayscale of the room.

“Noct?” You yawned and looked up at him, eyes bleary and still adjusting to the light.

“Are you okay? You were talking in your sleep.” Noctis inquired, his stare unwavering.

“O-h really?” You gulped. Oh shit. You knew exactly what you had just been dreaming about.

He hummed in affirmation and with his free hand moved a couple sweaty strands of stray hair from your forehead.

“At first I thought you were having a, you know, dream about me, but then you started talking about your father.” He almost sounded disappointed at the last point.

“I was having a, you know, dream about you Noct...” You drifted off, moving so you were once again flush against his chest and started to trail your hand up and down his waist. Your prince had awoken you before you had the chance to get to the best part of your dream, thus leaving you a bit needy for touch. You looked up at him through your lashes expectantly.

He blinked a couple times as the two of you laid in silence, the air growing thicker by the second.

“So your dad was in your wet dream? That’s nasty, Y/N.” Noctis grimaced, seemingly out of the mood now, and buried his face in your neck before instantly falling asleep again. You laid there in utter shock, mouth agape and now very much wide awake, staring at the ceiling and wondering how you were engaged to this man.

↞Prompto↠

“Sweety, run your hand through your hair-Yes just like that!” Prompto chirped as he excitedly brought his camera to his face. The rapid clicking of the shutter drowned out the peaceful sounds of the towering pine forest. Ignis had thought it was a good idea to take a small break in the midst of your day long drive to Cleigne. Prompto, ever the enthusiastic photographer, pressured their driver to pull over when he began seeing signs on the side of the road for a scenic outlook. So here you were, back to the dramatic landscape and hair being ravaged by the wind.

“Prom--are you--sure--this is a g--ood spot?” You shouted as a strong gust of wind threw a chunk of hair awkwardly in front of your eyes. The shutter to his camera went off as you attempted to spit it out. The hair you removed from your visage revealed a sour look that made Prompto giggle.

“It’s perfect! You can see all the way to the Rock of Ravatogh from here. Plus the wind gives the photo dimension.” He winked playfully. It was difficult to be annoyed with Prompto for more than a few seconds. Anyone who was capable of that surely had ice in their chest instead of a heart. That toothy smile was like a stab of warmth into your body.

After a few more wind ridden, hair flying poses an idea popped into your head. Feeling in a rather playful mood, and wanting to get back at him for taking that awful photo of you, you decided to set your idea into action. And you hopped on any opportunity you could to tease your sunshine.

“Alright! Now lean back against the railing.” He instructed, motioning for you to back up with his hand. It made your heart flutter seeing how in his element he was. You almost didn’t feel like ruining the moment. Almost. Taking a few steps back, you felt the slight burn of the sun warmed metal on your arms as you rested them upon the railing.

“Okay, say cheese!” He chimed, climbing on a nearby rock. He crouched down to get a different angle and placed his camera to his face once again.

Here we go.

“Cheese, Daddy!” You sang, smiling brightly. The wind had graciously decided not to obstruct your vision so you didn’t miss Prompto experiencing the shock of his life. The boy suddenly lost his footing and haphazardly tumbled down the rock. The fall happened within a split second and it took you a moment to process what your suggestive remark had done.

“Oh my god Prom!” You screeched, immediately pushing yourself off the railing and racing towards him. The only part of him that was visible behind the boulder was his right arm sticking straight up, camera in hand, having protected it from being crushed as he fell. The scene was so comical you didn’t believe it was real until you rounded the corner of the rock to see his crumpled form in the dirt.

“Are you alright?” You called, your voice reaching a higher octave in worry. Prompto groaned in affirmation and hissed in pain as he tried to roll to a sitting position. Getting to your knees, you grabbed his camera and placed the worn strap around your neck before supporting his back as he slowly inched himself up.

Once he was sitting you let your eyes and hands alike to roam his body; turning him in various directions in search of any blood or scratches. The only abnormality you found, however, was the blush that was so intense it almost covered his freckles.

“Uh-yeah, I’m fine.” He coughed, brushing the gravel off his jeans. He waited a few moments before speaking up.

“D-did I hear you correctly?” He asked, stumbling over his words as his blush intensified tenfold.

“What do you mean, daddy?” You asked innocently, cocking your head to the side and blinking.

Prompto felt faint, and without your steady hand holding him up he would have surely tumbled down again. The implications of your solely playful word, though, had triggered a feeling of desire within him.

Reaching out to grasp the leather around your neck, Prompto carefully maneuvered the camera strop off your neck and placed it safely to the side. His fingertips sent tingles up the back of your scalp and with his trademark swiftness, he had you pinned down on the ground underneath him. The motion was so fluid it didn’t give you a chance to react.

“Let’s see how many times I can get you to call me that before we have to rejoin the others.” He smirked, a determined glint in his eye. Oh how the tables had turned.

↞Ignis↠

It wasn't uncommon that you found yourself not being able to take your eyes off of Ignis. The man was an earthly embodiment of an astral. Every movement he made, from his calculated evasions on the battlefield to the way he flicked the spatula as he prepared scrambled eggs in the morning. Everything he did was laced with an ethereal grace. Tonight, however, your gaze was particularly glued to his suit. More specifically the way the tailored fabric hugged every curve of his body. It accentuated his muscular arms and clung to his toned thighs as he glided about the ballroom, greeting and engaging with the foreign and domestic elite. In his usual attire, one would look at his above average height and assume his slenderness but this suit was throwing those assumptions directly out the window.

Since the royal gala had commenced, in between the idle chatting and socializing your eyes were always locked on his form from afar. The view of his endowed backside you got when he suddenly turned to face away from you to talk with a new group of politicians had you drooling into your cocktail.

“He looks like such a daddy in that suit.” You sighed dreamily. It was impossible for your mind not to wander straight into the gutter when that outfit left nothing to the imagination.

“Wow, Y/N I didn’t know you were that kinky.” A deep voice barked into your ear, subsequently snapping you out of your daze. You jumped, the contents of your drink sloshing dangerously close to the rim of your glass. Of all the guests in the ballroom who could have heard you it had to have been him. And he was never going to let you live this down.

“Shit, Gladio don’t scare me like that. You know I startle easily.” You scolded your friend. Your voice was a bit breathy and the embarrassment of your comment was starting to physically take form as a deep rouge on your cheeks. The man next to you looked like he was having too much of a good time seeing you squirm and regarded you with a playful smirk. He motioned his index finger for you to lean in closer. Gladiolus met your scowl with a light chuckle as you cautiously stepped closer to him.

“You gonna let him fasten you to the bed with his tie later and call him that?” Gladio prodded in a low voice, just above a whisper. His tone was teasing as he wiggled his eyebrows at your mortified form. You were sure your skin had turned a bright shade of fuchsia, constrasing with the deep Lucian obsidian of your ballgown.

“Shh! Someone is going to hear you.” You hissed, taking advantage of Gladiolus’ bent form and jabbing him in the gut with your elbow. He huffed and faltered slightly, but recovered quickly with a loud burst of laughter.

Unbeknownst to you, a certain someone had in fact overheard the whole discord. Your words were loud enough to reach Ignis’ ears and potent enough to turn the tips of them a flushed scarlet. You were never one to use such forward language and hearing such a shameless word applied to him put an uncomfortable strain on his already tight trousers. The riveting points by the government officials next to him about altering Insomnia’s current trade agreement to one of a bilateral nature was now falling on deaf ears as Ignis’ began ringing with desire. Less than appropriate images of you screaming that word while he pounded into you on the kitchen counter, brunch simmering on the stovetop and the early afternoon sunlight casting a radiant hue on your frame were not suitable for the occasion and he began having to mask his increasing distraction with feigned interest. He cleared his throat once there was a pause in the conversation and politely excused himself, weaving seamlessly past the fews guests that stood between your two parties.

The moment Gladiolus saw Ignis making his way through the sea of bodies, he whispered a quick don’t do anything I wouldn’t do...which is nothing as long as it’s consensual and patted you on the back lightly before whisking himself away to save Noctis. The poor boy was being chatted up by an older woman who was dropping subtle flirtatious hints. You sputtered a mixture of curses and words of embarrassment as you fanned yourself in attempt to calm your already riled body.

Ignis had done a far better job at collecting himself than you, strolling up to your flustered form with seemingly nothing amiss.

“Hello, darling.” He approached you with a warm smile and placed a loving hand on your shoulder. The contact felt like a hot iron to your skin. Your skin prickled with sensation under his palm and you weren’t able to mask the pleasant shiver that racked through your body.

“Hi, Iggy. Any exciting conversations?” Your asked, grinning cheerfully to mask your growing desire. Little did you know the man next to was struggling with the same problem.

“As exciting as tariffs and taxes go.” He sighed as his hand nimbly traveled from your shoulder down your arm, leaving a ghost of touches that set your nerves off like fireworks. It made its way down until it reached its destination at the small of your back. Ignis casually stepped closer and closed the lingering space between the two of you. His grin radiated a sweet innocence but his touch was anything but.

“Sounds interesting.” You gulped. Unable to make eye contact for fear of being burned alive by his heated gaze, you suddenly found the half empty contents of your cocktail to be the most intriguing thing in the world.

“Quite riveting I can assure you.” Ignis let out an airy chuckle. He then leaned in even closer so the only thing keeping the two of you from being flush against one another was your drink.

“But my dear, I’m much more interested in how you think of my outfit. Or more so, me in this outfit.” His sultry tone sounded like liquid velvet against the edge of your ear. The hand on the small of your back started drawing lazy circles along the fabric of your dress.

You were mortified. There was no way he could have heard you, right? When you didn’t respond he tilted your chin up so you were forced to look at him. His emerald eyes were practically shining.

“You underestimate my hearing.” Ignis purred. You didn’t have the proper chance to react before he began putting pressure on the small of your back, silently asking you for permission to lead you away.

“I didn’t know you were into that sort of thing, love. Let’s excuse ourselves for a bathroom break, shall we?” Ignis’ request was laced with silk as his hand trailed even lower to snake around your lower hip and pull you to his side. You nodded excitedly, promptly placing your drink on a passing waiter's tray as you trotted as fast as your heels could carry you to the nearest unoccupied room.

The following day, Gladiolus rounded the corner to Ignis’ office. He knocked on the grand double doors twice with his knuckles before letting himself in. The man seated behind the desk looked how he usually did; white dress shirt neatly tucked into freshly ironed black pants and suspenders straightened on his shoulders. He was hunched over a pile of documents, glasses falling down the bridge of his nose as he intently studied the papers. Gladiolus smiled devilishly and cleared his throat.

“Hey, daddy wanna go grab some lunch before we spar?” He asked, finishing off his request with a wink. Ignis jolted with so much force that the documents went flying and he fell sideways off his desk chair. Not a moment later, Gladiolus quickly ducked out the door just as a dagger went flying towards his head, his thick laughter booming off the walls of the Citadel’s high ceilings.

↞Gladiolus↠

You had been scrubbing your plate for a solid three minutes, the residue from your meal having been washed away long ago. The chocobo dish towel in your hand methodically moved in circular motions against the plastic dish while your mind wandered in a similar pattern. A nap in the regalia earlier had led to a certain unholy dream, the contents of which had been preoccupying your thoughts all afternoon. The antics of the dream had you awoken to a light sweat and a flushed face. Gladiolus was quick to pick up on your condition since you had been sleeping curled up to his chest. When he questioned you about it you had brushed it off as a bad dream, to which he didn’t push you further. But the more you tried to get the stupid thing out of your mind the more intrusive it became.

Gladiolus’ firm hands were on your hips, digging into the plush flesh as he thrusted deeper into you. Your hands were threaded through his hair, tugging lightly and scratching at his scalp. The electrifying sensation his bite marks left on your neck combined with his rhythmic thrusts caused your toes to curl and soon you felt the coil inside your stomach beginning to relea-

“Gross, Gladdy!” Iris grimaced, her high pitched screech snapping you out of your fantasies. You whipped your head in the direction of the fire. Gladiolus had dropped his fully loaded hot dog, chilly cheese and all, onto his sweatpants in a frenzy of winning a particularly grueling round of Kings Knight against Noctis. In the excitement a few stray pieces had made their was towards an unhappy Iris.

“You don’t know the meaning of gross since you didn’t have to deal with yourself as a baby.” Gladiolus retorted, earning a snort from his sister.

“Babe, could you grab us some napkins on your way back.” He called towards you, a cheesy smile on his face when you made eye contact. You returned the gesture and heaved yourself up from your crouched position at the water bucket. Shaking your plate a couple times to scatter the remaining water droplets, you placed it on the drying rack near the grill and plucked a few napkins from their plastic casing before walking towards the group. You handed Iris her’s on your way to Gladiolus’ chair.

“Here, daddy.” You held out the napkin, immediately seizing up when you came to the realization of what you said. His eyes widened for a split second before his pupils dilated, the amber now masked by deep cobalt. The electricity from his gaze sent shockwaves up your spine, leaving a heated trail of blush along your exposed skin. Fully snapped out of your previous daze, you realized you both were still holding onto the napkin. Letting go suddenly, you coughed and readjusted the hem of your sweatshirt.

“What, Gladdy?” You inquired innocently, squirming slightly in place as his gaze intensified. The way Gladiolus was regarding you from under his long eyelashes gave you goosebumps. The sinful thoughts were practically radiating off of him.

“Nuh-uh. That's not what you said.” His smirk expanded and he licked his lips, the spilled condiments on his thigh completely forgotten.

“You obviously heard wrong.” You countered playfully, biting your lip and finally holding his gaze.

“Why so shy, baby girl?” He cooed lowly enough so the others wouldn’t hear.

“You should start calling me that more often.” His tone had gotten so deep that it sounded like it was rumbling from his chest. His excitement over the word had given you a newfound confidence. Leaning closer, you placed a hand on his clean thigh and squeezed. “Better finish cleaning off your hot dog then, daddy , so I can start tonight.” You whispered seductively. Pushing off his thigh you skipped away to sit next to Iris on the ground, leaving a stunned Gladiolus to vigorously wipe the remnants of his meal away.

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