#story: r-con

[milkbreadtoast]

idk how i want to draw him yet and not ready to make a srs attempt but here's a bad kdj phone doodle lol🚶🏻

[rui-drawsbox]

comm-comic for @fidorance! accepted the request to see if i should make it another option for comms but i am nOt doing stuff like this again sorry i dont enjoy it enough to do it for other people besides me ajdkjfjsa

[k9ninedecay]

content warning : yapping about my opinions on billford and the abuse involved uh oh ! i have thoughts

i be feelin like the only person who doesnt like billford when its portrayed as romantic or whatever i like seeing the aus of "reformed bill" but they dont feel like bill cipher it feels like a triangle who JUST so happened to also be named bill like girl thats oc x canon

i dont know i dont think me personally can see billford as anything other than yaknow what it is , it is an abusive past relationship romantic or not and its funny seeing reformation aus or aus where bill has to live with the pines family because personally if my abuser got sent to live with me id be stuck in a dissociative state for that entire fuckin time he was there 😭😭

i dont like billford in general ( this will get me shot probably ) ( edit : i dont HATE billford i dont mind seeing it , since its so popular what can u do but i personally dont ship it , at least not shown as non toxic yada yada and idm billford shippers UNLESS ur a weirdo strange weirdo then i hit that block button anyway back to post ) i only think portraying billford works IF you do it with the "toxic" (aka abusive) aspects and yaknow pre betrayal as people call it aka when ford found out bills true intentions i dont post much billford but the literal 2 times i posted billford which wasnt even intended to be shipped/ship material i just tagged it as that because they are both there i portayed billford in an almost creepy evangelical light because thats how it felt to me

billford as a ship TO ME is deep devotion and obsession rather than "oh he fucked that triangle bruh oh my gosh" billford genuinely disturbs me and i like exploring those disturbing parts when i even feel like making something billford adjacent

i feel the same about any bill shipping because ion think any of them can go good but you do you idgaf ship whatever

[deanmarywinchester]

at a bar last semester I got asked for not my number, not my instagram, but my LINKEDIN. and I’m still thinking about it. harrowing. don’t go to grad school.

[boygirlctommy]

barely caught the last few minutes of tommys stream, but it doesnt matter bcus i still cried my eyes out :,) i love you dsmp and most of all i love you dsmp fandom <3

[what-the-toad-likes]

Created by R. Spanner

[baffledapple]

oh man the fucking breakneck speed that hazbin hotel is sprinting at makes me wish they'd released one episode at a time so we had some time to chew on each episode

[artbyblastweave]

A few years ago, there was a thread on r/asksciencefiction where someone was fishing for a superhero story with an inverted Omni-Man dynamic, or a setting where Homelander's initial presentation is played straight- a setting where the Superman figure actually is the paragon of morality he's initially presented as, but no other superhero is- a situation where you've got one really competent true-blue hero standing head-and-shoulders in power above what's otherwise a complete nest of vipers.

Someone in the thread floated My Hero Academia; while I haven't read it, my understanding is that that's not really an accurate read of what's going on with Stain's neurosis about All-Might being the only "real hero," that the point of that arc is that Stain's got an insane and unreasonable standard and that taking an endorsement deal, while bad, isn't actually grounds for execution. My own contribution to the thread was Gail Simone's Welcome to Tranquility, where a major part of the backstory involved the faux Justice-League's Superman analogue having a little accident because he's the only one who thought they were morally obligated to go public with the secret life-extending macguffin that the rest of the team is using to enforce comic-book time on themselves and their loved ones; while only a couple members of the team are directly in on it, the rest are conveniently incurious. And Jupiter's Legacy gets tantalizingly close to this- The Utopian, a well-meaning stick-in-the-mud, ultimately gets blindsided and couped by his scheming brother who creates a superhero junta staffed by a Kingdom-Come-style glut of third-gen superheroes, who are framed as fundamentally self-interested because only came onto the scene after most of the situations you legitimately need a superhero to handle have been neutralized. (The rub, of course, is that the comic is also highly critical of the Utopian's intellectually incurious self-righteously 'apolitical' approach to superheroism- if for no other reason than that it left him in a position to get blindsided by a coup!) While Jupiter's Legacy gets the closest, all three of these are only loosely orbiting around the spirit of the original idea, and there's something really interesting there- particularly if the Superman figure isn't hopelessly naive in the same way as Utopian. Because first of all, if you're Metaman or Amazingman or whatever brand-name alias the writer goes with, and you really earnestly mean it, and you put together a team of all the other most powerful heroes on earth in order to pool your resources, and then with dawning horror you gradually begin to realize that everyone in the room besides yourself is a fascist or a con artist or abuser or any other variant of a kid with a magnifying glass eyeing that anthill called Earth- What the hell is your next move?

Do you just call the whole thing off? Can you trust that they'll actually go home if you call the whole thing off? I mean you've put the idea in their heads, are you sure that they aren't going to, like, start the Crime Syndicate in your absence? Do you stick around to try and enact containment, see if getting all of these people on a team makes them easier to keep on a leash? But that's functionally going to make you their enabler pretty quickly, right? Overlooking "should you kill them-" can you kill them? You're stronger than any individual one of them- are you stronger than all of them? The first time one of them really crosses a line in a way you can't ignore- will that be a one-on-one fight? Are they the kind of people capable of putting two-and-two together and pre-emptively ganging up on you if you push back too hard? Do you just start trying to get them killed, or keep them at each other's throats so they can't coordinate anything really nasty? Can you squeeze any positive moral utility out of them, or is that just a way to justify not doing the hard work of taking them down? There've been works where the conceit is to question the default assumption that Superman in specific would be a good person, and there've been works where the conceit is to question the default assumption that superheroes in general would be good people. Something to be done, I think, with questioning the default assumption that everyone Superman becomes professionally close to would be good, and to explore how he'd handle it if they weren't.

[daeneryxx]

not trying to be mean or rude but i’m so fucking fed up with people using the coping mechanism argument to write the most disgusting and horrendous stories.

i’m really sorry for what y’all have been through, truly i am, but im fed up with scrolling to find a good smut to read and finding shit like “dad!malecharacter fucking you in front of his work mates and piss kink 🤪” (no lie)

what the actual fuck? why would you make my favorite character an inc€stuous r*pist?

if it helps you to write abt your trauma, fine, but you don’t have to post it. i don’t want to read that and guess what? a lot of people don’t either.

r*pe isn’t hot.

incest isn’t hot.

p€d0philia isn’t hot.

non con/dubious consent/somnophilia aren’t hot.

piss/shit kinks aren’t hot.

NONE OF THOSE ARE SUPPOSED TO BE ROMANTICIZED OR NORMALIZED.

[paulyenvol6]

Byka Atroksia (Masterlist)

This is the masterlist/moodboard/summary for my new series called "Byka Atroksia". It's a story between Daemon Targaryen x reader (Vhaela Targaryen)

First of all: This story is based on the HBO/Max TV show House of the Dragon and the works of George R R Martin. I don't own any of the characters.

This story should only be read by people over 18 years as it contains adult content.

You can find the following themes in this story: HIGHLY detailed smut, fingering, oral (f & m receiving), kissing, dirty talk, losing of virginity, gagging, p in v, unprotected sex, period sex, praising, degrading, edging, overstimulating, blindfolding, some non-con choking, possessiveness, body image issues, angst, mentions of period and pregnancy, incest, inappropriate relationship between uncle and niece, power imbalance, dom!Daemon, inexperienced reader, arranged marriage, toxic relationship, morally questionable behaviour, abusive behaviour, sexual abuse (not performed by Daemon!)

Disclaimer: I am aware that the dynamic of this relationship is problematic as Vhaela's inferiority complexes cause her to search for Daemon's attention. So please be careful while reading this and have in mind that this kind of relationship is neither healthy nor desirable. Daemon is a bad person. His actions are irresponsible and unethical and he manipulates Vhaela. Don't try at home please.

Disclaimer 2.0: The G Spot: In this story I mention the g spot (even though the characters obviously don't know this term for it and what exactly it is) as a way for women to receive pleasure. I know that the existance of it is controversial and it's not scientifically proven that something similar exists. However, I still decided to include it in my story so my main character is able to receive pleasure by vaginal sex, but be aware that a lot of women don't get pleasure plainly by vaginal sex. I just don't want to portray a false image of what sex is supposed to be like so I felt the need to write a short paragraph about it.

Summary: Vhaela Targaryen is the younger sister to Rhaenyra Targaryen and has all her life felt like she was competing with her sister for their interesting and dangerous uncle's attention. In Vhaela's mind her beautiful and confident sister has already won this fight but when Daemon Targaryen returns from a battle at the Stepstones things seem to be a little different and she explores a whole new world of emotions.

Smut is marked with *

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 * (very light smut) Chapter 3 * Chapter 4 Chapter 5 * Chapter 6 * Chapter 7 Chapter 8 * Chapter 9 Chapter 10 * Chapter 11 * Chapter 12 Chapter 13 * Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 * Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 * Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 * Chapter 26 (Final chapter)

[bbkoolkatz]

𝖋𝖆𝖙𝖊 𝖈𝖍𝖔𝖘𝖊𝖓!

comment to be added to the taglist for this story!

»»————> presenting;

pairing: barbarian!prince! Katsuki Bakugo x chief!daughter! reader.

synopsis: an arranged marriage to the prince of the barbarian clan to save your kingdom from being wiped out... cliche innit. stem's off the MHA fantasy au!

content warnings: FEMALE READER! strangers to lovers! slow burn! MHA fantasy AU! adult themes! arranged marriage! sexual content! rough n gruff Katsuki! mentions of blood in a lot of scenes! rituals! dub-con in some scenes! (for caution, because y'all can't understand each other) if u're religious, PLEASE PROCEED WITH CAUTION!!! angst! fluff! smut! WARNINGS APPLY TO ALL CHAPTERS!!! and are there to exercise caution!

updated on Wednesdays and Saturdays!

𝖕𝖗𝖔𝖑𝖔𝖌𝖚𝖊↓; 2.5k+ words

»»————> LORE! [you can continue without reading all this]

the barbarian clan is known for conquering any village, kingdom and/or empire. they are brutes, usually settling anything by waging war and desecrating the land.

the barbarians speak in old Norse! conversing is difficult...

Katsuki is the only son and prince of the barbarian clan.

barbarians are stronger and bigger in size than regular humans.

your kingdom is ruled by your father—called cheif instead of king—who's a big softy and doesn't see the point in things like war... he prefers to talk things out and leave casualties to a zero. even if that means marrying off his only daughter...

you are the only daughter of your father which only makes you more precious and worthy of bearing the heir of both your kingdom and their clan.

tetsugami; a huge, semi intelligent crab. [there are few now as people have hunted them down to the double digits.]

crimson dragons; giant flying lizards. [they are very friendly despite their mean looking faces & their scales are extremely valuable.]

(more coming soon)

Old Norse Alphabet;

1. A/a- Pronunciation: ah as in "father."

2. B/b- Pronunciation: b as in "bed."

3. D/d- Pronunciation: d as in "dog."

4. Ð/ð (called eth)- Pronunciation: Soft th as in "this."

5. E/e- Pronunciation: eh as in "bed."

6. F/f- Pronunciation: f as in "fox." Between vowels, pronounced as v.

7. G/g- Pronunciation: g as in "go." After certain vowels, it softens to a y sound.

8. H/h- Pronunciation: h as in "house."

9. I/i- Pronunciation: ee as in "see."

10. J/j- Pronunciation: y as in "yes."

11. K/k- Pronunciation: k as in "king."

12. L/l- Pronunciation: l as in "lamp."

13. M/m- Pronunciation: m as in "man."

14. N/n- Pronunciation: n as in "name."

15. O/o- Pronunciation: aw as in "law."

16. P/p- Pronunciation: p as in "pen."

17. R/r- Pronunciation: Rolled r, like in Spanish or Italian.

18. S/s- Pronunciation: s as in "see."

19. T/t- Pronunciation: t as in "top."

20. U/u- Pronunciation: oo as in "moon."

21. V/v- Pronunciation: Often interchangeable with f, pronounced like English v.

22. Y/y- Pronunciation: Similar to ee but with rounded lips, like French u in lune.

23. Þ/þ (called thorn)- Pronunciation: Hard th as in "thorn."

24. Æ/æ- Pronunciation: ai as in "air."

25. Ö/ö- Pronunciation: ur as in "bird" (without the r).

M-LIST!

𝖕𝖗𝖔𝖑𝖔𝖌𝖚𝖊 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 1 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 2

marriage. the best thing that could ever happen to a girl. all your life, you'd imagined being a bride; delicately decorating your hair with wild tulips, adorning your body in silver and white silk. spending the rest of your life with the person you love most.

now you're here, kneeling in front of a bonfire beside a complete stranger, cloaked in boar fur and animal skeletons, as the thick, warm blood of a lamb is poured over you. your marriage ceremony... filled with unfamiliar faces—including your now-husband—and traditions. drinking, dancing, and celebrating the union.

"nú ger hana konu þína!" a spiked-blonde woman, with an uncanny resemblance to the man kneeling beside you, announced, raising her hands in the air. you looked around confused as ever, as he leaned in, blood-stained fingers pulling you in by the back of your neck. your nose scrunched at the metallic taste of blood that his tongue shoved past your teeth. you push him away, gasping at the foreign feeling.

"hvat í helvíti, kona!?" he frowned, turning away from you, mumbling something under his breath, that you didn’t quite catch. not that you'd understand what he was carrying on about anyways...

the spiked-blonde woman—whom you guessed to be some sort of priestess or elder—shot you a sharp glare, her arms lowering slowly as she spoke in a hushed yet commanding tone. her words were incomprehensible to you, but the crowd seemed to murmur in agreement. your husband huffed, his frown deepening as he looked at you over his shoulder. you were kneeling there, with eyes pressing on you from all directions. the fire crackled in the silence, and the warmth of it did little to ease the chill settling in your chest.

two women approached you, their faces painted with intricate swirls of red and black. they tugged you to your feet without a word and began guiding you toward a tent decorated with bones, animal pelts, and dried herbs hanging from the entrance. inside, it was dimly lit by a few small lanterns. the air smelled of earth, smoke, and something sweet but unfamiliar.

they gestured for you to sit on a low stool and began pulling at your ceremonial garb, their movements quick but not unkind. your protests fell on deaf ears as they stripped you of the heavy fur cloak, wiping the blood from your skin with damp cloths. one of them muttered something, shaking her head as she scrubbed at your face. it was clear they didn't understand you either, but their disapproving looks were universal.

by the time they were finished, you were dressed in a simpler gown of rough-spun fabric, a far cry from the silks you were used to and had imagined for your wedding night. the older of the two handed you a wooden cup filled with a thick, bitter scented liquid. she pointed to it, then your mouth, her expression stern. reluctantly, you sipped it, grimacing at the taste. the woman nodded, seemingly satisfied, before they left you alone in the tent.

you sat there, staring at your hands, trying to gather your thoughts, but instead, they drift back to just a few mere hours ago...

-

"arranged?" you seethed in disbelief, looking at your defeated father, seated across from you at the council table, surrounded by old wrinkled elders.

"yes, daughter," he affirmed, voice devoid of emotion. "war against the barbarian clan would destroy everything we've built—"

"so they made a proposal, a very very rare one," one of the wart ridden elders interrupted-

"to make an arrangement," another continued-

"one that cannot be broken once forged," -

"a marriage,"-

"your sacrifice would save us all, child," the eldest croaked, concluding the proposal, "and as the chief's daughter, it is your duty to your people." one after the other, they all slowly turned their heads toward you, kneeling at the center of their godforsaken grey gazes.

your eyes flickered between them, their crinkled foreheads making you feel sick to your stomach as their words wrung your heartstrings. "marriage is sacred... it can only happen once. i don't know this person that you'd like me to be bound to for the rest of my life..." you snarled, stating the very obvious to those expired raisins.

"i'm afraid you misunderstood us, girl," the eldest fumed, weakly slamming his fist down, "it is arranged. you will wed the heir of the barbarian clan. that is why you have been summoned." firmly raising from his seat to intimidate you.

"that is my daughter you're speaking to, elder... as old as you are, mind your tongue." your father shifted his attention to you. "unfortunately, he is right, my dear. it's already been arranged, and you are to be wed at sundown."

dumbfounded... that's the look on your face. they we're giving you away to complete strangers... and at sundown!? despite all the colorful words that wanted to fly out your mouth, you grit your teeth and settled with a curt nod. you do have a duty to your people.

though it wasn't supposed to happen like this. it was supposed to be the happiest day of your life. you only get married once in your entire life after all.

-

the sound of heavy footsteps outside the tent snapped you out of your thoughts. the flap was pulled aside roughly, and your husband stepped in. his presence filled the small space, his broad shoulders and wild blonde hair almost brushing the top of the tent as his crimson eyes bore into you, a mixture of frustration and curiosity in his gaze.

he said something, his voice sharp and demanding, but you could only blink up at him in confusion. "i don't understand you," you said softly, shaking your head, as your voice trembled, despite your efforts to stay composed.

he huffed, combing a hand through his hair before pointing at you and then gesturing to the pallet of furs in the corner of the tent. his tone suggested he was giving you an order. when you didn't move, he groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"leggjask. sofa." he barked, his frustration very much evident. when you still didn't respond, he crossed the space between you in two long strides, grabbing your wrist and pulling you to your feet. the roughness of his grip made you wince, but he didn't seem to notice as he guided you toward the furs. he pointed again, his expression leaving no room for argument.

you hesitated, thinking that maybe he wanted you to lie down, and slowly you lower yourself onto the makeshift bed. he stood over you for a moment, his intense gaze making your skin prickle, before he turned and left the tent without another word.

you let out a shaky breath, your heart pounding in your chest. you were alone in an unfamiliar place, surrounded by strangers who you couldn't even get to know, married to a man you didn't understand. tears pricked at the corners of your eyes with the overwhelming thoughts, but you blinked them away, refusing to let yourself break down on your wedding night.

the two women that cleaned you up earlier came back with him, and they began to remove his furs. you quickly averted your eyes, feeling a heat crawling up your neck, as the thought of them removing more than just his cloak tainted your mind.

"nei!" the old one scolded, "Þú verður að líta!" ... why are they babbling their jibberish when they know you don't understand them... "she said, 'you must look'," the younger translated, seeing the confused wrinkle in your brows. oh thank the gods! you smiled briefly at the familiar words before coming back to your senses.

"must i?" you blush, slowly turning back to them.

"yes," she smiled, cleansing your huge husband before your eyes, "if you do not, you give chance for another woman," she carefully rubbed the damp cloth over his bloody forehead while you let the thought sink in.

"leave," you softly ordered, "I'll take care of my husband," and without hesitation she whispered to the old lady, they dropped everything and left. ain't no way you were about to let your husband be seduced away on the night of your union...

gently, you wrung the cloth of most of its water and brought it back up to his face, wiping away the dust and dried blood that covered little scars freckling his almost perfect face.

his eyes burned through your skull with his staring, slowly scanning over the curves and dips of your body as you moved. your finger danced over his skin, tracing the scar on his right cheekbone, moving down to brush past his thin lips, wiping away the remnants of dirt on his well built, chest. he seemed to relax against your touch, closing his piercing crimson eyes, and hanging his head back to let you do your work.

so soft... and smooth... the texture of his skin isn't what you expected. who would've thought that such a rough looking barbarian had the skin of a baby? would explain all the scars though. like this one running down his neck to his collarbone, and these over here trailing down his firm biceps. you almost forgot you were supposed to be cleaning him up... you've finished the upper half and tugged at the leather holding his pants up, struggling to get them undone.

a low chuckle rumbled in his throat and your eyes shot up up to his smirking face, "what's so funny?" you quiver, frowning, as he shifted to stand, undoing the leather and dropping his pants to the dirt floor. "þar," he rasped, smug at your flustered state.

having those women clean him up was starting to seem more and more reasonable now... nevertheless, you dippied the cloth in the bowl of warm water and squeezed it, before wiping at his lower abdomen. you're so adorable between his legs like that, avoiding his eyes at all costs, while you wipe your way down and around, to his back. again, your hands moved of their own accord, twitching along the scupletd bumps on his back.

he grunted softly as your fingers worked over the knots in his shoulders, his broad frame shifting slightly under your touch. emboldened by the lack of protest, you continued, pressing harder into the muscles along his spine. his head dipped forward, and a low sigh escaped his lips, sending a wave of warmth through you. he brought a large hand up to yours on his shoulders and guided you in front of him.

both your eyes reflected in each other's for a long moment before you tried to break the silence, your words sounding like nonsensical ringing in his ears. he pulled you into his chest, just holding you there in an attempt to shush you, closing his eyes as his brows pinched over them.

"what's your name?" you asked softly, your voice barely audible over the crackling of the distant bonfire. you paused, waiting for a response, but he didn't seem to react, his eyes still closed as if savoring the moment. you tried again, a little louder this time, "what is your name?" you pointed at his chest.

he peeped through his eyelids, a sliver of vermilion meeting yours with a flicker of confusion. "nafnið mitt?" he asked, the foreign words rolling off his tongue. he tilted his head, as though trying to piece together what you were asking.

you frowned, gesturing to yourself. "i'm…" you said your name slowly, pointing at your chest, then gestured to him, raising your brows expectantly.

he blinked, mildly confused, before a smirk tugged at his lips. "Katsuki," he said, his voice low and rough. he tapped his chest, meeting your eyes again. "Kat-su-ki," he repeated, in the same manner you pronounced yours, ensuring you understood.

"Ka-tsu-ki…" you tested the name on your tongue, the unfamiliar syllables feeling oddly satisfying. his smirk widened slightly, pleased that you had caught on.

you nodded, offering a small smile in return, then gestured to yourself again. "my name is…" you repeated your name slowly once more, hoping to bridge the language barrier. his brows furrowed, lips moving as he attempted to mimic the unfamiliar sounds. his effort was clumsy but endearing, and you couldn't help the small laugh that escaped you.

his frown deepened at your amusement. he murmured your name under his breath a few more times, his pronunciation improving with each attempt, until he finally said it with enough accuracy to make you grin.

"that's right!" you cheered softly, nodding in approval.

he held your gaze for a moment longer, his expression unreadable, before his hand came up to gently brush against your cheek. his touch was surprisingly tender, his calloused fingers rough against your skin, but warm.

"sofa," he murmured again, his tone softer this time. he gestured toward the furs, his crimson eyes watching you closely.

you hesitated, unsure if he was commanding you or simply suggesting something. this is it. you thought, heart racing, as you slowly nodded, giving him a glance over your shoulder, before crawling onto the makeshift bed.

he stood for a moment, watching as you adjusted yourself among the furs, before he joined, sinking beside your head with his weight on his palms, caging you in under him. his hair fell beautifully over his narrow, glowing eyes, his nose brushing against yours as he lowered to your quivering lips, sucking them between his, tugging at your plump bottom lip with his teeth.

footsteps thumping right outside your tent made your heart race, thinking someone was coming, but he didn't stop, nor did he care, he hiked up the thin fabric of your dress, his large hand caressing your upper thigh as he shed the leather covering his— good god... you look down and your eyes widened. he smirked and hooked the strap of your dress with a finger to pull it down, and expose your heaving chest.

"Katsuki!" the blonde woman from earlier yelled, barging into the tent, "Tak hendur þínar af henni, þú þarft at vera við ráðsafn. núna!"

"För Guðs sakar, kona!" he yelled back, moving himself off you to sit. he looked up at her worried frown... "Ek kem..." you had no idea what was happening... eyes darting between them as their words flowed out of their mouth and their hands moved in frustration as they spoke.

katsuki looked back at you, a worried expression overtaking the lustful one he had mere seconds ago. he kneeled down kissed you, then threw on his cloak and left. the woman rested a comforting hand on your shoulder, gently smiling before she too headed out, leaving you alone, following behind your husband.

»»————> 𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖘𝖑𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖘; <————««

❈ "Nú ger hana konu þína." - now make her your wife

❈ "hvat í helvíti, kona!?" - what in the hell woman!?

❈ "þar" - there

❈ "nafnið mitt?" - my name?

❈ "leggjask" lie down

❈ "sofa" - sleep

❈ "Katsuki! Tak hendur þínar af henni, þú þarft at vera við ráðsafn. núna!"- katsuki! take your hands off her, you need to be at the council gathering. now!

❈ "För Guðs sakar, kona!" - for gods sake, woman!

❈ "Ek kem..." - I'm coming...

hope u enjoyed and look forward to more! don't forget to comment to be added to the taglist! mwah~♡

mlist!

[iamnotoriginalphil]

Hello, would you consider writing a unit chief Emily Prentiss x R story? Where reader has nipple piercings and one day at the air conditioner at the BAU breaks so readers in a tank top so the outline of them is noticeable. And of course Derek is the first to notice so he loudly points it out which draws the teams attention to them, and let’s just say Emily very intrigued with them. You could right smut for it if you want to but if not that’s okay.

The Heatwave

Words: 4.3k

Warnings: choking, daddy kink, praise kink, degradation kink, strap on, alcohol, piercings

“You can’t be serious. Thursday? In the middle of this heatwave? We’re going to die.”

Listening to Garcia complain to Morgan was not helping you concentrate on the report Emily wanted on her desk. You swiped the back of your wrist along your forehead, wiping away the sweat threatening to drip into your eye. Your hair was tied up, exposing the back of your neck, begging for a breeze to come along. You needed some sweet relief or you might collapse at your desk.

Summer was particularly brutal that year. You’d been sweating on your commute to and from the office, the air con the only thing keeping you going through the day. But yesterday there had been a weird noise, a shudder in the vents and the cold air had stopped. You weren’t you’d managed to dry out since.

Wiping more sweat away, you sighed. Your tank top was doing nothing to save you from the fires of hell licking at your skin. You groaned, head thunking against the desk.

“See? Brink of death already,” Garcia said, standing behind you.

“I’m not dead,” you said, muffled into the wood of your desk.

“Yet. I’m going to have to go flirt with the maintenance guy and he always stares because he knows that I am a prime woman that he can not keep up with,” she said.

“Of course you are, baby girl. Now go work that pretty face of yours,” Morgan said.

You sighed, sitting up again. It’s not as if you’d be getting any work done with them at your desk, and nor could you nap in the heat. Just the feeling of your skin was making you feel insane.

“When are they going to fix this damned thing?” Emily said, striding out of her office, file clutched in her hand. You felt your heart skip a beat. She was hotter than the heatwave you were going through, and even sweaty, she still made you catch your breath. It wasn’t fair how sexy she was when you were a gross mess.

“Thursday,” Garcia called over to her.

“Can’t we do something about that? she asked, striding over to the huddle that had sprung up at your desk.

“Do you want to flirt with the maintenance guy?” Garcia asked.

“The one with the lazy eye or the one who always smells like cheese?” she asked.

“That’s the same person and yes, that one,” she replied.

Emily shook her head, nose wrinkled. Garcia sighed, crossing her arms over her chest then immediately uncrossing them.

“Hey, what’s that on your chest?” Morgan asked, pointing.

You looked down, not able to see anything out the ordinary. You looked back up, finding him staring at your chest. Then it clicked. You knew he’d been too quiet, and you’d been so distracted by Emily that you hadn’t noticed.

“Are you staring at my tits?” you asked him.

“No,” he said, looking up to your eye, “yes.”

You sighed, crossing your arms over your chest, much in the way Garcia had. It only pushed your tits up, making them more obvious. Garcia was openly looking, eyebrows drawing together until realisation dawned over her face. Emily’s eyes darted down then up to your face again, tongue darting out to drag along her bottom lip. The tension that had been stretching between the two of you for weeks was making you arch your back just a little, giving her a better view.

“Not that it’s anyone’s business,” you said, trying to not get flustered from the heat in Emily’s gaze, “but I have my nipples pierced.”

You lifted your chin, waiting for one of them to say something. A grin spread over Morgan’s face and you could already hear the comments. You glared, waiting for him to say something.

“The girls like that, huh?” he asked.

“They don’t hate it,” you replied.

You couldn’t bare to look at Emily. You might implode if you did. Her reaction could either make or break your ability to think around her. Although, you were hoping she was one of the girls who didn’t hate it.

“Now, if we’re done talking about my nipples, I believe Garcia has a maintenance man to flirt with so none of us die before Thursday,” you said.

You turned back to your computer, your report waiting for you. You did your best to continue working, feeling the weight of the three people standing behind you slow to move away. You were done talking about it in front of your boss, who happened to be the one person you thought about when your fingers were buried deep within you.

“Turns out flirting with Manny in maintenance did nothing. He’s called a guy from the air conditioning company to come fix it and wouldn’t give me his number so I could flirt with him,” Garcia said, stopping by your desk, “so pool party at Rossi’s tonight. You in?”

“Does he know you’re hosting a pool party at his place?” you asked.

“Of course,” she said, “bring your best bikini.”

It was a relief to change into your bikini after work. The cool brush of air on your skin before you pulled on a pair of shorts and loose t-shirt. The air con in your car was the only thing getting you through the drive, bare thighs sticking to the leather of the seat. You parked, staring up at the big house. You jumped when someone knocked on your window.

“Hey,” you said, stepping out of your car.

“So they roped you into this too, huh?” Emily said, closing the door for you, trapping you against the car. Your eyes flicked down her body, a tank top and jeans covering whatever swimsuit she had on. You hadn’t thought about the possibility of seeing her in one when you’d agreed to come.

“Are you kidding? Free pool and free drinks? Count me in,” you said.

She chuckled, those dark eyes sweeping over you. Your skin felt on fire and you couldn’t tell if it was from the heat wave or from the sexy woman in front of you.

“Earlier, at the office,” she said, that tongue you’d dreamt about dragging along her lower lip, “when you were talking about-“

“Are you two going to stand out there all night or are you going to come get wet?”

You jumped, back hitting the side of your car as you startled. Garcia was standing in the doorway, looking at the two of you like you’d both lost your minds. You laughed, trying to cover the dirty thoughts slipping through your mind at Garcia’s words.

“Come on,” you said.

You slipped past her, body brushing against hers. Her eyes were still trained on you, sweeping over your body, and you were trying your best not to read too much into it. You combed your fingers through your hair, pulling it up into a ponytail to get it off the sticky skin of your neck. With your back to her, you missed the way Emily watched you, eyes darkening and lips pulling up into a smirk.

You were quick to pick up an ice cold beer as you passed through the kitchen, plucking it from the cooler. Derek flung his arm over your shoulders, already dripping from the pool. You wrinkled your nose, shoving his arm off you.

“What took you so long?” Morgan asked, “changing into more pool appropriate jewellery?”

“You keep that up and you’ll never get out of that pool,” you replied.

“Do you have to change them to make them pool safe?” Garcia asked.

“Change what?” Spencer asked, dipping his toe into the pool, trousers rolled up to his ankles.

“My piercings. They’re the big news of the day,” you replied, “we’re not talking about this any more.”

“But you don’t have your ears-“

You shoved Reid in the shoulder. His arms windmilled before he fell forward, a large splash going up, water landing on your bare legs. You bit down on your lip, trying to keep the giggles in. They burst from you, unwilling to be contained. He was gasping for air when he emerged from the water, hair plastered to his face.

“That wasn’t very nice,” Emily chided, coming up behind you.

“I told him we weren’t talking about it anymore,” you said.

“Of course you were,” she said.

You weren’t expecting her hands landing on your shoulders, warm through the thin cotton of your shirt. With very little effort, she shoved you backwards, straight into the cold water of the pool. Your shriek was cut off as you went under.

Spluttering, you surfaced from the water. The laughter was surrounding you. You rolled your eyes, pulling yourself out of the pool, offering a hand to Reid to pull him out after you.

“Alright, point taken,” you said, “can we stop talking about my nipples now?”

“Oh.” Spencer’s face turned into a tomato.

You reached for the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head. Wringing it out over the pool, you didn’t notice the way Emily’s eyes were lingering on your bare skin, water dripping down your body. You turned, slinging the shirt over one of the loungers, once again failing to notice how Emily’s eyes lingered where your piercings were pressing up against your bikini top.

“Alright, I’m getting another beer since mine is now at the bottom of the pool,” you said, “spoils to the victors I guess.”

Stripping your sneakers and socks off, you left them on the deck and stepped back into the kitchen. Bending, you rummaged through the ice and the cans for a bottle. You stood, empty handed, disappointment making you sigh.

“Oh, have we already run out?”

You jerked, spinning towards the woman you hadn’t heard follow you. Bumping into her, something cold sloshed over your skin. The bottle held in her hand was sweating in the warm air and the scent of beer was on the air.

“I’m so sorry,” Emily said, finger swiping through the beer clinging to your skin, right over the soft skin beside the wet fabric of your bikini.

“It’s alright. It was an accident,” you said, breath catching, heart thudding, skin heating.

“You might want to clean up. We wouldn’t want you to be so…” She raised her dark eyes from where she’d been watching her finger trail through the beer on your skin, “sticky.”

You stumbled back a step from her, heart racing. You had no idea what was going through her head but all you could think was how you wanted her tongue to trace the same route as her finger.

“I’m going to… go wash this off,” you said, slipping past her.

Her eyes followed you out of the room and this time you did notice. You weren’t fleeing but you were strategically retreating or else you might beg her lick you clean. You closed the door, giving yourself room to breathe again.

Turning on the faucet, you dabbed at the trail of drying beer on your skin. When you looked up again you found the door opening and a dark haired figure sliding into the bathroom with you. Your eyes widened when they met Emily’s in the mirror.

“Sorry. I’ll just be a second,” you said.

“No rush,” she hummed.

Reaching around you, she placed the glass bottle down on the edge of the sink, arm brushing against the dip of your waist. You stilled, frozen from how close she was, staring into her face. Lips pulled up into a confident smirk. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip, holding your breath as she seemed to draw even closer.

“I was hoping to get you alone tonight. I have a favour to ask,” she said, voice deepening as her eyes swept down again, focusing on your bare skin and the way your hardened nipples were showing through your bikini top.

“Oh?” you squeaked.

“Will you show me your piercings?” she asked.

You stuttered over an answer, cheeks heating as the thought of showing her filled your head. Your head quickly emptied of thoughts as her finger came up, playing with the string of your bikini. It brushed up over your collarbone before gently running over your pulse point. She watched you as she gently tugged on it, snapping it back against your skin.

“Please?” she asked, voice lowering until it was an intimate whisper.

“Alright,” you said, breathless, desperate, her touch making you a mess with so little effort.

She stepped back, her hand slipping from you. You took a deep shuddering breath, reaching up to slowly pull the knot free. Her tongue dragged along her lower lip as your top slid free, exposing your chest to her. One hand came up, resting against your ribs, steadying you as she stared down at your tits.

“So pretty,” she murmured.

One finger gently tapped on the ball at the end of the bar of one of the piercings. Your sharp inhalation brought her eyes up to yours, smouldering as she did it again. You weren’t aware of arching your back, pushing them towards her but her satisfied smirk was answer enough.

“Does that feel good, princess?” she asked. That nickname sent a jolt of pleasure right between your thighs.

“Uh huh,” you replied.

She gently tugged on the other, your small whimper making her chuckle.

“Use you words, princess,” she said.

“Feels so good,” you replied.

She did it again, a little rougher. Her name was a soft sigh, arching even further, practically begging her to continue. She complied, both hands playing with the jewellery in your nipples. Your fingers clutched at the counter, holding you up as you lent backwards.

“And what do you say when I make you feel so good?” she murmured, drawing closer.

“Thank you, daddy,” slipped from between your lips, surprising you. Your eyes widened, an apology ready, until you saw the way her eyes darkened, a sharp tug on one piercing then the other making you forget why you should.

She lent forward, breath ghosting over your hardened nipples. You froze, waiting to see what she was about to do. Her pink tongue ran along the length of one bar. Your moan was embarrassing in your ears but her hands were wrapped around your ribs, holding you in place as she did the same thing to the other one. She hummed, doing it again, transitioning from metal to flesh back to metal.

The clack of her teeth against the metal startled you until she tugged again, lips brushing flesh. Your knees were turning to jelly and you were gasping for air, but she held you in place as she played with your jewellery. Your head tipped back, fingers tangling in her dark hair as you pressed her closer. She hummed again, taking your nippled in her mouth, tongue playing with the piercing.

The throbbing between your legs was growing and you could feel how wet you were. You wanted her. You wanted her so badly it was like a physical thing, lodged in your chest. The vibration of her moan while her eyes looked up at you made you make small noise in the back of your throat.

Her teeth closed on the metal, tugging on it to the point of pain curling around the pleasure. The way you moaned her name was filthy, embarrassing in how desperate you were. Her hand was gentle as it skimmed up your body for those long fingers wrapped around your throat. She tugged on your piercing again, fingers tightening just enough for your whine to be quiet.

“Now you’re going to be good for daddy, aren’t you?” she said.

“Yes,” you breathed, not even sure what you were agreeing to.

“Then be good for daddy and turn around.”

You scrambled to follow her instructions, turning to face the mirror. Your eyes were blown wide in the mirror, wild and desperate. Her fingers curled around your throat again, the prettiest necklace you could imagine. With one foot she knocked both of yours apart, her other hand reaching around your body to play with the button of your denim shorts.

“You’re so good at following my instructions,” she murmured, lips brushing the shell of your ear. You felt breathless, and not just from the tightening pressure on your throat.

“Do you see how pretty you are? Looking so lovely for daddy. Wearing such pretty jewellery for me. Flaunting this body. Do you know what you do to me?” she continued, the hand on the waistband of your shorts trailing up, playing with one of your piercings again.

“Those tight little skirts in the office, watching me like you’re just waiting for me to bend you over my desk, asking for discipline. You want me to give you my full attention, don’t you princess?”

“Yes,” you whimpered.

“And that’s why you decided to show off to everyone today, isn’t it? I noticed the way you arched your back, wanting everyone to see these pretty little piercings. Did you want everyone to be imagining what you look like like this, your beautiful body on display, just perfect for my hands to play with? Such a little slut trying to get my attention.”

Her fingers tightened again around your neck. Those dark eyes were watching you, the cocky smirk on her lips only making you shift closer, pressing your hips backwards towards her. You brushed against a bulge in her pants, confusion marring your features before realisation dawned over your face.

“Do you want daddy’s cock, princess?” she asked.

“Yes,” you moaned.

“Then beg for it.”

Her eyes met yours in the mirror, waiting with a patience you did not feel.

“Please, daddy. I want your cock so bad. I need it. I need to feel you inside me. Please,” you pleaded, “please fuck me, daddy. I’ll be so good for you. I want you so much.”

Her hand trailed back down to your shorts, unbuttoning them.

“That’s my good girl,” she said.

She tugged your shorts down, your bikini bottom following close behind. You kicked them away as she tugged her hips back, the bulge in her pants brushing against the bare skin of your ass. A small whine fell from your lips, pressing further backwards.

A finger passed through your folds, gathering your wetness before it ghosted over your clit. If not for the hand still wrapped around your throat, your head would have fallen forward with a small groan. Her throaty chuckle as she teased you only made you whine, begging her for more. She held your eyes in the mirror, finger dipping into your entrance, just barely, stealing your breath again.

“Look at how desperate you are. Such a desperate little slut begging for daddy’s cock. Pretty little whore wanting to please me.”

Her hand disappeared from between your legs and the sound of a zipper made you shiver. The warmth of her body pressed against your back. Your fingers clenched around the edge of the sink, knees turning to jelly.

She held you steady, one hand on your hip as the tip of her strap teased your entrance. She gave a shallow thrust, the strap stroking through your folds. Your breath turned shaky and her fingers tightened just a little bit more, enough that you could only just suck air into your lungs.

“You’re going to make such a mess on daddy’s cock. You’re dripping. Is all this for me?”

“Yes,” came out as a strangled groan, “all for you.”

“That’s my good girl.”

She was slow to push into you, so controlled in contrast to how desperation burned through your veins. Her dark eyes were watching you in the mirror, cataloguing the way pleasure rippled over your face and a moan fell from your lips. She pushed in to the hilt, hips flushed with yours. Pausing there, she let you feel how perfectly she filled you. You wriggled your hips, wanting more, the throbbing more than you could deal with.

“Use your words, princess,” she chided, holding you still.

“Please fuck me, daddy. Please,” you whined, “need you so bad.”

“Good girl.”

She pulled out until only the tip of the cock was left before slamming into you. The cry that left your lips would have embarrassed you if a wave of pleasure wasn’t rolling over you. Your fingers clenched, holding on tight as she dragged the strap out, pausing for too long before plunging in again.

The pace she set was relentless. Harsh and rough, she maintained eye contact with you, fingers clenching around your throat the moment it looked as if you were about to look away. Her other hand was finding its home between your thigh, circling your clit, a slow contrast to her thrusts. The mumbled encouragements in your ears were only setting fire to your bloodstream.

“You’re taking it so well for daddy,” she murmured, “such a pretty pussy hungry for daddy’s cock. My little cock slut.”

“Thank you, daddy,” you sighed.

“So polite.” She sounded so pleased with you.

You moaned as her pace picked up, slamming into you. Her thumb was grinding down on your bundle of nerves and you could feel her panting breath against your skin. Her hand was tightening around your throat, cutting off your air supply. You watched her in the mirror watching you. You met her thrust for thrust, pressing your hips back to hers. You felt so full with her inside of you, her cock emptying your head of anything but her and the way she made you feel hazy with pleasure.

“I’m so close, daddy,” you whimpered.

“No cumming without permission, princess,” she told you, not bothering to slow her pace.

You did your best, holding yourself back, trying so hard not to orgasm. You wanted to be her good girl. To do what she asked you. To please her.

“Look at how pretty your pussy is when I fuck into it. It was made for my cock, wasn’t it, princess? Made just for me to use,” she murmured, hips driving into you.

She wasn’t holding back. She was watching you, so closely, making sure you followed her instructions. From the curl of her lips she knew how hard you were trying and how difficult she was making it for you. Each thrust of her cock hit that place within you that made your legs tremble and your blood sing. Over and over, thumb grinding, the pleasure was turning painful as you held yourself back.

“Please, daddy. Need to cum so bad,” you begged, tears beginning to gather in the corner of your eyes.

“Not yet, princess. Keep making daddy feel good,” she said, “you’re doing so well for me.”

You sobbed, so close to coming undone but determined to be a good girl for her. She kept pounding into you, her praise only making it harder to hold on. With a tight grip, she cut off your air supply completely. Her eyes found yours in the mirror again, and her lips ticked up into a smirk.

“Okay, cum for me, princess,” she said.

It crashed into you the moment you let it. Pleasure ripped through you, wave after wave. You sobbed out your thanks, hips stuttering as you felt yourself begin to collapse forward. The hand around your throat kept you up as she fucked you through the orgasm.

She released you, letting you fall over the sink. Her thrusting slowed until she was sheathed within you, holding you, hands gentle until you caught your breath. Sweat slicked your skin and your breathing was uneven, but when you looked in the mirror your eyes were bright and your smile lazy.

“You were so good for me, princess. Such a good girl. So perfect for me,” she praised, “you did so well.”

She pulled out of you, the feeling of being full disappearing with her. She lowered you onto the edge of the bath, so gentle. Looking up, still with her tank top on and the cock between her legs, you found yourself staring. She’d just made you cum harder than ever in your life and you wanted her to touch you again.

With sure hands, she wetted a flannel before kneeling in front of you, cleaning the sticky arousal from your skin. You melted, watching her clean you up. You reached out, running your hand through her hair. She smiled up at you, fingers trailing over the skin of your legs. Her lips pressed to the inside of your knee and you softened.

“Was that okay?” she asked, “were you okay with that?”

“More than.” You lent forward, cupping her cheeks, “I’ve wanted you for so long, Emily. This was basically my dream coming true.”

“Mine too,” she said, looking up at you.

“Maybe we could do this again,” you said, doing your best not to worry she was about to tell you this was a one time thing. She pushed the hair that had fallen from your ponytail behind your ear.

“Oh, we’re definitely doing this again,” she said, raising from her knees, “I plan on having you in every way possible.”

You heated at the thought. She tucked her strap on back into her trousers, pulling them up and re-buttoning them. She lent forward again, catching your chin between thumb and forefinger. Her lips pressed to yours, so quick it left you wanting more.

“Enjoy the beer, princess,” she said, tapping on the ball of one of your piercings, making you hiss, “you’ve earned it.”

She slipped out of the bathroom, leaving you alone to redress and try to not look like you’d just been fucked in Rossi’s bathroom. The smile on your face was a dead give away. You fixed your ponytail and pulled on your damp clothes, watching yourself in the mirror. Picking up the bottle left for you, you took a long drink from it, your lips where Emily’s had been not so long ago. Your smile refused to dim.

Maybe the heatwave wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Against Lore

For the rest of May, my bestselling solarpunk utopian novel THE LOST CAUSE (2023) is available as a $2.99, DRM-free ebook!

One of my favorite nuggets of writing advice comes from James D Macdonald. Jim, a Navy vet with an encylopedic knowledge of gun lore, explained to a group of non-gun people how to write guns without getting derided by other gun people: "just add the word 'modified.'"

As in, "Her modified AR-15 kicked against her shoulder as she squeezed the trigger, but she held it steady on the car door, watching it disintegrate in a spatter of bullet-holes."

Jim's big idea was that gun people couldn't help but chew away at the verisimilitude of your fictional guns, their brains would automatically latch onto them and try to find the errors. But the word "modified" hijacked that impulse and turned it to the writer's advantage: a gun person's imagination gnaws at that word "modified," spinning up the cleverest possible explanation for how the gun in question could behave as depicted.

In other words, the gun person's impulse to one-up the writer by demonstrating their superior knowledge becomes an impulse to impart that superior knowledge to the writer. "Modified" puts the expert and the bullshitter on the same team, and conscripts the expert into fleshing out the bullshitter's lies.

Yes, writing is lying. Storytelling is genuinely weird. A storyteller who has successfully captured the audience has done so by convincing their hindbrains to care about the tribulations of imaginary people. These are people whose suffering, by definition, do not matter. Imaginary things didn't happen, so they can't matter. The deaths of Romeo and Juliet were less tragic than the death of the yogurt you had for breakfast. That yogurt was alive and now it's dead, whereas R&J never lived, never died, and don't matter:

https://locusmag.com/2014/11/cory-doctorow-stories-are-a-fuggly-hack/

Hijacking a stranger's empathic response is intrinsically adversarial. While storytelling is a benign activity, its underlying mechanic is extremely dangerous. Getting us to care about things that don't matter is how novels and movies work, but it's also how cults and cons work.

Cult leaders and con-artists know that they're engaged in mind-to-mind combat, and they make liberal use of Jim's hack of leaving blank spots for the mark to fill in. Think of Qanon drops: the mystical nonsense was just close enough to sensical that a vulnerable audience was compelled to try and untangle them, and ended up imparting more meaning to them than the hustler who posted them ever could have dreamt up.

Same with cons – there's a great scene in the Leverage: Redemption heist show where an experienced con-artist explains to a novice that the most convincing hustle is the one where you wait for the mark to tell you what they think you're doing, then run with it (scambaiters and other skeptics will recognize this as a relative of the "cold reading," where a "psychic" uses your own confirmations to flesh out their predictions).

As Douglas Adams put it:

A towel has immense psychological value. For some reason, if a strag (strag: non-hitch hiker) discovers that a hitch hiker has his towel with him, he will automatically assume that he is also in possession of a toothbrush, face flannel, soap, tin of biscuits, flask, compass, map, ball of string, gnat spray, wet weather gear, space suit etc., etc. Furthermore, the strag will then happily lend the hitch hiker any of these or a dozen other items that the hitch hiker might accidentally have "lost". What the strag will think is that any man who can hitch the length and breadth of the galaxy, rough it, slum it, struggle against terrible odds, win through, and still knows where his towel is is clearly a man to be reckoned with.

Magicians know this one, too. The point of a sleight is to misdirect the audience's attention, and use that moment of misattention to trick them, vanishing, stashing or producing something. The mark's mind is caught in a pleasurable agony: something seemingly impossible just happened. The mind splits into two parts, one of which insists that the impossible just happened, the other insisting that the impossible can't happen.

You know you've done it right if the audience says, "Do that again!" And that's the one thing you must not do. So long as you don't repeat the trick, the audience's imagination will chew on it endlessly, coming up with incredibly clever things that you must have done (a clever conjurer will know several ways to produce the same effect and will "do it again" by reproducing the effect via different means, which exponentially increases the audience's automatic imputation of clever methods to the performer).

Not for nothing, Jim Macdonald advises his writing students to study Magic and Showmanship, a classic text for aspiring conjurers:

https://memex.craphound.com/2007/11/13/magic-and-showmanship-classic-book-about-conjuring-has-many-lessons-for-writers/

There's a version of this in comedy, too. The scholarship of humor is clear on this: comedy comes from surprise. The audience knows they're about to be surprised when the punchline lands, and their mind is furiously trying to defuse the comedian's bomb before it detonates, cycling through potential punchlines of their own. This ramps up the suspense and the tension, so when the comedian does drop the punchline, the tension is released in a whoosh of laughter.

Your mind wants the tension to be resolved ASAP, but the pleasure comes from having that desire thwarted. Comedy – like most performance – has an element of authoritarianism. You don't give the audience what it wants, you give it what it needs.

Same goes for TTRPGs: the game master's role is to deny the players the victories and treasure they want, until they can't take it anymore, and then deliver it. That's the definition of an epic game. It's one of the durable advantages of human GMs over video game back-ends: they can ramp up the epicness by "cheating" on the play, giving the players the chance to squeak out improbable victories at the last possible second:

https://wilwheaton.typepad.com/wwdnbackup/2009/03/behind-the-screen.html

This is so effective that even crude approximations of it can turn video-games into cult hits – like Left4Dead, whose "Director" back-end would notice when the players were about to get destroyed and then substantially ramped up the chances of finding an amazing weapon – the chance would still be low overall, but there would be enough moments when the player got exactly what they'd been praying for, at the last possible instant, that it would feel amazing:

https://left4dead.fandom.com/wiki/The_Director#Special_Infected

Critically, Left4Dead's Director didn't do this every time. As any showman knows, the key to a great performance is "Always leave 'em wanting more." The musician's successful finale depends on doing every encore the audience demands, except the last one, so the crowd leaves with one tantalyzing and imaginary song playing in their minds, a performance better than any the musicians themselves could have delivered. Like the gun person who comes up with a cooler mod than the writer ever could, like the magic show attendee who comes up with a more elaborate explanation for the sleight than the conjurer could ever pull off, like the comedy club attendee whose imagination anticipates a surprise that grows larger the longer the joke goes on, the successful performance is an adversarial act of cooperation where the audience willingly and unwillingly cooperates with the performer to deny them the thing that they think they need, and deliver the thing they actually need.

This is my biggest problem with the notion that someday LLMs will get good enough at storytelling to give us the tales we demand, without having to suffer through a storyteller's sadistic denial of the resolutions we crave. When I'm reading a mystery, I want to turn to the last page and find out whodunnit, but I know that doing so will ruin the story. Telling the storyteller how the story should go is like trying to tickle yourself.

Like being tickled, experiencing only fun if the tickler respects your boundaries – but, like being tickled, there's always a part where you're squirming away, but you don't want it to stop. An AI storyteller that gives you exactly what you want is like a dungeon master who declares that every sword-swing kills the monster, and every treasure chest is full of epic items and platinum pieces. Yes, that's what you want, but if you get it, what's the point?

Seen in this light, performance is a kind of sado-masochism, where the performer delights in denying something to the audience, who, in turn, delights in the denial. Don't give the audience what they want, give them what they need.

What your audience needs is their own imagination. Decades ago, I was a freelance copywriter producing sales materials for Alias/Wavefront, a then-leading CGI firm that was inventing all kinds of never-seen VFX that would blow people away. One of the engineers I worked with told me something I never forgot: "Your imagination has more polygons than anything you can create with our software." He was talking about why it was critical to have some of the action happen in the shadows.

All of this is why series tend to go downhill. The first volume in any series leaves so much to the imagination. The map of the world is barely fleshed out, the characters' biographies are full of blank spots, the mechanics of the artifacts and the politics of the land are all just detailed enough that your mind automatically ascribes a level of detail to them, without knowing what that detail is.

This is the moment at which everything seems very clever, because your mind is just churning with all the different bits of elaborate lore that will fill in those lacunae and make them all fit together.

SPOILER ALERT: I'm about to give some spoilers for Furiosa.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

FURIOSA SPOILERS AHEAD!

Last night, we went to see Furiosa, the latest Mad Max movie, a prequel to 2015's Fury Road, which is one of the greatest movies ever made. Like most prequels, Furiosa functions as a lore-delivery vehicle, and as such, it's nowhere near as good as Fury Road.

Fury Road hints as so much worldbuilding. We learn about the three fortresses of the wasteland (the Citadel, the Bullet Farm, and Gastown) but we only see one (The Citadel). We learn that these three cities have a symbiotic relationship with one another, defined by a complex politics that is just barely stable. We meet Furiosa herself, and learn something of her biography – that she had been stolen from the Green Place, that she had suffered an arm amputation.

All of this is left for us to fill in, and for a decade, my hindbrain has been chewing on all of that, coming up with cool ways it could all fit together. I yearned to know the "real" explanation, but it was always unlikely that this real explanation would be as enjoyable as my own partial, ever-unfinished headcanon.

Furiosa is a great movie, but its worst parts are the canonical lore it settles. Partly, that's because some of that lore is just stupid. Why is the Bullet Farm an open-pit mine? I mean, it's visually amazing, but what does that have to do with making bullets? Sometimes, it's because the lore is banal – the solarpunk Green Place is a million times less cool than I had imagined it. Sometimes, it's because the lore is banal and stupid: the scenes where Furiosa's arm is crushed, then severed, then replaced, are both rushed and quasi-miraculous:

https://www.themarysue.com/how-does-furiosa-lose-her-arm/

But even if the lore had been good – not stupid, not banal – the best they could have hoped for was for the lore to be tidy. If it were surprising, it would seem contrived. A story whose loose ends have been tidily snipped away seems like it would be immensely satisfying, but it's not satisfying – it's just resolved. Like the band performing every encore you demand, until you no longer want to hear the band anymore – the feeling as you leave the hall isn't satisfaction, it's exhaustion.

So long as some key question remains unresolved, you're still wanting more. So long as the map has blank spots, your hindbrain will impute clever and exciting mysteries, tantalyzingly teetering on the edge of explicability, to the story.

Lore is always better as something to anticipate than it is to receive. The fans demand lore, but it should be doled out sparingly. Always leave 'em wanting more.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/27/cmon-do-it-again/#better_to_remain_silent_and_be_thought_a_fool_than_to_speak_and_remove_all_doubt

[sapphosclosefriend]

- Money, Power, Glory pt 1 -

Pairing: CEO! Silverfox! Natasha Romanoff x Escort! Fem! Reader

Genre: suggestive

Summary: Natasha Romanoff, successful and rich CEO, books an urgent meeting with someone who she might be able to finally destress with. Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: top! Natasha x bottom! R, Natasha has a penis, BIG age gap (N=56, R=24), suggestive themes.

A/N: this story contains mature topics so anyone who isn’t 18+ DNI. Just as an introduction hehe don't worry, their first time is in the next one, I won't leave it out! Thanks sooo much to @rt--link and @supercorpdanbeau for being the kindest and both helping me out ❤️ As usual, likes, reblogs and comments are very appreciated! Enjoy ♡

Masterlist

You still remember clearly the day you received the call from your agent. You honestly thought it was a cruel joke of hers at first, but the serious, yet excited, tone in her voice easily reassured you of the realness of the situation. The fact that she was calling you in the first place, and not quickly messaging you, was clear proof of just how important and urgent the matter was. Not only were you requested for that same night, meaning that the trusted woman deemed the new customer as important enough to ditch the advance days you usually demanded, but the house you needed to get to was of no regular person.

You were a high end escort, pleasing la creme de la creme only, well, at least in terms of monetary assets. You, and the agency you worked with, were known for your discretion, professionalism and skills, an overall level of competence that simply tended to attract clients of a certain status. And that's how you met her, the Natasha Romanoff herself, CEO of a multi-billion company she had created from the ground up in her decades-long career. But why was she so important? She would've been the richest one of your clients, it was as simple as that. Pretty much every single one of them were at the head of, if not close to, big and different companies, all with the highest power of the twenty-first century in their hands, money. You had actually thought about dipping your toes in the world of politics once, which was not so surprisingly filled with countless requests interested in your realm of expertise, but thanks to long consideration and much advice, you had decided to avoid its risks, settling on who you knew, after all, had what you wanted, filthy rich assholes. And gosh, wasn't she the richest one of them all.

Aside from her status, the thought of such a woman, so idolized she seemed unattainable, who could and probably had everything in the world, asking for your company, intrigued you immensely. That day, during every single hour you had spent to thoroughly take care of your appearance just for her, anticipation completely took over you. You knew she was beautiful and you genuinely thought she was fucking hot, which wasn't necessarily to be taken for granted in your line of work, but what you found yourself needing to know, and consequently making your interest in her grow even more, was how she was going to be in private. Was she going to be just like one of those countless naggingly cocky know-it-all's who thought of themselves as some sex gods, and gods in general, but really couldn't even figure out if you had cum yet? You found yourself almost wanting her to be different than everybody else, because deep down you felt like, even if she was the most annoying, full of herself bitch ever, you would’ve gladly tried to satisfy every single one of her needs and taken anything from her with a smile on your face. Ok, maybe scrolling for an hour through the internet looking up information about her and consequently ending up lost through any picture of her you could find wasn’t the best idea, but what could you say, you had a bit of a sweet spot for powerful women.

What you gathered from your innocent stalking session, though, was mainly about her countless successes in life but also concerning some gossip regarding her not so successful marriage life. It didn’t bother you, barely anything about your clients did at that point, but it only intrigued you more about why she wanted someone like you. She could’ve had anybody, she was a walking goddess with her pockets more than full and ladies most definitely falling at her feet left and right, yet there she was, in her car, getting back home after one of the longest and most tiring weeks of the past few months to wait for a girl she’d only seen a couple pictures of to take her mind off of everything. Her driver immediately knew not to even greet her by her frustrated sigh and the pinching of the bridge of her own nose as soon as she got in the car and immediately took off to her desired destination, making Natasha thank any and all gods for the nice relief after such displays of incompetence she had to endure from basically her whole staff. She was right at her limit and all the pent up anger and irritation from the week was finally starting to crack her composed facade at the prospect of the imminent weekend slowly reaching her. She didn’t even want to have dinner, she just needed to be at home, everyone out of her goddamn house and a pussy to unload some stress into. If she had to be honest, in that specific moment, she even missed her disastrous married life and the perk of having a wife always waiting for her at home, ready to meet her needs at the end of the day.

She, unfortunately, never felt the symptoms of "true love" with any of her ex wives, but the thought of how badly it had gone wrong with all of them still pained her a little every time her mind drifted to that phase of her life. During her successful yet busy life she'd been through her fair share of failed marriages, all with beautiful women she'd deeply cared for, but all eventually focused on one thing only, her absence. The first thing she'd always made sure to make very, very clear was just how little time she had to dedicate to anything outside of her company, which unfortunately included her personal life. Her best guess was that the haziness coming from a brand new love must've made it hard to get a grasp on her words…every single time, apparently.

It didn't matter anymore, though, because what she had to focus on now seemed to be much more important than any matter ever had. The quick, warm shower she had just enough time to take as soon as she got home was thankfully able to wash away the surface level anger that was starting to make her temple throb, preventing her from being a rude prick for the rest of the night. She was aware, after all, of the favor you were doing to her by working the night without any notice and all she wanted to do was be respectful for your kind availability. Being her perfectionist self, and deep down maybe even wanting you to like her, she knew she had to focus on not losing her mind on minor things like her outfit, so she decided to try to at least appear to be careless about her appearance and only focus the last bits of mental strength she had on the more relaxing, pleasurable parts of the night. Of course she still couldn't help but fix her hair just a little and change her sweatshirt for a still casual but more put together beige, cashmere sweater. She'd had it for years and, despite its condition not being the best, she couldn't bring herself to get rid of it, it just reminded her too much of- nevermind. A few small holes and pulled threads on her top would certainly be the last thought on your mind anyway.

She didn't even realize she was starting to zone out while still looking at herself in the mirror, when the sudden, distant ring of the front door slightly startled her, effectively making her get herself back together. What was minutes away from happening truly dawned on her as she descended the stairs to the first floor and, for a brief moment, as she walked through the entrance corridor and saw the blurry outline of your figure through the frosted glass of the tall door, time seemed to slow down and for the first time in years she felt a small twinge of anxiety creeping up on her the closer she got to you. She was really doing it, she was really about to follow the advice of her idiot Stark friend and didn't mind it too much. Maybe she was really getting old, maybe age was starting to actually play some tricks on her, because, as her hand pushed the cold handle of the entrance door and started to pull it open, the snippets of hair she could start to see of you lit a confident fire in her that only burned more vividly as your form was finally fully displayed to her, making it impossible for her to suppress the excitement she suddenly felt at the sight of you in person, looking at her through your lashes with subtle faux innocence she could see right through.

"Good evening, Ms Romanoff"

.

.

Part 2

.

.

Tags: @fxckmiup @natashasilverfox

[ayyy-pee]

Discord 18+ - Twitter 𝘽𝙍𝙀𝘼𝙆𝙄𝙉𝙂: 𝙄𝙏'𝙎 𝘼 𝙎𝘾𝘼𝙉𝘿𝘼𝙇!!

In celebration of reaching 3,000 followers on Tumblr, it seems ayyypee has decided to host her very first collab!!! The theme is Celebrity Scandal!

What are your favorite celebrity anime men, women or you (the reader) up to these days? New relationships? Maybe a nasty breakup or divorce. Cheating? Leaks, Murder, Cover ups?! There's so much to report on and so little time. But rest assured, The Jujutsu Journal will find out. Someone is always watching.

Status: CLOSED (Stories will be posted as they are received!)

𝙍𝙪𝙡𝙚𝙨

✩˚｡⋆ This is an 18+ collab! Minors dni

✩˚｡⋆ All characters portrayed must be 18+ (No aging up of minor characters pls, but if there is a canon timeskip, that's fine. Just write them as their adult selves.)

✩˚｡⋆ It does not have to be only an x Reader pairing!

✩˚｡⋆ Open to ANY fandom (Even though it says Jujutsu Journal lol)

✩˚｡⋆ You can join with as many fandoms and as many characters as you wish

✩˚｡⋆ Both NSFW and SFW works are allowed!

✩˚｡⋆ If you use any topics that need a warning, please use warnings and tag appropriately!

✩˚｡⋆ That being said, dark content is fine as long as it is not any of the following: Non-con, r*pe, beastiality, incest/stepcest, pedophilia

✩˚｡⋆ No particular format or word length required. And you can even do art! Just let me know what you’ll be doing!

𝙃𝙊𝙒 𝙏𝙊 𝙀𝙉𝙏𝙀𝙍

✩˚｡⋆ To join, please send me an ask, or you can dm me! Also I'm nosy so let me know what your idea(s) are! Like Stalker!Paparazzi Sukuna x Reader LMAO)

✩˚｡⋆ The deadline for submission for the collab is July 20th

✩˚｡⋆ I would also REALLY appreciate it if people reblogged this post so that it's boosted!

✩˚｡⋆ Please tag me in your works and use the tag: #JujutsuJournal after you're done. I'll add it to my Masterlist and reblog it on my account! I know the tagging system is bonkers right now though, so if tagging doesn't work, you can just send me an ask.

✩˚｡⋆ If you have any other questions, just let me know!

𝙈𝘼𝙎𝙏𝙀𝙍𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

𝙂𝙤𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙥 𝘾𝙤𝙡𝙪𝙢𝙣𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙨 𝙍𝙚𝙥𝙤𝙧𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝘿𝙪𝙩𝙮:

JUJUTSU KAISEN

@ayyy-pee ✩ LEAKED - model!shokoieiri x model!ioriutahime x PR Manager!reader

@tojiscumdumpster ✩ stalker!model!naoya x journalist!blackreader

@bungalowbear ✩ Subtle Curves - stuntman!toji x actress!reader

@lost-immortality ✩ EARLY 2000s CELEB GOSSIP BLOG ART

@lemonlover1110 ✩ HEADLINES - actor!toji x reader

@xo2dee ✩ actress!yuki x actress!reader

@yasu-1234 ✩ tailor!higuruma x movie star!reader

@fizee: ✩ Non Disclosure Agreement - ceo!naoya x femdom!reader

@toasted-ry3bread ✩ nanami x actress!reader

@pattycakes5516 - ✩ What It Takes to Win - probasketballplayer!suguru x criticalsportsanalyst!reader

@kentocalls ✩ manager!geto x idol!reader ✩ farmer!satoru gojo x actress!reader

@violetsaffron5 ✩ nepo-babystalker!gojo x reader

@hyperfixationsporfavor ✩ Memories - actor!sugurugeto x director!reader

@brujawrites ✩ nepobaby!gojo x interviewpersonality!reader

@storiesoflilies ✩ cherry cola, cigarette kisses - guitarist!toji x singer!reader

@joontroverted ✩ WWE! Yuki Tsukumo

@senseifupa - ✩ Don't You Know Your Body Been Mine? - modernroyal!/socialite Nanami x Blk PSmodel! Reader

@ohheyjudesummers ✩ playboy!rockstar!suguru geto x reader/OC

@minimomoe ✩ Songs for You - rock star!satoru gojo x fem reader

@fushitoru ✩ provolleyballplayer!gojo x fem reader

©ayyypee, all rights reserved. DO NOT copy, reupload or modify my work to other accounts and platforms. please ask before translating any of my works!

Banner Credit: @benkeibear!

[bella-goths-wife]

Kiss the barrel of my gun softly: chapter six

Chapter warnings: angst, arguments, mentions of non-con, confessions, brief smut, oral (R receiving), kissing, fluff, ooc Sevika, lmk if I missed anyway :)

Sevika pants loudly as she looks at you with a concentrated expression, her hard, toned body covered with splatterings of blood that told a gruesome story. She doesn’t speak as she looks you up and down and tries not to admire your lustful figure in the silk underwear that you were wearing, looking like a gift wrapped wet dream.

“What are you doing here?” you ask in confusion as you attempt to cover yourself by crossing your arms 

Sevika doesn’t answer with anything but a grunt before she’s shutting the door behind her and turning her back to you, blocking your only exit.

“Stop, what are you doing?” you say in confusion and slight irritation as you walk forward “I have a client coming, Sevika you can’t be here”

“He won’t be coming” she grunts out before holding up the key that had been given to the winner of the auction that would grant them the ability to unlock your door, using it to lock the door before throwing it on the coffee table next to the loveseat in front of the bed.

You look down at the bloodied key and back up at her, a slight bit of fear gnawing its way into your bones as your eyes widen. Sevika wouldn’t hurt you, right?

“What did you do to him?” you ask quietly, your arms tightening around yourself

“I outbid him” she answers stoically as she turns to face you “I’m your client now”

There's a silence as you stare at her and try to process her words and expression.

“Why would you do that?” you ask in shock, eyes widened in your skull as you move closer.

She stood in silence as she looked at you with her stoic glare piercing into your barely covered body, refusing to answer your question. Your mind became a rage filled machine as you made your own assumptions.

“Is this some sort of game?” you ask with a scoff “some sort of big joke from Silco?”

“Silco doesn’t know about this” Sevika speaks quickly with an almost defensive tone

“So this is just for you? A way to humiliate me further?” you ask in an angered tone, your hands balled up into fists “kick me when I’m down?”

Sevika only scoffs and that seems to only tick you off more as you walk closer and look up at her to glare at her coldly.

“Wanted to gloat? Prove to me that you’ve won?” you yell out in anger “show that you’ve reduced me to a whore just so i can keep my business?”

“I did it for you” She exclaims suddenly as she walks forward to look down at you with a glare, a part of her so annoyed that you’d call yourself such names when in her eyes you were the furthest thing.

“For me? You did this for me?” you repeat in disbelief and anger “your the one who put me in this situation in the first place”

“I had to make you see sense, you need to attend this meeting with Silco” She exclaims defensively “you're playing with fire and i just wanted to make sure you don’t get yourself killed”

“Please don’t act like this is some selfless act” you scoff out with an accusatory tone “you created a problem for me and then made yourself the solution, this isn’t you saving me this is you trying to make things go your way again”

“I never thought you’d enact a night with the Madame, I assumed you’d just go to the meeting with Silco and get yourself out of this rivalry” She speaks with frustration in her tone and face as she walks closer, causing you to take small steps back “do you know how stupid that was? How angry it made me to hear those idiots in the bar brag about the disgusting things they were gonna do to you?”

“So this is a jealousy thing then?” you ask with a sneer, anger clouding your judgement and making you unable to see Sevika’s clear intentions “you wanted to be the one to fuck me? The one to do dirty things to me?”

“What?” Sevika looks taken aback and almost offended as she goes to reach for your hand and continues to walk forward toward you “no, I-”

“You want me just like old times huh?” you ask tauntingly with a sneer as you yank your hand back and continue taking steps back to avoid her touch “gonna bend me over-”

“No” she interrupts with a frustratedly desperate expression “that's not-”

“Hold my arms down?” you carry on in a rage filled rampage “put your fingers inside me? Put your tongue inside me?”

“Stop” she commands quietly but it comes off more as begging.

“Put your hand over my mouth to make sure no one hears?” you continue as you keep stepping back “mark up my neck? Leave bite marks on my tits?-”

“Stop” Sevika yells suddenly as she reaches her breaking point, the change in tone shocking you so much that you take a few more steps backwards and feel the bed on the back of your legs.

You feel yourself losing your balance as your legs hit the bed and you grab onto the first thing you can reach for, incidentally grabbing onto the front of Sevika’s shirt and accidentally bringing her down with you.

Her mechanical arm coming above your head to brace herself from crushing you as you both fall on the bed, her other hand holding onto your hip to make sure you wouldn’t get hurt. You look up at her in the familiar position above you with wide eyes as she pants.

She looks down at you and can’t help the flurry of images entering her mind of past encounters like this, but the look of slight fear stops in your eyes stops those thoughts in their tracks. She just sighs and places her forehead against yours in a soothing manner.

“I’m not gonna sleep with you” She admits gently through a sigh, mirroring the words you had spoken so many times at the start of your relationship 

“Then what do you want from me?” you ask quietly, your vulnerability beginning to crack through in your weak tone.

Sevika looks down at you with a softened gaze and you can see how exhausted she looks. You gently caress her cheek with your palm and she immediately leans into your touch.

“I just…..” she struggles to place the words on her tongue as a conflicted expression crosses her face “I just want to hold you, talk to you about my day and listen to you talk or just listening to you breathe”

Her eyes look into yours with an amount of vulnerability that almost makes her uncomfortable to express, her arms tighten around you as if she were preventing you from running and leaving her sight again.

“I want us to be like we used to be, even if it’s only for tonight” she confesses quietly with pleading eyes “please, just let us be us for a night”

You look at her in shock for a moment before nodding silently and signalling her to stand up, which she does but she keeps her hand firmly on your hip as you do the same. You pull the covers of the bed up before laying her in the bed on her back and quickly joining her after removing her shoes and cape. You lay your head against her chest and listen to her thrumming heartbeat and pulling the covers over your bodies, this action somehow feeling more intimate than if the two of you had actually had sex.

“So” you say gently as you wrap an arm around her and her fingers ran through your hair “tell me about your day”

—————————-past————————————

You hadn’t been yourself since your argument with Sevika, and it had been obvious to everyone as multiple brothel girls and Madame Emerald had questioned you about your low mood. 

You cursed yourself for doing something so stupid as falling for the emotionless woman, the woman who was a known womanizer and a known heartbreaker. But she never acted that way with you, she was just Sevika with you.

You were lounging on your bed when you heard knocking on your window, not surprising as sometimes some of the girls used your window to sneak back in after going out after being given a punishment ban from Madame. 

What was surprising was the sight of Sevika hanging onto the ledge with all her might with one hand and the other hand clutching at a small bunch of flowers. You look down at her with a raised eyebrow.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, your cold tone making Sevika recoil slightly

“I’m here to see you” Sevika states stoically with a hesitant expression

“Obviously” you say with an unimpressed expression and a pointed look towards the ledge she was holding onto.

Sevika just lets out a long sigh before willing herself to look back up at you.

“I want to talk about us” she says calmly, her tone softening slightly in hopes of convincing you

You think for a moment before sighing and stepping aside and letting her climb her way into your room with a few grunts as you sit on your bed. Sevika approaches you slowly as if she was afraid you’d run if she moved too suddenly.

“I brought you these” she says stoically as she hands you the flowers and looks away, the flowers were the real thing instead of the usual undercity fakes you were so used to and you’d be lying if you said that you weren’t impressed.

“Thank you” you say quietly as you place the flowers on your nightstand.

There’s a moment of silence as Sevika sits beside you on the bed and you're both unsure of how to start this conversation.

“I’m still upset with you” you reveal quietly as you fiddle with your fingers anxiously.

“I know” Sevika lets out a long sigh “just please let me explain?”

You nod silently as you look up at her, but Sevika keeps her eyes straight and away from meeting yours. She knows she’ll be able to express herself better as long as she’s not looking in your pretty little eyes.

“I know that I said I didn’t want us to have a public relationship, and I know I said a lot of other things to piss you off” Sevika speaks quietly and shifts around in an uncomfortable manner, clearly not used to apologising “but I never meant to hurt you”

You stayed silent, not wanting to interrupt her when she was finally opening up a bit and telling you how she felt.

“I know you don’t like sneaking around Madame Emeralds back, I don’t particularly enjoy sneaking around Silco’s” Sevika states gruffly “but I do it for your own protection, I don’t know how Silco would react to this but I don’t want him to put a target on your back, not to mention all the other people who wanna get to me and would see hurting you as the perfect opportunity”

You stay quiet and look away from her, you know her points are valid but there's something so frustrating about the fact that she’s right.

“I want you, I want you more than I’ve ever wanted most things in my life” She confesses with a humourless chuckle but the way her eyes glared showed she was fully serious “I want you to be mine and no one else's, I wanna rip the hands off any asshole who touches you, I want you so bad that it scares me that other people will notice and you’ll be taken from me”

You couldn’t help the way her words deeply satisfied a dark part of you, couldn’t help how much you wanted to hold her close and have her whisper those words over and over again in your ears.

“Please, say something” She begs quietly as her fists clench, scared her confession would only end in embarrassment. 

You think for a moment on how to respond, but your emotions quickly took over and your mouth and heart was quicker to respond than your mind was.

“We could be together without the bullshit if we just talked to our bosses” you speak quietly with a frown “I don’t understand why we can’t even try”

“I know” Sevika sighs out, she can understand why you couldn’t see things from her perspective. You were used to the gentle leadership of Madame Emerald and she was used to the firm eye of Silco, both two different experiences with their own challenges that neither one of them could understand.

A moment of silence happens between the two of you, but a thousand words are passed between your shared gazes. Longing, disappointment and adoration dances between your eyes before you look away.

“Maybe…..” you start with an apprehensive expression “maybe we’re just not meant to be”

“No” Sevika responds firmly as her hand quickie holds onto yours “don’t say that”

“I won’t keep sneaking around Sevika, and I won’t leave Madame’s care or the position as her assistant” you state firmly but your face looked like pure defeat “and I won’t ask you to leave Silco’s employment, I won’t do it”

“I know….” Sevika speaks quietly to contain her own frustrations at the situation “I know that”

“Then what do you suggest we do?” you muttered out quietly with a despairing expression

“I’m not sure” Sevika admits through a murmur as she avoids your eyes.

“I love you Sevika, I’m in love with you” you confess softly as your thumb rubs the hand that holds your own “but I can’t keep sneaking around”

“I know” She replies with a sorrowful expression.

There's a beat of silence as a hesitant expression crosses your face, your mouth constantly opening to speak and quickly snapping shut again.

“Do you think Silco would say yes if you asked if you could be with me?” you ask quietly, your face turning ever so slightly hopeful.

“I doubt it” Sevika answers honestly with a blunt but regretful tone.

“Even if he and Madame made a deal and she gave us her blessing?” you ask with desperation in your tone

“It's not likely” Sevika tries to reason with you without crushing your hope all together “he still doesn’t trust emerald”

The silence between the two of you is deafening but is quickly stopped when gentle sniffling escapes you and small tears run their way down your cheeks as you're unable to contain your sadness. Sevika feels herself crumble at the sight of your tears as her hands quickly caresses your cheeks and her thumb wipes away your tears gently, you lean into her touch instantly.

“Do you think….. do you think you could just ask?” You ask almost desperately as your voice comes out as if you were pleading “you don’t have to commit to anything, just asking enough-”

“I’ll ask…” Sevika responds quickly, not thinking about the consequences of her words. She just wanted to make you happy again without knowing the weight of her words.

“Thank you” you breath out softly, a relieved expression crossing your face.

You lean forward and press your lips against hers softly, enjoying the feeling of her rough lips against your own soft ones. The kiss lasted only seconds before you pulled away, leaning your forehead against hers.

“I… I love you” Sevika whispers out softly, the words feeling unfamiliar on her tongue but your adoring expression quickly made her feel like the words were the most appropriate for how she felt about you.

“I love you too” you whisper back as you look up at her with nothing but pure, desperate yearning.

Her head dips down and her lips meet yours once again, only this kiss contained more fire, more yearning, more desperation. She wanted to feel you, she wanted to consume you gently and know in her heart of hearts that you were hers body and soul.

You respond in a similar manner as you move your head slightly to the side for her to kiss you deeper, revelling in the sensation of her lips on yours and the arousal it unleashed within you. 

You let out a soft gasp as she parts your lips slightly and her tongue licks at your mouth feverishly, the kiss growing more desperate and sloppy as the seconds ticked by. Sevika didn’t care about the mess she was making, all she cared about was having that sound fall from your lips again.

She drags you onto her lap so that you were straddling her thigh, you comply with utter obedience as you let her manhandle you in whatever way she wishes. Your arms wrapped around her thick neck and her hands clutched your hips gently but firmly, feeling the cold bite of her mechanical hand through your nightdress sent a delicious shiver down your spine.

Sevika lets out a soft grunt as her hand buries itself into your hair to bring you impossibly closer and to deepen the kiss into a messy dance of tongues fighting and teeth clashing. Your eyes close as you enjoy the intimacy between the two of you.

Sevika’s hand leaves your hair to grasp the bottom of your nightdress, but a hesitant look crosses her face as she stops herself from lifting it up and pulls away from your kiss. You look at her with a puppy dog like confusion that only endeared you more to her.

“Need to know if you want this, pretty” she speaks softly as her hand rubs circles into your hips “need you to tell me-”

“I want you, Vika” you cut her off quickly as you pant, feeling the arousal gathered in your gut become uncomfortable with the need to be relieved “need you to touch me”

Sevika is caught off guard by your sudden neediness, considering you’d been the one denying her advances for almost a year now. She’d assumed  you’d hold out longer but here you were, trembling like a virgin over a little kissing. She can’t help the small smirk that spreads across her lips.

“Yeah?” she asks slightly condescendingly, to which you nod your head eagerly “how bad?”

The only response she is given is a needy whine as you grind your hips against her thigh, desperate to relieve the throbbing between your legs. She chuckles meanly but quickly shuts up when you frustratedly pull your night dress up and off your body, leaving you writhing on her lap in only your cotton panties.

“Please” you beg softly as you look up at her with your big, innocent looking eyes “Sevika, please fuck me”

That was the moment that Sevika knew, the moment she knew deep down that you had her wrapped around your little finger.

She lifted you up by your hips, causing you to squeal and wrap your arms around her muscular neck. She throws you down on the bed and crawls over your body, her mechanical hand clawing at the pillow near your head and having the feathers accidentally spill out around you.

You let out a soft laugh at her accidental destruction and Sevika swears you look like an angel as your panting, blushing, aroused figure is surrounded by white feathers and you look up at her with blown out pupils and a gentle smile.

You can’t help the soft gasps that leave your throat as she kisses her way down your body, paying extra attention to your breasts and nibbling gently before she reaches your clothed core, an approving grunt leaving her lips at the sight of the dark arousal staining your cotton panties.

“So wet” she mumbles out as she presses her thumb to your twitching clit from over your panties, leaving you to buck up into her touch “real desperate for me, huh sweetheart?”

You nod eagerly as you buck your hips up again, wanting to savour the intimate touch but at the same time wanting to hurry the fuck up and touch you properly. Sevika just chuckles as she pulls down your panties slowly, eyes darkening at the sight of the wetness connecting them to your aching core.

Sevika crawls between your legs and rests your legs on her muscular shoulders, admiring your cunt with a dark expression that excites you deeply. Her tongue leaves her parted lips and traces its way through your soaked folds gently as she savours the taste of you on her eager tongue.

You throw your head back with a melodic cry, catching your bottom lip between your sharp teeth to stifle yourself and clawing at the sheets to prevent your hands from dragging through her short hair and shoving her tongue deeper into your aching cunt.

As Sevika disappears into the apex of your thighs, you knew you were in for a long night. You had denied her advances for a year and left her high and dry on many occasions, Sevika wasn’t a forgiving woman and you knew she’d make your punishment long enough to ensure you paid for your sins.

You knew that this intimate act had sealed your fates and that you were now intertwined despite the many reasons you shouldn’t be. 

You simply didn’t care.

—————————-present——————————-

Sevika awakens in the same position the two of you had been in last night, with you snoring away softly on her chest and her with her arms wrapped tightly around you as if you were gonna up and run in the night.

She couldn’t help but stare down at you and wonder how you had both ended up like this, one minute deeply and madly in love and the next you were clawing at ways to hurt one another.

Though she doubts you’ll ever find a way to hurt her as much as her actions had hurt you.

She wanted to keep you safe, in the end all she did was push you further into the venus fly trap of danger. But there was one thing she could keep you safe from, Silco.

He wouldn’t loosen up on his careful observation of you unless you attended his meeting and agreed to do business with him, or at least be civil and lift your no Silco workers ban.

And the longer you didn’t attend this meeting, the bigger the target on your back would grow.

Sevika stills as she feels you start to stir, her arms tightening around you before loosening up slightly when you let out a huff.

“Morning” you mumble out as you look up at her with a barely awake expression “how did you sleep-”

“Please go to the meeting with Silco” Sevika cuts you off quickly with a pleading expression

You're taken aback at her sudden request, your eyes widening as you look up at her with an ‘are you serious face?’ you’d almost be angry at her if it weren't for her desperate expression alongside something akin to fear within her eyes.

“Please” she pleads with you again as she hides her face in your messy hair “I can’t lose you, even if your not mine anymore”

You look up at her and you can't help but feel yourself soften and the wall you’d built up between the two of you crumble to the ground. You wanted to be angry with her but with the way she held onto you like a desperate child clinging to a toy for comfort you just couldn’t.

“Okay….” you agree gently as you rub her arm soothingly “I’ll go to the meeting”

Sevika visibly relaxes at your words as her hold loosened and she let herself melt into your touch.

“You won’t lose me” you reassure gently “you won’t lose me Vika”

Sorry if the smut was cringe i suck at smut scenes :(