#and i do have the money so i might as well

[sirfrogsworth]

Canada: The Crudest Crude Oil

So, Canada has some shitty oil.

I don't know what Canada oil ate, but it might need a juice cleanse or something.

Trump is putting a 10% tariff on this shit.

This is called heavy sour crude oil. Because not all crude oil is the same. It can be light. It can be sweet. It can be heavy. It can be sour. Light and sweet is the easiest to refine. Heavy and sour (the Canada poop) is the most difficult.

But the US specializes in refining the shittiest crude. That's why we import so much from Canada. We have developed the best technologies to turn this shitty tar sand oil into something useful. We buy it cheap from Canada, make it useful (gas, kerosene, plastics, asphalt, etc), and then resell it.

This ends up being about a $700 billion business that generates about $175 billion in tax revenue.

To make things more interesting, the US has a lot of its own oil. Which is why Trump loves to say "drill, baby, drill." But our oil is light and sweet. It's the good stuff. Easy to refine.

That's good... right?

Not so fast!

Since no other countries are very good at processing the shit oil, we send our good stuff to Europe. They can easily refine it and we make a lot of money selling it to them.

Here's the rub...

The US isn't really set up to refine the good shit. Most of our refinery infrastructure is meant to process the Canada poop. So even though we technically have plenty of our own oil, we don't really have a lot of places to process it.

So I guess we would have to send it to Europe and buy it back.

Or we would have to build new refineries.

Or we would have to get shit oil from other places.

And those places?

Russia and Venezuela.

I have no idea if Trump understands any of this. Or if he thinks all oil is the same. But I feel like fucking with a $700 billion industry is bad for the economy.

I really don't understand why this is happening. I don't know if Trump is going rogue and doing this on his own. Or if Putin set this up so we will buy oil from Russia. Or if there is some other special interest group that wants to torpedo our refinery economy.

None of this makes a lot of sense to me and I don't see many people talking about this aspect of the tariff problem. I don't think oil quality is well known to the general public and maybe Trump's puppeteers are counting on that ignorance to do some sinister shit.

In any case, I imagine gas prices are going up. I'm sure the MAGA crowd, famous for being angry at gas prices, will finally see the light and turn on Trump.

I'm just kidding.

They will find some way to say it is a good thing and keep kicking themselves in the nuts.

[manyofnine]

I had been thinking about this alot

Like. There are jobs that you need degrees for. How the fuck do you apply that skill to your innie? Severance only works for jobs that need no more extensive knowledge or skills than what the workplace is able to provide.

So people who actually would profit from a distinct work- / home- persona like doctors, lawyers or similar High-Stress jobs wouldn't even be able to do this because the innie would have no clue about the training and studies they underwent.

I mean. Severance wouldn't even work in a "low-skill" field because most people need outside information to do a good job. A severed manager or head of office would be a fucking liability because they cannot use their knowledge on their colleagues, training or political environment (as well as economic factors) to plan, prevent or other wise manage problems sourced from the outside world. (which do impact the work alot more than one might think, which is why managerial staff exists)

Lumon can only use this on very certain low-skilled jobs. Which is such an incredible loss of money??!

Actually so obsessed with how much juice there is in this episode, like the fact that choosing to become severed basically brands you as unhireable anywhere else because 1. the ethics and optics of it are so controversial to people 2. outties essentially have no discernible skills that would look good on a resumé because they aren't the ones who actually work, a major cost of the convenience that the procedure offers

Which means they are really only employable by Lumon. They truly do sell their soul to the company store.

[senascoop]

ꣀ꣒ WHEN YOU’RE ALL THAT THEY WANT IN THIS LIFE . . 엔하이펜 ☁︎

pairing, enhypen × afab reader . . . genre, scenario(s), comfort core . . . word count, 200-300 each . . . [LIBRARY]

. , LEE HEESEUNG ☁︎ 이희승 !

“It’s okay, I can do this.” You mutter, determination laced in your voice as you struggle to pull your top over your head. The door is shut, the room quiet except for your frustrated sighs. Your fractured hand, wrapped tightly in a cast, throbs slightly, but the real pain isn’t physical. It’s the creeping frustration, the helplessness, the way twenty minutes have passed and you’re still stuck, half-dressed, fingers trembling. It’s just a bra. A simple t-shirt. But why does it feel impossible? Your throat tightens. Useless. The word sits heavy on your tongue, bitter and cruel.

“Baby, I’m coming in.” Heeseung’s voice is gentle, the door creaking open before you can protest. His gaze lands on your bare back, and though he can’t see your face, he knows—you’re frowning, lips pursed, probably on the verge of tears. “It’s just me, hmm?” His voice is soft as he steps forward, hands finding your shoulders. He carefully turns you to face him, and even as warmth creeps up his neck, he forces himself to focus—on you, not the vulnerability of your exposed skin. Heeseung swallows, picking up your bra with careful fingers. But his heart clenches when he finally sees your teary eyes. “What’s wrong?” He asks, voice laced with concern.

You look down, shame curling in your stomach. “I feel so useless… I can’t even dress myself properly. My hand keeps getting in the way.” His brows knit together as he helps you clasp the bra, then effortlessly pulls the t-shirt over your head. His touch is careful, deliberate—like he’s afraid you might break further. When he’s done, Heeseung cups your cheeks, thumb brushing away a stray tear. “Stop thinking that,” he murmurs. “This is temporary, hmm? But what’s permanent is my love for you.” His gaze holds yours, steady and full of warmth—reminding you that even when you feel weak, he sees you as nothing less than strong.

. , PARK JONGSEONG ☁︎ 박종성 !

You carefully mixed the ingredients, your hands coated in the strong, pungent scent of kimchi as you worked beside your future mother-in-law. You had always wanted to learn how to make it, especially for Jay. You smiled to yourself, imagining how he’d react to your homemade kimchi one day, even if you still weren’t sure when that "someday" would be. “It’s easy once you get the hang of it.” You muttered to yourself as you worked, following her instructions. From the doorway, you could hear Jay laughing lightly, chatting with his mom about something—probably teasing each other, the way they always did.

It made your heart warm to see them getting along so easily, and you couldn’t help but think about how one day, this might be your family too. Jay caught your eye and smiled, his eyes softening as he watched you. You knew the look—the one that said he could picture a future with you, one where you were part of his world, just as you were becoming part of his family. “I’m so glad you’re learning to make this,” Jay said, his voice low, as he came closer. He placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, his warmth a reminder of how much he loved you. “You know,” he continued, his tone teasing, “I think my mom’s kimchi is the best. But your version might be a close second.” You laughed softly. “Well, we’ll see about that.”

. , SIM JAEYUN ☁︎ 심재윤 !

You sighed, staring at the crumpled bills in your wallet. The numbers weren’t adding up—again. How were pads this expensive? Weren’t they a necessity? You let out a frustrated groan, popping another piece of chocolate into your mouth. Maybe that was part of the problem too. You could survive without snacks, but during that time of the month? Impossible. You rested your head on the kitchen counter, already dreading the rest of the month.

“My money is your money. Stop calculating.” Jake’s voice startled you. You turned to see him standing at the bedroom door, arms crossed, eyes still half-lidded from sleep. His hair was messy, his shirt slightly wrinkled, but his smirk was sharp, full of amusement. “Yeah, but—” Before you could finish, he was behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, pressing his chest against your back. His chin rested on your shoulder as he swayed you slightly, the warmth of his body making it hard to focus on why this still didn’t feel right.

“But what?” he murmured. “You do know I plan on marrying you, right?” Your breath hitched. “Jake—” “Nope. No arguments.” He spun you around effortlessly, hands cupping your cheeks. His thumbs brushed over your skin, his grin softening into something more sincere. “That means my money is already yours, dummy.” You opened your mouth to protest, but he only tapped your lips. “Nope. Not hearing it.” You huffed. “You’re impossible.” “And you love me for it.” He kissed your forehead before stepping back. “Now, should we go get you more chocolate too?” Damn him and his boyfriend privileges.

. , PARK SUNGHOON ☁︎ 박성훈 !

“Where is he…” you mumble, scanning the crowd anxiously. Sunghoon isn’t good with places like this—too many people, too much noise. You had only left for a few minutes to grab snacks, but now, the once calm area had become packed with people swarming to see a panda. Then you spot him. He’s stiff, standing awkwardly near a signpost, his hands clenched into nervous fists. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, his shoulders rising slightly with tension. His gaze flickers around like he’s calculating an escape route, but his eyes widen the moment they land on you. You don’t waste a second, weaving through the bodies until you reach him.

The second your hand finds his, he flinches—but when he realizes it’s you, his grip tightens. Relief washes over his face as you quickly guide him out of the crowd. The moment you’re in the clear, you pull him into a hug. “I’m so sorry, you got stuck because of me.” Sunghoon shakes his head, still catching his breath. “It’s not your fault. I mean… I was the one who got hungry.” He mutters, trying to act tough, but the pink dusting his cheeks gives him away. Then, in a quieter voice, he mumbles, “But I’m glad it was you who found me. Otherwise, I’d look like a lost kid.” You grin, poking his flushed cheek. “You kinda already did.” “Shut up.” He groans, but the way he squeezes your hand says otherwise.

. , KIM SUNOO ☁︎ 김수누 !

You leaned your head against Sunoo’s shoulder, wincing slightly as the throbbing in your foot made itself known. You never imagined that something so small could cause this much trouble. The pain wasn’t unbearable, but it made it impossible to walk without cringing. Despite your attempts to be independent, Sunoo had insisted on helping, his voice filled with concern. “I told you to be careful.” His tone was teasing but laced with care. You sighed, not wanting to feel helpless. “I was careful! It just… happened.” He chuckled, a soft, comforting sound, as he gently adjusted his hold around you. Even though you were leaning heavily against him, you couldn’t help but notice how strong he was—certainly stronger than you’d expected.

Sunoo was never the bulky type; he wasn’t exactly a gym freak, and you loved him just the way he was. Still, the way he effortlessly lifted you into his arms made you pause. “Are you sure you’re not secretly training for a superhero role?” You teased, letting your voice be light despite the discomfort. “Maybe.” He smirked down at you, carrying you up the stairs with ease. “But my real superpower is making sure you’re always taken care of.” You laughed softly, your heart fluttering at his words. “Well, you’re doing a great job.” He winked, eyes sparkling with affection. “I know.” As he laid you down gently on the bed, his touch lingering on your side, you couldn’t help but feel thankful—not just for his strength, but for the way he always knew how to make you feel safe, even when life threw you off balance.

. , YANG JUNGWON ☁︎ 양정원 !

You lay in bed, limbs heavy, the fever wrapping around you like an unbearable weight. Every inch of your body ached, exhaustion pulling at your consciousness. You didn’t remember when exactly your eyes had closed, only that the loneliness of being sick made the world feel quieter, emptier. When you woke up, it wasn’t silence that greeted you—it was a familiar voice, soft yet laced with worry. “You scared me when you didn’t pick up your phone.” Your vision blurred slightly as you tried to focus.

Jungwon stood beside your bed, a warm cloth in his hand, dabbing your forehead. In his other hand was a bowl of soup, the steam curling in the air. You blinked, groggy, then turned to your phone on the nightstand. Ten missed calls. Your throat felt dry. “How’d you know?” Jungwon sighed, dipping the spoon into the soup before carefully bringing it to your lips. “Because you always pick up. And when you don’t, it means something’s wrong.” The first sip was surprisingly sweet, warming your throat, easing the discomfort in your chest.

You hummed in appreciation, and a small, satisfied smile tugged at Jungwon’s lips. “This is… really good,” you murmured, barely above a whisper. “Of course it is. I made it,” he said, feigning smugness before his expression softened. His hand came up to your cheek, thumb brushing over your warm skin. “Good thing, though… your temperature feels normal now.” His touch, gentle and reassuring, made something inside you melt. “Jungwon…” “Shh.” He shook his head. “No need to thank me. Taking care of you is kinda my full-time job.” You let out a tired chuckle. “Oh? Do you get paid for this?” He grinned. “Yeah. Your love is enough.”

. , NISHIMURA RIKI ☁︎ 리키 !

“Don’t stop,” Riki mumbles, voice laced with exhaustion as your fingers glide through his soft hair. His head rests on your chest, his body melting into yours as he finally lets himself be taken care of—for once. You feel the tension leave his shoulders with every stroke, his breathing slowing, steadying. “It feels like my stress is fading away…” he murmurs, his words barely above a whisper. You let out a soft chuckle, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of his head. “Then just stay like this,” you say, shifting slightly before tossing a leg over his, pulling him impossibly closer. He lets out a content sigh, nuzzling deeper into you, the warmth between you two making the rest of the world disappear. “Hmmpf…” he hums, voice drowsy, before mumbling, “I can’t wait to live with you forever.”

His words come out so naturally, like a thought slipping past his lips before he can even second-guess it. Your heart stutters. “Wouldn’t you get annoyed?” you tease, though there’s a genuine question hidden underneath. “Like those couples who grow tired of each other?” Riki immediately lifts his head, eyes blinking up at you in pure offense before peppering your face with soft, lazy kisses—your cheeks, your nose, your lips. “Never,” he mumbles against your skin, before sighing and resting his head back against your chest, fingers curling into your shirt. You smile as he wraps his arms around you, holding you like you’re his whole world. Because, in truth, you are.

© senascoop | tumblr

[janeyseymour]

A Case of You

Summary: You and a certain redhead are deeply, and undeniably in love- although the two of you don't realize it. Cue Barbara and someone unexpected to fix that for you on Fourth of July.

WC: ~5.4k

(lemme know if you wanna hear my rendition of the song mentioned in this fic :))

It’s an odd situation that you’ve found yourself in. You’ve been living in Philadelphia for a while now. You somehow manage to scrounge up enough money after years of odd jobs, a few investments, and your day job of teaching at Abbott Elementary to finally be able to afford a house. It’s a beautiful little house- one that you’ve been able to turn into something of a quaint little cottage core house. Your backyard is filled with flowers and emulates what some might say is a house in the movies.

And because you finally have a house that you’re proud of, you invite your folks to the city of brotherly love for Fourth of July. There’s no place like the founding city of the country to be in for the day. From the red and blue dyed beers, to the fireworks that burst over the museum of art (and you’ll have a beautiful view of the display room your house), your new city is one of the best places to be.

Once your coworkers find out that you’ll have the view that they’ve always wanted, it’s decided that you’re going to be hosting the holiday not only for your family, but for your work family as well. So, it might be a little crowded, but… it’ll be fun. That’s what you tell yourself. It’ll be fine.

So here you are, on July 3rd, frantically cleaning your house. Not that it’s messy by any means, but you want to impress. Your house is cozy, and you want to give off the effect that it’s well lived in (and it is) while maintaining the sense that you’re clean and proud of the place that you inhabit. It’s not all that hard. There are pictures dressing the walls, beautiful paintings that you’ve done, little knick knacks that you’ve collected over the years. It all feels homey.

But still, you’re making sure that it’s presentable enough that you won’t get ridiculed and lectured by your mother and your coworkers won’t make fun of your home.

That is, until your cell phone rings. Expecting it to be your mother, letting you know that she and your father have landed, you answer the phone, “Hey Mom.”

“Not your mom,” a voice that you’ve been missing comes through the phone.

Your brow furrows as you pause your scrubbing the toilet as you glance at your phone. “Melissa?”

“Yeah, hun. Just callin’ to see if you needed any help with the party tomorrow,” the redhead tells you. “Any cleaning or want me to bring anything or something?”

You bite your lip. You wouldn’t ever admit it out loud, but the person that you’re trying to impress besides your mother is Melissa- the woman that you’ve been hopelessly in love with since you started working at Abbott. “Uhm… I’m just cleaning the last few things now,” you tell her honestly. “But I really do appreciate the-”

“What’s ‘the last few things’? Because you’ve told me that you only have a few things to get done before you head home from work, and then I find out that you stayed at the school so long Mr. J handed you his keys to lock up the building for the night.��

You have to let out a laugh at that memory. You sigh softly as you decide to tell her the truth. “I still have to finish cleaning up the living room and the kitchen. But it really isn’t all that-”

“Jeet?” At your silence, the redhead continues. “I’m bringing over drinks and dinner and helping you clean. I’ll be over in an hour.”

“Melissa,” you try to protest.

She’s quick to cut your argument off though. “I’ll see you in an hour, hopefully less than that.” 

And then you hear the phone line disconnect, and you quietly groan to yourself as you look at your appearance. You’re in your cleaning clothes that are covered with bleach stains, your hair is tied up messily, and makeup hasn’t been applied since probably the last day of school. You look a mess. With a sigh, you head for your bedroom to at least put on your face- you want to look at least somewhat presentable.

The redheaded second grade teacher is knocking at your door less than an hour later.

“Hey,” you smile softly as you open the door. She’s standing there with a case of beer and a bag of what you can only assume is dinner. And somehow, even in just shorts and a tee shirt, she looks as incredible as ever. You find yourself blushing.

“Are you gonna let me in, or should we just have dinner outside?” Melissa quips.

You let out a small, nervous laugh. “No, no, come in. P-Please don’t mind the mess.”

“You’re cleaning, I’m ready to clean,” the woman laughs. “It’s all good. Let’s eat though first, yeah?”

Dinner is nice. The two of you chat about what you’ve been up to since school let out for the summer and potential plans for trips that either of you are looking to take. 

“I just don’t have all that many friends in the area,” you admit shyly. “So, most of my trips are solo.”

“You do have friends in the area,” Melissa refutes. “You got the Abbott group. You got me.” She nudges you with her elbow.

“I do,” you sigh softly. “I just don’t want to be a bother.”

“A lot of people are bothers to me,” the redhead laughs. Then she turns serious. “You ain’t one of ‘em.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “How kind of you to say.”

“If you ain’t doin’ nothin’, I spend a lot of time down at the shore in July,” Melissa offers casually.

You can’t help but smile. “That- that’d be nice, yeah.”

“Well,” your coworker sighs as she sets down her fork and begins to clean up. “This house won’t clean itself. So what do you want me to help you with?”

“You helped enough by making sure I ate dinner,” you tell her with earnest. “You don’t have to-”

“I’m helping, so just tell me what to do, or I’ll start snooping around for cleaning supplies anyway.”

The two of you clean the kitchen and the living room as music floats through your house from your record player.

“You got quite the selection,” Melissa tells you as she dusts the case that holds all of your music. “It ain’t half bad.”

You blush. Your music taste is all over the place.

“Mind if I pick an album to listen to next?”

“Of course not,” you call from the next room over. “Pick whatever.”

You expect her to pick a rock band, so when Joni Mitchell’s hauntingly beautiful voice begins to dance in the air, you’re a bit shocked.

Still, you let the music take over your heart and your soul, and when “A Case of You” starts, you can’t stop yourself from singing along softly. As you sing the words to yourself, you realize that you would drink a case of Melissa and still be on your feet. There’s something about her that is so intoxicating and yet always leaves you on your feet. 

Apparently though, your voice travels more than you were aware of. In the living room, Melissa can hear your gentle melody. Her cleaning pauses as she silently makes her way to where she can hear your voice better.

You’re standing there scrubbing the sink as you quietly echo Joni Mitchell’s vocals. It isn’t until the song is over that you hear a different voice.

“You sing real good,” the redhead compliments quietly.

Instinctively, you jump. You weren’t expecting her to hear you. And then your face flushes as you turn to face her. “I- uh…” You can’t get much out than that. You fumble for words for a few seconds before you just barely whisper out an apology.

“You ain’t got nothin’ to be sorry for,” Melissa smiles. “I think I like your version more.”

Your jaw practically drops at those words. “Oh, I- uh, thank you. But nobody can sing it like Joni.”

“I think you did it,” the redhead tells you, and you can tell in her voice that she truly means it. “I saw the guitar in your living room too. You play?”

You shrug. “Kind of.” You don’t want to admit that you’ve been playing for quite some time and oversell yourself- better to underestimate than over.

“Well, after we’re finished cleaning, I think I should get to hear it.”

You blush. “Maybe.”

By the time the two of you have the house straightened up to your liking, it’s quite late. If you’re being honest too, with the amount of alcohol that the two of you have consumed tonight, you aren’t necessarily comfortable with sending Melissa on her way.

“So, I believe you owe me a song,” your colleague teases you as she opens up another beer and settles on your couch.

“I was hoping you’d forget,” you laugh as you sit next to her.

“I’d never forget that voice,” the redhead smiles innocently. “C’mon, just one song?”

With a heavy sigh and a dramatic eye roll, you reach for the guitar that you keep in the corner of the room. You tune it up quickly, chuckling when you see the impressed look that Melissa wears on her face when you don’t actually need a tuner.

You strum the guitar a few times to ensure that it’s tuned to your liking before beginning to play.

Of course, you play your own rendition of “A Case of You” to prove to Melissa that you simply can’t do the song justice the way that Joni Mitchell does. Your approach doesn’t work. By the time you’re finished fingerpicking the last few notes, green eyes are wide and in shock.

“What?” you ask weakly. “I told you I only kind of play.”

“That’s a lot more than ‘kind of’,” the second grade teacher says. “You should be teaching Music, not fourth grade.”

You shake your head. “If I had to do it for a living, I’d hate it. But as a hobby, I do love it.”

“Play another for me,” Melissa requests as she leans back and takes another sip of her drink.

Somehow, the two of you end up going through another two drinks as you give the redhead her own personalized concert. Those sparkling green eyes stay mesmerized with your charming voice as you tell her the stories behind why you learned a few select songs, how you wrote a few, and the way that your melodies are nothing but soothing.

“You should be out in LA writing music,” Melissa tells you. “You’re… incredible.”

Your already red and warm cheeks from the alcohol only become more flushed at her kind words. You can only set the instrument down in response.

“I think I’m done for tonight,” you chuckle as you sip your beverage.

The redhead sighs softly. “I guess I should head out for the night.”

“Stay,” you tell her quickly- probably a bit too quickly. “You’ve had more than enough to drink, it’s late, and I don’t want you out there driving.”

The smirk that tugs at Melissa’s lips, along with that mischievous glint in her eyes gets you to look at her curiously.

“Somehow I knew that when I brought drinks over that would be your response, so I packed a bag,” the redhead reveals. “Let me just go grab my stuff from my car."

You can’t help but throw back your head with laughter. “Of course you thought that.”

“Was I wrong?” your coworker teases.

The two of you end up sharing a bed that night, and when your alarm goes off the next morning, despite the fact that it’s July, you find yourself cold. You turn over, only to discover that the redhead isn’t next to you.

But you can hear soft humming coming from downstairs, along with the record player. She’s downstairs. And then once you’ve woken up a bit more, you can smell the coffee and breakfast being made. You make your way downstairs and can’t stop yourself from practically drinking in the sight of Melissa Schemmenti cooking you breakfast.

She must hear your footsteps, because she turns on her heel and smiles at you. “Hope you don’t mind that I made breakfast.”

“I’ll never pass up a Schemmenti meal,” you tease. “You know that.”

It’s only a few minutes before the two of you are sitting at the kitchen table with plates in front of you.

“You know you cuddle in your sleep?” Melissa asks.

You turn a violent shade of red. “S-sorry.”

She shrugs. “Don’t be. It was nice.”

Your heart flutters. You never thought that the rough and tough Melissa Schemmenti would be one for cuddling, but here she is.

Breakfast is nice and warm, and you can’t help the blush in your cheeks as the two of you clean in a comfortable silence. More than once, the two of you accidentally brush hands together or her hand finds the small of your back to guide you out of her way.

The both of you get ready for this party, and by the time you’re making your way down the steps to change the record, your doorbell is ringing.

It’s your parents- of course they show up first. It’s not that you aren’t happy to see them, but you wish the house was a bit more full so that you wouldn’t get the third degree as soon as you see your mother.

“Is it Barb?” Melissa’s voice floats down the steps before she comes into sight. When she turns the corner, she sees your parents still standing on the front step. “Oh.”

“Who are you?” your mother eyes your coworker warily.

“Melissa,” the redhead states. “Just a coworker of Y/N’s.”

Your mother hums quietly before inviting herself in. Her eyes glance around your place with a slight frown. “This isn’t much.”

“It isn’t,” you mumble. “But I very much like where I live and how I live.”

“When you said you could afford to buy a house, I was expecting more.”

“Jane, lay off,” your father cuts in. “Y/N, your house is very… you. I like it.”

You’re not quite sure what to say to that. So you simply smile at your father as a silent ‘thank you’ and direct the conversation elsewhere, praying that your coworkers show soon. “Did you want anything to drink? I have wine in the fridge, or I just have to set out the ice for the coo- shoot.”

“What is it?” Melissa asks, brows furrowed with concern.

“I forgot to buy ice yesterday.”

“Oh,” the redhead rolls her eyes as her arm wraps around your waist. “I can just run to the corner store real quick and grab some.”

Your eyes soften significantly as Melissa Schemmenti saves the day. “Thank you.”

“Not a problem, hun.” She grabs her purse from the kitchen table and heads out with a soft hum, only to pop back in. “You need anything else? Or… do you guys want anything?” she directs that last part at your parents.

All three of you shake your heads, so she smiles that Philly smile of hers and heads out.  You momentarily forget that your parents are present, and you can’t help the shy smile and blush that creeps into your cheeks as you watch her figure leave.

“Your little friend is very pretty,” your mother states once the door is shut.

You turn to her sharply. “Oh?”

“She’s very pretty,” your mom says again.

“Oh, good. I thought it was just me,” you mutter.

“No,” your father cuts in this time. “It’s a fact. You should probably get a move on if you want to do something about that. A girl that pretty won’t be single for long.”

“I was planning on pining from afar for anywhere from two to ten years and seeing where that got me. Probably nowhere, but I won’t know until I try,” you quip cheekily. “

"Your mother and I both saw the way she looks at you- she definitely has a thing for you too,” your father tells you. “Just… think on it. Yeah?”

You roll your eyes dramatically, and sigh. “Just… don’t go doing your meddling, please?”

“I won’t,” your dad raises his hands in mock surrender. Your mother, on the other hand though, stays quietly.

Melissa makes her way into the house again not twenty minutes later, a smile dancing on her lips. “The ice is in the cooler, along with the drinks.”

“Thank you,” you smile at her warmly. You then note that she has three drinks in her hand: a beer for her and your father, and a seltzer for you. She passes them out silently before cracking hers open and taking a sip.

She then leans in and wraps an arm around your waist again before mumbling into your ear, “If my mother said that to me about a house this beautiful, I would’ve lit the trash can on fire.”

The giggle that erupts from your soul is hard to contain. Thankfully, you don’t have a chance to say anything else because your doorbell rings. And when the two of you go to open the door, you’re more than pleased to see the entirety of the Abbott clan. Anything to get your mother’s attention off of you.

As it turns out, your mother and Barbara seem to get along swimmingly. What surprises you is how much your mother likes Janine and Ava as well. Your father quite enjoys Mr. Johnson’s tales, is able to talk sports with Gregory, and even falls for Jacob’s awkward charm. And Melissa is able to meander through your backyard with you as you ensure that nothing gets too out of hand.

When you’re chatting with your father and Mr. Johnson, your mother glances over at you. Melissa has an arm slung around your shoulder, and you don’t seem to mind it one bit.

“Tell me,” your mother implores Barbara. “Melissa.”

“What about her, dear?”

“Her and my daughter.”

“Oh,” the kindergarten teacher chuckles as she sips on her wine. “Those two have been pining for each other for years. If you ask me, it’s just a matter of time before they finally pull their heads out of their asses and get together.”

Your mother sighs a breath of relief. “I’m glad I’m not the only one to notice.”

“Oh, you aren’t, Jane,” Barb laughs. “Don’t tell either of them, but we have a bet on how long it’ll take them to finally start dating. I said by the end of July. Everyone else still thinks they’ll be dancing around it come the beginning of the school year.”

“While I don’t approve of a lot of the choices my daughter has made,” your mother sighs. “Including moving away from us, I do want her to be happy. Do you think she’ll be happy with Melissa?”

“That daughter of yours is never happier than when she’s with Melissa,” Barbara states simply. “And just so you’re aware: your daughter has done a whole lot of good while she’s been out here with us. We are very proud of her, and you should be too. I know she sometimes feels that she isn’t good enough for you.”

Your mother bites her lip, a bit ashamed at how she knows she’s made you feel- both today and in the past. “I suppose you’re right. I’ll mend that.”

“As you should.”

“But for now… my husband promised he wouldn’t meddle in her love life, but I made no such promise. Should we win that bet for you?”

The kindergarten teacher is clearly intrigued as she raises a brow. “And how do you propose we would do that?”

Their plan, as it turns out, is not the most intricate. It’s to simply get the two of you hammered while your mother quietly feeds you comments about how you’re already practically in a relationship with the redhead. Meanwhile, Barbara will plant that same seed in Melissa’s head before daring her to just make a move- Melissa is never one to turn down a dare while intoxicated; that’s how she ended up doing cartwheels on South Street one night after a particularly wild night at Oscar’s.

“You know she spent the night last night?” Barbara asks your mother. “Came over to help clean and ended up just staying.”

Your mother’s perfectly sculpted brow lifts. “I just assumed she was the first one here.”

“Nope,” your mother smirks. “I was supposed to pick her up so all of us Abbott people could come together.”

“Interesting… if you’ll excuse me, I believe I have some snooping to do.” With that, your mother rises from her seat and enters your house. Immediately, her eyes turn to the steps where your room and main bathroom are. She ascends up the steps. Melissa’s things, at least that’s what she assumes, are still scattered around in the bathroom. And… bingo: two toothbrushes. Then her eyes wander into the bedroom. Your mother knows that you don’t typically make the bed, but she is surprised to see that both sides of the bed are disheveled- bodies had clearly been on both sides.

Meanwhile, outside, Barbara makes her way over to you and Melissa.

“Where’d my mom go?” you ask.

“Bathroom,” Barb tells you gently. Her eyes don’t miss the fact that the redhead’s arm is still around you. “You two seem to be having a nice time.”

Green eyes glare at her work best friend, but you just smile and lean into Melissa. That glare washes right off of her face.

“It’s nice,” you smile. God, that smile of yours has the second grade teacher wrapped around your finger. “I’m almost done my drink though.”

That’s all the kindergarten teacher needs to hear to begin her side of the plan. “Let me get you both drinks.”

“Oh, I can get them for us,” Melissa tells your coworker. Her hand slips away from your back, and it’s odd that you feel the slightest bit cold without her holding you.

The kindergarten teacher watches the way that your eyes linger on Melissa’s figure. And when she’s bringing back the drinks, you simply attach yourself to her hip again.

“Cheers,” Barb smiles as she lifts her glass in the air. The three of you clink, and then drink. She makes a mental note to pace herself while raising her glass in your direction often. Melissa and you never turn down a toasted drink. 

When Barbara sees your mother make her way back out, she moseys over. “What did you find?”

“Those two are so in a relationship, even if they aren’t admitting it. They shared a bed and everything!”

“Well, I’ve already initiated them getting drunk,” Barb informs your mom.

“Perfect,” your mother grins. Her eyes glance in the direction that you and your coworker are in. “Those two are idiots if they don’t think they’re in love. Well, time to go start.”

When you see your mother walking in your direction, you simply tap your can with Melissa’s before downing a good portion of it. The redhead follows your actions, although her eyes do widen when she sees how much and how quickly you’re drinking.

“My dear,” your mother starts. “Can I have a word with you?”

With a soft sigh, you nod and allow her to pull you in another direction. 

“What, Mom?”

“Don’t take that tone with me,” your mother instructs strictly. Then she softens significantly, and you feel like you’re a young child again. She used to look at you with so much love. “I just… wanted to apologize.”

“For?” you raise a brow.

“The things I’ve said about your career choices and the likes,” your mother sighs sheepishly. “I- I am very proud of you. I hope you know that.”

You frankly aren’t sure what you’re supposed to say to that, so you just give a sad smile. “Thank you for saying that, Mom.”

“I know that you probably don’t believe me, but I am very proud of you. You’re shaping the future generations, and you’ve been able to make it out here on your own. You seem to have a lovely work life, and… you’re a hell of a lot happier here than you were back home.”

“I am,” you admit. “I love it here, Ma.”

“That’s all I could ever want in this life for you- happiness,” your mom smiles as she squeezes your hand. “My sunshine deserves sunshine.”

“Thank you, Mom.”

“I think I know how you could be happier though.”

“I’m not moving back-”

“I’m not asking you to move back home,” your mother rolls her eyes. “I’m asking you to pull your head out of your ass and get with that little friend of yours already.”

“I thought I told you and Dad not to meddle in my life love,” you smirk.

Your mother replicates your facial expression- one of mischief. “I never agreed to that, dear. But I mean, come on. It’s quite clear to me that you have feelings for her.”

“So what if I do?”

“It’s also quite obvious to me that she reciprocates those feelings for you,” your mother states. “I mean, the two of you act as though you’re already together as it is.”

“We do not,” you blush.

“She stayed at your house last night, the two of you shared a bed, her toothbrush is right next to yours in the holder.”

“Friends stay over at each other’s houses sometimes,” you counter.

“She’s been hanging off of you all day,” your mother points out. “She calls you hun.”

“She calls every one ‘hun’.”

“Her eyes never leave you, and your eyes never leave her. Just admit that you’re in love with her. And she’s in love with you.”

“She is not,” you roll your eyes.

“All I’m saying is: the two of you act like you’re in a relationship already. Just… think about your happiness for your ol’ Ma. I do want grandkids at some point, you know.”

Barbara grabs her work wife by the arm. “Cheers!”

The redhead only throws back her head to laugh before taking a long swig.

“So when are you gonna just tell that girl that you’re in love with her?” the kindergarten teacher probes.

“Never,” Melissa rolls her eyes. “I plan on pining from afar for… forever. There ain’t no way someone like that would ever want me.”

“I see the way she looks at you, Melissa,” Barbara reminds her friend. “She loves you, and the two of you act like you’re in a relationship as it is.”

“No we don’t.” The pointed look from her coworker has the redhead blushing. “Okay, maybe we do. But there’s a difference between acting like it, and actually being in a relationship.”

“I think you should go for it,” Barb says. “Tonight.”

“What?” Green eyes go wide.

“Why not? Nothing is more romantic than fireworks. And, the two of you are drunk, and if it doesn’t feel right you can always blame it on the booze.”

The second grade teacher bites her lip. “I don’t know.”

“Just… think about it.”

No sooner is the redhead back at your side, holding you by the hip again. And while she seems like everything is wonderful and there is nothing but pleasant thoughts going on in her head, that couldn’t be further from the truth. Her mind is swirling with what it would be like to kiss you, to be in a relationship with you.

Maybe, Melissa thinks to herself. 

Well, that maybe turns into an Absolutely I will, when Barbara dares her a few hours later to do something about the mutual pining that is going on between the two of you.

“I dare you to kiss her while the fireworks are going on,” the kindergarten teacher smirks, pretty intoxicated herself. 

“I will,” the redhead chuckles, never one to turn down a dare.

By the time the fireworks start going off, everyone is either on a blanket that they had brought or in a chair that lived at your house. Of course, you’re the last to search a seat due to your expert hosting skills, and you find yourself coming up with nothing.

“Come here,” Melissa rolls her eyes. As if you would find anywhere else to be but near the redhead. You stand beside her, ready to take in the spectacle that is about to light up the sky. And in a daring move, the second grade teacher easily tugs you into her lap. She her arms around your midsection and rests her chin on your back.

Your mother nudges Barbara with her elbow, grinning from ear to ear. “You think it’s gonna happen?”

“I dared Melissa to,” the kindergarten teacher mutters back. “So, yeah.” 

“Perfect.”

As the first fireworks go off, you can feel the excitement practically radiating off of Melissa. It’s adorable when you turn and see how awestruck she is by the lights in the sky. Your coworkers are entirely entranced by the display, and when it’s clear that the finale is about to take place, you expect to see those green eyes focused on the dark night above you. But instead, the redhead is looking directly at you.

“Lis,” you chuckle, and you try to turn her head so she can look up at the last of the fireworks. She doesn’t seem to care about the spectacle. No, her eyes are trained on you. “You’re gonna miss the finale.”

“I don’t care,” the redhead breathes.

“But they’re beautiful,” you whisper.

“Not as beautiful as you,” Melissa tells you quietly. And then her lips meet yours. And… the fireworks in the sky are no comparison to the fireworks in your heart.

Everyone that had gathered at your house is mesmerized by the display in the sky- all except your mother and Barbara. Silently, they high five before turning their eyes back to the finale of the fireworks.

Once the fireworks are over, it isn’t long before your friends and family begin to file out of your house.

“Don’t think that we aren’t talking about that kiss that I saw,” your mother whispers to you as she hugs you goodbye. Immediately, your cheeks flush red. But you can’t say anything, because she’s off of you, and giving Melissa a hug goodbye.

Barbara, on the other hand, doesn’t give any inclination that she knows what had taken place just a few short minutes ago. She heads out with a hug and a kiss to your cheek, thanking you for your wonderful hospitality.

And then you and the redhead are alone. And before you know it, her lips are back on yours.

Fast forward to the end of Summer, and Melissa has been your girlfriend since the Fourth. It’s been a wonderful summer spent down at the beach with her, and all too soon you’re walking back into the halls of Abbott.

Barbara doesn’t say anything when she sees the two of you walk in together or the way that Melissa instinctively prepares your morning beverage for you. No. She chooses to wait until the last of your Abbott family has made their way into the staff lounge.

“So,” the kindergarten teacher claps her hands together with a bright grin on her face. “Where’s my money?”

“Your money?” your girlfriend raises a brow.

“My money,” Barbara states with a smile.

“For what?” Jacob asks.

“The bet.”

“No one won,” Ava rolls her eyes. “Not yet at least. I still got my bet going.”

“That’s where you would be wrong,” the kindergarten teacher reveals. “Y/N and Melissa got together on Fourth of July.”

Your jaw nearly drops. “What?”

“You heard what I said, baby.”

“H-how?”

“While everyone else was watching the fireworks, I saw what I needed to see. So, just confirm it so I can win my three-hundred dollars.”

“Three hundred dollars?” Melissa asks incredulously. At her best friend’s nod, the redhead just continues to flounder for words.

“I ain’t payin’ until one of them confirms.”

You sheepishly smile as you raise the two of your hands from under the table, intertwined.

TAGS: @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @sweetcheeksschemmenti @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @a-queen-and-her-throne @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld @cosmichymns @sasheemo @m1lflov3rrr @ricejucie @temilyrights @emilynissangtr @squinnchy @dopenightmaretyphoon @emeraldoceansstuff @shinyfaerielights  @blkmxrvel @marvelwomenrule @sarahjohannson @casualfoxwitch @babytakeittothehead @schemmentits @schmentisgf

[seat-safety-switch]

There's a few jobs out there that are real heroes. Chances are you can do without your average spreadsheet maven, your dog appraiser, and even in many cases your friendly neighbourhood surveillance drone pilot. You cannot, however, live in a world that does not contain plumbers.

For years, I have been jealous of plumbers. Water can rend your once-beautiful house into a billion pieces of slightly damp kleenex in the time it took to finish this sentence. Plumbers are the legends who will step in and right this wrong, often for much less money than you expected (but usually way more than you wanted to spend.) And the ones who work in tall buildings are the greatest of all of them.

Why? Think about it: if you poop on the 79th floor of a skyscraper, that poop has to travel down to the basement. And it has to work about as well for you as it does for the guy who's pooping in the basement. Have you ever thought about how hard of a problem that is, considering how many times you've clogged the toilet or otherwise fucked it all up in your mere one-to-two floor abode? I had to know how they did it. I had to know the secret of pooping in a very tall building. That's why I went undercover in Plumbing School.

Not for long, though. Right from the drop, they rumbled me. It might have been because of my unusually cloying questions about how much I idolized the profession. Afterward, they told me it was because of my giant foam cowboy hat, containing a hidden camera so I could record their lectures for YouTube fame. Even though they kept all my tuition money after kicking me out, they did give me a t-shirt saying "Don't Let Shit Get Out Of Hand." Walking gods, I tell you.

[cameronsprincess]

you ever think about getting slapped around by rafe when he’s pissed and wants to fuck his anger out on you, mocked and laughed at when you start crying, then slapped around again when your crying starts to piss him off again 🤧

I LOVE WHEN A MAN SLAPS YA AROUND (i promise i’m okay.. maybe…)

CW: smut! 18+ only! mean!rafe, degrading, slapping, unprotected piv sex.

masterlists.

“Goddamnit!”

The sound of Rafe shouting as he storms through the front door, slamming it shut behind him has you startling awake. You sit up in your shared bed, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you listen to his heavy footsteps stomping up the stairs.

You’re not sure what was wrong, but you knew you were about to find out.

Rafe storms into your bedroom, slamming the door behind him, his chest heaving as he breathes heavily, nostrils flaring and his fists clenching by his sides. You quickly shove the comforter off your body, crawling to the end of the bed, your eyes softening as you watch him pace the room.

“Rafe.. What’s wrong, baby?” you ask him softly, not wanting to upset him any further, but needing to know what you can do to help.

Rafe stops his pacing, his gaze fixed on you now. His blue eyes are burning with anger, and he takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself, but it doesn’t work.

He steps towards the bed, reaching you in seconds. His large hand reaches out, gripping the back of your hair so hard you let out a small scream. He yanks your head back, forcing your eyes on his.

“Do you think I’m fucking stupid?” He asks.

Your brow furrows, confused on why he’s asking you this. Of course you don’t think he’s stupid. He’s probably one of the smartest people you know, though, he won’t always show it.

“N-no… Why.. Why are you asking me this?”

He snarls. “Because my bitch of a stepmother thinks I am. She thinks that I don’t know what my dad left behind for me,” He pauses, breathing in deep through his nose before letting it out slowly through his mouth. “She thinks.. She thinks she’s gonna keep all his fucking money? She thinks, that I— That I’m a fucking idiot and didn’t have his will pulled up when I found out he was fucking dead?”

Your breath hitches in your throat. You knew Rafe had been doing his research on what his dad did and didn’t leave him since he got the call that Ward had died… It’s been tough on him, but he’s been handling it as well as he could. But now with Rose trying to pull a fast one on him… You knew things weren’t going to be easy around here until he got what was his.

Slowly, he releases your hair, squeezing his eyes shut as he pinches the bridge of his nose, head hung low. You slowly lift up onto your knees, hesitantly reaching out and pressing a hand into his chest. Rafe’s eyes pop open, staring blankly at your hand on him.

“What can I do? How can I make you feel better right now?”

His eyes darken— more than they already were — and you swallow thickly. Rafe presses a hand onto your forehead, pushing you back onto the mattress before he’s toeing off his shoes and climbing into the bed on top of you, the weight of his body pressing into yours.

“You wanna know how you can help me, princess?” he breathes out, his right hand already possessively gripping your hip.

You nod your head slowly. “Yeah.. Anything. Whatever you need, baby.”

He chuckles, a dark smile taking over his face.

“Mmm.. Careful what you say baby. I might just think you’re serious.”

You open your mouth to respond, but Rafe dips his head down, smashing his lips with yours in a heated, angry kiss. Your hands fly around his neck, pulling him further into you, your tongue flicking against his bottom lip. Rafe groans, slipping his tongue into your mouth as his hands slide up your sides. He toys with the hem of your tank top, sliding it slowly up your body, breaking his lips from yours so he can shove it over your head and toss it to the floor.

Your bare breasts smash against Rafe’s t-shirt covered chest, the fabric of his shirt brushing against your nipples has them hardening instantly, a low moan escaping you. Rafe kisses at your lips softly, trailing kisses down your jaw and to your neck. You yelp when his teeth nip gently at your skin, his hands now tugging at your silk sleep shorts. He slowly tugs them down your legs, letting them pool at your ankles and you kick them off.

Rafe pushes up on the mattress, his fingers making quick work of his belt, then moving to pop the button of his jeans before sliding the zipper down. He harshly tugs them down his legs, his boxers going with them. Your eyes flit down, staring at his long, thick cock bobbing in the air. Rafe’s right hand reaches up, smacking you across the face, the impact knocking your head to the side.

Tears fill your eyes, but you quickly blink them down. Rafe was always aggressive when he was in a bad mood, and you didn’t mind it, but it didn’t mean it didn’t hurt sometimes.

“You gonna fuckin’ cry this time, or are you gonna take it like I know you can?”

You sniffle, letting your eyes meet his again. “G-Gonna take it.. Promise, it’s okay. Take it out on me, baby.”

Rafe chuckles darkly, his hand harshly smacking at your cheek again. You squeal from the impact, a tear slipping down your cheek.

“What I thought, you love when I’m fucking rough on you, but you can’t help but fuckin’ cry every time.”

You lift your hand, quickly wiping away the tear you’d let fall before finding Rafe’s eyes again. He smirks at you, a dark expression on his face as he grips his thick cock in his hand, slowly running his tip through your slick folds.

“So fuckin’ wet already. God, you’re such a pathetic little thing aren’t you? Soakin’ yourself because I slapped your pretty little face twice.”

Your lips part, opening to respond but the words die, a gasp escaping you instead when Rafe shoves himself inside you. His cock stretches you, splitting you in two. He slowly pulls out to the tip, his hand coming up to cup your face before he’s smacking you again, his hips thrusting forward at the same time.

He quickly sets a rough and fast pace, his hips slamming against yours as he brutally fucks himself into you. He continues to slap at your face with each thrust, every slap followed by a degrading remark.

“You fuckin’ cryin’ again?” Slap. “God you’re such a fuckin’ crybaby, can’t even fuckin’ take my dick,” Slap. “Or a slap.” Thrust. “Stop.” Slap. “Fucking.” Thrust. “Crying!” Slap.

Tears are falling uncontrollably down your face now, but your pleasure outweighs the pain you feel in your cheeks and the pain Rafe’s brutal thrusts are causing.

“‘M s-sorry… It hu-rts…” you choke out.

“I-It h-hurts,” Rafe mocks, his cock slowly dragging out of your soaked pussy. He pulls out to the tip, slamming forward and pulling a small whine from you. “You gotta learn to toughen up, princess.” He says, slowly pulling out again before he’s roughly thrusting back in.

His hand slaps at your face again, your cheek now stinging from how hard and how many times he’s slapped you. You try and swallow down the sob wanting to escape you, but his hand making contact with your red and raw cheek has you letting the sob escape. He rolls his eyes, pulling out of you before gripping your hips and flipping you onto your stomach. His hands slip under your hips, lifting your ass into the air. He slams himself inside you again, brutally fucking into you as he continues his assault on your ass.

His free hand reaches out, gripping the back of your head and pressing your face into the mattress, muffling your sobs and whines. “So fuckin’ annoying,” he says, a hint of irritation in his tone. He slaps harshly at your ass again, the sting combined by his brutal thrusts has your pussy clamping down around his cock, squeezing him so tightly he groans from the feeling. “Stop fuckin’ crying! You wanna be fuckin’ good f’me? Make me feel better? Then cum on my cock, and dry your goddamn tears.”

You whimper, your pussy clenching uncontrollably around him as he continues to pound into you. You fist the sheets below you, your toes curling when the tip of his cock hits at that sweet spot inside you. Rafe slaps at your ass three more times, his cock pulsing inside you when you squeeze around him again, your body shaking as you come undone around him.

“Fffffuck, that’s it, princess.” Rafe groans.

His dick twitches inside you, his hips shoving forward one final time before he’s swelling and coming deep inside you in long, slow spurts. Rafe gently rubs at the fat of your ass, soothing the welted handprints he’d left behind. Your body falls limp on the mattress, his hand releasing the back of your head as he falls down on top of you.

Your quiet sniffles fill the room, pulling at Rafe’s chest slightly. He knows you don’t mind him fucking his anger out on you, and you don’t mind when he slaps you around a little, but once it’s all said and done, and the highs are over, he can’t help but feel bad about it. He slowly pulls out of you, rolling to his side and pulling you tightly into his arms, kissing the top of your head. Your big, puffy and teary eyes meet his. He smiles at you, a soft, loving smile as he cups your face, leaning in to kiss your lips softly.

“Hey.. ‘M sorry, baby. ‘M sorry, I love you.”

You smile, burying yourself in his chest as you breathe in his scent. “It’s okay… As long as you feel better,” You pause, kissing his chest. “Let’s nap, and then when we wake up, we’ll work on how we’re going to get you what you’re owed. Rose won’t fuck you over, baby. I promise.”

tagging some moots: @starkeysbabygirl @nemesyaaa @rafesthroatbaby @rafesheaven @rafesangelita @sarahsangelicdoll @rafescvntyclubgf @hauntedfawnn @dementedkittenribbon @rafesbabygirlx

[animeyanderelover]

Uhm this is my second request. Can I request a yandere satoru, suguru, sukuna, choso, toji and yuta x a female sorcerer eho is equal on their power strength. Thats all thank you.

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive relationship, obsession, delusional mindset, clinginess, paranoia, manipulation

Tags: @lovley-valentine7

S/o is equally as strong as them

Ryomen Sukuna

🗾Ah yes, the babysitter. In some aspects Sukuna must say that you are doing a great job amusing him. Though it is obvious that you don’t share that pleasure. If you had the choice, you wouldn’t even be here right now as you have quit this profession a few years ago for reasons you have disclosed for everyone. It’s only due to a lot of pressure from the higher-ups and Gojo’s persistent nature that you reluctantly agree to assist in keeping an eye on Yuji and the curse sealed within him. Rumors swarm around everywhere, that you’re supposed to be on equal footing with Gojo and Sukuna, one of the strongest of today. Sukuna doesn’t believe that. Yes, he wants you to be strong so that he can enjoy the unavoidable fight to his fullest but he’s confident that at the end of the day he will still claim victory whilst standing over your bloody corpse. Still, he must admit that he enjoys the alive you quite a lot as well. It’s quite amusing to observe just how different you are to Gojo. Quiet, polite yet still bold enough to lecture him for his evil deeds. He finds it rather endearing, a malicious grin on his face as you talk to him as if you believe that he possesses a heart.

🗾It’s that pathetic display of empathy that has influenced his perception, a mistake during the Shibuya incident. As Gojo is sealed and Sukuna awakes, he challenges and kills Jogo and as Mahoraga attacks him, he feels truly alive. In that moment he forgets about you only for you to jump in and join the fight, trying to minimise the incomprehensible damage. During that fight Sukuna witnesses for the first time a different side to you, foolish kind you. An unwavering determination, a strength as deep and suffocating as the ocean. He’s taken as he watches you, fights against you and with you, even protects you against some of Mahoraga’s attacks. As euphoria and infatuated adrenaline pump through his veins, he finds himself wishing to continue this fight yet he knows that as of now he still isn’t strong enough. No, you deserve to be defeated as soon as he has achieved his strongest form once more. However, as he retreats into Yuji’s mind once more, taking in your bloody yet still standing form, he can’t help but have a change of heart. After all who would be more worthy of the strongest man than you, the strongest woman?

Fushiguro Toji

🪱The moment both you lock eyes in the little bar, you know that there is something about the other that’s different, powerful. Others might shudder in the face of such strength yet both of you are rather fascinated with the other. To Toji it truly doesn’t matter that you are a sorcerer and to you it doesn’t seem to matter that he kills even those who belong to your kind. He’s in for the money and you’re in because you’re bored, a constellation that works just fine for the both of you. Neither one of you meddles with the other’s business, neither one of you has serious feelings. At least until Toji breaks that agreement. The moment he becomes aware of his own possessiveness, he immediately seeks to stake his claim over you. Only that you despise having your freedom threatened like this. There’s no hesitation from either side as a fight breaks out as you have no serious attachment to Toji and he is at the stage where he only cares about possessing you and nothing more. Night and day eventually blur together as both of you lose track of time, clashing, attacking and hurting each other until both of you have reached for the first time in your lives your limit.

🪱Never before has Toji met someone who was able to keep up with him mentally as well as physically, only fueling his fixation on you. There’s no denying that he is fundamentally broken and unable to ever be fixed so you seem to be the best match as Toji needs someone who doesn’t falter nor break easily. A game of the greedy wolf and the sly cat starts from that day on as Toji actively hunts you down all whilst you skillfully escape him, tease him. For you this is a game, a sparking thrill that is just needed in your mundane life. For Toji it is initially too though he has the concrete goal to possess you by the end of it. As genuine feelings of infatuation strike his heart unexpectedly, he finds himself rethinking everything he thought to believe about the situation both him and you are in. He doesn’t desire just the simple thrill anymore. No, he desires something deeper, as ridiculous as that may sound coming from his lips. Now he just needs to convince you even though you are not the type to commit. However, Toji knows that you love playing with fire, are even willing to fuel it until you too get burned. Isn’t this exactly what you wanted? Something new and exciting?

Gojo Satoru

🩵When Gojo initially receives the news that a sorcerer from abroad is about to be transferred to Tokyo because it is believed that she is on his level, he doubts that statement. Not necessarily because he is overly arrogant but because from the very first breath he took, people were after his life all out of fear that he would grow up and master his abilities. Gojo has gone through a lot to achieve his powers, is confident in his position as the strongest sorcerer which is why he wonders just what kind of skills you must possess for others to even speculate that you might just be as powerful as he is. Yet when you arrive in his city, he doesn’t confront you about it. After all he knows that the higher-ups are hoping to figure out who between the two of you is more powerful and he won’t give them that pleasure. Instead he does everything to not even have you talk about any sorcerer-related stuff. No, he focuses on giving you a tour through the school, helps you with your train tickets and your bank account and is more than just eager to introduce you to his cuisine. Both of you spend a ton of time together and somehow both of you just connect immediately. Your experiences align.

🩵Gojo always used to be lonely. Perhaps that is just the way it is, standing at the top as the strongest. But now that has changed. Now you are also there, relating, struggling and supporting. You are able to share your insecurities with him and he is able to do the same. You appreciate Gojo for that and he appreciates you too. However, you underestimate just how severely attached Satoru grows to be. He grows insanely protective though not as much in a physical sense but in an emotional one. You’ve revealed your heart, so scarred and fragile from the weight of expectations and the sacrifices that were made for you to be who you are. There’s enough suffering you have gone through. No more now that he’s here. Relax instead, allow yourself to be protected by him instead of always neglecting your own wellbeing for the sake of others. His delusions get the better of him and that quickly. He’s made for you, you’re made for him. After all only the one labeled the strongest could understand the loss and loneliness that comes with such a title. And Satoru will do everything in his power to have you see this the same way as he does.

Geto Suguru

🗻Shunned, isolated, feared. Your past is the summary of why Suguru believes that non-sorcerers have to be murdered. After all it is unfair that someone as gifted and beautiful as you had to suffer so much only because you were special. Hearing about your tragic life, Geto immediately holds his hand out to you and offers you to join his plans. Only for you to reject that offer without a moment of hesitation. Not because you are tied to any duty but instead because you believe him of all people to commit acts of great injustice. Non-sorcerers do not deserve the fate he plans to bestow upon them. It is this mindset of yours that you possess despite the humiliation and pain you went through because of them that rattles Suguru’s mind more than anything. The idea that you, a woman with such shining talents and skills, see any worth in monkeys aggravates something deep within his heart. No words could express the disbelief and shock as you turn your back on him, spit on his kindness and discard him for the very people who treated you like a wild animal. He believes it to be a weakness in the beginning as he doesn’t let loose, convinced that you will be a great ally for his goal.

��Despite your firm decision to not join him, you still look after the two girls, treating them with kindness as you sympathise with their past. That only agitates Suguru more, the fact that you feel for them yet refuse to destroy the very root of their and your suffering. A walking, talking contradiction who only threatens to drive him mad. Something that indeed becomes true as dark feelings start to develop. Suguru refuses to accept that you truly are on the side of the monkeys and not on his side, the right side. It’s that denial that gives way for his excuses to bloom into delusions as he would accept anything but the blunt truth that you believe monkeys to be worth leaving alive. Instead he conjures up other explanations. A lack of love you felt as a child which has made you desperate for the monkey’s approval. Repressed trauma that holds you back from unleashing your full potential and your freedom. Brainwashing that you were put through as a child and that still has a hold on you today. Those excuses allow him to discredit your truth, allow him to believe that you are in need of his help. And he will give it to you even though you may not believe that you need it.

Kamo Choso

🩸Whenever Choso is within your vicinity, he is a mess. Rising body temperature, heart palpatations, sweaty palms and a flushed face. If he wouldn't know any better, he would believe himself to be sick. That, however, is impossible as he is a cursed womb. That and the fact that the sole trigger for those symptoms is always you. No, there has to be another explanation yet it takes Choso half an eternity until he has finally realised what he is feeling. Still, even though he now knows what he is feeling, he still doesn't know how to continue from here on out. It's only made so much worse because you are actually a senior of his younger brother who takes on the role of a mentor after so many other sorcerer lost their lives in Shibuya. You're skilled and confident, carry yourself with so much ease wherease Choso's brain short-circuits as soon as you talk to him. It is embarrassing that technically he is so much older than you yet has only recently experienced life due to being offered a vessel as a body. He should win you over, do something to show you how much he loves you yet he lacks the social etiquette to do so. There is only one way Choso knows how to show his care and that is by protecting his loved ones.

🩸​Yet you are breaking his heart as you make it apparent that you have no urgent need to rely on him as your protector. For Choso you are almost too independent, able to fight for yourself and protect yourself without his help. His entire existence is connected to the very concept of being the strong one who his loved ones can rely on but with you that purpose is mercilessly shattered and worst of all is that you are unaware of his inner turmoil and fear. Over and over again he witnesses how you risk your life by fighting against others which either ends with him jumping in to help you as his paranoia doesn't allow him to stay still or with him having an existential crisis when you manage to defeat them yourself, robbing him of his role. It feels wrong, so terribly wrong as all you want him to do is stay back and look after his own back. Almost as if trying to compensate for the lack of protection that Choso can do on the battlefield, he starts weasling his way into other aspects of your life and tries to help you there even if he has no idea what he is even supposed to do. Honestly, at times he is more of a hindrance than of help but don't tell him that. He's already inconsolable enough.

Okkotsu Yuta

💍​Yuta and you make acquaintance after disaster struck Shibuya and every person involved in that assault, non-sorcerers and sorcerers alike. When it is initially believed that Yuta is coming after Yuji you vow to protect your kohei from the student Gojo so confidently believed in. After all who else is there right now who could stop him and his curse Rika? You're unaware of Yuta's true intentions so the first meeting between the two of you quickly escalates into a fight all on your account. It certainly is a way to leave a first impression as Rika and Yuta clash with you who is able to fend them off. You're fully prepared for a long fight but Yuta luckily manages to gain your attention and signal his true intentions. Immediately he expresses admiration though for your loyalty, will to protect Yuji who is at heart innocent as well as for your impressive strength he was not aware of. It's surprising that he hasn't heard of you before. As soon as you know that Yuta is on your side, you partner up with him which makes for a very lethal combination as both of you are bright young talents with immense amounts of strength and skills. It's difficult though, with Gojo gone and Sukuna slowly returning.

💍​Perhaps that is why both of you bond much faster than under normal circumstances as both of you fight many battles together. You do not fear Rika like many others do and by extension you are less wary of Yuta himself and considering his past, that means quite a lot to him. Initially it seems to be a gradual change until there is this one sudden switch that happens in the heat of a battle where all of the weight of his premature obsession all of the sudden comes crashing down on him. Yuta panics, Rika senses it and a bloodbath follows that even manages to mortify you slightly. From that day on everything changes. Yuta is much more anxious to leave you alone on a battlefield, prefers to cling to you and block any attack that comes your way which serves as an insult to you. After all he should know best what you are capable of. Rika doesn't appreciate your tone yet you don't back down either, the atmosphere sometimes awfully hostile yet Yuta always manages to stop it. Deep down he is ashamed as he knows that you of all people he shouldn't doubt but all of that is irrelevant in the face of the earthquake that is his obsession, rattling his very rationality into shambles.

[ariahmichelle]

Seeing Red

JJ Maybank Imagine

Summary- When a wealthy Kook starts flirting with you at a party, JJ cant hide his jealousy. After an argument, he finally admits how much he cares about you.

A/N- my requests are currently open

The party is in full swing, music blasting through the speakers as people dance around the bonfire. The air is thick with the scent of salt, smoke, and cheap beer. It’s a typical Outer Banks night—loud, wild, and chaotic.

But JJ Maybank isn’t having fun.

He’s standing off to the side, beer in hand, jaw clenched so tight he swears his teeth might crack. He’s barely heard a word of whatever Pope’s been rambling about for the past five minutes. Because across the bonfire, in the middle of a group of Kooks, is you.

And some guy is all over you.

A rich, preppy-looking asshole with a perfect haircut and a smug grin, standing way too close, whispering something in your ear that makes you laugh.

JJ doesn’t like it. Not one bit.

“You good, man?” Pope finally asks, following his line of sight. His expression shifts when he sees what—or who—JJ is staring at.

“Shit,” Pope mutters. “You look like you’re about to murder someone.”

JJ scoffs, taking a swig of his beer. “I’m chill.”

Pope raises an eyebrow. “Dude, your eye is literally twitching.”

JJ ignores him, his grip tightening around the bottle. He’s not jealous. He just doesn’t like Kooks. And he sure as hell doesn’t like watching one try to sweet-talk you like he’s got a chance.

And then it happens.

The guy tucks a loose strand of your hair behind your ear.

JJ sees red.

Before he even realizes what he’s doing, he’s moving, shoving past people with a determined stride. Pope calls his name, but it’s drowned out by the roar of the party.

By the time you notice him storming over, it’s too late.

JJ doesn’t hesitate—he steps right between you and the Kook, forcing him to take a step back. “Alright, Casper,” JJ sneers, tilting his head. “You can go now.”

The guy scoffs. “Uh, I was in the middle of a conversation.”

JJ grins, but there’s nothing friendly about it. “Yeah? Well, it’s over.”

“JJ,” you warn, eyes narrowing. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Saving you,” he replies easily, still glaring at the guy. “You’re welcome.”

The Kook rolls his eyes. “Dude, chill. We were just talking.”

JJ lets out a humourless laugh. “Oh, is that what you call it?” He crosses his arms, stepping even closer. “See, I know your type. You think just ‘cause you’ve got daddy’s money and a trust fund, you can get whatever you want. But she’s not for sale, man.”

Your eyes widen. “JJ—”

“Whatever, man,” the Kook mutters, backing off with a scoff. “Not worth the trouble.”

JJ watches him walk away before turning to you, expecting a thank you—maybe even a look of admiration. Instead, you’re glaring at him like you’re ready to throw him into the fire.

“What the hell was that?” you snap, crossing your arms.

JJ blinks. “What do you mean? I just saved you from—”

“I didn’t need saving! I was handling it!”

JJ scoffs. “Oh, come on. That guy was a dick.”

“You don’t even know him!”

“Don’t have to,” JJ retorts. “I know how guys like that work. He was trying to get in your head.”

You shake your head in disbelief. “And what? You think it’s your job to protect me? I can take care of myself, JJ!”

His frustration boils over. “Maybe I don’t want you to have to!”

The words hang between you, heavy and unspoken for too long. JJ’s chest rises and falls, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. Your expression softens, but your voice is still firm.

“JJ…” you sigh. “Why do you care so much?”

He runs a hand through his hair, looking away. He doesn’t want to say it—not like this, not in the middle of a party. But he’s already too deep in it now.

“Because it drives me insane watching other guys look at you like that,” he admits, his voice lower now. “Like you’re something they can just… win.” His jaw tenses. “You’re not a fucking prize, Y/N. You’re… you’re you. And they don’t get to have you.”

Your heart pounds. “And you do?”

JJ freezes, eyes snapping to yours. The firelight flickers against his face, shadows dancing across his sharp features. For once, he looks uncertain.

“I don’t get to have you,” he murmurs. “But God, I want to.”

The air between you crackles, thick with something unspoken. You swallow, your anger melting into something else entirely.

“Then maybe,” you whisper, stepping closer, “you should stop acting like an idiot and do something about it.”

JJ searches your face, like he’s trying to figure out if this is real. If he’s allowed to want this—want you.

And then he does it.

His hand finds your cheek, and before you can think, his lips are on yours. It’s messy, heated, desperate—like he’s been holding this in for way too long. And maybe he has.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, and he groans against your lips, like he’s finally found something he’s been searching for. When you finally pull back, breathless, JJ leans his forehead against yours, his hands still gripping your waist.

You laugh softly, brushing your thumb against his cheek. “Took you long enough, Maybank.”

JJ grins, pulling you back in. “Better late than never, sweetheart.”

[honourablejester]

I don't think that you are a troll or stupid, but I do think that you spent too much time thinking about watsonian explanation and forget that in real life symbols mean things

Well. Thank you for clarifying.

It’s not that I’ve spent too much time on the Watsonian explanation, it’s that I don’t think the Doylist explanation is that fantasy writers universally (and specifically in this instance Pathfinder writers) want people to believe that the real world crusades were good and/or want to convert readers/players to a fascist cult. Which would appear to be what people in this thread are saying any fantasy depiction of a crusade against an actual supernatural threat would be intended to do.

Symbols do mean things, but so does context. It’s why, to use an equally fraught example, the swastika means something very different in India than it does in Europe. Now, obviously, that’s not directly comparable, as that symbol’s religious use came first, and its appropriation by a completely foreign fascist regime came later, but still. Context alters meaning. It’s why so many fantasy allegories break down. The physical realities as presented in the world of the story alter the interpretation of the real world symbol. Marvel’s mutants as an allegory for any number of discriminated-against peoples, for example, when there are mutants in the story that are a genuine and active genocidal threat – the existence of characters like Magneto make the discussions of the theme/allegory at the very least more complicated. That works exactly the same in the other direction. So a context where the threat is supernatural and is real genuinely can alter the interpretation.

If, granted, you are willing to give it more than surface thought. And here I’m going to put two of your other points together:

We live in a real world and in a real world crusades are a political symbol, and portraying "this time justified" crusade is giving credibility to real-life fanboys of templars and potentially signaling to them that you are on their side. You yourself say that allegory is a tool of fantasy, and fash very much can and do use it to obfuscate the fact that they mean people.

And:

having fantasies of being a bigot only indicates that people who have them are already bigoted.

The people who are going to interpret the fantasy crusade against actual literal demons as ‘proof’ that the real world crusades were also justified are the people who were already going to do that, regardless of context or internal cues within the story. The people who hold the real world crusades as a political symbol are already the people who don’t care about the crusades as anything but that symbol. They don’t care about the historical context of the real crusades any more than they care about the fictional context of the fantasy ones either.

I don’t agree that those people just get to claim a vast swathe of extremely complicated human history, as well as lock off a huge theme for fiction to explore in relation to that history, for fear that examining that symbol will ‘signal’ to a bunch of fuckheads that you might agree with them.

Because, the thing is, the fantasy of this game is not to play a bigot, unless you were already planning to. It does examine the morality of the crusade, even in a context where the enemy is a literal supernatural force of evil, and it also examines whether they are. One of your companion characters explicitly rejects the holy justification of the crusade and believes that even demons can be more than pure evil and should be given a chance to show it, and she can be proved right. And, in the canon result of the crusade beyond the game itself, was. Several of the characters on your side would also give the worst demons a run for their money. However, a country has still been invaded and its population slaughtered, so you also still have to do something about that.  

The fantasy of the game is, I would say, for most people, a fantasy of facing and fighting an overwhelming force of evil. Which is not too far away from the much more politically acceptable fantasy of, say, punching a nazi in the face.

Because yes, if we are exploring which portrayals of violence are good and which are not, we do have to discuss the ethics of war.

Yes, there are very much people who want to play a ‘crusader’ so they can act out murdering people different from them and being lauded for it. But there are also people who want to play out the gothic horror tropes of fighting supernatural foes, or examine the morality of religion in a context where the gods are, in fact, very much real, or who want to play the knight errant of Arthurian myth as if the heroic image of them was real instead of significantly more complicated than that.

I just don’t think it’s useful to say things like ‘all fantasy writers are secretly fascists’ or ‘all paladin players are secretly fascists’ or ‘you can never show this symbol in a positive light no matter what the context’, because all of that is just reductive, and stops people examining the stories we tell (and the symbols we hold) on anything more than a surface level.

And ourselves, maybe, from examining what biases we might be bringing to the story.

Further, fantasy does make supernatural physical reality, but even then it doesn't justify religious wars. Physical gods of fantasy are like real-life kings, and killing someone for not serving your king is still inexcusable.

So, yes. Very much an atheist point of view, then?

Also, like. That’s all of human history? We’re back to the ethics of war. Either killing someone for any reason is inexcusable, or we’re just picking and choosing what causes we’re willing to make exceptions for. Again, if you have a fantasy about killing a nazi, how is that different from a fantasy about killing a demon?

I’m not saying don’t examine every story and see what parts of it hold up and what parts of it don’t, or poke at what unrealised biases the writers might have, I’m saying maybe don’t make blanket statements like ‘fantasy as a genre thinks the crusades were morally good’ and ‘anyone who portrays a crusader as a good person is secretly a fascist and wants to kill people’. Because I’m pretty sure that’s not true, and I’m also pretty sure it doesn’t help to say it’s true. And I also don’t think locking off an entire period of history behind ‘this is evil and ever choosing to portray it is also evil’ is helpful either.

And, with all of that said ... Pathfinder as a setting genuinely does have some ... interesting worldbuilding in relation to real world ... There are a lot of real world conspiracy theories of less-than-laudable origin that Pathfinder uses their fantasy world to examine 'what if something like this was true in the context of another planet'. Since you mentioned the evil lizard people. Golarion straight has the evil serpent empires who ruled the world before man. It has the ancient super empire of Atlantis ('Azlant'), which was destroyed by Cthulhu monsters who telepathically infiltrated humanity, and said Atlantean empire was the origin of the human-turned-god who basically inspired every human empire in the history of the European-analogue of this world to go on an expansion spree. Part of Pathfinder's whole vibe is 'what might it look like if all the crackpot conspiracy theories of our world were actually true on a fantasy planet', as well as 'what would some of the worst and most complicated periods of our history look like if played out in a fantasy world with magic and gods'. 'What if the crusades but with actual demons' is only scratching the surface of what Pathfinder's setting decided to tangle with. And I get that how successful they have been, both on a case by case basis and overall, is very much a 'your mileage may vary' sort of situation. I also get that for some people, the fact that they do this at all, and also consistently, is very much grounds to write the setting off immediately.

Personally, I'm not opposed to using a fantasy world to essentially play out human beliefs and lies to see what might happen if they were true, as pretty much this entire post will show. But I do also understand if other people don't want to engage with it.

I just don't agree with writing off anyone who does choose to engage with it as 'automatically a fascist'. As, well. This post should also show.

kind of concerning how married the fantasy genre is to "crusades as a basically good thing"

[andhumanslovedstories]

This sounds like a shitty question but I promise it's in good faith: How does a healthcare strike work? Like what happens to the patients? When this strike was first kicking off I remember a lot of people saying doctors/nurses/healthcare CANT strike because it's too necessary, which is obviously nonsense, but like... what actually is in place to stop people from getting hurt during the strike?

Massive props btw, striking esp for something so important is brave and hard and I'm in such support of you guys. Hopefully it ends soon and inspires more healthcare workers across the nation to do the same bc the awful treatment has gone on FAR too long.

This is an incredibly fair question! And I appreciate you asking it. It works the way all strikes do: people don't do the work. The consequences of workers refusing to work is the point. And it sucks! We're fully aware of how much this acutely affects patients. A healthcare strike is an argument that whatever short-term harm might be done as a result of work stoppage is less harmful than the long-term harm of current conditions. Other hospitals and facilities can help with patients who would normally come to a striking Providence facility, but obviously there's only so much that they can absorb. Everywhere else is busy as well.

In the case of our strike specifically in Oregon (I can't speak to healthcare unions anywhere else), we gave a mandatory ten-day notice of intention to strike. Ideally, negotiating happens hard during that period. In practice, Providence said they were too busy coordinating replacement care to meet with the union during that time. Providence puts out travel contract nurses and hires scabs to keep hospitals running. In addition, the jobs that aren't unionized are still working. Nursing management works the floor as well.

Through travel contracts and having to turn away patients due to lack of staffing, the Providence system is bleeding money. The hope is that this and public pressure works to bring them to the negotiating table.

[bambisnc]

          . . SYNC-LOVE

° ˖ ➴ i don't wanna play this stupid love game.

### . STARRING ⌢ OT4 ⋆ crack. fluff. + 0.8k // dating as a bet trope + slight implied angst + intentional lowercase ˖ ✧

🗨️ .. ⌞ XOXO ⌝ kep1ers discography is so fire dude + [m.list]

౨ৎ ˖ 유지민 — ❪ YU JIMIN ❫  

to be fair, karina is too level headed to be inherently okay playing with someone’s feelings and potentially hurting them really bad just “for funsies.” so she’d really need some good manipulation to convince her. but once she commits, you just know she’d go all out.

would do it in such a flawless way too; her strategy would first and foremost involve befriending you to gain your trust. only after she knows there’s no way you’d refuse her, would she start dropping hints of her being romantically “interested” in you.

there’s no room for error in her plan, after all. but then, she ends up getting too invested in you and your eyes, your smile, your flustered little giggles whenever she acts a little too bold.

there’s an actual moment where she can physically feel her entire being go, “oh, fuck.” and suddenly, she’s in too deep.

nothing she could do now would be able to justify her actions. while rina’s stewing, wondering if there’s anything, anything at all that she can do to protect you, one of her scumbag friends who urged her towards the bet probably beats her to it, letting info about it slip mid conversation. cue angst of the highest quality.

          ⋅ ˚ ଳ ₊ ‧ others utc

౨ৎ ˖ うちながえり — ❪ UCHINAGA AERI ❫  

when faced with the idea of the bet, giselle’s actions would solely depend on what’s at stake. only if the money or other perks offered are something she really can’t pass up on will she even consider agreeing.

if not, of course, it’s a flat out refusal. but (for the sake of plot) assuming she does agree to it, she’s being straight up with you from the get go. approaches you one day, and tells you all about the bet as diplomatically as she can.

my girl really don’t gaf, she’ll ask you to split profits for fake dating her for a couple months. even if by the end of it you don't end up dating, you'll at least have a new partner in crime so it's really a win win! ⋆

if you do end up catching feelings, she'll make so many references to your origin story, everyone around you would be sick of it. would call you the bonnie to her clyde ><

౨ৎ ˖ 김민정 — ❪ KIM MINJEONG ❫  

i’m thinking idiots to lovers, 10k, slow burn.

99% chance that her friends only said it because she's been crushing on you for a while now but refused to admit it. and for the bet, winter really tries hard. like, she really does. but her method of doing it is just … so odd that you’re just left confused about what’s going on. asks you out on a complete whim (like maybe 1 minute after agreeing to the bet), but she’s quite clumsy – embarrassed, even, about it.

she's totally unsure of how exactly to go about it – it’s rather endearing, really. so you end up saying yes. mostly only because she’s cute. and then she drags you on a couple awkward dates with her after which she decides to come clean because she feels too bad (also her heart can't really take how you're so ... perfect with her).

but lmfao by that time you've probably grown super fond of her so you just kiss her cheek and ask her if you can take her out on an actual, proper date. to make up for the whole bet thing, of course. no other reason! <3 

౨ৎ ˖ 宁艺卓 — ❪ NING YIZHUO ❫  

similar to winter, she tries her hardest (for the plot ><) and honestly it might have had the potential to work as well as karina’s save for the fact that her reputation ended up being her downfall.

she’s known for being goofy, funny and silly so you don’t really take it seriously when she pulls up with a whole ass bouquet, chocolates, love letters – any big romantic gesture, you name it, ready to serenade you. hence, the entire process of you actually agreeing to date her ends up being just so, so drawn out.

by the end of it you do somewhat catch feelings for real but ningning would be so shocked that at first she'd withdraw from you completely. ghost you for a little before you corner her against a wall or something and demand an explanation. at which point she'd realize that ... you're actually so cute like this? and ... why is her heart beating so fast right now? the judge's ruling is an obligatory happy ending with her impulsively kissing you to stop your rants about how she's such a hypocrite to chase after you and then run away the second you reciprocated.

handsomely bribes her friends to never bring up the bet because she can't afford losing you. <3 (you probably alr know though. she ain't discreet.)

𐙚 . regulars : none yet! ⋆

[@bambisnc] 2k25

[askagamedev]

A follow up to your answer about veilguard (was really hoping you would touch on that one). Why do game companies that have a “bad” release always seem to start from the bottom of the pyramid when it comes to restructuring and recouping losses? Why fire low level devs who did their best with what they had, when the companies have people in senior positions making hundreds of thousands of dollars (if not more) that they could just cut from? Why do the trenches always get the punishment first?

The short answer is because shit rolls downhill. For a longer and more nuanced answer, there's multiple factors to consider.

The main issue is that the company is trying to cut costs immediately. This is usually for two major reasons:

Reassure investors to keep them from dumping the stock and driving down the company's value

Save as much money as they can from their current stockpile for other projects still in development.

If the company goes under because it can't make payroll company-wide, everybody is doomed regardless. A gecko will sacrifice its tail in order to escape with its life. A crab will tear its own claw off to survive. A company will always cut staff to keep itself afloat.

The next factor is that each major experience level up a dev attains tends to be a geometric difference in productivity. [A large task that would take a junior dev two months to complete might take a mid-level dev one month and a senior dev only a week or two]. This is why senior devs are entrusted with the bigger and more critical tasks. Further, the typical quality of work that a senior dev produces is much higher than what you'd get from a mid-level or a junior. I'm a senior dev and I cost the team a large amount of money to keep, but paying for just me is still significantly cheaper than paying a pair of mid-level designers or three/four juniors.

The next factor is that most big layoffs come after a project has shipped. This is because a given project is at its maximum headcount right before it ships - you need all hands on deck during full production, building and validating all of the content in the game. There needs to be other projects in development to pay for those people after the game launches. If the game launches well, a significant portion of the team can stay on to do post-launch content and the others can join in-progress projects at the studio or at other studios owned by the publisher. In the case of a bad launch the post-launch content gets cancelled because there just aren't enough players to make building the post-launch content financially viable and the people who were supposed to build it have no new project to pay for their salaries.

There's also the factor of how projects have different needs at different times. You always need a core team to get a project off the ground - engineering who can put together the foundations of the game, design that can prototype and build core gameplay, art that can establish a new visual standard for a new game. But you likely don't need an army of designers to build content for a game that doesn't have any core gameplay yet, gameplay engineers to flesh out systems that haven't been designed yet, artists to model and skin characters that haven't been concepted yet, or QA to test content that hasn't been built yet. You need those folks when you're in production and all of the groundwork has been laid.

These are the nominal reasons why job cuts always start from the bottom - the juniors and mid-levels have the least to do when a game gets cancelled or a bad launch happens and the cost to keep them all adds up significantly. The fact that it also shields decisionmakers and middle managers is, of course, also in there. This is also why I never offer or expect loyalty to or from an employer, especially a large publicly-traded one. They will never sacrifice their own survival (or even advantage) to keep me, so I should never expect more than a business relationship from them that could end at any time.

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[phopollo]

Could we also get back stories for Electra and the components and their families?

Love your art❣️❣️❣️

Hoo boy, okay, time to avoid putting off this answer akdbskdje

None of them have like.... "simple" backstories, but talking about the electrics and their backstories in the cartooniverse is definitely the most complicated, because they all tie back to Electra and/or Purse and Krupp. So! I'll start with them!

Another big long post, im so sorry akfnskd

Purse & Krupp

Even though I'm talking about them together, Purse & Krupp didn't know each other or even about each other's existences before being hired to work together. Purse had participated in some shadier money management activities, most of which was under the table work. Trying to get out of that, he applied for a job with a large and well known company and production line, seeking a personal money manager/accountant, legal advisor, and PR rep. Not all the same job for the same person, for the new face of the company. But Purse, feeling cheeky, applied for all three job positions. And then proceeded to land all three of them. Krupp, meanwhile, wasn't anything or anyone special or of note. As an armaments truck, he'd worked part time with public security and part time shuttling things said public security needed back and forth. He was simply looking for a raise, and seeing that this big large company was looking for personal security for the new face of the company, applied, not expecting to get the job. Purse and Krupp met perhaps a week before they met Electra and were given an opportunity to bsck out, as they were still in production when they were hired. Neither Purse or Krupp really processed what their new boss not even being fully built yet meant outside of "Oh, they might be a little naive." (Welcome to fatherhood you two!)

Electra

Electra was factory built specifically for and by the mentioned company that Purse and Krupp were hired by. They had been powered on for perhaps three hours before immediately being shoved in to Purse and Krupp's arms, and then in to their new job. Their entire purpose was to be a pretty face and be convincing for people to want to do business with their company. They didn't work on a line, and they didn't race. Occasionally, they did something more akin to shows, but... never anything that gave them that thrill they'd been seeking. After about 2 years, they made a convincing enough argument to their company to be allowed to participate in a single race-- a decision that the company would later regret, because they'd continue to make arguements to keep entering in races, which they'd always win. Another two years later (so roughly 4 years old total), Electra decided to break off from their parent company to go out on their own in a solo career for racing, having felt so drawn to and called by it. They took Purse and Krupp with them when they did, leaving their company to have to scramble for a new face and employees all over again. Here's some bonus babylectra & their gay dads loyal employees content (both while company owned and on their own)

Wrench

I say this so affectionately, Wrench was a freaky little girl. She was surrogate built for her demolition truck parents, and grew up literally right next to a scrap yard, where she would very happily go play as a kid. She really really liked to take things apart and try to figure out how they worked. Her parents, being demolition trucks who's jobs were also to take things apart, were supportive if not a little concerned by how methodical she was by it, but hey, they guess she's taking an interest in the fsmily business? But one day, while doing her thing and taking scraps apart, she broke her finger and needed to be taken to see a repair truck. And that totally blew her mind. Being able to put things back together?? Oh she NEEDED to be able to do that. She HAD to know how things worked AND be able to make them work. So! Wrench started doing her research to become a repair truck immediately (much to her parents concerned support), despite being far too young to actually begin training. By the time she actually got to her repair training, she was extremely knowledgeable (and morbid-) about diesel and steam engines, as there was so much information out in the world about them. But she was fascinated by the lack of information she could find on electric engines-- so new, constantly changing.... there weren't any experts in her or any of her neighboring yards. So of course, she decided that thats what she wanted to specialize in for repairs, despite not many electric engines passing through her station. (The scrap yard became her best friend during this time.) It was difficult after she became a fully certified repair truck though, due to that lack of electrics passing through her yard and not having the heart to apply for a transfer. She wasn't taken seriously, and frequently wasn't fetched for the few electrics that did need repairs, as the other repair trucks frequently just went ahead and fixed whatever little problem it was-- screw needing tightening, plating reaplications, etc etc. One day, she was called out to one of her neighboring stations though, as there had been a crash on the tracks involving an electric engine-- Electra. When she arrived, rather than just fixing whatever problem was caused by the crash, she also identified and fixed long standing problems they didn't even know they'd had, most of which caused by non electric specialized repair trucks assuming they could fix something minor. She was offered a job as their personal repair truck before she even finished her work that day. Here's a little baby Wrench just starting her repair training & Wrench the day she was hired. She became the first component they'd actually chosen for themself.

Volta

Volta grew up in a bit of a smaller, more conservative yard. The old school traditional freight and coach roles and presentations were more prevelant. So of course, when Volta, as a freight car, started expressing and experimenting with self expression that was viewed as traditionally "more coach-like," caring more for his hair and getting interested in makeup and fashion, he wasn't exactly popular with his peers. Considered too coach-like to get on with the freight, and the coaches unable to see past him being freight and get along. It was rough for the little dude, turning him a bit jaded and snarky at a young age, just out of tje need tor a defense mechanism. It never stopped him, but the constant isolation and judgement did beat him down quite a bit as he made it to adulthood. Meeting Electra, Purse, Krupp, and Wrench was pure coincidence. They were simply passing through a station that was part of his work route at the same time that he was. And he was absolutely enamored with them. They were the first rolling stock he'd seen who's expression of self was so similar to his, how could be not stare? Purse was the one to approach Volta. He wanted to know what shade and brand he used for his eye makeup, and if he thought it would work for Electra. Volta, trying desperately to be more interesting and keep these people talking to him, cracked a joke that they'd have to pay him for a consultation. To his shock, Purse agreed and asked him about prices and appointment times. When Electra & co actually showed up for the consultation, he absolutely faked it until he made it and they were happy with the result. He felt so normal for the first time ever talking to them, that when Electra & co went to leave, he extremely impulsively asked for a job. It was mortifying-- the most embarassing desperate moment of his entire life. Especially when Electra said no. But a moment of weakness and desperation, because several months later Electra returned to offer him a job, looking for a stylist and knowing he was interested. Bonus of of course, baby Volta & Volta the day he was hired

Joule

You know the saying "it takes a village?" Replace "village" eith "circus," and say hello to literally Joule. She wae built as an animal car in a circus train, and while even though not everyone was technically her family, that didn't matter because they all behaved like her family. It was generally an extremely positive environment to grow up in. The obvious downsides to being a performer from a young age and having such a large family of course reared their heads, but generally speaking, she wouldn't say she had a bad childhood. She was working and participating in acts before she hit double digits, but... well there wasn't exactly a lack of animal cars, and in her early teen years began to feel like it wouldn't really matter of she were there or not. She isn't really sure what sparked her interest-- perhaps it was just being different from what she was used to-- but she eventually took interest in the art of fire eating. Researching in to that took her down the road of pyrotechnics, and before she knew it, Joule was converting in to a dynamite truck and switching acts. And she loved it. She loved it for a really long time. She still does, actually, but... well. After awhile, it just made her... tired. Being in front of an audience like that was tiring. After shows, she'd always immediately go check and lock and undo everything that if anything went wrong could make everything brust into flames, and by the time she was done, most of the guests who'd stay to chat were already gone or on their way out. Never talking to anyone but her family and doing the same things every day was just... exhausting. Which is why when she returned from her checks after a show one day and found some massihe blue freak and their entourage waiting to talk to her specifically, who hadn't spoken to anyone else, it was extreme pleasantly surprising. More so when they'd ask her challenging questions about her job and hypotheticals about how she'd do something. And even more so when they'd keep coming back. She'd begun to find the most exciting part about performing was trying to spot them in the crowd and speaking with them afterwards, even if the conversations quickly derailed. It hadn't taken long for her to learn that this massive blue freak was a racer-- Electra-- but it took quite awhile for her schedule to line up to go watch them the way they'd kept coming to see her. It was only fair, wasn't it? But when Joule showed up, the atmosphere was so.... familiar, and yet.... different. It was exciting. And the race was exciting. The idea of going that fast was so alluring. She knew she'd want to get more involved in the racing scene. And watching Electra race? They were so cool and hot and powerful, and-- just-- woah. They lived like this? They just went to different places, and they didn't have a set routine when they performed? Extremely enticing. And when Electra saw her in the crowd and waved to her? And then immediately approached her after winning? Insane. It made Joule feel more seen than she had in her entire life. She didn't hesitate in the slightest when they offered her a job. And as per usual, bonus baby Joule & Joule the day she was hired

Killerwatt

Killerwatt's story doesn't actually begin with him-- he doesn't actually show up until late. It actually starts about 2 years before he's built, when Purse and Krupp start to disagree with some of the choices Electra had been making. At first, they kept their mouths shut. It wasn't frequent. They weren't decisions that were big deals. But the more time went on, the bigger deals they were, and eventually, they couldn't keep their mouths shut about it. It started to get bad, with frequent argurments and disagreements, and tension hanging over everyone. Now, with Electra as their own company, their own business, they began to wonder if they really needed Purse and Krupp. They had long since learned to mange their own bank accounts and the legalities of things, and Volta and Joule had honestly taken up most of the social media managing that Purse was supposed to be doing. And fans were respectful-- there hadn't been any threats made other than with fellow racers, of which, Electra could easily handle themself. What was Krupp even doing? But-- sentimentality kept them from firing them. About five months prior to Killerwatt's building, Electra finally decided and told Purse and Krupp that they wouldn't be renewing their contracts. And when asked if they were being replaced, grew extremely concerned that Electra didn't plan to at least replace Krupp. The only reason Electra thought he wasn't doing anything was because he was good enough at his job that the security details never reached them. Purse and Krupp were so undeniably attached to Electra after almost 10 years together, and they were extremely nervous about leaving them with no protection. So the two of them formed a plan. About two weeks before their contracts ended, having waited and timed things as last second as they could so Electra wouldn't notice until after they were gone and it was too late, and while it was still legal due to some fun loopholes Purse found, the two of them pushed through a commission order to a factory. A commission... specifically for a security truck for a Electra. And their plan worked. Electra got the email two weeks after Purse and Krupp left that their security truck would be ready in about a week, and did they want to come choose from the batch themself, or have one randomly selected and sent out to them? (They learned a very hard lesson to check their bank account more frequently that day.) So Electra, after tweaking out over Purse and Krupp spending their money, and on a security truck that they did not want, decided that-- well they wouldn't let this all be a total waste. And it wouldn't be fair for someone to be built to do something and not even have the chance to, they'd offer the smallest timedrame contract they could. So they showed up about two days after the batch had been finished and had time to be told what to expect, as almost all factory built rolling stock get. And... well, none of them really stood out. They were all so well trained in security already that there really wasn't anything that made any of them stand out, and, honestly, Electra was on the verge of just hiring whichever one they thought would clean up best and look good next to the rest of the components. But-- hold on, I actually have a visual for this moment

And I fear then both of their faces were sealed in that moment. Electra had to have this one. He was the only one looking at and following them. And-- well even if he wouldn't be doing much of anything, how could they possibly hire a security truck who wouldn't keep their eyes on them and their safety?? It's now been 3 years, and Electra has since learned his name is Killerwatt, and this was the best hiring decision they could have ever made. Bonus Babywatt doodle, of course, just to show off his pretty curls better

[callixpene]

Random thoughts in the middle of the night #2

MOST TO LEAST WEALTHY L&DS LOVE INTEREST

(This is based purely on my observations. I think all of them are wealthy, but some definitely more than others)

1. WEALTHIEST: SYLUS

He's the big boss of the N109 Zone. Makes BIG BUCKS off his illegal Protocore/Weapons-dealing business(probably has several other related/unrelated businesses as well).

Owns several properties within and outside the N109 Zone, a private jet, a yacht, etc. Stays in the Presidential Suite in one of his Memories(I forgot which one lol). Didn't even blink when MC bought every single Protocore at the auction(practically encouraged her to spend way more that she had to so he won't look broke 😂). Has a black card. Has his own tailor as he's mentioned that his clothes are custom-made. Has a private chef.

Safe to say, Sylus is probably billionaire-level rich.

2. RAFAYEL

Second wealthiest. Definitely old money rich. Definitely makes a lot of money selling his paintings to his rich clientele. Modern famous painters make millions per painting(and it is heavily implied in the game that Rafayel is one of the most well known painters out there, so the mans' definitely making BANK per painting🤑).

Owns a mansion/art studio in Whitesand bay. Has a Ferrari (probably has a collection of luxury vehicles, gives off that vibe). Opera singer as well, definitely makes a pretty penny doing that too(given he's literally a SIREN). Wears primarily designer clothing and has other designer things(like how his phone case is LV).

Rafayel is probably multi-millionaire rich.

3. ZAYNE

Third wealthiest. The average annual income of a cardiac surgeon is about $360k - and since it is heavily implied that Zayne's the best of the best there is, his salary is probably on the higher end so he probably makes about $400k annually.

Drives an Audi. Owns a big, modern house in Linkon City.

Zayne comes from a family of doctors. He's probably lower-upper class wealthy.

4. CALEB

Fourth wealthiest. An air force colonel's salary is about 130k annually( I think this is the closest real-world profession to a Farspace Fleet Colonel).

Owns a big, modern house in Skyhaven. Drives a Lambo.

Caleb is about upper-middle class wealthy.

5. XAVIER

Had to put him last because it is incredibly hard to gauge how wealthy he is😅 He is the best hunter in the Association(can't find a real-world equivalent of that so I can't come up with a salary estimation).

Lives in an apartment complex. Takes the train/commutes to get to places.

Xavier in general seems like the type of person who doesn't care about showing off his wealth or spending money on expensive things. Who knows? He might have loads of cash saved/stashed somewhere after living for a couple hundred years.

For the limited information we have on him for now, I'm classifying him as middle-class to upper-middle class wealthy.

Who guys think is the most to least wealthy LI?

[bugisastranger]

hey babe 🩷 if you have the time or inspiration to write please consider fake dating to lovers with Clark Kent, like a to all the boys I’ve loved before typa situation

a/n: thank u for the request anon!!! sorry it took me a bit to get around to it - i can be a busy busy gal.

"you want me to what?"

clark's voice is unlike anything you'd ever heard from him, his shock nothing less than apparent. you shush him, looking around the hallway to see if anyone's noticed. it's lucky for you that nobody did.

"come on, clark. it's one night! not even! it's like, a few hours at most."

"can't you ask someone else? pete?"

"i don't want to ask pete. he won't be able to sell it."

"and you think i can?" he's exasperated, leaning closer to you as if he's suddenly aware how many people could overhear this conversation. "i'm a horrible liar."

"please? you know how my family can be," you whisper, looking up at clark. he sighs, hanging his head. he does know how your family can be—overbearing—which is exactly why he's hesitant. but you're you, so how can he actually say no?

"okay. okay, fine."

"really?" you ask, nearly jumping out of your skin. your arms slide around clark's neck as you excitedly let out a few small 'thank you's. clark's still frozen in place from his decision, but forces one of his arms to slide awkwardly around your hip. he's in for it, isn't he?

the ringing of the school bell pulls the two of you apart, and you quickly shut your locker, making your way towards your first class. clark keeps his place beside you. "so, what does this mean, exactly? what do you want from me?"

"jeez, clark, that sounds like i'm holding you hostage. it's just a favor."

"yeah, yeah. whatever. what do you need me to do?" he asks, taking his seat next to you at the lab table.

"i don't know. whatever feels natural," you say, bending to the side to pull your textbook out of your bag, a gesture which clark never would've took a second glance at. but today, with your hair falling in front of your face (and then you pushing it away), something's different. he doesn't even notice he forgot to say something in response to you until you glance back at him, confused at his silence.

"uh—" he clears his throat. "how am i supposed to know what's natural? we've never dated before." oops. overly sarcastic.

"have you never even considered it?"

"what?" clark's baffled by your question, but you ask it so casually, like it's not taking the ground out from beneath his feet. it's not that he hasn't considered it. it's that he has. he knows all too well how he wants to walk with his arm around your shoulders, how he wants to have you cuddle into his side as you watch a movie, how he wants to absolutely spoil you—as if he has the money for that anyway. "i—"

"you know what? forget i said that. i don't wanna know," you mutter. "just, like, pretend like you're obsessed with me, i don't know."

"hey, lovebirds! you done?" the teacher calls from the front of the classroom.

as clark starts, "oh, we're n—"

you say, "sorry! we're sorry." and then the both of you, red in your faces, stay silent. you barely even move, feeling reprimanded, even though your teacher was barely offended.

when the teacher lets the class work in pairs, clark decides to use the time to talk to you instead. he could do the work later. "can you just give me an idea of what the night's going to look like, at least?"

you take a quick glance at the teacher, making sure her eyes aren't on you and clark. "you'll come over and i'll introduce you as my boyfriend. my parents won't be suspicious, because i'll start bringing it up today. and they won't be too intimidating. my uncle might, but they'll love you. there's something about you that screams 'good guy' and they'll pick up on it." you twirl the pen in your hands. "it'll be fine. you have nothing to worry about, really." clark feels his heart skip a beat when you place your hand on his bicep—which is supposed to be a comforting gesture. what's happening to him? you've touched him before. plenty of times, actually. this shouldn't mean a thing.

a few days later, and clark is taking deep breaths as he walks down the path to your front door. before he can even meet the porch, you're outside, greeting him. he nearly stops in his tracks when he sees you, your hair half up, half down. the dress you're wearing is baby pink, and something about this sight—seeing you so... girly does something to him, even if he won't admit it.

"hi," you say, breaking the awkward silence. "ignore the dress, i'm trying something a little different."

"no, it's good. you look great," he forces. and then, he remembers he's supposed to be your boyfriend, he's allowed to flirt with you. "you look really pretty." he swears he sees your expression change, like you're nervous. it makes his hand tense, and he nearly crushes the stems of the flowers he forgot he's holding. "oh, these are for you."

"thank you. this is..."

"good enough, i hope?"

"better. i knew you wouldn't let me down."

"can't leave my girlfriend hanging, can i?" oh. oh. that gets you. and clark knows it, too.

"uh—" you start, looking at him with what can only be described as a mix of shock and infatuation. "we should go inside."

and as you're walking towards your front door—"i should call you something, shouldn't i?"

"what?" you turn back around, facing him.

"honey," he tries. "no, too mature. babe?" clark watches your reactions carefully, and even though you seem affected, 'babe' doesn't have the punch he was hoping for. "sweetheart?" bingo.

"sweetheart is fine," you mutter, trying to ignore the way your face heats up.

"okay, sweetheart. you ready for this?" you nod, walking towards the door with clark at your side. "what about princess?"

"too much. you can't call me that in front of my family."

"but i can call you that when we're alone?"

"clark!"

"it's just a question, sweetheart," clark teases, fighting back a chuckle. he could do this the rest of his life.

part two coming soon?!

[vxtanne31]

As the Night Crawls

Takes place during the seven years of Silco’s control of the Undercity.

Wrote this because I wanted to see more of Sevika with someone who matched her energy.

First time writing so be nice please : One shot Sevika/Reader

Sevika/you (OC nickname is Cannon)

(Muscle mommy/ Dom fem energy reader)

Warnings: 18+, Oral (r!receiving,Sev receiving), fingering, tribbing, (switches) F/F men and minors DNI

*two years prior*

Zaun, what a shit show, but a shit show which was your home. With most of your family dead or hooked on the latest drug, you weren’t about to sink in that hole with them. A bag slung over your shoulder, you entered the noisy halls of a club you knew Silco owned.

You had an appointment with him. He saw you take down a man twice your size outside the Last Drop and gave you his card.

“Tomorrow, 9pm sharp.”’

You took it without delay, knowing that to work for him might be a dangerous game, but it would pay well.

And now you were here, this place used to be a more cozy bar until Silco started running these streets. Shimmer, the purple powerful drug found everywhere, was his biggest source of income.

You walked into the loud club and headed up the stairs Silco directed you to do yesterday. He was looking for some extra muscle and you weren’t gonna leave without that job.

You walked up, knocking at the door.

“Come in,” you heard a voice say.

You opened it and looked around Silco’s office, neatly done but not ornate.

He swiveled in his chair to face you, “right on time. Good.”

You stepped in, shutting the door behind you. You said nothing, knowing your smart mouth could get you into trouble. Best to let Silco do the talking. Men like him preferred it anyway.

“I saw your work yesterday. You seem to know your way around a fight. Could use someone like you. Have any other skills I would find…useful?” Silco gave you a once over before looking back at the papers on his desk.

You set your bag on the floor. “I am a pretty good negotiator. Used to bargain some good deals for my father who was a mechanic. I am pretty handy as well.”

Silco thrummed his long fingers against his wooden desk. “How old are you girl?”

You wanted to quip back at him for calling you ‘girl’, but decided against it. “Twenty-Nine Sir.”

“You work well with others?” Silco picked up a piece of paper on his desk and looked over it.

“Depends who the ‘others’ are I suppose. I usually get along with almost anyone. Not here to make any waves. Just do my job.” You folded your hands behind your back, hoping you didn’t say too much.

“Family? They living?” Silco still didn’t bother to look at you.

“Either dead or disappeared. Just me to rely on, no one else.”

“Where do you live?” Silco’s eyes continued to scan the paper.

“My dad’s old shop. But it’s kind of rundown. One of the men who you were with yesterday told me to pack a bag.”

Silco finally met your eyes. “I own a few apartment buildings. I like those who work with me to live close, in case there are any late night… disturbances that need handling.”

There was another knock on the door. “Enter,” Silco flicked the paper back on the desk.

In walked a woman who you hadn’t seen before. Tall as hell, imposing, with piercing silver eyes and a tightly packed muscled frame that you knew could cause some real damage.

“You wanted to speak with me?” Sevika’s gaze drifted over to you, brow raised in a quizzical nature. She had seen you around before, tough little thing you were. Maybe not so little but at least three to four inches shorter than Sevika.

“Sevika, meet your new partner.” Silco motioned his hand to you.

You could tell by the long drawn out silence that Sevika did not like this news.

“Why do I need a partner? I’m doing fine on my own.” Sevika’s eyes narrowed, taking a swig of whatever bottle was in her hand.

“Because I have money out on the streets and I need more muscle to collect. Show her the ropes, it’s not up for discussion Sevika.”

Sevika’s lip curled as she strode up to you, finally getting a good look. You’re dressed mostly in black, your tight leather pants that showed off your thick thighs, you didn’t have much of an hour glass but had some strong abdominals and well muscled arms.

“Name, doll face?” Sevika licked the top row of her teeth as she bent to look down at you. She smelled of cigar smoke. By the way she stood over you, you could tell she was trying to intimidate.

“Y/N…but my actual nickname is Cannon” you matched her energy, your eyes studying her from head to toe. She wore a red cloak over her left side, a cropped vest that showed off her impressive lower abdomen, and metaltoe boots.

Sevika smirked, slightly impressed that you didn’t waver under her scrutiny. “Doll face suits you better.”

You matched her smirk and took a step closer, getting into Sevika’s personal space. “And what nickname should I give you? Sweet cheeks, pretty eyes, big mama? Take your pick.”

This made Sevika’s lips part in surprise. No one ever had the gall to speak to her so casually.

Before she could respond, Silco cleared his throat. “I expect you two to get along. Sevika, she will be living in the west building a floor below you. Show her to her place.”

Silco threw Sevika a set of keys which she caught easily in the air. “Come with me, don’t fall behind.” Sevika turned on her heals and walked out Silco’s office.

Sevika led you a few narrow streets down and up the stairs to a small apartment on the third floor. You stood behind her as she fumbled with the keys in the door and pushed it open. 345, your apartment number. “This is yours, already furnished.”

You stepped in as Sevika held the door open for you, studying the place. Not too bad, furniture definitely old but manageable. Everything you could need and hopefully with a decent salary you could make some improvements.

While you meandered around your new place, Sevika stewed in her thoughts. How dare Silco suggest she need help. She was doing just fine on her own. Wasn’t she? Hadn’t she given Silco everything? Sleepless nights on missions, broken bones, friends lost, what more could she do?

Sevika was too lost in her darkness to notice you had turned your attention back to her. “Ya know, it’s not my intention to step on any toes. I just need a job, gotta be able to feed myself and all.”

Sevika blinked to jog herself of her own thoughts and your set of keys on the kitchen counter. “Silco better be right about you. Can’t have someone slowing me down out there.” Sevika then moved her exposed hand to the doorknob and looked at the clock on the wall. “It’s late, I’ll be at your door at 8am. Be fucking ready.”

Without letting you get a word in, she slams the door behind her, the walls shaking at the force. “Well you’re gonna be an absolute fucking dream to work with,” You grumble and walked over to the bedroom.

You grumbled at the size of the full bed. First thing you were going to do with a paycheck was buy a queen sized bed and mattress. You hated small beds and liked stretching out. Couldn’t imagine someone as big as Sevika even having this bed.

That woman was going to be a handful to work with.

You threw yourself on the mattress and stared up at the ceiling. You smiled to yourself, thinking about how Sevika would be a hard one to crack. You enjoyed the difficult ones. You wanted to peel back her layers. Living in Zaun made you hard, and molded you into a jaded, tough person. You knew that better than anyone.

“This will be fun”

*two years later*

You leaned back a chair, your relaxed demeanor now common in the Last Drop as you watched Sevika play cards with her regulars. An arm was bent over the back of the chair as the other held the glass of brown liquor you nursed.

“Rotten luck boys,” Sevika smirked and threw down her cards. The smoke curled from her mouth as she took a drag of her cigarillo and exhaled.

Damn that bitch was good at gambling. You smirked at the men’s groans as Sevika gathered the chips on the table.

After years of chipping away at Sevika’s resolve, she seemed to have least grown to respect you. You’ve proved to be a smart, cunning and strong partner, ensuring you have her back when it comes to the hard jobs Silco puts you two in.

You still haven’t figured out what to do with your attraction to her. Call it narcissism but you admire the qualities you two had in common. You valued someone who handled her own, and whose presence brought fear and respect.

Sure, you and her discussed your flavors of the month, conquests of women. Most of them were feminine and pliant, easily submitting to you. There was always something missing for you. You knew deep down Sevika was that missing piece. The worst thought though was to ruin the friendship you had formed.

(Sevika’s POV)

Damn you were hot. The way you confidently leaned back in your chair, your impressively toned arms on display. Your hair was half up like hers, a little longer past your shoulders, short pieces of your curtain bangs falling in your face. You only had taken two sips of the drink she bought you.

You weren’t much of a drinker but you did sometimes steal a puff or two of her cigarillo. Sevika’s stomach would flip when you took it from her mouth to inhale the slightly sweet tasting Tobacco. No one in their right mind would ever dare to do such a thing, but you, you constantly pushed your boundaries with her, tested her.

Sevika felt a magnetic pull, she could spot you in a crowd, knew where you were at all times. It had taken years for you to chip away at her walls, to peel back her layers and earn her trust. She wasn’t one to divulge her secrets, or share her thoughts, but you forced her to talk. You knew every slight shift in her demeanor. She sometimes hated that you knew her so well, but it was oddly comforting.

You were a loyal friend to her, keeping a watchful eye around the room while Sevika played cards. You could have been flirting with the woman who was eyeing you from her place at the bar, but there you were, sitting next to her.

“You ever think about playing?” Sevika shuffled the cards before her, mechanical hand quite dexterous as she sent some of them flying to each player.

Your emerald eyes shifted from your glass to meet her’s, the devilish smirk plastered on your pretty lips. “Nah I like watching you win though, you’re usually so generous with me when it comes to drinks.”

“Don’t think you’ve paid for a drink in almost two years.” Sevika scoffed as she took her cigarette case out of her pocket to put another one in her metal mouthpiece.

Before she could find her lighter, you picked it up and flicked it open, leaning forward with your forearm resting on the table. “I’m just here to give you a light.”

Sevika leaned forward and inhaled, the end of the cigarillo catching light. “I can do it myself smart ass. Besides I see a pretty patron over there eyeing you.” Sevika motioned her head over to the bar.

You lazily rolled your head to where Sevika’s attention was. Sevika didn’t necessarily like you turning your attention to other women, but knew it was only ever just sex with them. You had mentioned time and time again how the job prevented you from making real connections. It would be too dangerous for your partner to have you as a girlfriend. You didn’t want the weakness.

If only you knew that you were Sevika’s weakness.

(Your POV)

You looked over to the pretty little thing in the tight purple dress. “Oh Veronica? She’s always a good time.”

She was up for anything, downright in love with the way your tongue moved across the soft flesh of her core. Most of the women you went after had enjoyed your skill, the way you could make their limbs turn to jello. You were a giving lover and they always came back for more.

Sevika’s pale grey eyes studied you. You never knew what she was thinking when she looked at you like that. Was it judgement? Jealousy? Was she jealous of you for having Veronica or was she jealous of Veronica for having you? You were not sure. You dared not hope for the latter. You wouldn’t speak of your attraction until she spoke first, lest you ruin your friendship.

“How long are you gonna string her along Cannon?” Sevika took a drag of her cigarillo and handed it to you.

You shrugged and took the cigarillo from Sevika, inhaling, letting the smoke exhale from your nose. “She knows I’m not looking for anything serious. She just wants a bit of fun, like me.”

“Yeah well, never works out well for you. They always get attached. Then I have to hear them whaling and throwing shit around when you tell them to leave.” Sevika watched the smoke billow from your mouth. Your apartment was directly under her’s and the walls were thin.

You chuckled, “yeah guess they can’t resist falling for me when I put my tongue to good use,” you hand the cigarillo back, resting both elbows on the table.

Sevika rolled her eyes and shook her head, “I’m sure you tell them what they want to hear.”

You pursed your lips, and nodded. “I guess I’m not entirely…innocent.”

Sevika was silent for a moment, studying your pretty face. She threw her cards on the table and yawned. “Alright I’m bored, everyone fuck off.”

You knew by ‘everyone,’ she didn’t mean you. Her men grumbled and collected whatever money Sevika didn’t take from them.

When everyone had vacated you and Sevika sat in silence. You knew she wanted to talk about something she didn’t want her men to hear. You waited for Sevika to speak first.

(Sevika pov)

Sevika’s heart thundered in her chest, making her feel like she was about to vomit. She wanted to tell you how she felt. She promised herself she’d do it tonight, before she had to watch you take another woman to your bed.

But how could she? You were the only one who ever stood toe to toe with her, who challenged her and wasn’t afraid. Sevika was also not accustomed to these feelings. You had broken down the emotional walls she spent her whole life building.

It was a good five minutes of just sitting there in silence. You preoccupied yourself with looking around the bar for a while until the silence got weird.

“You gonna say what you need to say or is this awkward silence just foreplay?” You quipped.

Your voice startled Sevika, the sarcastic tone irritating her already frazzled nerves. It was more than enough of a reason for her to swallow her feelings back down.

“You’re an annoying pain in the ass, you know that? I’m going home.” Sevika stood up hastily, the chair almost falling to the floor from the force.

You scoffed at her abrasiveness and folded your arms, leaning back. “What did I do?!”

Sevika opened her cigarette case and threw a cigarillo on your lap. “Since I know you’d ask me. Maybe one day you can buy some of your own. See you tomorrow.” With that Sevika stormed off, shoving those who didn’t get out of her way.

Sevika stewed as she made her way home. Why couldn’t you just shut up for once and let her talk? Why couldn’t you just read her mind? Why did she have to spell it out for you?

Sevika knew she wasn’t being fair but she wouldn’t apologize for what she said. You pissed her off with your cavalier attitude when she was trying to be serious.

(Your pov)

“What the fuck was that…” you seethed in your chair. Why did Sevika have to be such a fucking bitch?

One second she was your closest friend and the next she was cruel and spiteful. But what was she going to say to you?

You took the cigarillo from your lap and lit it, realizing Sevika had forgotten her lighter. You took a second to calm down and think about what had just occurred. As you were deep in thought, Veronica sauntered over and leaned over the table, her ample breasts on display in her dress.

“Haven’t heard from you in a while Cannon.” She cooed, sliding a fruity drink towards you.

You clench your jaw in annoyance at the interruption, then realization hit you. Sevika was trying to tell you something, probably serious or personal and you interrupted her. You made a stupid joke when she was trying to be real with you.

“Fuck,” you said out loud and got up, taking an inhale of the cigarillo before snuffing it out. “Gotta go,” you didn’t bother to look up at Veronica as you made your way out the door.

You knew that trying to talk to Sevika right now would be a poor choice. It was best to let her calm down.

You walked over to a little market and purchased a big box of cigarillos, enough to last at least a month and more fuel for the lighter.

You filled Sevika’s lighter and then asked the man at the counter for a pen and paper.

A few minutes later you walked up to Sevika’s door and placed the things on front of it. You pounded on the door three times and left back to your place.

The note read “sorry for being a dick-Cannon”

The next day Sevika didn’t acknowledge the things you left at her door, she doesn’t mention what happened, she only continues acting cold.

…………………….

Two weeks had gone by and Sevika acted like you were just her coworker. She didn’t even bother gambling after work as soon as she was done for the day. It was hurtful, you missed your friend, you didn’t know what you did wrong.

You both stood in Silco’s office, waiting for him to give the task for the day.

“I’m sending you both to the far side of Zaun to negotiate this deal for me. Get there tonight and check into the hotel. You’ll meet with the men tomorrow. I need this to go well. We need these supplies to be at a reasonable cost. Cannon, do what I pay you for, Sevika I need you to back her up.”

Sevika glanced over to you briefly and nodded, showing herself out. You followed her, walking quickly to catch up.

“Sev can you talk to me? I don’t get why you’re actin’ like this.”

Sevika’s jaw shifted in annoyance. “Don’t know what you’re talkin about. Go grab a bag and meet me at the front of the bar.

You narrowed your eyes, and without a second thought of the repercussions, grabbed Sevika’s shoulder. Sevika stopped walking immediately, almost frozen. Her sudden stillness would have had anyone preparing for a blow to their extremities. You knew Sevika wouldn’t hit you.

You decided to drop your cocky attitude for a second and let her know how much her coldness was effecting you.

“Sev, you’ve been my friend for years now. Just tell me how to fix it.” Your voice was filled with the sincere pleading and sorrow you wanted to convey.

Sevika didn’t turn around but looked at where your hand touched her. “It’s not you, I just gotta figure some shit out. Just drop it.”

You let Sevika walk out of your grasp and watch her disappear into the crowded streets of Zaun.

(Sevika’s pov)

Sevika cursed herself as she walked away from you, refusing to look back at your crushed expression.

She was trying to distance herself from you to avoid her feelings. If she ignored you enough, perhaps she could trick herself into thinking she no longer wanted you.

It was getting harder and harder for her to do so. She missed you, missed your laugh, missed your friendship. She was alone again, alone with her sadness, alone with her anger and frustration. But what was the alternative? To watch you eventually connect with another woman and fall in love? For you to give someone else the affection she so desperately craved? Maybe at some point she could return as your friend. She had to rid herself of the feelings first.

(Hours later. Your POV)

You and Sevika checked into the hotel room Silco’s assistant booked for you. Not a separate room but a room with two full beds which you managed with a little smooth talking to upgraded to two queens. No way in hell were you sleeping on a tiny little bed.

You knew Sevika wanted to argue about sharing a room. You didn’t give her time to argue, nor were you going to let her avoid your presence like that. It was childish and frankly, you didn’t deserve the silent treatment shit she was putting you through. All the years you have been working with Sevika, you knew that you were the more emotionally mature one. Maybe you were more reckless, sure, but you knew how to express how you were feeling without resorting to ignoring people.

When you got to the room, you were surprised that it wasn’t a complete shithole. It was near a port outside the seediest part of the under city, almost towards topside.

You threw your bag on the bed closest to the door, letting Sevika take the window bed. You felt gross from the travel, sticky from the sweat of the summer heat. You took off your half cloak, similar to Sevika’s, and hung it up on the closet.

Sevika threw herself on her own bed, the mattress squeaking in protest at the sudden weight. She let one leg hang off the bed as she lit a cigarillo.

“Wanna go and grab a drink?” You suggested, trying to break the awkward silence.

“I’m good here,” Sevika quipped, not even looking at you.

‘Fine be a child.’ You thought to yourself. You started removing the buckles of your vest, revealing a cropped tank underneath. “I’m gonna take a shower.”

You threw the tank over your head and walked onto the bathroom, your naked back to Sevika. You shut the door and turned the water on, the nice shower steaming up the room.

(Sevika POV)

Sevika felt as though she might crack a molar with how hard she clench her jaw. Fuck, how did ignoring you only make her want you more? This was not her. She was Silco’s right hand, the most feared woman in Zaun. Cocky, arrogant, sure of herself, not some simpering woman who fell apart from the mere sight of your naked back.

Sevika took a long drag of her cigarillo, the smoke on an empty stomach churning her insides. She snuffed it out on the ashtray and sat up on the edge of the bed, gripping the mattress with her flesh hand till her knuckles turned white.

She was losing her cool, she wanted the upper hand. She imagined herself undressing, opening the bathroom door and pinning you against the shower wall. She could have you falling apart with her skilled fingers in just a few minutes. Sevika could wipe that cocky look off your face with one swipe of her tongue.

“No,fuck..” she shook her head of those salacious thoughts, her heart thundering as though she had decided to act on her impulse. Sevika stood up, walking to the mini fridge and swung it open, glass clinking. There were tiny bottle of liquor lined up on the inner door.

Fuck it, Silco was rich and he owed her for all the years she’d saved his ass from danger.

Sevika took two of the tiny bottles of the same liquor, snapped the seal and poured it into one of the complementary glasses. She stared at the glass before swigging the amber liquid down in one go.@

Gods she was acting like such an idiot. All for some woman who finally made her feel something, finally took the time to break down the many walls she had put up.

But what if you didn’t feel the same? Or what if you both started this and it ended horribly? You would have to work together after that. What if she didn’t know how to actually be with someone? What if you didn’t know either?

Her anxiety won out again as she dove back into the fridge to retrieve more tiny liquor bottles.

“Not gonna save any for me?”

Sevika froze, she was too preoccupied with self loathing to notice you had opened the door, steam billowing from the bathroom, heating up the room.

She turned to look at you. white towel you had folded at your waist, the other smaller towel you were using to dry your hair. Her grey eyes wandered up to see your bare chest. Though not big, your breasts stood upright, a metal bar piercing each nipple.

You noticed her gaze and looked down at your own chest. “Oh yeah, got them done a couple months ago. Saw them on another girl and thought they looked hot.”

Sevika blinked, her face stoic once more. She needed to get the fuck out of the room before she did something stupid.

“Help yourself to what’s left in the fridge. I’m heading out, don’t wait up.” Sevika moved past you, deliberately moving her body away to not touch you as she got to the door.

(Your POV)

You turned to watch her practically run for the exit, the door slamming behind her making you flinch and the room shake.

You blinked, your mouth agape and in utter shock at Sevika’s attitude. It’s not like she hasn’t seen your chest before. You weren’t shy when it came to partial nudity, often changing in front of her in the locker room of the small gym or using a steam room.

You started putting the pieces together. There was something up with Sevika, and had something to do with you. The only change in her behavior was her demeanor towards you.

But what could you have possibly done to warrant such coldness? You tried and tried to apologize but she never wanted to discuss it.

You looked up to Sevika in so many ways, to the point where you may have forgotten she was just a woman too. Maybe she was going through something. Something she was embarrassed to speak about.

Instead of laying there with your mind racing, you got up and got dressed, heading down to the small hotel bar. You knew Sevika wouldn’t have gone far.

You saw Sevika, sitting in a corner shuffling her cards to play a solitary game, her dexterous metal hand throwing the cards before her.

“Do you ever take a hint?” Sevika grumbled, not looking from her cards and taking a swig of her drink.

You pulled out a seat in front of her and sat down. “Enough of this crap Sev. What is up your ass?”

Sevika let out what was between a scoff and a laugh, picking up a cigarillo and lighting it. “You’ve got some fuckin nerve.” She inhaled and let out a long breath of smoke from her nose “can never fucking drop it, can you?”

“Not when someone who I called a friend, just starts ignoring me out of the blue. Like what could I have possibly done to make you so upset?”

Sevika went back to playing with her cards. “Told you, it isn’t about you.”

“Bullshit,” you folded your arms and leaned back in the chair.

Sevika’s grey eyes finally locked on yours. “You think the only problems I have involve you? Don’t be full of yourself.” She knocked some ash from her cigarillo and pushed the box to offer you one. You take one, not because you particularly want one right now, but because it’s the kindest gesture she’s given you in two weeks.

“No I don’t think your world revolves around me. But I know for a fuckin fact that this,” you motion to her and her pouty demeanor, “very much has to do with me. So out with it. What are you hiding?”

Sevika’s eyebrow rose, “what exactly are you looking for? For me to tell you I’m in a shitty mood and need some time away from your big mouth?”

It was your turn to scoff. “I know you’re always kind of bitch Sevika, but this is pretty bitchy, even for you.”

Sevika stared at her glass, gripping it so tight she thought she might break it. You could see her eyes searching the table, as if she was trying to come up with a response.

You decided it was time to take a dive. Something that could end well or with you getting punched.

You looked under the table from your relaxed position and saw Sevika sitting in her usual stance, legs open.

“You seem… tightly wound.” You lifted your leg and put the pad of your boot on the edge chair between her legs.

(Sevika POV)

Sevika felt her face burn, as though someone spiked the heat in the room. You were hitting on her. This was it, she could either dive in or continue on her path leading to nowhere.

Fuck it

Sevika leaned back and looked down at your foot, the sheer boldness making her pussy clench.

“Are you offering to…unwind me?” Sevika took her flesh hand and placed it on top of your metal toe boot.

You shrug nonchalantly, “if it will stop you from biting my head off.” You ran your tongue over your bottom lip and flicked your darkened eyes back down to her grip on your foot. “To be honest, I’ve always had a thing for you. You’re hot, even when you’re being an asshole.”

Sevika felt emboldened by your words. She responded by scooting closer to your boot, the sole pressing into apex of her thighs. “You like to talk.”

“You can always sit on my face and shut me up?” You suggested, pressing your sole harder against her.

Sevika sucked in a sharp breath at the pressure. She could feel herself growing wet.

“Upstairs, now,” Sevika said through gritted teeth.

(Your POV)

The stair climb to the hotel room was agonizing. You walked behind her, feeling yourself get more end more excited. You had been waiting two years for this. Ever since your eyes locked on hers.

When you got to the room, Sevika turned the key and opened the door for you. As soon as you were both inside, she shoved you against the wall.

Sevika hovered over your lips, the anticipation killing you.

You finally had enough and gripped her by the back of the head, hand on her half ponytail, pulling her in for a deep kiss.

You both groaned in satisfaction, bodies melting, the kiss was something you had both been dreaming about for so long. Sevika slipped her knee between your legs, pressing against the heat of your core.

Both of your hands flew to one another’s clothes, almost ripping fabric to shed each other of the barriers to bare skin.

You pushed Sevika’s vest off her body, the clothes falling to the floor with a heavy thud. Sevika was less patient. She took her metal finger and sliced the front of your cropped tank. Your eyes narrowed.

“You owe me another one,” you hissed as a cold metal hand moved under your breast. “If you rip a nipple ring off with your bionic-ah” Sevika moved her flesh hand to kneed the other breast.

“I’ll be careful.” Sevika murmured, her lips pressing against the sensitive parts of your neck.

Your hands wandered over to Sevika’s belt, unbuttoning the fly. Before you could finish, Sevika took both your hands and pinned them over your head. She then continued to kiss and bite at your neck, leaving marks.

“Don’t have to act all dominant.” You moved with her as Sevika rutted her hips against your knee, craving the friction against her pulsing clit.

Sevika relented and loosened the hold of your arms, letting them go so you can travel back down to her pants. You slowly unzipped her fly, opening up the front to reach your hand down into the waistband of her black underwear.

Your fingers found Sevika’s pussy, eliciting a groan from both of you. She was soaked. Your index and middle finger slipped inside her with no resistance. You pumped your fingers in and out. Sevika braced both hands on the wall on either side of your head. “Fuck,” was all Sevika could grit out, her head bowing down from the pleasure.

You backed her away from the wall, removing your hand from her. Sevika wanted to whine at the loss of contact. She didn’t have much time to process before you placed a hand on her chest and pushed her onto your bed. Sevika landed backwards on the soft mattress. She propped herself on her elbows to gaze up at you.

You stood before Sevika, not breaking eye contact as you toed your boots off and leaned down to take care of her boots as well.

Sevika helped you pull her foot out of each shoe, hating how slow you were moving.

You finally crawled on top of Sevika, like a predator over prey. You molded your body to her’s, a knee between her legs and leaned down to kiss her uneven lips. You didn’t want to just fuck Sevika, you wanted to show her intimacy, something you knew she wasn’t comfortable taking from anyone else.

Your instincts seemed to be spot on as she responded in kind, her flesh hand threading fingers through your soft hair. Her metal hand moved to your hip, encouraging you to grind against her. Sevika mimicked your move and bend her knee to supply you with the same friction.

The position was intimate, not rushed, finally enjoying the moment you both didn’t know would have ever been a reality.

You pulled her under tank up over her ample chest, squeezing her larger breasts and testing their weight. They were much bigger than yours. Your lips traveled down past her neck to take one nipple into your mouth.

Sevika rolled her hips, your mouth making her core ache. This felt good to her but it wasn’t enough.She gripped you by the back of your hair and pulled making you release her nipple with a ‘pop.’

Sevika wanted, no, needed, to taste you. She easily flipped you on the bed and sat up to peel your tight black pants and underwear off in one motion. You sat up to grab Sevika but she placed a large hand on the center of your chest and pushed back down.

“Stop fucking moving and let me do what I want,” Sevika rolled her eyes and got off the bed, kneeling by the edge.

“So bossy as usual,” you scoffed, sitting up and resting your weight against your elbows.

Sevika shook her head in annoyance and grabbed you by your calves, pulling your hips to the edge of the bed. She stared at your sex, neatly trimmed and wet for her. You were beautiful, sexy, strong-

“You just gonna stare at it orrrrr?”

…and absolute a pain in her ass. Sevika gave you the stare that always meant ‘shut up’ and leaned down to throw your legs over her shoulders. Her large right hand splayed your lower abdomen kept your hips down as she swiped a tongue over your folds. Her eyes almost rolled to the back of her skull at your taste.

You licked your lips and gripped the sheets at the first swipe over your swollen clit. You inhaled a sharp breath as she dipped her tongue into your center. “Fucking hell,” you murmured.

Sevika feasted upon you as if she was starved, her mouth trailing up to suck expertly at your clit. Sevika was experienced, she knew just how to use her mouth to make you arch and writhe. She moved her flesh hand holding you down and used it to insert to large fingers into you, pumping in time with her tongue.

You sat up and looked down at her on her knees, she had to adjust her large body, her knees farther back so she could get her head positioning right. Luckily her mechanical hand was able to take all her weight leaning on the bed. This position left you to admire her chiseled back, moving and flexing as she pumped her fingers.

“Fuck that’s it’s Sev,” you gripped her by the half ponytail on the back of her head, keeping her mouth locked on you.

Sevika, encouraged by your words, moved faster, the noises coming from her mouth on you were absolutely pornographic. Her fingers sped in and out of you, fucking you with the sucking of your clit.

Your body then tensed up, muscles tightening around her fingers, as you came with a groan of her name. There was no sweeter sound to her ears.

She continued moving her tongue, making you squirm and pull away from her face. “Holy shit woman give me a second,” you panted as you backed your hips off the edge of the bed.

Sevika sat up, wiping her face with her forearm to glower at you. “Who said I was done?”

“My clit for one thing, give me a second to breathe.” You flopped down on the bed.

Sevika ignored your snark and ran her hands over the softness of your thighs, her eyes hungrily drinking in your naked form.

She wanted to devour you all night.

You sat back up and pulled Sevika in for a kiss, your tongue running over her bottom lip. Sevika eagerly responded, both mechanical and flesh hand cradling your face.

When you parted, a string of saliva connected you both. “Stand up Sev,” you whispered.

Sevika wanted to refuse you. She wanted to spend all night with her mouth on your sex. She reluctantly stood from her kneeling position, coming to full height before you.

You stood along with Sevika and gently pushed her against the far wall. She looked down at you, her face almost unreadable. She was fighting for any amount of control over her emotions.

You kept your eyes locked on her’s as you knelt before her, gripping her already opened pants and pulling them down. Sevika lifted one foot at a time to help you.

You broke eye contact to trail down to Sevika’s exposed sex. You were met with a dark patch of curly hair, her slit glistening with arousal. “You’re fucking perfect,” you admired as you reached back up and gripped her hips, moving your knees closer to find a good angle.

Sevika moved her flesh hand over to your mouth, running her thumb over your bottom lip. “Let’s see why those other bitches fight over you.”

Was that jealousy? You would have to unpack that later, right now you had a job to do. You had rarely been able to take a woman in this position since most women you were with were shorter.

When Sevika removed her thumb you wasted no time latching your mouth to her. Sevika bowed forward from the onslaught of your tongue. “Shit,” she gritted and stood to full height again, gripping the back of your head.

Sevika tasted amazing. The scent of her arousal flooded your senses as you moved your tongue from her entrance to suck her swelled clit.

“Ah, ah!” Sevika couldn’t form words. She looked down at you, your beautiful eyes staring up to watch her face contort in pleasure. She didn’t want to admit it out loud but fuck you were good at this.

You took two of your fingers and inserted them into her, curling them up. Sevika’s grip tightened on your hair, the pull on your scalp painful. You continued to suck at her clit, realizing it’s what Sevika responded to the most.

Sevika threw her head back, colliding against the drywall with a ‘thunk.’ Her knees threatened to buckle as her climax built. “Don’t stop,” she commanded, trying best to keep her voice from shaking.

You pressed your tongue to her clit and aggressively shook your head. Sevika’s mouth was agape, moving her head back down so she could look at you. “I’m gonna-oh fuck!”

You felt Sevika’s climax as her walls tightened around your fingers, she pinned

your head to her, her hips thrusting to your mouth as you sucked .

Sevika’s whole body shuddered, vision going blurry from the wave of pleasure. She let her hand fall from your hair as she panted against the wall.

You released your mouth from her sex, sitting back on your haunches to look up at her. Your mouth and chin glistened as you studied Sevika’s face. “Now you see why they fight over me?”

The corner of Sevika’s lip twitched in a sneer, she gripped you by the back of the neck and tugged on your hair, making you stand to avoid further pain. “They will have to fight over someone else from now on,” she hissed.

Before you could respond, Sevika crashed her mouth to yours, tasting herself as her tongue ran over your bottom lip.

Sevika backed you up back to the bed, both of you falling onto it. She hovered over you, eyes wandering over your pert breasts. “I love these by the way. Suit you.” She dipped down and flattened her tongue over your pierced nipple.

You sucked in a sharp breath. “Good, because getting them done hurt like shit.”

This made Sevika smirk and flash her eyes up to yours. “Too bad I didn’t bring my strap.”

You narrowed your eyes and shook your head. “Not really my thing.”

Sevika quirked her head and teased your nipple between her thumb and forefinger. “Ever try it? You might like it.”

You propped up on your elbows. “Can I fuck you with it then?”

Sevika pursed her lips in thought, not the response she was hoping for. “I’ll think about it.”

You shrugged, “only fair Sev. You ever try it? You might like it.” You threw her words back at her.

Sevika sighed and rolled her eyes. “You’re lucky you’re hot. Such a pain in my ass.” She then sat up, settling herself into a position where she was in between your legs, holding on one of your thighs as she met her pussy with yours. Sevika started to set a pace, rotating her hips back and forth.

You relaxed on the bed and moved your hips in time with hers. “You think I’m hot Sev? How long have you thought so?”

Pieces of hair fell in front of Sevika’s face as she enjoyed the feeling of her clit meeting yours. “Ever since I saw you in Silco’s office two years ago. I thought you were fuckin’ beautiful.” Sevika’s jaw clenched as a swivel of your hips gave her clit the angle she needed.

“Oh really? Seemed like you wanted to throw me out the window first time you met me. Thought you hated me-ah!” You threw your head back as a wave of pleasure hit you.

“I kinda did, you have a mouth on you. You don’t know when to back off. Stubborn bitch.” Sevika moved her hips faster.

“Seems liked my mouth just fine few minutes ago.” you reached up and gripped Sevika’s left breast. She slapped your hand away and leaned forward to cover your mouth with her palm.

“No more talking,” Sevika growled and rutted her hips faster, her movements getting sloppy as she got closer to the edge.

You glared at her, you were done being told to shut up. You pushed her hand away from your face and gripped the back of her head, using your strength to flip Sevika onto her back, switching places.

You wanted to laugh at the shocked look plastering Sevika’s face. “You,” reaching out to harshly grab her breast, “don’t get to tell me to shut up.” You moved your hips at the same speed Sevika began at.

(Sevika POV)

Sevika stared up at you, enjoying the view. Watching you take control was incredibly hot, your hair now undone, cascading over your lovely face. Your eyes held a mischievous glint as you gripped her thick thigh for support.

“Fucking hell girl,” Sevika rasped as she held your hand to her breast, mechanical hand at your hip.

Sevika was trying to hold her orgasm for you but was losing the battle. It felt too good, too safe, uninhibited.

(Your POV)

The feeling of her metal hand on your skin was sexy. One wrong move and it could pierce you. “You close Sev? You gonna cum? You like being handled don’t you?”

Sevika whined, her eyes glued to where your pussies met, watching as they rubbed and ground against each other.

You loved the noises coming from the big tough woman below you. She was giving you the control so held so dear. You were close but you refused to finish before her.

“I wanna see you cum Sev. Cum for me baby,” you moved your hips faster, trying to push Sevika to the finish line.

Your dirty words worked, her eyes rolled to the back of her head as she cried out your name, both hands gripping your hips now to keep you in the desired place.

Your beginnings of an orgasm died when she made you stop, but you let Sevika take her pleasure out on you. You watched her come undone underneath you.

It took a minute or two for Sevika to come to. The orgasm was just as intense as the first. Her legs went slack as she caught her breath.

You looked down at Sevika, peaceful, serene and eyes closed. The room smelled of sex, clothes everywhere, the bed tilted from the box spring. You were too busy looking around you did not notice she had opened her eyes.

Sevika pulled you, as if you weighed nothing, to hover over her face. She wasted no time and latched her full lips over your clit, both human and mechanical hand holding your hips to prevent you from moving.

You had no intention of moving, bringing a hand down to grip Sevika’s hair. “So fucking good at this.” You moaned and gasped, hips rocking against her tongue.

Sevika moved her hands from your hips to your ass and flipped you to your back, her mouth still locked on you. She inserted to of her fingers into you, thrusting up to meet with her tongue.

You orgasm hit you like a train, your cries loud enough to be heard in the hallways. Sevika held you down, her mouth riding you through. When your body started to twitch away from her, she moved her mouth from your puss and rested her cheek on your inner thigh.

Both of you stayed silent for a second, your minds clearing from the passion you just shared.

Sevika sat up, placing a last kiss upon your sex before she moved to lay down next to you on the crumpled sheets.

You both said nothing, waiting for the other to speak.

You finally opened your mouth to say something but Sevika beat you to it. “I don’t want you seeing Veronica anymore.”

“Who?”