#Privacy First Tech

[olivergisttv]

Privacy-First Tech Tools That Respect Your Data

Introduction In today’s digital age, privacy isn’t just a nice-to-have feature—it’s a necessity. With every click, every search, and every online transaction, your data is being tracked, collected, and sometimes even sold. But what if there was a way to use technology without sacrificing your personal information? Enter privacy-first tech tools, designed to prioritize your security and give you…

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Ad-tech targeting is an existential threat

I'm on a 20+ city book tour for my new novel PICKS AND SHOVELS. Catch me TORONTO on SUNDAY (Feb 23) at Another Story Books, and in NYC on WEDNESDAY (26 Feb) with JOHN HODGMAN. More tour dates here.

The commercial surveillance industry is almost totally unregulated. Data brokers, ad-tech, and everyone in between – they harvest, store, analyze, sell and rent every intimate, sensitive, potentially compromising fact about your life.

Late last year, I testified at a Consumer Finance Protection Bureau hearing about a proposed new rule to kill off data brokers, who are the lynchpin of the industry:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/16/the-second-best-time-is-now/#the-point-of-a-system-is-what-it-does

The other witnesses were fascinating – and chilling, There was a lawyer from the AARP who explained how data-brokers would let you target ads to categories like "seniors with dementia." Then there was someone from the Pentagon, discussing how anyone could do an ad-buy targeting "people enlisted in the armed forces who have gambling problems." Sure, I thought, and you don't even need these explicit categories: if you served an ad to "people 25-40 with Ivy League/Big Ten law or political science degrees within 5 miles of Congress," you could serve an ad with a malicious payload to every Congressional staffer.

Now, that's just the data brokers. The real action is in ad-tech, a sector dominated by two giant companies, Meta and Google. These companies claim that they are better than the unregulated data-broker cowboys at the bottom of the food-chain. They say they're responsible wielders of unregulated monopoly surveillance power. Reader, they are not.

Meta has been repeatedly caught offering ad-targeting like "depressed teenagers" (great for your next incel recruiting drive):

https://www.technologyreview.com/2017/05/01/105987/is-facebook-targeting-ads-at-sad-teens/

And Google? They just keep on getting caught with both hands in the creepy commercial surveillance cookie-jar. Today, Wired's Dell Cameron and Dhruv Mehrotra report on a way to use Google to target people with chronic illnesses, people in financial distress, and national security "decision makers":

https://www.wired.com/story/google-dv360-banned-audience-segments-national-security/

Google doesn't offer these categories itself, they just allow data-brokers to assemble them and offer them for sale via Google. Just as it's possible to generate a target of "Congressional staffers" by using location and education data, it's possible to target people with chronic illnesses based on things like whether they regularly travel to clinics that treat HIV, asthma, chronic pain, etc.

Google claims that this violates their policies, and that they have best-of-breed technical measures to prevent this from happening, but when Wired asked how this data-broker was able to sell these audiences – including people in menopause, or with "chronic pain, fibromyalgia, psoriasis, arthritis, high cholesterol, and hypertension" – Google did not reply.

The data broker in the report also sold access to people based on which medications they took (including Ambien), people who abuse opioids or are recovering from opioid addiction, people with endocrine disorders, and "contractors with access to restricted US defense-related technologies."

It's easy to see how these categories could enable blackmail, spear-phishing, scams, malvertising, and many other crimes that threaten individuals, groups, and the nation as a whole. The US Office of Naval Intelligence has already published details of how "anonymous" people targeted by ads can be identified:

https://www.odni.gov/files/ODNI/documents/assessments/ODNI-Declassified-Report-on-CAI-January2022.pdf

The most amazing part is how the 33,000 targeting segments came to public light: an activist just pretended to be an ad buyer, and the data-broker sent him the whole package, no questions asked. Johnny Ryan is a brilliant Irish privacy activist with the Irish Council for Civil Liberties. He created a fake data analytics website for a company that wasn't registered anywhere, then sent out a sales query to a brokerage (the brokerage isn't identified in the piece, to prevent bad actors from using it to attack targeted categories of people).

Foreign states, including China – a favorite boogeyman of the US national security establishment – can buy Google's data and target users based on Google ad-tech stack. In the past, Chinese spies have used malvertising – serving targeted ads loaded with malware – to attack their adversaries. Chinese firms spend billions every year to target ads to Americans:

https://www.nytimes.com/2024/03/06/business/google-meta-temu-shein.html

Google and Meta have no meaningful checks to prevent anyone from establishing a shell company that buys and targets ads with their services, and the data-brokers that feed into those services are even less well-protected against fraud and other malicious act.

All of this is only possible because Congress has failed to act on privacy since 1988. That's the year that Congress passed the Video Privacy Protection Act, which bans video store clerks from telling the newspapers which VHS cassettes you have at home. That's also the last time Congress passed a federal consumer privacy law:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Video_Privacy_Protection_Act

The legislative history of the VPPA is telling: it was passed after a newspaper published the leaked video-rental history of a far-right judge named Robert Bork, whom Reagan hoped to elevate to the Supreme Court. Bork failed his Senate confirmation hearings, but not because of his video rentals (he actually had pretty good taste in movies). Rather, it was because he was a Nixonite criminal and virulent loudmouth racist whose record was strewn with the most disgusting nonsense imaginable).

But the leak of Bork's video-rental history gave Congress the cold grue. His video rental history wasn't embarrassing, but it sure seemed like Congress had some stuff in its video-rental records that they didn't want voters finding out about. They beat all land-speed records in making it a crime to tell anyone what kind of movies they (and we) were watching.

And that was it. For 37 years, Congress has completely failed to pass another consumer privacy law. Which is how we got here – to this moment where you can target ads to suicidal teens, gambling addicted soldiers in Minuteman silos, grannies with Alzheimer's, and every Congressional staffer on the Hill.

Some people think the problem with mass surveillance is a kind of machine-driven, automated mind-control ray. They believe the self-aggrandizing claims of tech bros to have finally perfected the elusive mind-control ray, using big data and machine learning.

But you don't need to accept these outlandish claims – which come from Big Tech's sales literature, wherein they boast to potential advertisers that surveillance ads are devastatingly effective – to understand how and why this is harmful. If you're struggling with opioid addiction and I target an ad to you for a fake cure or rehab center, I haven't brainwashed you – I've just tricked you. We don't have to believe in mind-control to believe that targeted lies can cause unlimited harms.

And those harms are indeed grave. Stein's Law predicts that "anything that can't go on forever eventually stops." Congress's failure on privacy has put us all at risk – including Congress. It's only a matter of time until the commercial surveillance industry is responsible for a massive leak, targeted phishing campaign, or a ghastly national security incident involving Congress. Perhaps then we will get action.

In the meantime, the coalition of people whose problems can be blamed on the failure to update privacy law continues to grow. That coalition includes protesters whose identities were served up to cops, teenagers who were tracked to out-of-state abortion clinics, people of color who were discriminated against in hiring and lending, and anyone who's been harassed with deepfake porn:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/12/06/privacy-first/#but-not-just-privacy

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/2025/02/20/privacy-first-second-third/#malvertising

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

[ivygorgon]

An open letter to the President & U.S. Congress

The DATA Act and the RESTRICT Act are un-American

518 so far! Help us get to 1,000 signers!

I'm alarmed by the Ban TikTok discussion & the RESTRICT Act. We're a democratic country with a First Amendment that guarantees free expression. How does banning a social media platform abide by that principle? Especially since the US government condemns authoritarian governments in other parts of the world for blocking US-based social networks. Examples:

When Nigeria banned Twitter for seven months in June 2021, the U.S. condemned it, reiterating its support for "the fundamental human right of free expression & access to information as a pillar of democracy."

Individuals responsible for the blocking of social media applications in Iran were condemned as "engaging in censorship activities that prohibit, limit, or penalize the exercise of freedom of expression or assembly by citizens of Iran."

When American digital platforms have been banned or severely restricted by governments--including the Chinese Communist Party, Pakistan, & Uganda--seeking to silence & obstruct the open flow of communication & information, the US calls these entities out for it. So why are we doing the same?

TikTok is a red herring. The DATA Act & the RESTRICT Act are very broad & could lead to other apps or communications services with connections to foreign countries being banned in the US. The stated intention is to target apps/services that pose a threat to national security; the way it's currently written raises serious human & civil rights concerns that should be far more important to you.

Caitlin Vogus says: "Any bill that would allow the US government to ban an online service that facilitates Americans' speech raises serious First Amendment concerns…" And those concerns will impact marginalized & oppressed people & groups more.

The "reasoning" behind Ban TikTok is not sound. The racist fearmongering around China is bad enough. Worse is the core of the argument -- data being collected & shared & used against people -- is a problem with ALL social media. Why isn't Congress focusing on that? The apps on your phone (Facebook, Messenger, Instagram, Twitter) are constantly monitoring you & sending information about you to data brokers. Info that can be easily tied to you as an individual despite claims that all the data is "anonymized".

Congress should be addressing the larger problem & not one social network. Restricting what data they can collect about users & forbidding them from selling that data will address the issue with TikTok, too.

I urge you to kill the DATA Act & the RESTRICT Act. They need to be tossed out & more measured legislation proposed in their place that addresses the foundational problems of social media apps & services & the data they collect & who they share it with & how they & other entities use that data.

I know that's not as easy or sexy as Ban TikTok! It does address our Constitutional right to assemble & free expression. That's far more important than knee-jerk reactions & bandwagon jumping.

▶ Created on March 31, 2023 by K T

Text SIGN PNSIMC to 50409

[jiff01]

Ad-tech targeting is an existential threat by Cory Doctorow Via Flickr: pluralistic.net/2025/02/20/privacy-first-second-third/#ma... A towering figure with the head of HAL 9000 from Stanley Kubrick's '2001: A Space Odyssey,' surmounted by Trump's hair, wearing a tailcoat with a Google logo lapel pin. It peers through a magnifying glass at a distressed, tiny Uncle Sam figure perched in its monstrous palm. Image: Cryteria (modified) commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg CC BY 3.0 creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

[thunderlina]

In the wake of the TikTok ban and revival as a mouthpiece for fascist propaganda, as well as the downfall of Twitter and Facebook/Facebook-owned platforms to the same evils, I think now is a better time than ever to say LEARN HTML!!! FREE YOURSELVES FROM THE SHACKLES OF MAJOR SOCIAL MEDIA PLATFORMS AND EMBRACE THE INDIE WEB!!!

You can host a website on Neocities for free as long as it's under 1GB (which is a LOT more than it sounds like let me tell you) but if that's not enough you can get 50GB of space (and a variety of other perks) for only $5 a month.

And if you can't/don't want to pay for the extra space, sites like File Garden and Catbox let you host files for free that you can easily link into NeoCities pages (I do this to host videos on mine!) (It also lets you share files NeoCities wouldn't let you upload for free anyways, this is how I upload the .zip files for my 3DS themes on my site.)

Don't know how to write HTML/CSS? No problem. W3schools is an invaluable resource with free lessons on HTML, CSS, JavaScript, PHP, and a whole slew of other programming languages, both for web development and otherwise.

Want a more traditional social media experience? SpaceHey is a platform that mimics the experience of 2000s MySpace

Struggling to find independent web pages that cater to your interests via major search engines? I've got you covered. Marginalia and Wiby are search engines that specifically prioritize non-commercial content. Marginalia also has filters that let you search for more specific categories of website, like wikis, blogs, academia, forums, and vintage sites.

Maybe you wanna log off the modern internet landscape altogether and step back into the pre-social media web altogether, well, Protoweb lets you do just that. It's a proxy service for older browsers (or really just any browser that supports HTTP, but that's mostly old browsers now anyways) that lets you visit restored snapshots of vintage websites.

Protoweb has a lot of Geocities content archived, but if you're interested in that you can find even more old Geocities sites over on the Geocities Gallery

And really this is just general tip-of-the-iceberg stuff. If you dig a little deeper you can find loads more interesting stuff out there. The internet doesn't have to be a miserable place full of nothing but doomposting and targeted ads. The first step to making it less miserable is for YOU, yes YOU, to quit spending all your time on it looking at the handful of miserable websites big tech wants you to spend all your time on.

[velvet-milk]

──── everybody knows that i'm a good boy, officer...

❤︎──── pairing: dick grayson x officer!reader.

❤︎──── summary: ❛❛as the newest cop on blüdhaven’s force, you hated masked freaks. nightwing, the masked freak himself, wants nothing more than your delicious, sweet approval. and maybe your naked body.❞

WARNINGS. dick wants your pussy so much he looks fucking stupid. 18+, jerking off. authority kink on his part. he loves a hot woman in uniform. hints of sub nightwing. female reader. officer reader. ©velvet-milk.

❤︎──── The first time he saw you, he had just taken down two armed robbers outside a liquor store — easy work, nothing fancy. A normal friday night for him. Dick was still catching his breath, escrima sticks holstered, the night wind tugging at his suit as he turned toward the flashing lights of the approaching squad car.

He muttered something to Oracle about the cops in the area and cut his comms. The flashing lights bathed the street in red and blue, casting just enough glow to catch the look you gave him — bored, patronizing, and vaguely amused. But the moment the window rolled down, he got hit with your full pretty face. And rude tone.

"Sweetheart, I know times are hard and stuff, but soliciting’s still a crime in this part of town."

Nice.

Your partner let out a strangled noise beside you. She leaned toward you like she could physically stop the words from coming out of your mouth, but it was far, far too late. You didn’t flinch. Just blew a bubble with your gum and popped it. Dick glanced down at himself — the skintight suit, the very iconic symbol across his chest — then looked back up at you.

"I literally just stopped a robbery."

You shrugged, unimpressed. "Cool. And I just filed a report. We all have hobbies."

To his credit, Dick didn’t get mad. Just gave you this slow, stunned little laugh, like he wasn’t sure if he was offended or intrigued.

"Wow. And here I thought I had a decent relationship with the BHPD after all these years."

You smiled sweetly, razor-sharp. "Oh, don’t get me wrong. I have nothing against sex workers."

Your partner in the passenger seat looked like she wanted to crawl into the glove compartment. She pressed a hand to her face and whispered, horrified, "Oh my God… that’s Nightwing."

You didn’t even flinch.

"Night-who?" you said, glancing at her like she’d just made up a word. "Why would I know his stage name?"

She turned to you, pale. "He’s, like… famous. National superhero famous."

Yeah, he fucking was. Thank you very much.

He took one last look at you — still lounging behind the wheel, smirking like you hadn’t just verbally curb-stomped a national hero. The other cop couldn’t even meet his eyes. Poor woman looked like she wanted to dissolve into her seat from secondhand embarrassment.

"Have a good night, officer," he said, voice clipped but smooth.

Then he turned on his heel, tapped his comms. "Oracle, remind me to review Blüdhaven precinct relations tomorrow," he muttered, raising his escrima stick and firing the grapple line. "Preferably before I set myself on fire again."

The line snapped taut, and he vanished into the night sky.

❤︎──── Of course he kept tabs on you after that night. You called him a hooker, straight to his face, and somehow looked obscenely hot while doing it. What was he supposed to do after that? Move on?

He was a simple man. A simple man with a morally flexible sense of privacy and way too much access to high-end surveillance tech. At the moment, he had four tabs open on the BHPD’s internal database. When Babs and Tim asked, he muttered something about "tracking a person of interest in the department."

Which, technically, wasn’t a lie. You were very interesting. You had a sharp mouth, a mean stare, perfect lips, and the kind of tits that made even the Nightwing suit feel a little tight.

"Yeah," he mumbled to himself, eyes fixed on your ID photo. "That’s the suspect. Definitely her."

He kept digging. It wasn’t enough to memorize your patrol schedule and ID badge, no, he had to go deeper. He found your Police Academy files. Graduated top of your class. Commendations in firearms, tactical response, and, of course, disciplinary reports for "insubordination" and "excessive sarcasm."

Then came your field test footage. Blurry body cam recordings. One of you talking down a suspect at gunpoint with zero backup. Another of you pinning a guy twice your size to the hood of a cruiser.

Very sexy of you, officer.

So he kept in close contact with the BHPD — closer than he needed to, if anyone was being honest about it. It had been years since Dick hung up the badge. But as Nightwing, he still had full access to department files, incident reports, internal memos, almost everything. All the tools of his former life, right at his fingertips.

And lately? He’d been using them for one very specific reason. You.

Every report you wrote, every arrest logged under your badge number, every disciplinary note with your name at the top, he read them all. More than once. It wasn’t intel gathering anymore. It was something else.

Something worse.

And you looked at him like he was a freak, every single time he showed up at a crime scene near your precinct. Last time, there was a body on the floor, half a dozen uniforms already securing the perimeter, and you crouched low, gloves on, examining blood spatter like it was just another tuesday. He tried to offer something helpful, something sharp, something detective-y.

You didn’t even look up.

"Sure thing, doll," you said, tone dry as bone. "Let me know if you wanna borrow a flashlight."

Then you stood, brushed past him, and kept working. He was still standing there ten seconds after you walked away, jaw tight, pride stinging, wondering what the hell was wrong with him that that turned him on. The dismissal. The uniform. The way your hips moved when you walked.

Jesus, he hadn’t been that hard in months.

Later that night he found himself alone in his apartment, right after patrol, hand wrapped tight around his cock, jerking off with embarrassing urgency to the mental image of your thighs straining against those uniform pants. He moaned softly, his thumb touching his leaking tip.

Dick could almost see it when he closed his eyes with a tiny whimper.

You, officer, climbing into his lap in the backseat of your cruiser, straddling him like you owned him. Belt undone, holster still strapped to your thigh. His hands cuffed behind him, helpless to do anything but take it.

You’d ride him so fucking hard, your pretty little pussy gripping him tight, warm and soaked around his cock. One hand tangled in his black hair, yanking when he got too mouthy, the other braced against the fogged-up glass of the squad car window as your hips slammed down, again and again, using him like he was yours.

He’d choke on a groan, eyes rolling back, biting the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood, because you wouldn’t let him finish until you were done. Until you were shaking on top of him, breathless and spent, nails dragging down his chest.

He came faster than he wanted to. Pathetic, really. He groaned your name like a fucking prayer, teeth sunk into his own wrist to keep quiet, while hot, messy cum spilled over his fist, his stomach, his shirt — hips jerking up off the mattress, desperate for more.

Desperate for you.

He looked up at the ceiling with a sigh, hands still sticky with his own cum like some desperate, horny teenager who’d never even touched a woman.

What the hell had you done to him, officer?

[yanderedrabbles]

Yandere Neighbour - Noncon

With your electricity out and your devices dead, you have no choice but to turn to your neighbour for help. He's more than willing to welcome you into his home. Really, you're lucky he's such a nice guy.

Tags: male yandere x gender neutral reader, noncon, somno, just the tip anal, daddy kink but only if you squint, 3.3k words

Living in the middle of nowhere had its perks. Privacy. Untouched nature. Peace and quiet.

But after the third day with no electricity, those perks were starting to look pretty damn weak. Your fridge was sitting in an ever expanding puddle. Almost all your devices were dead. And if you had to take one more cold shower you were going to cry.

It was when you were digging through your drawer looking for desperately needed batteries that you found your neighbour's number. He'd offered it to you a little while after you moved in, and while you two were on friendly terms, you'd never actually spoken for longer than a few minutes. You sighed, looked at the 10% left on your phone and decided that desperate times called for desperate measures.

You: hey, it's me. I still haven't got any power. Do you mind if I come over to charge some stuff?

He replied almost instantly.

Unknown: aww that sucks

Unknown: come on over. I've got hot stew and a generator

Unknown: and you can take a hot shower too if you want

Score. And to think you found him intimidating at first. Just goes to show that you can't judge on appearances. You packed a change of clothes, your devices and the last tub of ice cream that wasn't totally melted. You'd find some way to properly pay him back but a tub of chocolate fudge double cream wasn't a bad way to start.

He was waiting on his porch when you pulled up. A bear of a man in a flannel and blue jeans, a five o' clock shadow darkening his jaw.

"Howdy neighbour," he drawled, opening your door for you while you grabbed your stuff. "Regretting leaving the city yet?"

You huffed a laugh. "You do NOT want to know the answer to that."

His cabin was much larger than yours, a two storey behemoth with wide windows and exposed beams. It had a rustic charm - like some natural park Air BnB where they charged a weeks pay for just one night. A little too big for just one man. Didn't he get lonely?

"I brought some ice cream and chocolate to say thank you. And also because it miiight have been melting."

He opened the door for you and ushered you through with a hand on your lower back.

"Hell, I'll never say no to something sweet."

There was a fire burning in the fireplace and a stack of logs in a crate next to it. He was so much better suited to this life than you were. He locked the door behind you and slipped the keys into his pocket.

"Old habit," he explained with an easy grin.

"Why don't you get settled? I'll plug your stuff in."

You handed over your tech with a relieved sigh.

"Thank you. Really. I'm so behind on work already and I haven't heard anything back from the power company."

"I wouldn't hold my breath," he said. "Once ended up going a week straight with not even a light bulb flickering."

You winced. "It gets that bad?"

"Yep. Especially in winter. Gets dangerous then too."

He tilted his head at you, concerned. "You need to get yourself better sorted before it starts snowing. I hate to think of you stuck out there when the blizzards start rolling in."

God, could you be any more of a city slicker? You rubbed your neck, embarrassed.

"Thanks. I've been here a few months now and I guess I just didn't realise how serious things can get."

"It's all good. But if I'm honest, I get worried thinking about you out there all alone. Plenty of drifters end up passing through. Not a good place to be alone, not for a little thing like yourself."

Little? You wanted to feel indignant, but looking at his bulk, you reckoned that most folk probably seemed little to him.

He lead you to the fireplace and poured you a mug of coffee from the pot that was waiting for you. He jerked his head at the hunting rifle on display above the mantle.

"I can teach you to shoot, if you've got some free time."

You took a sip of the coffee, internally debating with yourself. You could see the sense in your offer but you weren't a big fan of guns. Hell, just being around them was nerve wrecking enough. Maybe -

You looked down at your mug in surprise.

"This is some really good stuff."

The coffee was strong, bitter in the best sort of way. You could catch a hint of chocolate in it too. Just sweet enough to make your toes curl.

" 'Course. Only the best for my guest. Help yourself to another cup. I'll just put your stuff on charge and be right back."

You finished your drink in a few sips and happily poured a second serving. Hot coffee... man, you didn't think three days without it would be so tough. Usually, you were pretty sensitive to caffeine. But by the time your neighbour came back, your head was tilted back and you were half asleep.

You tried to shake yourself out of it but he just laughed and pushed you back down.

"You probably haven't had a good sleep since the power went out. Just rest. We can talk once you wake up."

"I'm sorry..."

"It's fine." His hand was still on your shoulder, thumb rubbing small circles into your neck. "It's just fine with me."

You drifted off after that. Into a deep sleep without any dreams. Waking up was like slogging through molasses.

"Finally up sleepy head?"

It was dark outside and your neighbour was on one knee in front of the fire place, coaxing fresh wood to catch.

You sat up slowly. Your muscles ached and there was a strange, salty taste on your tongue.

"My heads killing me..."

He stood, poker still in his hand. "You must be starving then. I've already got some food on the stove. You'll feel better after you eat."

You didn't feel hungry at all. If anything, you felt almost hangover.

"Thanks," you managed. "I'm sorry to be such a bother."

He waved you away. "I don't mind a bit."

He came back with a bowl of steaming hot chow and stood with his arms crossed on the back of your couch while you ate.

"It's real late. I reckon you should stay over. I don't want you driving on dirt when it's so dark."

"Oh, it's fine. I've already put you out so much."

"Don't be silly. I insist."

You shivered without meaning to. That almost growl, low and bordering on menacing. It was so familiar, so...

"Just like that. Look at you, half asleep and still desperate for my cock."

"You like the taste? Yeah, I bet you fucking do."

"Ain't just gonna use your mouth next time."

You squeezed your eyes shut. Where the hell was this coming from? Were you remembering some sick dream from this afternoon?

"You okay there neighbour?"

You nodded. "Just my head."

Maybe he was right. Driving when you were so disorientated was just asking for trouble.

"If you really don't mind... I'll be happy to sleep over."

He laughed, a deep, rumbling thing. "I'll make the guest room up special, just for you."

"Could I use your shower too?"

"I offered didn't I? Come on, I'll show you where it is."

He took you to the master bedroom and jerked his thumb at the en-suite.

"Hot water is the most reliable in there. Door doesn't close that well though, so don't mind it. I'll be downstairs when you're done."

You brushed your teeth carefully. You lips felt sore, bruised in a way you couldn't explain.

You waited until you heard his footsteps going down the stairs before you stripped off your clothes. You stood under the hot water for a good few minutes, luxuriating in the feeling. The bathroom was thick with steam when you finally got to scrubbing yourself. The door was open just a crack and the bedroom beyond was dark. You forgot all about it until you heard the creak of the hinges.

You whirled to face the door, your hands coming up to cover yourself. The steam was too thick to see through. You called his name.

Nothing.

You stepped out with suds still on your thighs and pushed the door open. The room beyond was empty.

You sighed. God, you were being paranoid. Your neighbour was a great guy. It was unfair of you to treat him like a peeping tom when he'd gone out of his way to make you comfortable. It must have been just an errant draught.

You stepped back into the shower and rinsed yourself off. But no matter what you told yourself, you still kept an eye on the door.

When you went to change into your fresh clothes, you spent at least five minutes hunting for your underwear. Did you drop it somewhere? Oh, please say your undies weren't just sitting in the middle of his hallway. That would be beyond embarrassing.

Eventually you gave up and just decided to go without them. Not comfortable at all but still better than walking around in a towel to look for them. And much better than calling your neighbour in to help. Wouldn't that be fun? 'Hey neighbour that I don't know that well, you haven't seen my intimates lying around, have you?' Yeah, you'd never again get invited over after something like that.

When you were dressed, you found him already on his way up the hall. He was carrying a glass of water and some pills.

"Thought you might still have a headache, so I brought you some painkillers."

You paused, nervous but not sure why.

"Thanks." His hands dwarfed yours when he handed them over. You didn't recognise the name of on the pills, but they looked harmless. You tossed them back and gagged at the bitter aftertaste.

"They pack a punch, so tell me when you start to get drowsy."

"Aye aye captain."

You followed him to the guest room. It was at the very back on the second story, quieter than the rest of the house. A huge glass wall gave you a view of the forest disappearing into the darkness. You could see the ghost of your reflection in the glass, your neighbour a hulking, shapeless mass at your shoulder.

He took a seat in an armchair across form the bed and stretched out his legs. You perched on the edge of the mattress, still feeling a bit like an intruder.

"How long have you been staying out here?” you asked.

He smiled at you, teeth glinting almost wolf-like. "Got you curious?"

"A little. Folk in town say they hardly see you. I don't know... I'm just wondering if you ever get lonely."

He was quiet and you cursed yourself for being so nosy. You hurried to fill the silence.

"It's just that I get a bit lonely out here too. 'Specially when it's so quiet. And I guess I was wondering if it's the same for you."

He smiled at you, rueful. "At times. Used to be worse, but I've got a new interest to keep me occupied nowadays."

"Oh yeah? What?"

"Bird watching."

"Really? What do you look for?"

The way the room was lit up, you couldn't see his eyes. They fell into shadow and you only had his lips to read his emotions by. He smirked, slow and almost mocking.

"Just one bird I look out for. Flighty little thing. Tends to get caught by predators a lot. You’d probably recognise it."

The polite thing to do would be to ask what it was called. You didn't. Some part of whispered that you wouldn't like the answer.

You must have been quiet a little too long because he took it as his cue to leave. He stood, a mountain of muscle, his eyes not quite as nice as they seemed that afternoon. A trick of the light, surely. He wouldn't hurt a fly.

"You rest up. Got a busy day tomorrow."

"G'night."

He was gone before you thought to ask what he meant. And you were passed out on your pillows before you realised it. He was right. The pills sure did pack one hell of a punch.

You were aware of a shadow at the end of your bed. You weren't fully awake, and your limbs were slow and heavy with more than just sleep.

"Who..."

The shadow reached down and one warm paw circled your ankle.

"Just me little bird."

You knew that voice. It was the voice that brought you warm food and invited you in from the cold. You could trust it. Could go back to sleep and not worry about anything.

'No,' some part of you hissed, 'He's not as safe as you think.'

"Cold..."

The shadow laughed and it was the laugh of the fox finding the rabbit's den. Nasty. Hungry.

"Cold huh? Don't worry baby. I'll warm you right up."

He yanked your ankle towards him and your whole body slid down the bed. You were too drowsy to stop it.

"Knew you were gonna be mine the second I saw you," he cooed, hands running up your thighs.

His fingers slipped under your waistband, nails scraping your hip bones.

"Dumb little thing from the city. Doesn't even realise I've tripped all their breakers. That's why you don't have power baby. It's all me."

His fingers were as big as the rest of him. Thick, meaty. Skin rough from working outdoors. You whined when his fingertips scraped the edges of your hole.

"No underwear. You needy slut. That's practically a written and signed invitation to fuck you."

He pulled your pants down to your ankles and pushed your knees up to your stomach. And you were too out of it to stop him. Limp and pliable as a fuck doll.

Your tight ass was exposed to the cold air, entirely at the mercy of whatever he wanted to do.

"Cute." He circled his thumb around the rim, almost pushing in but not quite. "Wanted to be in this ass since you first showed up at my door all those months ago. Lookin' up at me all sweet. Fuck, it's enough to drive a man to desperation."

He lowered his head and you could feel his warm breath washing over your thighs.

He dragged his tongue across your hole. Some part of you must have been more awake than the rest, because your whole body jerked away from him.

"None of that," he cooed, hands digging into your thighs and dragging you back. "I haven't even gotten started yet."

He licked you again, deeper this time. The flexed tip of his tongue pushing at your entrance, and to your dull horror, actually slipping in. He moaned and you could feel the vibrations all through your crotch.

He pulled out and spat, rubbed it in with his fingers. One of them pushed in until the second joint, curling into your walls so rough that you gasped.

"Please..."

"Please what?" he mocked. "Please fuck my tight little ass? Please cum inside me? Use your words little bird."

"Please...stop..."

That made him laugh again, made him shove his finger in all the way to the knuckle. Twisting so cruelly as he pulled out and jerked back in.

"Stop? Stop? After all the work it took to get you here? No way baby. I'm not slowing down and I'm sure as fuck not stopping."

You heard the sound of his belt unbuckling, followed by a sharp intake of breath when he nudged his leaking head against your hole.

"You’re not going to remember this. And I'm not going to leave any evidence."

He pushed your legs tighter against your chest.

"So as much as I want to fuck you rotten, you're gonna have to be happy with just the tip."

He'd done a good job loosening and lubing you, but it still burned like a hot poker when he forced his way in. He groaned, almost in pain.

"You're fucking choking me. God, do you want my cum so bad?"

You could feel when the tip was in. That tiny difference in thickness between his head and shaft was oh so noticeable when your ass was clenching and fluttering around it. It was the smallest mercy, but mercy nonetheless.

He was panting from the effort of getting it in, the effort of holding back. The size difference between you almost perverse. Like a draft stallion trying to mount a pony. In every way, he was just too fucking big.

He spat in his hand and brought it to his cock, ran his palm up and down his shaft with sickly wet strokes. The combination of his palm and your squeezing ass was fucking delicious.

He had great stamina but fuck if it didn't feel like you were milking him.

He let go long enough to smack your ass. It almost finished him. You clenched around him so hard it felt like his tip was getting fucking crushed.

"Shiiiit, you're the best hole I've ever had. Can't wait 'til I can go all the way."

You whined, pitiful as snared prey. There were words there, though they were too slurred to make out. Something about Daddy and please and stop. He ignored you.

He pushed in a little deeper and watched your face scrunching up. So helpless, so fucking caught. That was what did it. The knowledge that he could do this to you at any point and you'd be helpless to stop it.

He came inside you, snarling through clenched teeth, his fingers digging into your thigh hard enough to bruise. You'd notice the marks in the morning and chalk it up to just being clumsy. But he'd know. He'd see the bruises peeking out from the hem of your shorts and his cock would twitch just a little at the memory of leaving them.

His cock pulsed. Shot strings of spunk deep inside you. You could feel it. Hot, too hot. Gross. Make it stop. Get it out.

He pulled out with a wet pop. His cum drooled down and he took a minute to work it back into you with his finger. Your hole was gaping just a little and it made his balls pulse. If he had the time...

"A real fucking mess. And on my good sheets too. You're a terrible guest."

He mopped up whatever cum remained with a balled up piece of martial that he pulled from his pocket. Even in you stupor, you recognised it as your missing underwear.

"Terrible guest, but the perks of having you around are pretty fucking sweet."

He dropped your knees back to the mattress, pulled your pants back into place and roughly yanked the duvet over you. He grabbed your jaw and smiled at the lost, drowsy look in your half open eyes.

"Got a big day tomorrow. Gonna wake up and find your whole house was flooded. Ruined. Gonna have nowhere to stay but with me."

He sounded smug. It made your guts twist.

Outside, the night grew quiet. A predator was hunting and most prey knew better than to catch its attention.

"I made sure of it. All your family and friends in the city are away from home. There's no one around to help you out..."

He tightened his grip just enough to watch the fear start dancing in your eyes.

"No one...except me."

He let you go and smiled that same warm, comforting smile from that afternoon.

"Dumb little thing. Got no clue how your water mains work, do you? Got no idea how easy they are to sabotage."

He tutted. "Got me so damn busy. I'm gonna have to run to your place, fuck shit up and be back here before you wake up for real."

He traced his index finger over your lips and left behind a sticky coating of spunk. You'd wake up tasting salt again, with no memory of why.

"But it's fine. I forgive you. After today we'll have plenty of time together. Rest of our lives in fact. So just sleep tight and forget what you think you've dreamed."

There are perks to living in the middle nowhere. Privacy. Untouched nature. Peace and quiet.

There are perks, but unfortunately for you, your neighbour isn't one of them.

[myloveer0]

Caught in the Act

Ambessa medarda x Fem!reader x Sevika

Ambessa x Sevika

🔥🔥🔥❤️❤️❤️

⚠️warning contain smut⚠️

Summary: As Ambessa Medarda’s secretary, delivering bad news was part of the job—but interrupting her day off? A nightmare. When she didn’t answer the door, you made the reckless decision to enter her penthouse uninvited. What you found inside was not what you expected.

A secret. A scandal. A side of your boss you never imagined.

This is my fav ship in the show. Ambessa x Sevika. My mind is wild making this!! But anyway enjoy....

Part I

The elevator ride to the top floor was silent. You watched the numbers on the panel climb, each second dragging before the occasional ding shattered the silence. Your grip tightened around the folder in your arms—the one containing a crucial document that needed your boss’s immediate response.

You had been Ambessa Medarda’s secretary for five years, and if there was one thing you knew so much about your boss, was that she's a perfectionist, she did not tolerate incompetence. Yet, now you had made a grave mistake. A crucial document—one she needed to sign—had completely slipped your mind. And now, here you were, standing outside her penthouse on a Sunday—her day off.

Way to go, self. You’re dead the second she lays eyes on you.

This wasn’t like you. You were a competent secretary—sharp, efficient, the kind people envied for your flawless work. The very reason why you survive for five years. Damn perfect at your job. But ever since your twelve-year-old cat was sent to the vet, you’d been struggling to balance everything while taking care of him.

And now, here you were.

If this had been something minor, you would have brushed it aside—waited until tomorrow to deal with it. But it wasn’t. This was a million-dollar contract. People’s jobs were on the line—their livelihoods. Your job. Maybe even your life. The last thing you needed was to be fired and left jobless in this economy.

You reached her door—the only room at the top of the building. A sleek black panel with a high-tech lock. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but your heart pounded mercilessly against your ribs. You felt like shit.

Your boss wasn’t just strict—she was ruthless. A demon hiding behind that beautiful face, a wolf in silk and steel. She's the scariest woman you know, and now, you were about to knock on her door with nothing but a mistake and an apology.

Swallowing hard, you pressed the doorbell.

Silence.

You waited, adjusting your posture, trying to calm the nerves. You rang again.

Still nothing.

"Madam Medarda?" you called out, voice firm but edged with hesitation.

You rang the doorbell. No response.

Frowning, you tried again, letting you knuckles rap against the sleek surface door this time. You glance at the camera at the ceiling waving your hand hoping it would grab her attention.

“Madam Medarda? It’s me.”

Silence.

You checked the time. You couldn't afford to wait. The deadline was closing in, and without her signature, the entire deal could collapse. If only they didn't have a persistent business partner this time. Urgh..

A sigh escaped you as you reached into your pocket, pulling out the spare key she had entrusted you with for emergencies. This certainly counted as one. Your fingers hesitated on the handle—Madam Medarda valued her privacy, and even with her trust, stepping into her home uninvited felt like crossing a line.

But you had no choice.

Sliding the key in, you turned the lock. The door clicked open. The first thing you noticed was her favorite red heels. She was here. Then why wasn’t she answering?

You step inside. The penthouse was a world of its own—immaculate, luxurious, the kind of wealth most people could only dream of. The floor-to-ceiling windows bathed the space in soft, warm light, the midnight skyscraper stretching endlessly beyond the glass. The air smelled faintly of expensive cologne and aged whiskey, a scent that clung to the very essence of the woman who lived here. No matter how many times you had been here, you could never quite get used to it.

You closed the door behind you, your heels muffled by the plush rug as you ventured further in. "Madam Medarda?" you called again, your voice echoed back by the sheer space of the place.

Still nothing.

Your grip on the folder tightened. Where was she?

Your mind raced back to her schedule. Sunday—empty. She had specifically told you yesterday that she would be here, and didn’t want to be disturbed. You wouldn’t have even thought about coming if she had just picked up her phone. You have emailed her the soft copy but didn't get any response, and her phone had been silent.

It wasn’t like her.

Your mind ran through possibilities as you checked the kitchen—pristine, untouched. The gym where she mostly spend her free time, training. But now, the room was empty. The punching bag hung still, the dumbbells neatly racked. The scent of faint sweat and metal lingered, but it was clear no one had been here for hours.

Your unease grew.

You checked her office next. Papers were stacked in perfect order. Even the chair was pushed in as though she had left everything undisturbed.

It was too empty. Every space you searched empty. Maybe she was really out?

That left only one place.

Your gaze lifted toward the mezzanine floor above. The master bedroom.

Your fingers curled around the folder in your hands hesitating, it felt invasive, disrespectful even, but… what if something had happened? She wouldn’t ignore an emergency. Taking a breath, you steeled yourself and ascended the staircase, each step echoed. Reaching the top, you hesitated before the door.

Then, with quiet resolve, swallowing, you knocked lightly.

“Madam Medarda?”

Silence.

Your pulse quickened.

You knocked again, louder this time. “Madam, it’s me.”

Still nothing.

You didn’t have the courage to open the door. This was her personal space—crossing that boundary felt wrong. She also strictly instructed that no one is allowed inside. But what if something had happened to her? She was an older woman, in her sixties, even if she looked nothing like it. What if she had tripped in the bathroom? Had a heart attack or something?

Your eyes widened with concern.

Your heart pounded as you pushed the bedroom door open, half-expecting. But the room was just as pristine as the rest of the penthouse. No boss.

It was your first time seeing her bedroom. Black and deep red dominated the space, a striking contrast of power and luxury. The king-sized bed was immaculately made, the silk sheets untouched. Heavy velvet curtains were drawn back, revealing the vast cityscape below. And oh god it smell so good in here.

But there was no sign of your boss.

Your breath hitched as you hurried toward the en-suite bathroom, pushing the door open with mounting anxiety.

Empty.

You exhaled, relief washing over you. Maybe she was just out. Maybe she was with friends.

…Wait.

Does she even have friends?

You checked your watch—8:10 PM. Where the hell could she be?

Your grip tightened around the folder in your hands. The document needed her signature before ten, but you still had a few arrangements to make after that.. You exhaled sharply, forcing yourself to stay calm. Pulling out your phone, you redialed her number, pacing back and forth. The call rang, but there was still no answer. The silence only made your anxiety spike further.

Then—something caught your eye. A faint glimmer of light, just at the corner of the room.

Your brows furrowed as you glanced around. The room was empty—so it was just you in here. Is that a camera? Your heels clicked against the floor as you turned toward it. Small, barely noticeable, but it was there. But the way it flickered against the dim lighting grabbed your attention. Should you leave it? Maybe you were overstepping—prying into things that weren’t your business. You should stop being nosy and just leave the room. Focus on finding her.

But your feet stayed planted.

Curiosity gnawed at you. Beside what worse could it be? right?

Slowly, you pulled the cabinet open.

But the moment your eyes registered what you were looking at, your entire body froze. Your jaw dropped. The folder in your hands slipped through your fingers, hitting the floor with a quiet thud.

“Holy—” You barely managed to stifle the curse, slapping a hand over your mouth as heat rushed to your face.

Rows of neatly arranged sex toys filled the cabinet. Leather, silicone, metal—each item meticulously placed, organized by size, color, and, judging by the different harnesses folded at the side.

Mostly strap-ons… and there were so many. And was perfectly maintained.

You blinked. Then blinked again, your body paralyze as if maybe your brain had conjured this up in some fevered hallucination. But no—the collection was very real. A fresh wave of heat flushed up your neck as your mind betrayed you, painting lewd images started to grace your mind.

''S-shit...''

You had always known your boss as a workaholic—ruthlessly efficient, with little patience for nonsense. She hate useless people and embodied the very definition of a strong, professional woman. The idea of her indulging in this kind of pleasure? You had never once considered it. You even though she hate sex since she was basically married to her job.

You exhaled slowly, pressing your lips together to silence any more wayward thoughts. A warmth crept up your legs. She's a dom. Of course she’d be the type to take charge, you couldn't imagine a person knocking your boss out. And you weren’t gonna judge. Everyone had their preferences and hobby. It just so happened that your boss—the most perfect strict woman you had ever known—had this particular… taste.

But then, an image flashed through your mind. Her in those straps, mercilessly pounding—

NO—!!

What the hell were you doing?! That was your boss. Seriously? Yes, you had a secret crush on her—who wouldn’t? Half the women in the office did. She was tall, older, powerful, sexy as sin, and filthy rich. But this? This was too much.

Goodness… stop it.

You took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, trying to steady the storm inside your head. Calm down. Get it together. This has to stop. Let's just pretend you didn’t see anything, forget about it, and get the hell out of here. You reached down, to pick up your folder. You needed to leave this cabinet alone before your boss arrive. But your body froze and your ear perk up. The sound of the penthouse door close thud echoed through the space.

Your entire body ran cold.

Shit. Are you kidding me?

The sound of the penthouse door sent a jolt of panic straight through you, but now—now you could hear the unmistakable sound of heavy footsteps. Not just one pair. Two. Comin in your direction.

Your mind barely had time to spiral. Your boss wasn’t alone.

The realization hit you like a freight train. What to do? what to do?!

If she found you here—inside her private bedroom, inside here with her cabinet of secrets—there would be no explaining yourself. Not only had you trespassed into her personal space, but you had also stumbled upon something you were never meant to see.

Your panicking. Pulling your hair you look around looking for a place to hide but everthing was spot on. Your body moved before your mind could even process a proper escape plan. You snatched the folder from the floor, and shoved yourself inside the cabinet, tucking yourself into the bottom shelf just as you pulled the door shut.

Then—

BANG.

The bedroom door slammed open.

You clenched your jaw, pressing a hand over your mouth as heavy boots crossed the threshold. From your cramped hiding spot, you could barely breathe. You barely swallowed a gasp as you scrambled backward, pressing yourself as tightly as you could against the back of the cabinet.

Then came the voices. Low grunt and breathy, needy moan into the room.

“—been waiting all day for this,” a unfamilliar woman voice.

“You’re impatient. Little one..” Your boss voice response with a deep chuckle..

Your body froze with your eyes widen holding your breath so that you can't make a single sound. You shouldn’t be here.. Your cheeks heat up, your face burning. Please, this can't be happening. The rustling of clothes fills the air, followed by the creak of the bed. Your breath hitches as a series of moans began to echo through the room. You can't believe it—you’re secretly listening to your boss having sex while hiding among her collection. You whimper and your legs started to squirm.

Your breathing starts to hitch as you hear those horny moans. The door is closed, and you don’t dare to move. All the worries about the paper vanish, replaced by panic—how are you supposed to get out of this situation? You definitely don’t plan on hearing them the entire night. Unless… you’re willing to stay hidden in this shelf for the rest of the day.

Please be done already.

"Let me get my stap—" You heard Ambessa’s voice, clear and commanding voice.

Her strap?

You almost screamed in horror when you heard that sentence, her footsteps drawing closer. Your eyes wide in immediate shock. What to do? Your mind went blank. Panic surged through you. You had to move, had to do something—but were would you go!

No, no, no— Someone help!

You braced for impact, panic tightening around your throat—this is how you die. Caught. Hiding. Under your boss sex toy collection. You curled into the smallest ball humanly possible, silently praying and begging the universe to spare you. You recite all the godess you knew. If she opened this cabinet—if she found you—it was over.

You could already see her face, the sheer disbelief, the inevitable horror. Her secretary. This would be the single greatest humiliation of your entire life. And you weren’t sure you’d ever recover.

The cabinet slowly began to open and light started to enter inside before a voice interrupted.

"Tch, just get your stupid ass here, do it later...!"

The tone was dispreate, deep and unmistakably familiar.

Ambessa chuckled, and then—mercifully—she left the barely open cabinet. Instead, you heard her footsteps shift away, followed by the rustle of sheets. You almost collapsed from relief, pressing a hand over your mouth to muffle you shaky breath. Your squeeze your shirt against your chest your breath hoarse with intense nervousness. Frightened the hell out of your nerves The folder in your hand was now all cramp out didn't care. That was too close...

But just as you started to calm down, the room filled with a new sound—

A creaking bed.

Then, the sharp, rhythmic thud of the headboard tapping against the wall.

And finally—

A low, sultry moan.

Ambessa chuckles darkly, “Look at that wet pussy it's clencing for my touch,” she mocks, her tone saccharine and taunting.

You bit down on your knuckle so hard it almost drew blood. Oh, for fuck’s sake.

Heat rushed to your face in shame, but—worse—your body reacted to the noises in ways you really wished it wouldn’t. You had always known Madam Medarda was an intense woman, but hearing her like this? Dominant, teasing, making someone beg—

Your thighs clenched involuntarily.

No. Stop.

You were not getting turned on by your boss getting laid. Absolutely not.

And yet—against your better judgment—your palm inched toward your pelvis, your body betraying you. Before you knew it, you were peeking through the small gap in the closet door.

Your breath hitched as you adjusted your view. The warm glow of the bedside lamp cast flickering shadows across the room.

''Ohhh yess keep going! Shit!''

In the center of the room, propped against the wall, was a bed stripped bare. The deep red, quilted mattress dipped under the weight of two naked muscular women tangled together, the relentless pounding of the bedframe against the wall echoing.

And then—you froze.

Your eyes went wide, your heart slamming against your ribs.

The woman with your boss—was Sevika!?

Sevika lay on her back, one leg raised high, the other bent in a loose butterfly stretch. Ambessa straddled her holding sevika legs up, their pussy grinding together out. The slick sound of skin against skin, mingled with husky grunts and breathless moans, filled the air. Your entire body trembled as you watched. You should have looked away, but you couldn’t. The sight was magnetic—two powerful, sweat-slicked women moving in perfect sync, their abs tightening, their muscular thighs and arms flexing under the dim, golden light. It was raw, unapologetic, and utterly impossible to ignore. It was like masterpiece painting..

Sevika. Her love-and-hate business partner. The woman who constantly stormed in and out of your boss’s office, always bickering, at each other. You never would have guessed. She wasn’t your boss’s lover—at least, that’s what your boss claimed. She had insisted she wasn’t interested in dating. Yet you had no idea they had this kind of secret affair. Not once had it crossed your mind that their constant arguments—their sharp words and heated glares—could have been hiding this.

Your boss wrapped her strong, wide fingers around Sevika’s throat, squeezing just enough to leave her gasping for air—but Sevika didn’t resist. She only smirked, locking eyes with Ambessa meeting her brutal grind their bodies colliding, tits bouncing with every movement.

Your breath hitched. You should have looked away if you want to be spared—but you couldn’t. Your were scared but they were too mesmerizing and intoxicating. The way their muscles tensed, the way sweat glistened on their skin under the dim light—it was too much. Too damn good. Too damn hot.

“Cum for me, Sevika,” Ambessa commanded, her tone leaving no room for defiance.

“Yes! Harder, Ambessa!” Sevika begged, her voice raw with need.

Ambessa leaned in, following the demand without hesitation. Sevika seized the moment, gripping Ambessa’s breasts, kneading them before pinching her stiffened nipple. A sharp whimper escaped both of them, fueling the fire between their bodies.

They grind against each other cunt in a desperate, feverish rhythm. Just watching them made your body throb, heat pooling low between your legs. Your toes curled, fingers twitching at your sides as moans filled the room. Ambessa’s pace quickened, her movements relentless, chasing and harsh. You imagined yourself between them, and the thought made you wetter, needier.

Sevika’s body tensed, her back arching off the bed. “Fuck’s sake—I’m coming! Don’t stop!” she gasped.

“Fuck, yes…” Ambessa threw her head back, her muscles flexing as their slick bodies moved in perfect sync. Their juices mixed, the scent of sex thick in the air. Their cries filled the room, bodies shaking as they rode out their climax, hips still grinding, chasing every last wave of pleasure. You couldn't look away. You keep watching them didn't blink every second.

Then—BZZZT!

The sudden blare of a ringtone shattered the moment. Your breath caught as your phone lit up in the dark closet. The sound startled you so badly that you jerked up, hitting your head on the shelf with a loud thud.

Shit.

''Who's there!!?''

[sturnmeovr]

♡‧₊˚ Video Clips of Sweethearts Pregnancy - First Trimester

♡ 'who said Pepsi kills sperm?' - video length: 33 seconds

Chris holds his phone in his hand, looking into the camera as he brings a half empty Pepsi can up to his mouth, taking a long swig before double tapping his screen. The camera switches, revealing Sweethearts small figure leaning against the bathroom counter, three positive pregnancy tests placed on the counter next her. Chris smiles bright, zooming in on the pregnancy tests, and panning the camera to the mirror as he wraps an arm around her waist. He pulls her into his embrace, pressing a light kiss to her temple before ending the video. Chris makes sure to type the caption, 'who said Pepsi kills sperm??', saving the video to his camera roll, and shoving his phone into his pocket.

♡ 'yikes' - video length: 12 seconds

Chris stands in the doorway of the bathroom, running a hand thru his hair as he looks into the camera. Gut wrenching gags fill the room as Sweetheart empties the contents of her stomach into the toilet. Morning sickness was kicking her ass, and the baby didn't agree with anything she choose to eat, whether she craved it or not. Chris double taps the screen, pointing the camera in her direction before quickly double tapping it again to show his face, he plasters a sarcastic smile on lips and mouths the words, "yikes," before ending the video.

♡ 'Baby bean🧡' - video length: 47 seconds

Chris focuses the camera on Sweethearts belly, the ultrasound technician moves the camera probe across her small bump, spreading the cold gel as she keeps her eyes glued to the screen. Chris pans the camera up to Sweethearts face, she gives him a nervous smile before he redirects the camera to the ultrasound screen. A staticky heartbeat sounds thru the speaker, making a light gasp leave both of their lips in unison as the black and white blurs become easier to piece together. The ultrasound tech chuckles, "very active one we have here," she coos, clicking a few buttons to capture the right image. Once the recording is over, Chris captions it 'Baby bean🧡" and sends it to family and close friends.

♡ 'Dr. Sturniolo' - video length: 18 seconds

Sweetheart lies reclined back in a hospital bed, pointing her phone at the closed privacy curtain, she's trying her best to hold back her giggles. Chris pulls the curtain back, revealing himself dressed in a white lab coat, letting her laughter break free. He steps goofily to her bedside, snapping his blue latex gloves against his wrist before placing a hand on her knee and dramatically trying to pry open her legs, "c'mon, baby," he coos, laughter seeping thru the crack of his words, "open them legs and let Dr. Sturniolo take a look." His face fills the frame, a playful smile sown into his lips as he wiggles his eyebrows at her before she ends the video.

♡ 'who tf told her that? 😭😭' - video length: 14 seconds

Chris records the floor, his bare feet echoing off the hardwood as he pushes his bedroom door open. There she was - wearing nothing but one of his Lets Trip hoodies and her panties as she hung upside down off his bed, her face beat red from all the blood rushing to her brain, and her growing bump protruding out of his hoodie she had on, "the hell are you doing kid?" he chuckles, raised brows and a suggestive smirk on his face. Sweetheart looks at him with a sour expression before propping herself upright, "I heard that hanging upside down stops nausea." Chris gives her a funny look, ending the video, and typing 'who tf told her that? 😭😭' across the screen as a caption.

♡ 'my babymomma ��' - video length: 12 Seconds

A blanket draped over her shoulders as she sleepily stumbles into Matts room, leaning against the door frame, "are you coming?" Sweetheart whines at Chris who was sprawled out on his brother's bed, his phone pointed towards her with a bright smile on his face, "y'look good, baby." Once she realizes he's recording her, she covers her face with the blanket she's cocooned in, "Chris st-," the video comes to an abrupt end before she can get the words out. The captions reads: "my babymomma 🥵'

♡ 'reason 193793 why I love her' - video length: 7 seconds

"No way that's happening," Chris eggs Sweetheart on, his dirty thoughts running rampant in his mind. Sweetheart was naive, not thinking anything of his sexual innuendos. She eases the glazed donut into her mouth, only taking notice of her babydaddy's suggestive smirk and raised eyebrows after she succeeds her mission. Muffling out a, "hey!" at the end. This one of Chris' favorite videos of Sweetheart, it shows her goofy side which he absolutely adores since she's usually shy around most people.

♡ 'thank the lord!' - video length: 38 seconds

Chris pushes the box of Mcdonalds nuggets across the kitchen island, giving Sweetheart uneasy look as he focuses the camera on her. She looked drained; like Bella Swan when she was pregnant with Renesmae, she felt like it too. Sweetheart bravely opens the box of nuggets, pulling one out, and taking a small bite. She didn't care if it sent her running to the toilet, the baby growing inside her said her body needed food now. Surprisingly, the chicken nuggets didn't taste disgusting, "sweet n sour?" she croaks out, somewhat relived that baby Bean was finally a agreeing with something she ate. Chris slides her a sauce cup, Sweetheart dips her nugget before taking another bite. She looks up, giving Chris a nod of approval, seconds later he thrusts a fist into air, "thank the lord!" He felt accomplished - having suggested the nuggets to Sweetheart, rushing to McDonalds, and waiting twenty minutes in line for them.

♡ 'GYATT DAMNNN' - video length: 4 seconds

A short clip of Chris recording Sweethearts as she pushes a shopping cart thru target, zooming in on her ass as she walked down the baby clothes aisle. Chris admired what pregnancy did to her body, adding weight to all the right places. Her skin glowed and boobs sat on top of her bump so perfectly, but her ass was his favorite part. He’d give her ten babies if her ass looked like that every time she was pregnant. He captions the video, "GYATT DAMNNN' and saves it to his 'my eyes only' on snapchat.

♡ 'tbh my biggest flex is nutting in her' - video length: 11 seconds

The clips starts with Sweetheart lying in bed, her glasses pushed to her nose with Cheez-its scattered over her barely noticeable belly bump. She takes a sip from her pink stanley cup, plucking one of the squared orange crackers to plop in her mouth, making Chris beam from behind the camera. He loved her so much. Chris marks the caption, 'tbh my biggest flex is nutting in her,' and sends it to all of his close circle, including poor Mary Lou.

♡‧₊˚ Cheys Note - I want to give credits to @kiemiu & @phone4pills for the video clips idea bc their posts were literal perfection and inspired me so much to do this! 😍 I absolutely loovvee the idea of this and may do something else like this in the future if everyone likes it! <3

Babydaddy!Chris Masterlist

Masterlist

Taglist (comment to be added)

Send me asks or suggestions about my au's! <3

[mostlysignssomeportents]

The cod-Marxism of personalized pricing

Picks and Shovels is a new, standalone technothriller starring Marty Hench, my two-fisted, hard-fighting, tech-scam-busting forensic accountant. You can pre-order it on my latest Kickstarter, which features a brilliant audiobook read by Wil Wheaton.

The social function of the economics profession is to explain, over and over again, that your boss is actually right and that you don't really want the things you want, and you're secretly happy to be abused by the system. If that wasn't true, why would your "choose" commercial surveillance, abusive workplaces and other depredations?

In other words, economics is the "look what you made me do" stick that capitalism uses to beat us with. We wouldn't spy on you, rip you off or steal your wages if you didn't choose to use the internet, shop with monopolists, or work for a shitty giant company. The technical name for this ideology is "public choice theory":

https://pluralistic.net/2022/06/05/regulatory-capture/

Of all the terrible things that economists say we all secretly love, one of the worst is "price discrimination." This is the idea that different customers get charged different amounts based on the merchant's estimation of their ability to pay. Economists insist that this is "efficient" and makes us all better off. After all, the marginal cost of filling the last empty seat on the plane is negligible, so why not sell that seat for peanuts to a flier who doesn't mind the uncertainty of knowing whether they'll get a seat at all? That way, the airline gets extra profits, and they split those profits with their customers by lowering prices for everyone. What's not to like?

Plenty, as it turns out. With only four giant airlines who've carved up the country so they rarely compete on most routes, why would an airline use their extra profits to lower prices, rather than, say, increasing their dividends and executive bonuses?

For decades, the airline industry was the standard-bearer for price discrimination. It was basically impossible to know how much a plane ticket would cost before booking it. But even so, airlines were stuck with comparatively crude heuristics to adjust their prices, like raising the price of a ticket that didn't include a Saturday stay, on the assumption that this was a business flyer whose employer was footing the bill:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/06/07/drip-drip-drip/#drip-off

With digitization and mass commercial surveillance, we've gone from pricing based on context (e.g. are you buying your ticket well in advance, or at the last minute?) to pricing based on spying. Digital back-ends allow vendors to ingest massive troves of commercial surveillance data from the unregulated data-broker industry to calculate how desperate you are, and how much money you have. Then, digital front-ends – like websites and apps – allow vendors to adjust prices in realtime based on that data, repricing goods for every buyer.

As digital front-ends move into the real world (say, with digital e-ink shelf-tags in grocery stores), vendors can use surveillance data to reprice goods for ever-larger groups of customers and types of merchandise. Grocers with e-ink shelf tags reprice their goods thousands of times, every day:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/26/glitchbread/#electronic-shelf-tags

Here's where an economist will tell you that actually, your boss is right. Many groceries are perishable, after all, and e-ink shelf tags allow grocers to reprice their goods every minute or two, so yesterday's lettuce can be discounted every fifteen minutes through the day. Some customers will happily accept a lettuce that's a little gross and liztruss if it means a discount. Those customers get a discount, the lettuce isn't thrown out at the end of the day, and everyone wins, right?

Well, sure, if. If the grocer isn't part of a heavily consolidated industry where competition is a distant memory and where grocers routinely collude to fix prices. If the grocer doesn't have to worry about competitors, why would they use e-ink tags to lower prices, rather than to gouge on prices when demand surges, or based on time of day (e.g. making frozen pizzas 10% more expensive from 6-8PM)?

And unfortunately, groceries are one of the most consolidated sectors in the modern world. What's more, grocers keep getting busted for colluding to fix prices and rip off shoppers:

https://www.cbc.ca/news/business/loblaw-bread-price-settlement-1.7274820

Surveillance pricing is especially pernicious when it comes to apps, which allow vendors to reprice goods based not just on commercially available data, but also on data collected by your pocket distraction rectangle, which you carry everywhere, do everything with, and make privy to all your secrets. Worse, since apps are a closed platform, app makers can invoke IP law to criminalize anyone who reverse-engineers them to figure out how they're ripping you off. Removing the encryption from an app is a potential felony punishable by a five-year prison sentence and a $500k fine (an app is just a web-page skinned in enough IP to make it a crime to install a privacy blocker on it):

https://pluralistic.net/2024/08/15/private-law/#thirty-percent-vig

Large vendors love to sell you shit via their apps. With an app, a merchant can undetectably change its prices every few seconds, based on its estimation of your desperation. Uber pioneered this when they tweaked the app to raise the price of a taxi journey for customers whose batteries were almost dead. Today, everyone's getting in on the act. McDonald's has invested in a company called Plexure that pitches merchants on the use case of raising the cost of your normal breakfast burrito by a dollar on the day you get paid:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/06/05/your-price-named/#privacy-first-again

Surveillance pricing isn't just a matter of ripping off customers, it's also a way to rip off workers. Gig work platforms use surveillance pricing to titrate their wage offers based on data they buy from data brokers and scoop up with their apps. Veena Dubal calls this "algorithmic wage discrimination":

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/12/algorithmic-wage-discrimination/#fishers-of-men

Take nurses: increasingly, American hospitals are firing their waged nurses and replacing them with gig nurses who are booked in via an app. There's plenty of ways that these apps abuse nurses, but the most ghastly is in how they price nurses' wages. These apps buy nurses' financial data from data-brokers so they can offer lower wages to nurses with lots of credit card debt, on the grounds that crushing debt makes nurses desperate enough to accept a lower wage:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/12/18/loose-flapping-ends/#luigi-has-a-point

This week, the excellent Lately podcast has an episode on price discrimination, in which cohost Vass Bednar valiantly tries to give economists their due by presenting the strongest possible case for charging different prices to different customers:

https://www.theglobeandmail.com/podcasts/lately/article-the-end-of-the-fixed-price/

Bednar really tries, but – as she later agrees – this just isn't a very good argument. In fact, the only way charging different prices to different customers – or offering different wages to different workers – makes sense is if you're living in a socialist utopia.

After all, a core tenet of Marxism is "from each according to his ability, to each according to his needs." In a just society, people who need more get more, and people who have less, pay less:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/From_each_according_to_his_ability,_to_each_according_to_his_needs

Price discrimination, then, is a Bizarro-world flavor of cod-Marxism. Rather than having a democratically accountable state that sets wages and prices based on need and ability, price discrimination gives this authority to large firms with pricing power, no regulatory constraints, and unlimited access to surveillance data. You couldn't ask for a neater example of the maxim that "What matters isn't what technology does. What matters is who it does it for; and who it does it to."

Neoclassical economists say that all of this can be taken care of by the self-correcting nature of markets. Just give consumers and workers "perfect information" about all the offers being made for their labor or their business, and things will sort themselves out. In the idealized models of perfectly spherical cows of uniform density moving about on a frictionless surface, this does work out very well:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/03/all-models-are-wrong/#some-are-useful

But while large companies can buy the most intimate information imaginable about your life and finances, IP law lets them capture the state and use it to shut down any attempts you make to discover how they operate. When an app called Para offered Doordash workers the ability to preview the total wage offered for a job before they accepted it, Doordash threatened them with eye-watering legal penalties, then threw dozens of full-time engineers at them, changing the app several times per day to shut out Para:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/08/07/hr-4193/#boss-app

And when an Austrian hacker called Mario Zechner built a tool to scrape online grocery store prices – discovering clear evidence of price-fixing conspiracies in the process – he was attacked by the grocery cartel for violating their "IP rights":

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/17/how-to-think-about-scraping/

This is Wilhoit's Law in action:

Conservatism consists of exactly one proposition, to wit: There must be in-groups whom the law protects but does not bind, alongside out-groups whom the law binds but does not protect.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Francis_M._Wilhoit#Wilhoit's_law

Of course, there wouldn't be any surveillance pricing without surveillance. When it comes to consumer privacy, America is a no-man's land. The last time Congress passed a new consumer privacy law was in 1988, when they enacted the Video Privacy Protection Act, which bans video-store clerks from revealing which VHS cassettes you take home. Congress has not addressed a single consumer privacy threat since Die Hard was still playing in theaters.

Corporate bullies adore a regulatory vacuum. The sleazy data-broker industry that has festered and thrived in the absence of a modern federal consumer privacy law is absolutely shameless. For example, every time an app shows you an ad, your location is revealed to dozens of data-brokers who pretend to be bidding for the right to show you an ad. They store these location data-points and combine them with other data about you, which they sell to anyone with a credit card, including stalkers, corporate spies, foreign governments, and anyone hoping to reprice their offerings on the basis of your desperation:

https://www.404media.co/candy-crush-tinder-myfitnesspal-see-the-thousands-of-apps-hijacked-to-spy-on-your-location/

Under Biden, the outgoing FTC did incredible work to fill this gap, using its authority under Section 5 of the Federal Trade Commission Act (which outlaws "unfair and deceptive" practices) to plug some of the worst gaps in consumer privacy law:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/07/24/gouging-the-all-seeing-eye/#i-spy

And Biden's CFPB promulgated a rule that basically bans data brokers:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/06/10/getting-things-done/#deliverism

But now the burden of enforcing these rules falls to Trump's FTC, whose new chairman has vowed to end the former FTC's "war on business." What America desperately needs is a new privacy law, one that has a private right of action (so that individuals and activist groups can sue without waiting for a public enforcer to take up their causes) and no "pre-emption" (so that states can pass even stronger privacy laws):

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2022/07/federal-preemption-state-privacy-law-hurts-everyone

How will we get that law? Through a coalition. After all, surveillance pricing is just one of the many horrors that Americans have to put up with thanks to America's privacy law gap. The "privacy first" theory goes like this: if you're worried about social media's impact on teens, or women, or old people, you should start by demanding a privacy law. If you're worried about deepfake porn, you should start by demanding a privacy law. If you're worried about algorithmic discrimination in hiring, lending, or housing, you should start by demanding a privacy law. If you're worried about surveillance pricing, you should start by demanding a privacy law. Privacy law won't entirely solve all these problems, but none of them would be nearly as bad if Congress would just get off its ass and catch up with the privacy threats of the 21st century. What's more, the coalition of everyone who's worried about all the harms that arise from commercial surveillance is so large and powerful that we can get Congress to act:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/12/06/privacy-first/#but-not-just-privacy

Economists, meanwhile, will line up to say that this is all unnecessary. After all, you "sold" your privacy when you clicked "I agree" or walked under a sign warning you that facial recognition was in use in this store. The market has figured out what you value privacy at, and it turns out, that value is nothing. Any kind of privacy law is just a paternalistic incursion on your "freedom to contract" and decide to sell your personal information. It is "market distorting."

In other words, your boss is right.

Check out my Kickstarter to pre-order copies of my next novel, Picks and Shovels!

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/2025/01/11/socialism-for-the-wealthy/#rugged-individualism-for-the-poor

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

--

Ser Amantio di Nicolao (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Safeway_supermarket_interior,_Fairfax_County,_Virginia.jpg

CC BY-SA 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/deed.en

[classica-meretrix]

P.D.A.

pairing: spencer reid x bau!reader genre: fluff content/warnings: early seasons spencer, established relationship, use of y/n, lots of pda obvi, mentions of murder summary: spencer isn't one for public displays of attention, especially around the bau team, but when a case calls for it, he shocks everyone a/n: ignore that I accidentally posted this the other day

"The unsub is a white male, most likely in his early twenties. He suffered a large business failure at a young age, and is still attempting to grasp at those straws," Hotch explained is his typical serious monotone, slowly pacing the edge of the desk. "His victims are other young men who are trying to do the same, along with their girlfriends. We assume his failure cost him an important relationship, one which appeared to be fairly hot and heavy, as our victims have all been reported to display a lot of PDA." Hotch stopped in front of the table, turning to fully face us now. "We'll need a 'tech bro' type, someone who's good with numbers and good enough with computers."

All eyes turned to Spencer.

"The girlfriend role is no question. Our highest chance of this being believable is with Y/N."

"I think you mean our only chance," Morgan mocked, leaning back in his chair.

Spencer gave him a slightly puzzled look, as if he didn't understand the point he was making.

"Sometimes I wonder if these two are even dating," he continued. "There's no way he'd be able to pull that off with someone else."

Hotch let out a sigh, his mouth forming a hard line at Morgan's comment, but he pushed on. "The rest of us will be going to the party, but we're to refrain from contacting either Spencer or Y/N for extended periods of time without reason. If anyone asks, we're investors, and will most likely be asked to hold a fake business conversation at one or more points throughout the party. Make it look like it's going well, we believe this is what triggers the unsub. Success is the key. We meet at the jet in fifteen."

Hotch was already out the door by time I'd finished processing his words. I stood to collect a file from the table, gently nudging Spencer as he came to stand next to me.

"So, Mr. And Mrs. Hot and Heavy," Morgan began, a cocky grin on his lips. "Think you can pull this off, Reid?"

"Of course," Spencer answered flatly. "It's no different than any other case."

Morgan raised his eyebrows. "You do realize you'll actually have to touch her for this to believable, right? You won't be able to get by on just sharing coffee."

Spencer's brows were knitted together. Blatant confusion still evident in his expression.

"Yes, I realize that."

"Morgan, lay off, will you?" I piped up. "He'll be just fine. Let's get to the jet."

He relented, stalking out of the room with that cocky smirk still plastered on his lips.

I leaned back against the chair, pulling my legs up next to me. Morgan's words rang in my mind, plaguing me with unnecessary worries.

I knew I shouldn't dwell on it, I mean this was by no means Spencer's first time in the field, and I was well aware that he could pull off the guise of a touchy boyfriend, but Spencer's field work typically played off of his apparent nervousness, which completely went against the character, and he had never been fond of PDA, especially not around the BAU.

Sure, he could be touchy and all that in private, but that was mainly reserved for the privacy and comfort of one of our apartments, not some random skyrise chalked full of sleezy businessmen.

My eyes drifted to his sleeping form, curled up in a tight ball of one of the benches. A soft, serene expression was settled on his face as he laid swaddled in a thin blanket.

Somehow, he was going to act as someone completely different to himself, all while actively looking for the unsub. That part I could at least be of some use for, and I intended to do my best.

"How do I look?" he whispered in my ear as we walked towards the elevator, his hand resting loosely around my waist.

I wanted to say something like 'sexy as hell', but figured a simple "perfect" would do the trick. I reached up to loosen his tie just bit further, letting it rest where the top button of his shirt was undone. He was dressed up, but in someways much less formal than usual. His suit jacket hung open, his shirt and tie loose around his neck, his hair ruffled. This was a look I could most definitely get behind.

Spencer led me into the elevator, pressing the button for the penthouse, where the networking party was being hosted. We were the last of the BAU team to arrive, Gideon and Morgan being sent in separately, and Hotch and Elle as a young investing couple.

Spencer's eyes watched the electric panel above the door, following the numbers as they rose with the elevator. Just as the screen showed '25'—the floor just below the penthouse—Spencer's entire demeanor seemed to change.

His back straightened, adding at least another two inches to his height, he adopted the hint of a cocky smirk, and his hand dropped a dangerous amount, finding where my thigh met my hip with a firm hold.

The doors slid open, and he led me into the crowded room. The ceilings were easily twenty feet high, each central space adorned with an elaborate chandelier. Men and women alike, dressed to the nines, filled the space.

Spencer made no hesitation to strike up a conversation with the most capable looking businessman in the room, keeping me pressed to his side as he began spewing off the details of the fabricated business.

"Really? You don't say!" the older man cheered. "What a splendid proposition! What propelled you to even think of such a thing?"

"Child prodigy," Spencer answered, his tone laced with an intoxicating amount of self-confidence. I allowed myself to laugh a little too hard, his hand caressing my thigh as he shamelessly cast a hungry look down my body, tugging at the low neckline of my dress.

The investor laughed at Spencer's comment, taking a sip of his drink. I didn't miss the way his eyes followed a similar trail as Spencer's, but instead with a mix of intrigue and vague uncomfortableness at the blatant PDA.

As Spencer began rattling on again, I latched on to his neck, placing feverish kisses as he spoke. I had just begun to suck a decent mark on his collarbone when the man cleared his throat and made an awkward excuse to vacate the conversation.

I pulled back with a laugh, Spencer mimicking me. "That one's going to leave a mark. Sorry."

He roughly groped my ass, pulling me closer. "I'm never going to hear the end of this from Morgan."

"Speak of the devil," I began, watching as Derek appeared over Spencer's shoulder. He spun to face the visitor, pulling me along with him to rest against his chest.

"Well, well, well," Morgan began, his tone teasing yet impressed. "Who knew you were such a bad boy, Reid?" He made sure to keep his voice down, low enough that eves droppers wouldn't be able to discern that our talk wasn't strictly business over the party crowd.

"I told you I'd pull it off," Spencer stated bluntly. "Pretending to date my girlfriend isn't an exceptionally difficult task."

"Well, I don't know what you consider dating, but there's a big difference between what you two are like in the bullpen and what you're like now." Morgan's eyes flitted down to Spencer's hands as he spoke, which were now nudging up the already short hem of my dress to rest between my thighs.

"That's work," he said, as if that completely cleared up Morgan's comment.

"Hold on," I mumbled, catching sight of someone over Derek's shoulder. A tall blonde man, a few years younger than Spencer, watching the three of us like a hawk, though his gaze mainly flickered between Spencer and my rising hemline. "Unsub, ten o'clock."

Morgan immediately looked towards the crowd behind Spencer and myself, his brows scrunching.

"My ten o'clock," I huffed. "And don't look directly at him."

"I see him," Spencer whispered in my ear. "Morgan, notify Hotch. He'll make contact as soon as you're gone."

Derek gave the slightest nod, stumbling back as he raised his glass. "You're a corporate genius, man! Hit me up some time," he practically yelled, before disappearing back into the crowd.

[liminalweirdo]

HERE'S WHAT YOU CAN DO:

email, call, or write your reps (this is the most important one) — use this tool to find your reps HERE IS A TEMPLATE that you can pull from.

Here is the text used in the petition that you can pull from to include in your email/letter to your reps:

I’m writing to urge you to reject the Kids Online Safety Act, a misguided bill that would put vulnerable young people at risk. KOSA would fail to address the root issues related to kid’s safety online. Instead, it would endanger some of the most vulnerable people in our society while undermining human rights and children’s privacy. The bill would result in widespread internet censorship by pressuring platforms to use incredibly broad “content filters” and giving state Attorneys General the power to decide what content kids should and shouldn’t have access to online. This power could be abused in a number of ways and be politicized to censor information and resources. KOSA would also likely lead to the greater surveillance of children online by requiring platforms to gather data to verify user identity. There is a way to protect kids and all people online from egregious data abuse and harmful content targeting: passing a strong Federal data privacy law that prevents tech companies from collecting so much sensitive data about all of us in the first place, and gives individuals the ability to sue companies that misuse their data. KOSA, although well-meaning, must not move forward. Please protect privacy and stop the spread of censorship online by opposing KOSA.

Here is an open letter from parents of trans and GNC kids that you can also add your name to/ pull from in writing your own letter

sign this petition

[msbigredmachine]

Handsy (Roman Reigns)

When the OTC asks for help and you oblige him, he’s very happy to return the favor. 

Pairing: Roman Reigns/Shy!Black fem OC

Warnings: Smut, fluff, possessiveness...the usual, lol

Word Count: 5.1k

A/N: This is the first of a number of "Possessive" one shots lined up. Hope you enjoy them. Looking forward to all your amazing feedback! 😁

Song inspos are below:

A work of art. You could stare at him all day.

Sure, you came off like a voyeur sometimes, but the view was too glorious to pass up. Observing (not stalking) him from his little designated space next to a couple of equipment crates in the bowels of the arena. Working with the wrestlers as Talent Assistant entailed long hours and not-so-glamorous moments, but it was all worth it simply because you got to see the Roman Reigns up close and personal.

You always had a front row seat to the occasion, being in charge of his itinerary, and that included his wardrobe. Bringing over his ring gear, new Bloodline merch or a tech fleece for him to wear before slinking away to allow him some privacy. Yet tonight was different as this was his first match back in months and you couldn’t help but hang back, keen to witness his majesty up front, keen to see him in action again.

Just see him.

“You gon’ stand there and watch me all night, pretty girl?”

The rumble of his deep voice startled you out of your daydream. The big man himself was inching towards you, his hair down and damp, his rippling muscles and the intricate tribal tattoos gleaming beneath the backstage lights. His black cargo pants were tucked into his red and black boots and he looked ready for war, the ensemble somehow magnifying the power of the man. The Adonis. The…god.

Shaking your head sharply, you fidgeted with your horn rimmed glasses as you struggled to regain your bearings. “I’m…I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stare. Umm…are your gloves okay? I made sure to get the specs right.” It was almost suffocating to be in his presence at times.

“They’re fine.” His gaze bored into you, a knowing smirk tugging his lips as he put them on, the long digits of his fingers wiggling and teasing. You had to tear your eyes away as you imagined just what those fingers could do and where you wanted them...

You recalled the earlier days when he would address you only in passing, inquiring about an assignment or a quick update on something you were working on…the butterflies fluttering in your stomach whenever he spoke to you. Ever perceptive, Roman picked up on your nervousness and went out of his way to flirt with you while somehow maintaining the utmost professionalism. It was like he knew you were crushing on him and was rubbing it in your face. As familiarity grew, the tone of your interactions began to shift. Friendlier, lighter exchanges as you got used to him and his natural charisma. 

Then, the nicknames started trickling in. Pretty girl. Sweetheart. Beautiful. You could feel your walls—literally and figuratively—crumbling, and it always took an insurmountable effort to build them back up. His six-month hiatus was a reprieve of sorts as you tried to sort out your feelings for him in his absence. Yet, said absence made your heart grow fonder. You thought about him every day and you wondered, quite unwisely, if he thought about you too.

“Like what you see, baby girl?”

The new nickname forced you back down to earth, and it was then you saw he was now standing right in front of you. Bringing your gaze level with his broad, glistening chest. Fuck. “Umm...Sorry, what did you say?”

“I was asking if you could help me out with this.”

Glancing down at the hand he extended, your eyes widened. A bottle of baby oil was in his grasp. You raised your eyebrow, defying the terror that surged through you at the mere thought of putting your hands on his body. “Isn’t that the trainer’s job?” you asked as nonchalantly as possible.

“It is. But tonight, I prefer a more…gentle touch,” Roman suggested, chuckling at your wary expression. “You’re so innocent. It’s cute. But don’t worry, I won’t bite,” he winked.

He was enjoying this; enjoying the reaction he was evoking from you and taking pleasure in messing with your sanity. But your mama didn’t raise no punk bitch. You were strong. You could do this without spontaneously combusting.

Taking the bottle from him, you slowly applied some oil to your hands and rubbed your palms together to warm it up. Moving behind him, you started with his shoulders and with gentle pressure ran your hands along his neck, down his back, rubbing in rhythmic strokes along his spine. Your fingers gently massaged the honed, taut muscles, easing out any tension you could feel there. As you moved to his lower back, you winced when your hands accidentally slipped down his pants, grazing his backside. "Shit. I’m-I’m sorry," you rushed, grateful that he couldn’t see you.

"You’re fine. Keep goin’," he said with gritted teeth, his tone significantly deeper. Rougher. Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, a nervous cough escaping your throat as you squeezed some more oil onto your palms. “Turn around,” you instructed him, your voice surprisingly steady despite your shot nerves. As your hands glided up his chest, you did your best to focus on your task and avoid any other mistake. You oiled up his arms and his abs, ignoring the tiny little sounds you could hear in the back of his throat, ignoring his burning gaze on you.

"Your hands are like magic, sweetheart," Roman murmured appreciatively, his deep voice sending a shiver down your spine. You felt your breath hitch as your fingers worked over the tension in his hard muscles, each touch leaving you more breathless than the last. Despite the storm of emotions building inside you, you managed to finish with steady hands.

“All done,” you said softly, stepping back to create some much-needed distance.

“You did great. Thanks.”

His praise made your heart swell with a mix of pride and something more dangerous. “You’re welcome,” you replied, your voice quieter as your gaze lingered on him. “Your tattoos are beautiful… your skin is beautiful.” The words tumbled out before you could stop them, emboldened by the intimacy of the moment.

Roman’s lips curved into a slow, knowing smile. “Kissed by the sun, I’ve been told. Though I wouldn’t mind being kissed by someone else…” His hand reached out, his thumb brushing lightly across your bottom lip, sending a jolt of electricity through you.

Your eyes fluttered shut at the gentle contact, your mind reeling. “Roman, we… we can’t,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, betraying the internal conflict raging within you.

“Why not?” His tone was calm but insistent, his dark eyes searching yours. “We both know there’s something here. I feel it, and I know you do too.”

You bit your lip, hesitating. If only it were that simple. “Because… we’re at work,” you replied, trying to summon a rational argument despite your racing heart. “We shouldn’t…fraternize. And…” You hesitated again, your voice faltering as the words hung in the air. “I might have a man…”

The rebuttal that accompanied his snicker was smooth as silk. “And he still won’t be a fraction of the man I am. Besides, I know for a fact that you don’t have a man.” His haughty stare remained on you. “One thing I always do, baby, is my research on things I’m interested in.”

Was there a counter for that? You weren't sure. And even if there was, it would have been hard to find with the way he was staring you down, his head cocked to the side, tongue darting salaciously over his bottom lip. Goodness…

“Let me return the favor,” he said.

Oh fuck. You played dumb. “What?” 

“I enjoyed your massage. A lot. It’s only fair I give you one too. Not here, though. After the show, somewhere more private. You got a ride to the next town?”

You shook your head. “Well, not yet, but I was going to ask Jade and Bianca if I could-”

“Scrap it. You’re coming with me,” he cut you off. “I got somewhere much more comfortable than some itty-bitty car.”

Jade never went in ‘itty-bitty cars’, but you were sure Roman wasn’t trying to hear it. The moment stretched out, a lifetime of tension and unsaid words. You’d been on his bus once, and not unaccompanied. This would be wayyyy different.

Roman closed the last of the space between you, and pulled you into his chest. Big and rock solid and tempting. All of him. Including the bulge that pressed against your lower belly that made you lightheaded. His hand came up to gently cradle the side of your face. 

“I’ll be good. I promise.” His thumb brushed your cheek, and you wanted to hate how your skin tingled beneath his touch, how easily your resolve crumbled. You really did.

But right now, there was nothing in the world that you wanted more.

“Okay…”

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

Roman’s hands were a wonderful contradiction: strong yet surprisingly soft, their warmth matching the cozy temperature of his bedroom on the bus. The electricity of his touch sent a shiver down your spine, and you hated how easily you succumbed to it. You wanted to resent the ease with which he disarmed you, your body surrendering before your mind could catch up—but the truth was, you didn’t care. Not in this moment.

The soft glow of scented candles illuminated the space, their aroma blending with the soothing notes of Force MD’s 'Tender Love'. The old-school melody was a familiar comfort, a gentle background to the scene unfolding. Draped in nothing but your panties on his plush king bed, you felt utterly exposed yet oddly safe. Roman's promise to help you relax was fulfilled tenfold as his skilled hands worked magic with warm essential oils, massaging away every ounce of your tension.

You struggled to stay still as his hands ventured lower, his palms kneading the soft, plump skin of your butt with deliberate care. The sensation set your skin aflame, and despite your best efforts, a quiet, unbidden moan escaped your lips. He chuckled at this, his touch remaining gentle yet commanding as he boldly gripped both cheeks and wiggled them together, the waves making him groan his approval under his breath. As he turned you on your back, your eyes met, the flicker of heat in his gaze unmistakable. For a brief moment, embarrassment threatened to creep in, but the desire surging through you washed it away.

Taking charge, you pulled his head down to brush your lips together—tentative at first, testing the waters, but quickly growing more certain. The kiss deepened, melting away any hesitation that had lingered between you. His taste, the warmth of his lips, and the press of his oil-slicked hands against your skin were overwhelming.

As his fingers skimmed the underside of your breasts, a shiver ran through you. Instinctively, your hands found their way to his broad back, pulling him closer, earning a soft, breathy groan from him. The sound sent a thrill through you, a small grin playing on your lips. But the grin quickly dissolved into a moan as his mouth found your nipple, igniting sensations that left you breathless.

“So soft,” Roman murmured, his lips teasing the sensitive peak. The gentle suckles along with the firm kneading of your breast left you trembling in his confident grasp. He released your nipple with a wet, audible pop, trailing kisses down your body with a reverence that made you feel worshiped.

His fingers traced a path along your skin, their touch featherlight but insistent, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. When he reached your thighs, his mouth followed suit, pressing kisses to the tender flesh. You flinched when his teeth grazed the sensitive spot near your core, a teasing bite that made you gasp. Every nerve in your body hummed with anticipation, leaving no room for second-guessing. All that mattered was him, and the way his touch unraveled you so completely.

“Roman…”

“Hmm, baby? Should I stop?”

The mere thought of him bringing this divine pleasure to a halt brought tears to your eyes. “N-no.”

“I know you don’t want me to. It feels good.” Sitting back on his heels, he peeled your thong down your legs, tossing it into his open suitcase landing among his clothes. Something told you you would never get it back. “I’ve been waiting on this since I first laid eyes on you…I think about you a lot, ya know…”

You bit your lip, shaken by the electricity that crackled at his words, at the rush of this erotic moment. There was definitely no turning back now, and you could only look on as he wrapped his arms around your thighs and buried his face between them. A startled moan burst from you, clutching his hair to steady yourself as his tongue caressed your flesh. Long, fat and warm, it lashed around and around inside you, his lips pulling and sucking, the sloppy slurps filling the room with your gasps and moans pitching higher. 

“Oh, damn…” you whined, attempting to regain the upper hand in this trap you ensnared yourself in. “You said…you said you’d be good…”

Roman’s eyes flitted to yours, wide with feigned innocence. “Oh, I’m not? Lemme try this then…”

By the time you realized what he was talking about, you were too late. “Wait! That’s not what I mea-…Ohhhh!” He had spread your thighs wider, French-kissing your folds with those soft lips, his expansive mouth widening to lick you all up. His head moved up and down, his strong jaw working every inch and every crevice. Heat bloomed through your body, making your lower half squirm and twist from sensations you’d only read about in erotic novels. "Shit...." 

"You like that, baby? Like me eating this pretty ass pussy?" Roman hummed against your core, his voice knowing and arrogant. 

You would have given an articulate answer if you could think straight, but right now moans and whines and whimpers were the only languages you could speak. You felt your pussy pulse on his tongue as he made you feel high, your arms sprawled out on the bed as your orgasm and your body temperature climbed until you felt like you were overdosing from pleasure. 

“You taste incredible, baby. I want you to come in my mouth.” 

His commanding voice, his moans against your pussy, the rapid speed of his licks, had your eyes watering. Your body couldn't control itself as it detonated, releasing inside his mouth, his triumphant moan vibrating against the sensitive bundle of nerves causing you to groan out loud again as he caught your nut effortlessly with long, lazy laps of his tongue, licking you up until you were all emptied out. 

"Oh my god..." you gasped, your eyelids fluttering from the shock of such a powerful climax. "You made me come so hard," you breathed, collapsing on the pillow.

Releasing your thighs, Roman wiped his mouth, his chest glazed with oil and beard gleaming with your juices. “Pretty pussy that tastes this good? I’m in trouble, baby,” he sighed happily, like he’d just feasted on the most delicious gourmet meal.

You could feel the tension kick into high gear, knowing full well what was coming next. You shifted nervously, your hands fidgeting with the edge of the blanket.

Ever attentive, Roman noticed your change in demeanor. "You good?" he asked, his voice low and soothing, searching your eyes with a tenderness that made your chest tighten.

You hesitated, your gaze flickering away to avoid the weight of his. "Sorry I'm just...a little nervous," you admitted.

His head tilted curiously as he gave you a long, pensive look, a hint of amusement in them. “You’re not a virgin, are you?”

“No.” Your cheeks burned, yet, feeling obligated to elaborate, you pressed on. “But…I’ve only ever done it once. In college. It was…alright.” The less said about that, the better. He definitely didn’t make her come this hard with just his mouth.

Roman’s brow lifted slightly, his smile morphing into something wicked and possessive. “Once? Only once?” He kissed his teeth, the sound reverberating through your body. His hand slid up your thigh, fingers tracing lazy circles on your over-sensitized skin as he reached inside the bedside drawer. “Baby girl, I’m ‘bout to ruin you for anyone else.”

The confidence in his voice was intoxicating, and yet there was no arrogance - just a fact that he could and would do exactly what he said he could do. You couldn’t take your eyes off him as he tossed the condom on the bed in front of him, eyes widening as he slowly shed his boxers like it was some kind of grand unveiling, and boy, was it a spectacle. 

You gasped softly when you finally saw him, too long and too thick, rising menacingly from a neatly trimmed nest of dark silky curls. “I…oh my…”

Roman chuckled darkly at your stunned expression, rolling the Trojan down his length. "Don't panic, baby girl. I'ma make it all fit."

His mouth found yours again as his hands slung your thighs around his waist. The movement brushed his wide thick tip against your core, and your head tilted back as he nuzzled the groove of your neck, placing a wet kiss there.

“Roman,” you gasped, trying to summon some kind of resistance. But he silenced you again with another kiss, his voice low and commanding.

“Stop overthinking, I can feel you tensing up,” he murmured, “Just feel me. Feel us.”

And you did. His touch, his kiss, the way he looked at you like you were the only person in the world—it consumed you.

“Do you trust me?” he asked, his voice rough with desire.

You nodded, breathless.

“Then stop worrying,” he said, “Because right now, I’m only thinking about one thing. You. And how good you feel.” He shifted closer, slowly pushing his thick dick inside you. His arms and chest flexed around you, the tendons and muscles rippling and dancing as you reflexively lifted your hips against his, sliding him deeper into you, the initial discomfort of his thick length gradually easing away.

“Shiiit…” 

“I got you,” he assured you, hissing at the feel of your pussy fluttering around his length as it reached your hilt. “Damn, baby, you sure you’re not a virgin?”

“No…you’re just…big,” you pointed out matter-of-factly.

He smiled wide at that, and then moved in earnest, hitting hard and deep, his sheer power and his pulsing heat ramping up the pleasure ravaging your body and compelling you to hide your face in his shoulder to muffle your moans. 

“I know, baby, I know,” he whispered soothingly, kissing you softly, growling in your ear, “I can feel you, all tight and dripping. Fuckin’ incredible.” Grabbing your right leg and hooking it over his shoulder, he powered deeper inside of you, glancing down at his long, thick shaft spreading you wide. You had a clear view of that big-ass dick plunging into you, making you feel every single inch. Each time he slid in deep, your pussy made this crude, squelching sound while squeezing him, causing your head to rock back into the pillow with a loud moan. “Aww, fuck, Roman…” 

Roman’s hand found your chin and steered your face back to him, his sturdy grip enough to make your heart pound in tune with his pounding strokes. “You’re mine now,” he murmured, kissing you again, whispering against your mouth, “Anytime I want it, anywhere, you give it to me, you understand me?”

“Yes,” you managed, drunk on the myriad of sensations he was literally fucking into you. It hurt too good, maybe too much, his big dick seemingly rearranging your insides, forcing you to push at his abs to make him slow down. But Roman wasn’t having it, gently grabbing your neck to pin you down, fucking his dick into you until tears sprang to your eyes. He turned your body sideways, trapping your lower leg between both of his and holding the other one down before burying himself back inside your heat. Slipping inside you was much easier now, that pussy was leaking. Gleefully, he watched your ass cheeks ripple against his strong pelvis every time it smacked against you, the sounds of your wet pussy permeating the air. 

“I wanna feel you nut on this dick…let go, baby, come for me,” Roman said, his voice a command and a plea in one sexy package.

“Unnnh my god…” Your eyes rolled in the back of your head feeling him switch it up by winding his hips, his dick in the back of your pussy, dragging throaty, high-pitched noises out of you. Waves of sinful, primal heat bloomed into an explosion that had you cursing to the heavens and shaking beneath him. You never knew you could experience such indescribable ecstasy. This was Heaven, it had to be, to feel this euphoric, this rapturous. Or maybe it was just Roman Reigns and the magic he clearly possessed, plunging you headlong under his spell. 

Roman watched you undulate with a cocky, borderline evil smile, licking his lips as he reached for your breast, squeezing and kneading in his palm. "Mmm, that’s my good girl, you look so beautiful, baby…So fuckin’ good." He didn't stop, didn't slow down, clutching handfuls of your soft ass as he stroked in and out of you with increasing aggression. “Gimme another one, baby, come on,” he ordered, smacking your ass, a husky groan and curse emitting from him as right on cue, your walls clamped around him yet again, as you squealed and shook and squirted on his dick, gushing all over his sheets. 

“That’s it, that’s exactly what I wanted…” He bit his bottom lip, his hands braced on your thigh and ass like an anchor as he felt his control start to slip. “Fuck…Where you want my cum, babe? In you or on you?”

You clung to the pillow for dear life, moaning weakly as his thrusts became messier and choppier, making it difficult to think straight. “On…on me,” you whimpered.

Your pussy throbbed and quivered around his dick, the sensory assault shattering the OTC into a thousand shards. Guttural groans spilled from his lips as he pulled out with a harsh grunt, ripping the condom off. You shivered as you watched him stroke endless ropes of his seed on your ass, the milkiness contrasting almost beautifully with your rich melanin skin. The sight should probably have repelled you, but never have you been more turned on. Roman kept his pulsing member pinned between your bodies as he dipped down to kiss you, your heavy breaths evening out as you lapped and sucked on each other’s mouths.

“Hol’ on, let me rub my cum all over you,” he said, pulling back to let his large hands smear his sticky mess all over your ass cheeks, massaging you just like he did earlier. The care and gentleness in his caresses mixed with the nastiness of the act was shockingly arousing to you.

“Mm-hmm. Witcho sexy ass,” he smiled at his handiwork and finished with a light smack of your ass. He lay down beside you and gathered you in his arms, his body warm and solid against yours. 

“You okay?” His voice was a soothing rumble, a contrast to the intensity of moments before. "Was it too much?"

“Not at all. It was...amazing,” you admitted, your head resting on his chest as his heartbeat thudded steadily against your ear. “This feels really nice.”

He tilted his head, gazing down at you. “What does?”

“You, holding me like this.” Your voice was soft, almost shy. “You're cuddlier than you look.” The words spilled out before you could stop them, and you quickly glanced up, worried he might take them the wrong way.

But instead, his lips curved into a small, teasing smile, and he kissed your forehead tenderly. “Cuddly, huh?” His hand brushed over your back, grounding and protective. “Guess I’ll take that.”

Your cheeks warmed, but before you could reply, his voice dropped, rich and husky, sending a shiver through you. “Get some sleep, baby. I ain’t done with you yet.” His lips pressed to yours as he added, his tone full of wicked promise, “I’m gonna wake your pretty ass up and fuck you all over again.”

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

It was probably the quietest you’d ever gotten dressed up. Not wanting to risk making any noise, you skipped showering, choosing to wipe yourself down instead pending when you got to the arena. One quick peek into the bedroom showed Roman was still fast asleep. Good. All the better to make your escape.

Gathering your belongings, you crept to the front of the bus. The driver was kind enough to tell you the name of the town you were currently in. It was still a couple of hours to your destination, but you hoped to find a rental car service, or a bus, maybe a Lyft if you could. Anything to make sure you were out of Roman Reigns’ hair before he woke up and discarded you himself and acted like last night never happened.

It was going to be extremely difficult to forget though…to get over the feeling of his big, strong, talented hands on you, using your body all night, that skillful tongue of his that made your eyes water…his big ass di-…

Yeah. Your mental well-being and productivity levels advised strongly against dwelling on that part of him.

You also couldn’t deny how beautiful it all was. His care and attentiveness, making sure you were feeling as good as he was…The softness in his pretty eyes as he took you again and again…Okay, perhaps you were overthinking the emotions. Even you were not that naïve to believe you were the only woman he’d been intimate with on this bus, in that same bed. Said and done the same things to them. You were not that special. The last thing you wanted was to be embarrassed for looking for what wasn’t there, and, as you checked your watch for the time, for overstaying your welcome.

“Any particular reason you’re sneakin’ outta here?"

His deep voice cut through the stillness, sharp and commanding, freezing you mid-step. You spun around, your pulse skyrocketing as your eyes landed on him. Standing at the other end of the bus, he looked like something out of a dream—or maybe a very specific kind of nightmare. Broad shoulders. Sculpted chest. Marble-hewn muscles. That towel slung low on his hips, hinting at more than you dared to look at directly.

You swallowed hard, the words getting stuck in your throat before you managed, "I didn’t want things to be awkward."

"Awkward?" he repeated, advancing toward you like a predator closing in on its prey. "You think you can just walk away from me after the night we had and call it awkward?"

He loomed over you, his dark eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your knees weak. The scent of him—whiffs of cologne and sweat and massage oil—wrapped around you, reigniting every memory of what had transpired hours earlier.

"I know what this was," you said, trying to sound confident even as your voice wavered. "It was just a one-night stand. I’m not expecting anything else."

A grin spread across his face, slow and taunting. "Is that what you think?" The towel shifted slightly as he leaned closer. "You’re mine now, baby girl. I made that real clear last night. Or did I not do enough to convince you?"

Your breath hitched as heat crawled up your neck. He wasn’t just talking about his words. No, your body still remembered each and every way he’d claimed you, left you gasping and begging and sore down there. And now here he was, making it clear he wasn’t letting you go so easily.

"I—I thought..." you stammered, your bravado faltering under his intense gaze.

"Thought what? That I don’t mean what I say?" His hand slid to your waist, the warmth of his palm seeping through your thin shirt. "Baby, when I say you’re mine, I mean that shit. When I want something, I get it. And I want you."

Your heart stuttered at the unexpected softness in his voice. This was Roman Reigns, the stoic, untouchable force of nature you worked for. And yet, here he was, looking at you as though you were the most important thing in the world. You crossed your arms over your chest, trying to hide the way your fingers trembled. 

“Roman, I can’t—I can’t lose this job,” you reached for another excuse. “I worked too hard to get here. People already talk, and now this? It’ll only make things worse.”

Your verbal monologue was stopped by his hand cupping your chin, tilting your face so you had no choice but to meet his eyes. They burned with a quiet intensity, unshakable.

“Sweetheart,” he said, his voice low and steady, the kind of tone that silenced crowds in an instant. “I’m the face of WWE. You think anyone will come for you without dealing with me first? You think I’d let them? That’s not how this works.” He cupped your cheek, the gesture soothing, even as his words made your pulse race. “I protect what’s mine. Always.”

Your breath hitched, the conviction in his voice making it impossible to look away. Still, doubt clawed at you. “But what if—”

“No ‘what ifs’,” he interrupted firmly, but not unkindly. “You’ve got nothing to prove to anyone. You’re here because you’re damn good at what you do. And as long as I’m breathing, no one’s touching you. Not for this. Not for anything.”

His words settled over you like a shield, equal parts infuriating and reassuring. You wanted to argue, to push back, but deep down, a part of you believed him. Trusted him. And maybe…maybe that scared you even more than the risk.

So, against all logic, against every instinct screaming at you to keep this professional, you felt yourself nodding. “Okay.”

"Good girl," he said, his smirk widening. "Now, let’s get one thing straight. You don’t walk away from me, ever. Got it?"

You nodded again, your voice failing you completely.

"Good," he said, his thumb grazing your bottom lip. "Now, there’s a nice little breakfast diner a couple blocks away that I’m gonna take you to after. But first, come shower with me. It seems I’ve got some things I need to remind you of."

And just like that, the suitcase you’d been clutching slipped from your grasp as Roman took your hand and led you toward the back of the bus—and toward a future you would never have seen coming in a million years...but you liked, anyway.

THE END

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

So glad this is finally out. Took me nearly 2 years, lol.

How was it? The smut is a lot, I know 😬 But I often try to ensure there's a story behind it.

Please leave comments! I love comments 😁😙😊

🏷️: @jxtina-86 @wrestlingprincess80 @fame-ass-ers @southerngirl41 @alyyaanna @jstarr86 @murrylove @thewarlordsworld @mzv11 

@harmshake @trippinsorrows @whatdoeseverybodywant @heauxvibez @hunnidmilly @tribalhoochie @cyberdejos2 @papireigns-05 @captainwithoutmakingitlove 

@sovereigngoth @aisharmi @kennedi0818 @alichesmi @thesamoanqueen @questionable-behaviour @tribalchiefreigns @joannasteez

@2-muchsauce @thatbxtchsblog @raya-hunter01  @marchi36753 @lovelysuccess @christinabae @wooahmiri @thatonecarebear @tabletheofhead @vebner37 @hanley1577 @princessesareforsuckers

@bbygirlky18 @lilucey @theninthwonder @melaninsugababy @chocovibesonly @msbluehaz3 @shes2real @scarlettnoir01 @heerah34 

@empressdede @tbmotw @darkangelchronicles @visionarymode @marasdeathnote @meggylynnloves @shantinextdoor @femdisa @harlemblipster  @trc-punzel @afterdarkprincess 

@nbanenefrmdao @sassginaswanmills @purplehairgawdess @holisticcoach @girlwhogaf @royalkay23 @heyitsnajabrinee @stoner2k @reci1996 @catxo 

@iamimanim @lookmais @ts1mp0ne @lizzyd1ish @m3llowww @final1miya @kia1996 @randomuser0711 @yourtribalqueen @katymae12344 @mytribalnightmare

@that-one-anxious-mango @yana3sworld @caramelcleopatraa @truefant4sy @thetribalqueen @romansthrone

@bhjszsdxc @paigereeder @christinabae @justazzi @maknaehyucks @mindairy @headoftheetable @truefant4sy @mscarter213 @ariiaeltheedonn @sageispunk @xbriexx 

[meelkiewee]

Washed up and ready for tumblr

sadly, i'm in a bit of an artblock/burnout so i'm kinda procrastinating on some projects by doing other stuff like this eefo character design... sigh

[pls reblog, don't like]

⬇️ my choices explained under the cut

INTRO

i'll start by saying that this character design was brought to life with my kinda limited knowledge of etho and my absolute passion for heavily redesigning characters and giving them my own twist.

THE MASK AND THE MASK's MASK

the first image that came to my mind was his mask. i knew i wanted something to cover almost all his face and for it to be wolf inspired. i still wanted it to reference his skin in some way though, so i added the little metallic plate and the black forehead ribbon as the way the mask holds up.

underneath his main mask i put another simpler black mask that mainly serves 3 purposes: it makes the wolf mask more comfortable to wear without too much metal to skin contact, it mantains the face covered in case the other falls off and... guys i remember i saw a clip of hermits asking him to take off the overlay of his skin to see his face but there was a second mask underneath. i don't make the rules.

CONCEAL DON'T FEEL

after that i slowly worked up a little bit of context in my head while i was adding more details and making my choices. so what i did was making a collage of the infos i collected over time about him and his character and sprinkle a little bit of kakashiki (-cit tango) visual elements.

as we all know etho is a brilliant redstoner and a guy who really cares about privacy. put that together and you get the lore i made up for him:

with his advanced irl tech knowledge, he found a way to transfer his soul in minecraft, kinda like SAO works, and has to conceal his appearance to not get caught. here comes the layered clothes, the enormous coat and ofc the masks. due to all of this i also headcanon him preferring to live in the colder biomes, and this ties back also to the fact that he's from canada ykyk.

AWOO BUT NOT TOO MUCH

i really like wolfie etho designs i saw going around but i didn't want to design another ren with a different palette (my ren is a anthro german shepherd) so i channeled the wolf energy in the mask, the thick fur of the coat that ends with a tail (inspired by marcille dungeon lord outfit, a few notice but her dress has a tail) and in his hair, also kinda looking like a tail.

TYPE: VIBES

the eye of the wolf mask being red and scarred (for life) is of course inspired by his kakashi skin. i sprinkled red tassels here and there to fill in the spots and mainly cause i personally love tassels and wanted to add some red accents for redstone.

his kinda slouchy posture is totally for vibes, etho comes across to me as this kinda lazy/chill guy that channels the energies he has into thinking about the redstone he gotta do and calls it a day. i tried to channel that also in the kinda generic plain clothes.

for the vibes i wanted to put him in crocs/flip flops too but i couldn't otherwise he would absolutely freeze. i had to give him some warm boots or whatevs *sigh*

i tried to make his single visible eye as cute and puppy-looking as possible 'cause c'mon he a cutie pie okay? for the mole near the eye, guys i literally can't recall where i got this piece of info and if it's even remotely true but, i read/heard somewhere he has a bunch of moles on his face irl??? idk idk this is so random, i'm sorry.

SO YEAH

this is the end of my long long explanation for this character design. i hope you like it and if you don't, i know my bestie likes it (he's a bit of an ethogirlie lol luv ya bestie <3)

the end, thanks a lot for reading!

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

🎉 Thank You for 10k+ Followers!! 🎉

A big thank you goes out to @cozymochi for this beautiful celebratory commissioned artwork for this major milestone ✨ It really captures the scope of all the content that had been put out in the last 4+ years—both in terms of official Twst materials and on this blog! I think it’s very fitting that we hit this milestone in the month of Halloween too (I just held off on posting this til the month after); it’s Twst’s biggest holiday of the year, so it’s twice the cause for celebration!!

A lot has happened over the course of my time in this fandom. I’ve written many things of course, but I’ve also had many other exciting opportunities! I’ve been interviewed for a paper, met many cool people from all over the world, attended Twst meetups + events, collaborated with other talented creators, received kind gifts, contributed to various fandom projects, and finished telling the origins of my Twst OC. This blog has been with me through a lot of major changes and difficult hurdles in my life too—it’s really been an anchor for me, a comforting and safe space for me to be creative or analytical whenever I want to be.

When I first started this blog as a very casual hobby in summer of 2020, I never even considered that it would balloon to this extent. It still doesn’t feel totally real to me 😭 I don’t usually fixate on numbers (they make me anxious), but looking back on it, 10k is a LOT, and 4 years is a long time. To put that in perspective, if we were in Twisted Wonderland for 4 years then all of the students we’ve come to know and love would have graduated by now. That’s crazy to me. We’ve come so far as a group.

I feel that a large part of fandom is the community that comes with it. I would have found it so challenging to stick with Twst had I not had so many great people keeping me engaged with it. I’d now like to take a moment to thank those folks. Keeping in line with the idea of “4 years”, think of these as little messages scrawled in a yearbook. I also have a blog event planned to celebrate! More on that later.

Please note that I’ve used pseudonyms for most of the following people, as I’d like to respect their privacy (I’m very private myself) + not all of them are comfortable with being explicitly named or tagged to a large crowd. You’ll know who you are if you see yourself on here.

Without further ado:

MSS — Thank you for being the first Twst space I felt truly a part of. It’s still the place I consider my fandom “home” beyond this blog.

April — Thank you for making MSS as a place for us to share! We’re tsunderes in solidarity.

Drinking Knight — The banners wouldn’t exist without your help. Thanks for getting the ball rolling on those; I’d like to think that I’m a little more confident in designing new ones myself now, but you were the start of it all. Your endless enthusiasm for the most insane otome boys, drinks, and bullying (positive) others is truly an inspiration.

Q. Opinionated — Can’t count the number of times you ran tech support for me 💀 Thanks so much for being patient and willing to laugh at a stupid situation. I WILL grip you (escape is not an option) 🤲

Dad with his Printer — Why are you so cheeky My unofficial proofreader and fact checker. Still treasure the teeny J word and coffin magnets you sent, and, even more valuable than those, the bad dad jokes/puns advice and wisdom you give. Wishing you luck on your art adventure.

A. Cider — An unexpected friend I met very late into the fandom and happened to run into irl by total coincidence. Funny how life works. Your shitposts are great, and I appreciate having a like-minded person to talk with about the J words and story critiques. I’d also like to thank you for the many little doodles you’ve made; I know you’re very busy and have a wife to tend to at home but I appreciate that you still make time for friends.

Hana — Extroverted pink-haired magical girl representation. Your bubbly love for Disney, Diasomnia, singing, and (yes) angst lights up the entire room. Maybe you’re not too confident with yourself are right now, but I know you’ll find your way.

Swan — For being quick on the uptake and giving me the heads up about various things! We may not talk much one-on-one, but I’m thinking of you and enjoy seeing you pitch into the conversation. You’re still banned for L*ona posting though/j

Ly — My secret French twin/j Thanks for being my cultural + equine advisor and a voice of (salty) reason. Never shut up about your hyperfixations! You’re a real one.

Oys — Enabler + encourager of my Yan!Sil delusions. Sorry for making your blood pressure spike every time we talk about our food takes. But hey, at least we get a good laugh out of it :))

Mac and Bean — For being my inspirations. Bean, you have such atmospheric writing. I hope my writing style can be just as magical as yours. Mac, it was your blog that first got me into starting my own Twst writing. You never stop being so, so funny also I blame you 120% for the L*ona rot.

Peaches and Cream — To my local Twst friends, thanks for keeping me company even through the hard times. Peaches, happy to be your local Twst dealer anytime. Cream, thanks for hooking me up with new books.

Salt and Flora — I don’t know where you vanished to, but the sea brought you back to me on its tides. I’m so happy we could meet again. Salt, you’re so talented at crochet and design work; get your coin 😂 Flora, you’re the sweetest person ever. Literally cottagecore personified, even in your art.

Piano — We don’t always see eye to eye, but thank you for being my serial debater and showing me new perspectives. Your open-minded theories and analyses are such fun. And, of course, it’s always hilarious to think about how we accidentally (?) swapped oshis 🤡 You’re a star.

The Anklebiter — For having the most unhinged jokes and ideas. Seriously, THE most unhinged. I never do any of the crazy things you suggest but I’m always really entertained from just hearing them.

Te, Mi, and Ro — Thanks for organizing local events and giving me an excuse to touch grass. It’s a lot of hard work and you guys manage to pull it off every time! Mi, I was flattered to have you reach out to me to help a little with the Tweel cupsleeve event. Happy to help anytime! Te, I remember you were cosplaying as Kalim when we first met and I kept thinking about how perfectly suited you are for the role. You were very friendly and made such an effort to include everyone in the event even when I was Idia-ing in the corner. To this day, you continue to spontaneously introduce me to new people 😂 Thanks for getting me put of my comfort zone. Ro, I didn’t think we’d meet again like this. Small world! You’re learning and improving the big events. Here’s hoping to many more!

Vic — For being Ace Trappola when very few others would. It’s refreshing to have someone tell it like it is. I wish I could be as bold and as honest as you are sometimes. You have such a big heart when it comes to the characters you love; it makes me want to adore them like you do too 🫶

Kana — For being so sweet and patient. You helped me through so many rough patches and have also contributed a lot to the look of the blog. It’s so fun gushing with you about magical girls and pretty boys, sharing our favorite shows and movies… I feel as though I’ve made a lifelong friend.

Zari — Thank you for charms and art book, big fan of your stuff 😭 So honored to have worked with you on projects too. I hope to see a lot more of your Yuu and other OCs around, I love following them ^^

Lala — You understand, encourage, and validate my weird tastes in fictional men 💕 Really admire your sense of fashion and stylish nails too. Whenever I have my shrimp apron on, I think of you.

Arisu — No longer in the Twst fandom but integral in the earliest days. Wherever you are now, I wish you nothing but happiness.

P-san — You’re a lifesaver!! Thank you so much for helping me find cute little outfits and accessories for my plushies… They are forever grateful to be properly clothed.

V, Fa, Fe, Ray, Rea, Sonny, Glimmer Group, and Incognito Crew — Thanks for being so supportive of my hyperfixation on Disney villain anime boys, even if you guys have NO clue what I’m rambling about half of the time. To V specifically 🫵 I am NOT a cat boy kisser

Mango — I didn’t know I wanted you in my life until you showed up uninvited one day and chewed your way into my heart.

Azul Ashengrotto — For being the character that first convinced me into giving this game a shot. The Little Mermaid was something I always held so dear to me, so it almost seems like destiny that you’d be the one to drag me down into Twst. You’ll always hold a special place in my heart for that, even if my feelings have changed since then.

Rook Hunt — For being there when I needed to laugh a little. It’s scary to glance over my shoulder sometimes, but you make it easier to smile as I look back.

Rollo Flamme — For letting me know that having negative feelings is normal and human, even if we don’t always cope with them in the healthiest of ways. Let’s reflect and be better together!

Leona Kingscholar — For showing me that change and personal growth is, in fact, possible. Th-This doesn’t mean I like you or anything though, so get off your high horse—

Jade Leech — For taking my hand and guiding me back on the path when I got lost in the dark. Whatever crimes you may commit in your free time, I forgive you/j

Miss Raven Crowley — The little black bird who could, the blog muse. I made you on a whim and look at where you are now… You went from a background character to the main character of your own story. So proud of you, my child 😭

Asset compilers, fan artists, fanfic writers, fan translators, cosplayers, merch makers, editors, plushie pic takers, video essayists, theorizers, etc. — You’re all so important to keeping the fandom alive, especially during periods of official content drought. It wouldn’t be feasible for me to list out all of the content creators I enjoy (chjsbsksks and it honestly might be awkward since I haven’t directly interacted with most of them), but I hope that this message still reaches you and finds you well. Keep doing your thing; I love seeing the work you put out ^^

Anyone and everyone that I’ve ever commissioned and/or received fan works from — I appreciate that you took time and energy out of your day to create something for me. There’s so much talent in the Twst fandom and I’m honored that you would dedicate some of that to a silly little birb.

You, the Readers — For supporting this blog and and what I do here! You’re an important part of my journey too.

Thank you!! Here’s to a future unknown and a page unwritten.

- The Writing Raven

[fishbonex]

Sharp thoughts 1/2

Mel Medarda x fem!reader

Summary: Your friendship with Mel slowly begins to crumble.

Warnings: angst, unrequited love, suggestion of sexual acts.

Word Count: 1K

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE.

Mel was easily the best person you had ever met in your life. She was a spectacle in every way. Having her as your friend was comforting and opened many doors for you as an scientist and researcher.

Life seemed good for you, using a high-tech laboratory, with access to everything a scientist could want and thanks to Mel, contacts with several investors who might be interested in your work.

Unfortunately, Mel Medarda was too much for you.

You didn't notice when your heart started to swell when you thought about her, before you realized it, you could no longer think about her without letting out a sigh. Everything about her was... too much.

The delicate face, the graceful way she moves, the constant tinkling that is present due to her gold jewelry, the voice that seems to embrace you when she speaks to you.

You began to find yourself looking forward to her visits to your lab, or to going to see her in her luxurious quarters. This was why you worked so hard, because you loved your research, and so you had something interesting to show her. A reason to see her.

With that in mind, you stayed late in the lab, finishing a report on your latest research. You were going to show it to Mel and as a councilor, she was supposed to read it and debate whether or not to take your study to the next Council meeting.

Scanning quickly to make sure everything was okay, you stood up with a satisfied sigh. Mel's quarters weren't that far away.

You left the Academy building and walked quickly until you reached the large building where Mel's apartment was. Elora wouldn't be there at this time, and Mel had once said that you were welcome to visit her at any time. You entered the elevator and soon arrived in the lobby of the luxurious apartment. Feeling strange about the silence, you thought about calling her, but stopped when you thought you heard something. A sigh.

A moan.

You turned your head, towards where you knew Mel's suite was. You could have heard wrong, you were almost sure of that when you heard it again.

It was her voice. You were sure of it. Then she moaned again. A name this time. Jayce.

Jayce. Jayce Talis.

Your heart sank and your breath caught for a moment, until you realized you were invading her privacy. You turned and left, trying to do as little noise as possible.

You didn't see Mel for the next few days, not because you were trying to avoid her, but because you were busy working on something for Heimerdinger, and she was also working a lot, apparently.

That's why you were slightly startled when the door to your lab opened and the click of her heels was heard, followed by her melodious voice.

"Working so hard that you didn't have time to come see me?" she asked with a slight laugh in her voice. It irritated you.

"What do you mean?" you tried to focus on the project on your desk.

"I heard about the research you did, and that you gave it to Heimerdinger. Why didn't you bring it to me, like always?" she walked over to you and leaned against the desk.

"He was the first counselor I met when I finished, then." you lied, feeling the bitter taste in your mouth.

"Oh, so that's how it is." she let out a playful chuckle. "I thought we had an alliance."

Her presence felt too close, but you swallowed hard and lifted your face, meeting hers.

"Sorry, I just don't have much time to look for you." you sounded more irritated than you wanted.

Her relaxed expression faltered and she straightened her posture. "Hey, I'm just kidding." she brought one of her manicured hands to your forearm.

"Sorry." you shook your head and looked back at the notes on your desk. "I'm just... really annoyed with work."

"We all are. When you have some free time, why don't you come over to my place? I painted something new, I think you'll like it." she offered softly.

You nearly melted at her offer, the earlier irritation almost forgotten, “Sure, I’d love to.”

So that night you took the path you knew so well. The surprise this time wasn't as unpleasant as the last. Jayce was there again, lying down, his head in Mel's lap. She was comforting him about something. An intimate and tender moment. You turned around and left again.

Well, this time you were avoiding her. Leaving the lab at times when you knew she would visit you, avoiding the council building and staying away from her apartment. Elora even came to you, notifying you that Councilor Medarda wanted to see you, but you politely said that you were very busy.

Your irritation worsened when she appointed him as an advisor. It was at that moment that you knew you would never reach her level, no matter what you did.

Your favorite place to be away from the lab was the fountain in the park, with the purple leaves blowing in the wind. That's where you found yourself at the moment, absentmindedly playing with a pen in your hand, waiting for the time to pass.

"You told Elora you had too much work to take the time to see me." the velvety voice spoke from behind you, slightly irritated. "You don't seem very busy right now."

You turned your face to see her standing there, close to the bench where you were sitting.

"Counselor Medarda." you greeted politely. "Forgive me for the misunderstanding-"

"What joke is this?" she said more irritated than before, her serene face distorting into an angry expression. "What's gotten into you?"

"I have to work, Councilor, I'm afraid I'm not the richest woman in Piltover." you hinted. "I can't afford to lose my sponsorships."

"I work too, and at work I don't have many friends. That's why I value the few friendships I have." she walked up to you. "Like yours."

"Oh, you don't have any friends?" you scoffed. "And bed partners?"

"What?" she took a step back, her expression faltering.

"That's exactly what I witnessed when I went to you to deliver my research, counselor." you replied irritably. "But don't worry, I won't tell anyone."

Mel was silent, standing there as you walked back to your lab.