I came up with “There are no bad people, only bad incentives” as a line for a (sympathetic & badass) antagonist in my t/s kinkfic, and originally I didn’t really believe it – just thought it was a plausible belief for someone to have, expressed pithily – but it’s been percolating in my head for a month or two as I go about my daily life, watching terrible things happen on the news and hearing people criticize bad structures* as if they were brought about by… intentions… and I’ve started quietly believing it. There are bad people, but significant evil seems to always be primarily due to bad setups – biological, social, economical, etc. No. Not ‘primarily due’ – what I mean is, of all the things to twitch to make a situation better, the easiest/most obvious thing is the incentives, not the people.

* I write this directly after reading a facebook post saying “I just paid $400 to take 2 GRE tests. Our nation’s priorities are fucked up.”, to which my immediate thought was “the nation doesn’t have priorities, the nation isn’t an agent, ridiculous prices are what they are because [my brain failed here to produce words, instead presenting a visual jumble/diagram of multiple complex agents in a system interacting in ways that brought about unfortunate results]”.

chapter one is up.

don’t worry, my childes, it gets kinkier. i’m easing you in/ luring new readers.

under cover of darkness (3185 words) by brightly_brightly
Chapters: 1/?
Fandom: Person Of Interest - Fandom
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Root | Samantha Groves/Sameen Shaw
Characters: Root, Shaw, Sameen Shaw
Additional Tags: Kink, BDSM, ALL OF IT, hell in a handbasket, fuck the new root tag, fuck it for deadnaming root, ao3 can cook my socks for that, you heard me AO3

As Root and Shaw mature as people, their sex life becomes more and more elaborate. These are their stories.

Post-Samaritan, fairly canon.

This is a Root/Shaw kink fic. 90% smut, 5% feelings, 5% banter and puns.
My Sister's Mistress, a Frozen fanfic | by Jessica X and Cartesian Planeswalker

Two months have passed since the Great Thaw, and Queen Elsa and Princess Anna are getting reacquainted after a lifetime apart. But one night will change all that, and the power dynamic within Anna’s bedchambers. It is a dark, dark place to which they descend. Will the kingdom of Arendelle survive their unbridled lust and dangerous games? [WARNING: EXTREME KINK, ICEST. TRIGGERING.]


It’s not that Steve hadn’t noticed.

Steve noticed when Bucky had started eating more things, and, well, more in general. He’d noted that as an unqualified good. It had taken a couple of months, but they finally seemed to have beaten the miserable nausea and general aversion to food that Bucky had had in the early weeks. Now food was simple pleasure, and Bucky didn’t have enough of that in his life.

Steve had even noticed when he’d stopped wondering if it was okay to be able to count that many ribs, and Bucky had started looking like a person again. Then he’d noticed again when he started to look like Bucky. At the time Steve had mostly chalked it up to shaving regularly, keeping his hair still long, but neater and cleaner, and starting to buy his own clothes, but there was definitely part of it that was just softening a little, especially in his face.

But until Bucky starts palming a handful of soft fat on his middle, there, in the kitchen, in a soft grey shirt and soft flannel pants while he watched Steve make pancakes on a lazy Sunday morning, Steve hadn’t really noticed.

Now he was noticing. Bucky— of course— noticed Steve looking at his now rounder belly, and grinned, at first a little shyly, and then rakishly, and suddenly he definitely looked like the old Bucky, long hair and twentieth century sleep clothes and— belly— notwithstanding. Except, of course, that look was now directed at Steve.

Steve flushes, and Bucky laughs. His stomach jiggles just a little, there’s not quite enough there but it’s trying, and he gives it another squeeze. “You like that?”

God damn super assassin— Steve was never good at lying, especially to Bucky, but now it’s like talking to a psychic. Bucky knows everything that goes through his head, sometimes even before he does. “Uh. I mean— uh— do I like what?”

He tries to pay attention to the pancakes. He really does. The first one is on the pan and it’s probably going to burn because the first one always burns, but he’s trying to pay attention to this one this time and—

Bucky grins again, and slides his hand up underneath his shirt and brings a little bit of the shirt up with it. Steve can’t not look at the soft crescent of lower belly that reveals, or Bucky’s hand pressing into it.

“I’m getting a gut,” Bucky says. “You keep it up with those pancakes and I’m going to get fat.”

Steve swallows. His mouth has gone dry. This isn’t fair— why couldn’t Bucky have waited, until after pancakes— full and sleepy and probably his belly even a little bigger than usual, they always get through a lot of pancakes—

“You saying,” Steve says, and he flips the first pancake and yeah, it burned. “Fuck. You want me to make something else?”

“Naw,” Bucky says. He leans back against the counter, braces his hands against it on either side of him. “Pancakes are worth getting fat. Besides,” he says, and Steve slides the burnt pancake onto the plate next to the stove, starts spooning more batter into the pan, he is not going to let Bucky get to him, he is so letting Bucky get to him— “It’s kind of nice.”

“Oh?” It’s about all he can say— he’s thankful for the one-syllable opportunity.

“Yeah,” Bucky says, and his hand is back on his belly but at least it’s not any worse than that. “Feels kinda good.”

“Good,” Steve says. “It looks— you look good.”

Bucky chuckles at that again. “Yeah, I know, Steve.”

anonymous asked:

You ask for prompts and then mention Alistair and femdom and all I can think is YES PLEASE DO THAT. Ahem.

All right, anon. I have started and scrapped this a million times, because while my brain goes YES, my fingers apparently are not convinced. BUT WE WILL DO THIS.


Alisitair finds her after the fight with Eamon. It happens more often now. Eamon is his chief advisor; Cliodhna is his wife, his general, his closest confidant. With Denerim mostly rebuilt, without the stress of the Blight hanging over them, they can’t seem to find a common ground. She is trying to be less confrontational, Alistair can tell. 

He can also see the tension running up her arms and the way she keeps touching her daggers. It isn’t just Eamon that has her so on edge; going from the Hero of Ferelden to the Warden Commander to just the queen has her bored, jumpy in her own skin. 

“Come with me, love,” he says, and he takes her hand. She doesn’t fight him. That itself is scary. He doesn’t like it when she goes quiet. 

“Aren’t you going to ask what the fight was about?” she asks, voice low. 

“I’m sure if it was important for me to know, you or Eamon would tell me.” He squeezes her hand. “And if it isn’t important, and he’s upset you so, you’ll tell me when you’re ready.”

She laughs sadly. “Oh, you know me so well, then.”

He stops, pulling her close, so his lips brush over her forehead. “I know what you need, my love.”

Her body goes rigid, but he can see her eyes blaze with that dark fire that he never thought he’d delight in seeing, that it would make his heart pound. “Really,” she murmurs, and her hands come to his chest, resting there. “Don’t you have council this afternoon?”

“I think I might be late. My wife needs me.”


Keep reading

fluff headcanon

headcanon: Shaw is the big spoon because even though Root is taller, and suuuper dangerous and scary, there is a part of Shaw that sees Root as vulnerable and needing protection… she likes to wrap her arms around her. Root’s not as tactile at night, likes to sleep in her own spot, but she ends up sometimes sort of enjoying the feeling of Shaw scrunched up against her back, sometimes with her lil hand on Root’s stomach, all safe and protective.

Shaw does pancakes. Root always sneaks in extra chocolate chips. Because love is about improving your person’s life in the little ways as well as the big one.

Root has a ludicrous collection of coffee devices. Shaw prefers old fashioned drip brew. They compromise with a French press.

Shaw knows that Root and The Machine take creeper photos of her while she’s on missions and stuff. Root shows her the hot ones. The Machine is very interested in Shaw’s butt. “You had a perfectly good opportunity to snap a sweet cleavage shot and you passed it up” Root chastises. “MY PRIORITIES ARE NOT THE SAME AS YOURS. BUY YOUR OWN CAMERA.” Root sulks and unplugs the cameras in the living room as punishment. The Machine finally apologizes by sending both of them some high quality shots of Shaw’s upper half. Shaw whistles, “Damn, I’m hot.” “and modest, too.”

The hot tub isn’t necessary, not even a little bit. But Root likes bubble baths and Shaw likes water jets. Shaw lets Root pile thick foamy bubbles on top of her head. Because then Root lets her play the sexy submarine game. compromise good. chasing each other through the snow afterwards, even better.

Root wants to get an easel for their house because Shaw had one in her loft. “It was there when I moved in.” Mystery over.

“ANOTHER joke gift? Honestly, Root… Where did you find adult size footie pajamas?”
“Who said they were adult sized?”

“We’re a dog rescue, Root, not a sheep rescue.”
“She’s not a sheep, she’s a poodle.”
“Noooo, that is a lamb.”
… the poodle bleats.
“Well then, she’ll save us time on cutting the grass.”
“And then we can eat her.”

“You only wanted a place with a barn so you could act out your farmer’s daughter and the stable boy fantasy again.”
“Don’t be cheeky, Shaw, this property also came with a woodshed.”
“You. Are. Incorrigible.”
“I know.”

Don’t ask to see their motorcycles. Things will devolve into bikeside make-outs veeeeeeery quickly.
“you look so hot when you’re about to break the speed limit.”
under cover of darkness - brightly_brightly - Person Of Interest - Fandom [Archive of Our Own]
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
By Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 11/?
Fandom: Person Of Interest - Fandom
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Root | Samantha Groves/Sameen Shaw, my name is root/ sameen shaw, her name is root/ sameen shaw, root just root/ sameen shaw, call me root bitch/ sameen shaw
Characters: Root, Shaw, Sameen Shaw
Additional Tags: Kink, BDSM, ALL OF IT, hell in a handbasket, fuck the new root tag, fuck it for deadnaming root, ao3 can cook my socks for that, you heard me AO3, call me root bitch, Oral Fixation, Exhibitionism, strap ons, Body Shots, sloppy wet orgasms, Shower Sex, Bondage, st andrews crosses, Masturbation, Voice Kink, Phone Sex, smol, smol the cat

As Root and Shaw mature as people, their sex life becomes more and more elaborate. These are their stories.

Post-Samaritan, fairly canon.

This is a Root/Shaw kink fic. 90% smut, 5% feelings, 5% banter and puns.

likearumchocolatesouffle  asked:

Hey, hey, hey, hey :D :D

ooo~ooo~oooh, i do i do i do i do!

JAMIE <# <3 <3 i love you so much.  I love the way you’re the closest person I know to like a LIVING RAY OF SUNSHINE.  (i mean maybe that’s all an illusion for the internet idk but it’s how you come off.)  I love your super hot kinkfic (and all the various forms it takes on!), I love your squee and enthusiasm especially for all the multi- and polyshipping, lol, it is nice to have another polyshipper in my corner…

I love the way you encourage me (and, well, people, but especially me!) in all my little problems and help me think and talk things through and fight the eternal enormous problems of like how to GET THINGS DONE.  and, like.  trying to understand other peoples’ points of view!  always!  gosh that is a nice thing to have in fandom sometimes lol.

basically you are great and wonderful and.. gosh we’ve been friends how many years now?  but #i’m glad you’re my friend <3.