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hotdamnhunnam · 3 years

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Will You Just Fuck Me Already

A/N: Here’s another requested fic from my Ironhead Imagine Ideas list!! In which Will Miller is the biggest tease ever—he can spend hours with his fingers and his face buried between your legs… before he treats you to the world’s most epic sex. You’ve been bratty all day, so Will is gonna make you pay for your behavior in his favorite way: taking you to the edge, making you fucking beg.

Pairing: Will “Ironhead” Miller x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, dirty talk, teasing, edging, orgasm denial, punishment, dom!Will Request: This delightful anon request!

Word Count: ~2k

“Just a quick fuck before dinner, babe...”

“Will...” you squeal as you squirm your way out of his grip, trying not to cave in to the dominant way he takes hold of your hip. Softy slapping his hands away. “Stop that—we’re already late.”

Your insatiable fiancé clearly doesn’t give a shit about your fancy dinner date. “Dinner can wait.”

“Unlike someone who can’t,” you snap as you wriggle again from his ravenous hands. “Apparently you need to learn some restraint. Showing up late is rude.”

“Then push the goddamn reservation back,” he rasps, his hot mouth latching onto your neck, as one hand gropes under your dress to deal your ass a playful smack. “You know you want to. Know you want me more than food.”

Ugh—you both know it’s true. There’s no denying Will when he is in this kind of mood... which happens all too often. You’ve lost count of all the times you’ve given in. He knows that you’re a total slut for him and always have been.

But this time is going to be different. This time you’re going to keep him on his toes. Although Will knows you’re his to own, of course he knows... you can’t let him go on assuming that his dick is the one thing you’ll always want. “...what if I don’t?”

Will drops his jaw, the slightest bit. Blue eyes dark as he processes that shit. Confused and honestly in awe—you’ve never turned him down this way. Responds after a long, bemused pause. “The fuck did you just say?”

Averting your gaze, you try not to laugh at the straight up hilarious look on his face. “What if I’m actually more in the mood for a Michelin-starred amuse-bouche?”

“You can’t be serious,” he groans, like a dog going after a bone, barely able to handle how hungry he is. “Bitch, I’ll amuse your... bouche...”

“That’s cute,” you coo, kissing his cheek while he stands there unable to speak, as you head toward the door. “High time you learned some patience, Miller. You can have me after dinner.”

Will may have lost this battle, sure. But he’ll be damned before he lets you win this war. Shoots you a look savage enough to kill. “Babe, you’re gonna regret this.”

You sure as hell will; mark his words. Even more than you’d ever expected.

***************

To tell the truth, you know exactly what you’re doing. Will does, too. You’re goading him on with the goal of getting ruined. Playing coy, because you know that if you work your wooden soldier like a little wind-up toy, then you’ll end up good and destroyed. He’ll slam you up against the wall when you get home, and make you cum a million times before the night is done. Whip out his raging cock and rip apart your cunt. Which is exactly what you want. If this is war, you’re pretty sure you’ve fucking won.

Too bad this time you’re dead fucking wrong.

You’d been teasing him all dinner long. From the amuse-bouche to the salad to the soup course. That was probably the worst—you practically put on a porno with your spoon and didn’t care if it was wrong. Played into all your filthy thirsts. Ordered some sort of decadent bisque, white and creamy and thick. Let the delicate silver spoon linger against your lips, transgressing etiquette to let its contents drip, a little bit, so you could scrape and slurp the white stuff slowly off your fingertips. Meat for your entree, needless to say. Something creamy again for dessert, crème brûlée, which got him feeling some kind of way.

Now the two of you are finally back home again, and you can’t fucking wait.

Before dinner began, you’d honestly been teasing Will all fucking day. Woken up before him in the morning, denying him your usual kick-off-the-day sex without any warning. Hopped out of the shower before he could join in. Kept on making escapes and excuses all day and all evening. Repeatedly told him how busy you’d been, though you really weren’t even.

All damn day you were being an absolute brat. Now at last you’re all finished with that. Day is done, night is late... and you’re just glad that your wound-up soldier will finally be taking the bait.

Once he guides you inside and the front door is slammed shut, you’re all set to serve as his personal slut.

So you desperately throw your whole body against him.

Will doesn’t react in the way that you had been expecting; he doesn’t melt into your hands as you reach to unbutton his shirt. Simply mutters one word. “Bedroom.”

Blinking up at your beloved Ironhead, you take a hot minute to make sense of what he just said. The meaning should’ve been obvious, but your own raging hormones have turned you into an oblivious mess. Your own hunger to cum always renders you dumb. “Hmm...?”

“Haul that naughty ass upstairs and wait for me there,” he commands, loud and clear, every word an attack on your ears. “Naked on the bed. Both hands above your head. Don’t even think about touching yourself, because I own that cunt. No one else. Understand?”

Holy mother of hell... you attempt to obey, but you end up just taking a couple steps back till you’re pressed up against the far wall in the foyer. You’re unable to take your eyes off of your captain when he’s barking orders at you in this way. Try to answer him yes sir but it inevitably comes out as a desperate, unintelligible yelp.

Will just places both hands on his hips and expectantly purses his lips. “Well?”

You trip over the flat fucking floor as you hasten to do what you’re told like a good little whore. Who the actual fuck even are you anymore?

Without a clue just how much Will intends to torture you, just how long of a wait you have in store... you quickly strip naked and spread out on the bed, just as he’d said, and lay there waiting with your eyes glued to the door.

Ironhead always likes to win his battles fast. He’s all business, efficient like that. But when it comes to shit like this... well, this is different. Damn does he like drawing out the war.

When he finally enters, he’s never looked better. It goes without saying you’ve never been wetter. His shirt is off, letting you see every inch of his bare upper body, glorious and godly, the smooth sculpted muscles you love.

You honestly cannot believe you’re engaged to such a fucking heart-stopping hottie. Your gaze wanders all over his epic tattoos, lingering on your personal favorite, the one dedicated to you.

Your gaze can’t linger for too long. Without saying a thing, Will orders you to meet his deep blue stare—he never needed words to issue a command; he’s such a captain, such a king, that even his silence is strong. So you obey right then and there. Your fiancé, this flawless sex god of a man, has fucking plans to make you pay, for every damn thing you’ve done wrong.

He approaches the foot of the bed, raising one hand to rake through the soft golden hair on his head. Thumb of the other hitched in his belt. God, he wears those jeans so fucking well. You are such a damn whore for his hands... only thing for which you’re even more of a whore is the massive dick you can see bulging like mad through the crotch of his pants.

The force of Will’s gaze silently commands you to look back up at his face again. Aye, Captain.

Then the bastard has the nerve to ask a motherfucking question. “What did I tell you earlier tonight?”

Excuse me, sir? How dare you ask something like that? He asks as if you’re even capable of forming words, to give him a reply. Yeah fucking right.

Will takes a few steps closer, leaning down over your body on the bed. And you’re so fucking dead. “You really gonna start shit off this way? Two seconds in, already you don’t know how to obey?”

Sir... this is not okay...

“Remember what I fucking said...” he grunts, and then—sweet Jesus Christ—places a hand upon your thigh, dangerously close to your wet cunt, “...or else you’re gonna spend the next whole week waiting for me in bed. That what you want?”

Oh God. Oh God. How is it even possible for any human being to be so painfully hot? You force your breathless mouth to stammer out an answer. “N-no, sir...”

“That’s what I thought,” Will huffs, squeezing your tender inner thigh with a firm touch that’s somehow all at once both sensuous and soft, yet ravaging and rough. The kind of touch he knows you love. “You should’ve thought of that before you spent the whole day being such a goddamn brat. Denying me a piece of this sweet ass. This pretty pussy, every inch of this delicious little body that you know fucking belongs to me.”

“Will... f-fuck—” you gasp, as he tightens his grasp. “Fuck, I’m so sorry...”

“What was that? What do you call me?” he rasps, dealing your soft skin a sudden sharp slap. “I know you’re sorry, babe. Don’t worry. Know just how to make you pay.”

“Ugh—sir, yes sir...” you murmur. Honestly couldn’t be sorrier, for how you had behaved, all fucking day.

“Now what did I say?” he demands, moving in closer toward your dripping cunt with his dominant hands. “Tell me or else I swear I’ll never let you cum again.”

Fuck yes—fuck no—whatever you say goes, Captain. Somehow this man makes hell sound like heaven. His words, his touch... it’s all just going to your head. You want him so damn much. Whole body squirming on the bed. You’re so insanely wet, you’re almost squirting and he hasn’t even touched you yet. “You said... you said I would regret...”

He deals your upper leg another swat. “Go ahead, slut. Regret what?”

“Denying you like that,” you stutter, doing your best to obey your fucking sex god of a fiancé, the man who owns you like no other. “Being such a fucking brat...”

“That’s right,” he sighs, palms sliding even further up your inner thighs. “Now are you ready for punishment? Why don’t you go ahead and tell me, cunt... tell me what kind of punishment you want.”

“I want you to fuck me,” you plead, as his masterful fingers move closer toward your soaking heat.

Then the wicked son of a bitch snickers... no such luck, you figure. “Well, isn’t that sweet.”

You grovel on the bed, groaning through gritted teeth. “Sir, just—please...”

“Please what, you dirty fucking slut?”

“Please, sir...” you whimper, as you turn to mush beneath his fingers, melting at his touch. His hands hovering just above your cunt. All you can think of is the thick hard cock that you can still see throbbing through the denim of his crotch. It’s everything you fucking want. You’ve truly never needed anything so much. “Will... Will you just fuck me already?”

Will loves making you like this—all shaken, unsteady. Always says when you’re right on the edge, you look so fucking pretty. You sure don’t feel pretty right now. But the way that his eyes fucking sparkle at you, as he takes in the view, clearly he seems to think so somehow.

“Mmm, so greedy. So needy,” he taunts, as his hand comes within inches of your aching, dripping cunt. “You want me to just fuck you already? Is that what you want...?”

Without words, your whole body responds.

And without words, Will answers: you’re not getting fucked until he’s good and done. Till then, he’s gonna punish your ass all night long. Just as you had been doing to him all damn day.

Now it’s Will’s turn to make you pay, in his favorite way: by spending hours with his fingers and his face buried between your shaking legs... denying you the right to get fucked by him, or to cum—you’ll have to earn that fucking privilege—taking you to the edge... making you fucking beg.

***************

... Continued in Part 2!

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shes-claws-deep · 5 years

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Consensual non con with your DMC boy of choice? 👀👀👀

At the time of counting, V was in the lead. In regards to this story, negotiations have been done beforehand and safewords set. Don’t do con noncon without extensive research, trust, communication, and planning. (I realise this is more dubcon than noncon but oh well, i’m not gonna rewrite the whole thing.)

“Wake up, little summoner~”

V groans as he stirs, hands raising to his head to rub at his head, to shield his eyes from the light he can feel around him. At least, he would have if his wrists weren’t tied down by his head. If he could only open his eyes. Wait-! “I-What is this darkness?!” His eyes are wide open, wider than they’ve ever been, yet there is only darkness greeting his sight. V swings his head around and he struggles so hard that he can feel leather and metal bite into the meat of his thighs, waist, chest, and biceps. Even his ankles and knees can’t move more than an inch in any direction.

He’s good and pinned as he is, rendered almost immobile atop what feels like a gynaecologist’s chair. A cool breeze feathers across his exposed ass and makes him jump, makes him snarl into the air.

“Don’t touch me!” He can’t pinpoint your location.

“Why not?” Comes your amused voice. “I paid good money for you, pretty slave.” The words swirl around his head, comes from all directions, confuses him as to where you are. It sounds like you’re walking around him, circling him, and yet he can’t hear a single footstep. “Oh yes, you’ll make such an excellent addition to my collection.”

V freezes. Slave? Collection? Fuck. Fuck, he has to get out of here! His struggles start anew, using all the strength in his skinny body to try and get out of his restraints. Alas, they hold tight, abrade his tattooed skin until he can feel it turn raw under the leather restraints. He’ll bleed if he keeps this up, he knows it, but what’s a little blood if he can get free? If he can wriggle free.

“What do you want from me?” V’s lip trembles a little as he asks this. The tattoos on his body hum with energy but it stops there, preventing him from summoning Griffon, from summoning Shadow and getting himself out of this. Shit, power seals? He’s in real trouble.

“What I want from you?” Your voice draws closer and V tenses, the hair at the back of his neck raising. “What I want from you is very simple.” He jumps as you trail your fingers over his bare chest, circle around his perked nipple, pinch it and squeeze it until he grits his teeth to hold back the yelp that threatens to spill out. “I want your body, pretty slave. I’ll claim what’s mine.”

Before you even finish your sentence, V is shaking his head vehemently. Trying to arch and flinch away from you. Trying to avoid your touch. “I refuse!” He bares his teeth. “Do not touch me!”

You laugh and smooth both hands over his skinny chest, inching upwards until you have both hands around his neck. Around the collar already locked around his slender throat. “Mmm, I don’t think so.” Both hands squeeze lightly, fingers pressing on the sides of his throat rather than on his windpipe. Making him feel lightheaded rather than choke. His hands struggle and he throws his head this way and that, trying to dislodge your hands to no avail. But the longer he struggles, the faster he falls. “I’ll touch you wherever I want and you can’t stop me.”

When V’s struggles wither away to frantic panting, you take your hands away to his relief. But unfortunately for him, you return with something clinking in your hands.

“Stop! Don’t come closer,” V pants out, shaking his head weakly. “No-no don’t-” Your fingers jam into his mouth and forces it open enough for you to slip a metal bit between his teeth. Immediately, his tongue slips around it, tries to push it out of his mouth to no avail since you buckle it around his head so quickly. His teeth clink at the metal, drool starts to slip from his lips, and he shudders in humiliation when you coo at how pretty he looks.

“Mmm, perfect. I like your voice, slave, but I like it when they don’t scream for mercy at every turn,” you tut at him and pad around to fit your body between his spread legs. Pressing your clothed pelvis against his bare ass and balls. God, he’s so pretty. Worth every single dollar you paid to capture him. The tattoos are stark against his pale skin, wrapping down his body and down his legs, forming a happy trail towards his half hard cock lying against his hip.

“I wonder what you’ll sound like when I take your ass for the first time?” You hum and stroke his cock in an exploratory manner, slipping and sliding your dry hands all over him until he softens his posture and starts to moan hesitantly. “Bet no one’s ever gone here before, huh?” With a couple of pumps of a bottle near you, you dole out dollops of lube into your hands, rub it around to warm it up so your fingers are absolutely dripping with it. Coated through and through so you can smear it all over the darker skin of his ass crack, his asshole, his perineum.

“Not there! Please, not there!” V tries to cry out but it sounds more muffled and garbled than anything, the bit preventing him from speaking properly. “I beg you!”

Alas, you ignore him, choosing instead to grin and enjoy his increasingly panicked sounds as you press on the tight star of his asshole. “Good thing I had someone clean you out. This ass looks delicious.” Your free hand paws at his balls, slicks up his cock, dries off the excess lube on his inner thighs and ass until he looks like he’s been oiled up thoroughly. “Fuck, I can’t wait to break you in.”

B-break him in?!

You catch the alarmed look on his face and laugh, patting his ass patronisingly as you slowly slide one finger inside where no one has gone before. V’s cries are like music to your ears, the deep tones of his voice slipping into a higher octave when you pump that finger in and out, in and out until he’s coated with lube inside and out. Until he’s trembling and clenching around you with incredible heat as you twist your wrist and curl your finger towards you. Finding his prostate with little difficulty.

“Yes, slave, I’m going to break you in. Make you the biggest anal slut this side of the country,” you moan and slide another finger inside his resisting ass. Ignore his head as it shakes from side to side to focus on stretching his virgin ass open. “I hope you won’t disappoint me.”

“S-stop, stop don’t-!”

But he can’t stop you from using both hands to open his ass. From slipping two fingers from each hand inside, to pull and make him gape just for your eyes. V trembles and whimpers pathetically, drool already soaking his face and the leather under him, his eyes wide open and unseeing under the blindfold. He can’t stop you, even with wriggling hips, from squirting lube right into his clenching ass, from sliding around the impossibly huge plug you’re pushing into him.

“It’s too big. Too big! Remove it! Remove it, please-I-!” V’s cries are cut off by the deep, guttural groan as the plug slides in all the way to its base, his ass swallowing it up and clenching tight around the invasive glass. “G-gggg-full-!”

With the glass deep inside him, he can feel every little vibration as you tap on the base, as you plug in something, as the wires sway. Though he’s floating in a sea of pain and pleasure, he’s still aware of you reaching over to flip a few switches. At least, he thought he was because he’s yelping at the top of his voice as something jolts in his ass. He contracts around it involuntarily, dancing on reflex as the electro butt plug flares to life.

While he’s jumping and moaning at the new sensation, you’re stripping your bottoms off and eagerly climbing atop his body. Now that his cock is nice and hard and leaking precum, you happily take his cock in hand and rub his head against your throbbing clit. You can feel him flex each time the plug forces him to contract, can feel him tremble when he feels you slide just his head into your pussy.

“D-don’t-please?” His pleas take on a softer tone, as though begging for you to continue rather than to stop. “Stop~”

You laugh derivatively and slowly slide down his impressively big cock. For a skinny man, he’s packing a decent schlong. One that’s veined, thick, curved just right, and long enough for him to fill you properly once you’ve slipped him in balls deep. “Oh, yes, your cock is perfect. Gonna make such good use of you, pretty slave.”

The constant shaking of his head slows down as you begin to ride him in earnest, pulling moan after moan out of his unwilling throat. Making him quake and shake when you pinch and tug at his perky nipples. As you kiss around his sodden mouth. “You’re going to be the prettiest slave, V. My little pet.” You slap your hands on his chest and use it to leverage yourself and slam down on him with deep, powerful strokes. “Gonna tie you to my bed and keep you naked, free for me to use any time I want.” His cock hits your gspot just right and you cry out, lifting one hand to use it to rub at your clit desperately. “Mmmfuck-I’ll break you and ruin you. And then I’ll put you back together as my perfect slave. Made just for me~!”

He already looks wrecked and ruined, his hips arching towards you rather than shying away, his hands curling into fists as he uses them to anchor himself so that he may thrust up into you. One battle won; you have forced his body to overcome his mind.

“I own you, slave. You’re all mine. All mine.” As your orgasm creeps up on you, you raise the dial on his butt plug and let him buck and hump into you. Helping you along with his delicious sounds and flushed skin until you’re tensing around his thick cock, thighs clamping down around his hips and nails digging into his chest. Your finger is a blur on your clit, extending your orgasm until V whimpers pathetically, begging you to let him cum too.

“I’m-I’m so close!” He whines in a choked voice, his brain still stuck on how you’re milking his twitching, hungry cock inside you. Your orgasm seems to last forever, seems to drag him closer to the edge as well, until you finally gasp for breath, your trembling body stilling against him. “No please! Please, I was so close!” Oh so very close. The plug inside him is still buzzing against his prostate, still making him jump and jerk.

“God yeah, that was great,” you sigh and slowly raise yourself off his cum soaked cock. It falls with a slap on his belly and bounces straight back up, so erect that it can’t fall flat. “Mmm, you’re definitely worth hiring that hunter.”

V is still pleading muffled pleas for you to get back on him. To ride him until he, too, reaches his completion. What a stark difference from his snarling earlier. You grin and snort, kissing his cheek and getting off him to slide down to the floor.

“You still have to run through a couple of tests before I can let you cum. If at all. We’ll see how well you perform.”

Tests? What tests-! V moans as the plug is removed efficiently, his ass clenching around nothing and missing the solid strength of the glass. Not that he has to contend with an empty ass for long, though, because you’re pressing in something a little softer than glass. Softer but longer.

You set up the fucking machine and attach some electro-stim pads onto his soaked cock, humming when he whimpers helplessly as both are turned on at the same time. “Don’t cum, V. Don’t cum. That’s saved for my pussy only.”

Speechless as he is by the cock spearing into his once virgin ass, V can only nod shakily.

#dmc5 #devil may cry #devil may cry imagines #v #dom!reader #sub!v #ficlet #con noncon #actually more dubcon now that i look at it #lemon #grapefruit #Anonymous

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psychoticgirl · 7 years

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Cinnamon and Gunpowder

Talented chef Loki has been kidnapped by the pirate queen Lady Sif, but she offers to spare his life in exchange for a meal.

Sifki Week Day 4: alternate universe

Also posted on AO3

Loki barked out orders to the maids and servants in his kitchen, not allowing a single plate to leave the room without his inspection and final flourish of sauce. He smiled to himself, he really was quite talented. He had traveled with his employer, Jonathan Laufey, a wealthy businessman and naval commander to his beach home, planning to cook meals in the spacious kitchen all summer long. But Loki had hardly been there a week and was serving one of his favorite dishes, a flavorful chicken and sausage jambalaya when the chaos began.

He had been in the kitchen, sprinkling powdered sugar atop fresh beignets when the loud bang came from the foyer. Unable to resist, he had stuck his head out of the kitchen door to peer into the dining room, just in time to notice the hole in the front door where the lock had previously been. A moment later the door was kicked in, and a great hulking beast of a man I would later know as Volstagg entered the room. He was quickly followed by a man with dark hair, who quietly and smoothly dropped Mr. Sturluson, the butler, to the ground with a blow over his head.

The man who entered next matched every definition and rendering of a swashbuckling pirate Loki had ever come across, from the ruffled shirt to the wide smile under his upturned mustache. He wasted no time striding across the room with a branded sword to order Mrs. Laufey and her maid to the ground. Loki assumed this stereotype of a buccaneer was their leader.

Until his gaze was drawn by the sound of clopping boots over the screams of the servants towards the door. She was a pillar of menace, the woman who now entered the dining room. She was tall and wore a maroon long-coat, her raven colored hair hung loose over her shoulder and was adorned with a large stylish hat.

Loki was frozen at the site of her, terror rushing through his veins. Loki knew at once who he was seeing; the infamous pirate queen Lady Sif. There were multiple accounts of her death, credible witnesses had seen her perish by gunshot and drowning across the Caribbean. Yet here she was not 10 paces from him. The scoundrel sauntered to a chair, using it as a stepping stool to step upon the dining room table. She opened her coat and pulled two rose quartz-handled pistols from her hip.

Mr. Laufey sat frozen, staring up at this devilish woman. His voice was low, but Loki could hear the tremor. “What do you want, Lady?”

“Heard you were in the neighborhood, so figured I’d pay you a visit.”

Laufey looked down at his wife and children. “If it’s money you want, take it. Just please don’t hurt them.”

The pirate laughed, “Oh now you care about the welfare of others? How rich.” Lady Sif lifted his chin with the heel of her boot, leveling both pistols at him. “I’ll see you in hell, Laufey.”

She then fired, point blank, into Loki’s employer’s chest, send his chair tumbling over. Loki saw the dreadful woman drop from the table and seat herself at an open chair, pulling Laufey’s plate towards her, before reason took over Loki’s mind and he turned to flee.

He’d barely made it three paces before he was struck over the head with his own frying pan. Dazed, he was dragged out to the dining area by the silent man. The swashbuckling blonde was pulling servants out of every nook and cranny, instructing everyone to remain on the floor around the table.

The room was full of commotion, women and men alike sobbing and wailing and pleading with their captors. Until the pirate queen raised a pistol and fired it nonchalantly into the ceiling, bringing an immediate quiet to the room.

She stood slowly, sliding the now empty tray away while pushing back from the table and wiping her mouth with a linen napkin. Loki tried not to look at the blood splatter that had soaked into the cloth.

“I have no grudge against you lot, so cooperate and I will show mercy. Now tell me, who’s the chef of this house?”

Loki’s heart stopped dead at her question, and he remained frozen on the floor. Several maids and even one of the children all pointed their finger at him without hesitations. The unforgivable double-crossers.

The woman looked directly at him, the mad pleasure in her gaze made him flinch. “Alright, cookie. You’re coming with us.” She flicked the barrel of her gun from the direction of the behemoth towards Loki.

Before he even had time to fully register her words, Loki’s wrists were bound with rope and he had been thrown over the shoulder of the bear-sized man. Despite his vocal lashings and physical attempts at escape, Loki had been brought aboard the ship and thrown into a dark room. Loki sat on the floor of his quarters, hardly bigger than the broom closet of his former home and tried not to wretch with seasickness and overwhelming dread at the current state of his affairs. Everything had gone so terribly, horribly wrong so quickly.

“Welcome aboard the Bifrost, cook. There’s no better way to travel than this ship.” Lady Sif had visited him later that night, not long after he felt the boat rock and sway as it cut across choppy waters, spiriting him away from land and his life. After a formal introduction as the captain of the pirate ship Bifrost, Sif had also identified herself as the sole keeper of Loki’s fate.

“If you’d like to stay above water and in my good graces, you must abide by my terms. The only thing I ask is that you are to prepare a meal for me each Sunday night. Something as delicious as was presented to that scourge Laufey. If the meal is to my satisfaction, you keep your life for another week. Do we have an accord?”

“Are you insane?” Loki asked in disbelief. She seemed to consider his words before shrugging.

“Likely. But today is already Friday so it might be best to spend your time pondering the forthcoming menu, yes?”

Despite his protests that there were not the supplies needed aboard a ship in the middle of a sea for such a task, she left the room with a smile and a wave. Later, the grim, silent man, whom the captain referred to as Hogun escorted him to the kitchen. The man was like Loki’s shadow, never more than a yard away and always with a suspicious look in his eye. The kitchen was small, and despite being provided with pilfered wares and food stuff from the summer home, the task before him still felt momentous.

He’d had to improvise, given his limited resources. Nearly all of Saturday was devoted to inventorying his supplies. There was sugar and flour, spices and salted meats. And rum of course. With the help of his considerable charm, Loki was able to talk this Hogun fellow into lending him a line and hook for fishing. The task of actually catching something edible was less easy, and Loki tried not to mind the guffaws of the Lady’s crew as he slid and struggled to land a fish.

But successful he eventually was. And driven by the will to survive and spite over the Lady’s absurd challenge Loki managed to find inspiration in the small kitchen. She had looked in on him only once, standing in the doorway and twirling a dagger in her hand. Loki had felt like a mouse being watched by a hungry cat.

When the sun was setting over the sea, drawing Sunday and perhaps his time on Earth to a close, Loki loaded a board with his finished plates and covered them with overturned pots. With Hogun leading the way, Loki walked carefully above deck and towards the cabin. He was glad for his silent companion for once, for it seemed all of the captain’s considerable crew, save the stoic man who spent all his time in the crow’s nest with a telescope to his eye, had gathered outside the kitchen, sniffing the air like wild dogs.

Hogun pushed through the crowd and crossed the ship, knocked and then opened the door to the captain’s chambers. The quarters were larger than Loki had expected and lavishly decorated. He was momentarily stunned to see the abundance of pillows, rugs, and furs spread out across the floor and the large bed. But what truly stopped him in his tracks was the enormous bookshelf lining a far wall. Sif was seated in a chair near the bed, a book open on her lap upon their entrance.

She thanked and dismissed Hogun and cleared her throat, pulling Loki out of his hypnosis. “You can set it down over there.” She gestured to the small table to his left. It was set with two plates, a 3-pronged candle holder blazing softly in the middle. Loki silently followed her directions, trying to ignore the way his legs threatened to give way. This was it. He could be made to walk the plank at any moment now if she was not pleased with his offerings. He made to leave, turning towards the door, desperate to spend his final moments alone possibly writing a letter to his beloved mother.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Her voice was threatening, freezing his hand on her doorknob. “Sit down, Loki.”

“I will not,” he shook his head. Hadn’t she asked enough of him? Lady Sif approached, her boots making slow, deliberate clops, until she was standing quite close to him. He noticed that she smelled of lilac.

“A meal can be quite bland and unsavory without good company and stimulating conversation, don’t you agree?” Her voice was low, sending a shiver up his spine. That gave her a wide smile.

“I’m pleased you regard my life-and-death scenario as an amusing game!” He shouted, suddenly furious.

“It is quite fun,” she said and then laughed. “Now take your seat, please.”

Loki obliged and sat at the table. Instead of sitting opposite, the captain chose to sit next to him, lifting the lids off the plates before them.

All day Sunday, he worked to bone and smoke the fish he’d caught over the small fire and simmered it in rum and spices, making a flavorful broth. He’d mashed potatoes with sprigs of thyme and for dessert he even managed rum-poached figs drizzled with honey. Carefully, Lady Sif dished a plate with a sample of each and then slid it across the swaying table to him, then filled another for herself.

She raised a fork in expectation, looking at him.

“This is for you,” he objected. “And I must confess I don’t have much of an appetite given your investigation.”

“Have you poisoned it, then?” She eyed him suspiciously.

Loki sighed and dug his fork into the meat, making a show of eating without keeling over. The captain grinned at his embellishment and followed suit. Her face melted into placidity at the first taste. She closed her eyes, savoring the bite and letting out a low moan. She continued on, indulging time into each meticulous bite, and Loki found her hungry reaction to his food almost...beautiful.

He had to admit too, after the first bite had reached his stomach that he was actually quite ravenous, not having more than sea biscuits and a small chunk of bacon since his capture.

“Oh, this is wonderful.” Sif managed between bites. “I must say this is my best idea yet.”

Loki nearly choked on his broth at her words. “Your idea?”

She grinned. “Well yes. Taking you aboard. I’m all for equality and hard work with my crew but I do need to remind them who is in charge on this ship. So I sleep on silk sheets, drink wine, and get the largest shares of treasures. But this, a break from brine water and gruel to exult in a proper meal? That’s brilliant leadership. Now speaking of wine...”

She hopped up, opening a cabinet and pulling out a bottle. She splashed a large amount of red wine into her cup and filled his nearly to the brim as well.

“Now tell me Loki, how does a man as pretty as yourself end up hiding away in kitchens?”

Loki glared at her, expected a mocking, teasing look but Sif was leaned forward over her plate. She actually seemed interested.

“Spite, mainly,” he said with a shrug. For all he knew, she could throw him overboard any second so why not be honest. She let out an explosive laugh.

“Please,” she circled a finger, “Elaborate.”

“My family is actually quite well to do,” Loki confessed. “And they always expected my brother and me to follow in the family legacy of becoming an army general or a lawyer or some boring, moneyed nonsense. Once I found out,” Loki paused, thinking back to the most painful night in his life. “Once I discovered some unsavory family secrets, I decided I’d follow my passion instead.”

“And have you been vindicated in your choice?” Sif asked, eyeing him while licking a drizzle of honey from her fork. Loki paused to drink from his cup, the alcohol was making his skin feel warm.

“I’ve enjoyed my work very much,” he scraped his spoon around his empty plate, “Up until it lead to my capture and imminent death.” She laughed again, and for some reason Loki found himself smiling too. It was all very absurd.

“Fear not, chef,” she raised the wine bottle in salute, “consider your weekly rent paid. It was a very fine meal deserving of a queen and you have earned your keep aboard the Bifrost .”

Loki’s relief was immediate and all consuming. He’d done it! His life had been spared, at least temporarily. He allowed himself a small chuckle while Lady Sif refilled their glasses in toast.

“What about you?” he asked, feeling emboldened by drink and her favor of his food. “How did a b-, a-a, uh, woman end up a pirate?” He stumbled, stopping short of calling her beautiful. Although it wouldn’t have been a lie. Growing up and hearing tales of pirates, he’d always imagined buccaneers as dirty, smelly people with missing teeth and skin marred by scabies. But Sif had spoiled that image; her face was hardened from sun and sea, yes, but also youthful and striking.

“I once was a legitimate privateer,” she sat back in her seat and eyed him. “I fought to bring peace to the seas and the entire Caribbean. I worked for many commanders, some more noble than others. But it was your friend Laufey that turned my tides.

“See Mr. Laufey, instead of helping the locals of these islands as a commander should, he’s killing them. Buying and stealing land out from under the poor and then leaving their earth barren or full of his beloved, profitable sugarcane. When I tried to bring his crimes to light, he instead named me a traitor, a pirate. It was his word against mine, so I decided to make an honest man out of him.” She took a long pull from her cup, and Loki did the same. “See, we’re not so different you and me. Both driven by spite and vengeance..” She winked at him.

Loki’s head swam with this new information. She killed and sailed in search of... atonement?

“So you’re a vigilante?”

“Oh I do like the sound of that,” she laughed. “Pirate, vigilante, war bringer, whatever suits you best, aye.”

Loki tipped back his cup, drinking until it was empty. Was it possible for pirates to have morals? He hadn’t even known it was possible for pirates to be fetching until recently, what else had he mistaken in his life. At this moment though, he couldn’t focus on much more besides his happiness at knowing he would live another week. The captain had spared him. Loki looked over and found her leaned forward again, dragging her finger across his empty plate to catch the last traces of honey from the edge. She looked at him, her finger in her mouth. Loki swallowed hard.

“Now, I know this isn’t part of the bargain, but I would ask one more thing of you.” She jumped up and walked to her library, pulling a small book from her shelf handing it to him. “Most of my crew is illiterate but you’ve proven to be quite clever. If you’d be so kind...”

Loki turned the book over and was surprised to find it was a collection of poetry. She sat back down, her face eager as she emptied the last of the wine bottle between their cups. Usually he did not drink more than one serving of any alcohol, as he prefered to keep in control of himself but he had no protests tonight. His happiness seemed reflected in the pirate queen’s smile. If he was honest, which apparently he was being tonight, she really was quite lovely. Her wine stained lips were red against unexpectedly white teeth, and her skin had an attractive pale flush. The scent of lilacs hit his nose again when she leaned over, putting a hand on his arm.

He blinked rapidly and then turned to the book in his hand. He cleared his throat and opened it to a random page and read aloud in slow, confidential voice:

“She walks in beauty, like the night

Of cloudless climes and starry skies;

And all that’s best of dark and bright

Meet in her aspect and her eyes;

Thus mellowed to that tender light

Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

"One shade the more, one ray the less,

Had half impaired the nameless grace

Which waves in every raven tress,

Or softly lightens o’er her face;

Where thoughts serenely sweet express,

How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

"And on that cheek, and o’er that brow,

So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,

The smiles that win, the tints that glow,

But tell of days in goodness spent,

A mind at peace with all below,

A heart whose love is innocent!”

Loki softly closed the book in his lap and looked up into the open, burning gaze of Lady Sif. She seemed so near, leaned close to hear every enunciated sound. The sweet, heady words, her allure, made him feel dizzy. Perhaps it was the wine in his veins mixed with the thrill of his life extended, unable to look away from her red lips Loki swayed with the rhythm of the ship and brushed his mouth against hers. She tasted like honey and cinnamon of his dessert and pushed her lips firmer against his. His heart raced and then suddenly stopped at the feel of cold metal under his chin. The click of the pistol’s hammer cocking into place broke through his haze. The pirate withdrew her lips infinitesimally away, but pushed the barrel of her gun deeper into his flesh.

“Brazen scoundrel,” she smiled, her warm breath ghosting across his lips. “Perhaps you’re more at home here than one would think..”

Loki opened his mouth to protest, to apologize, put she lifted her gun-free hand up to cover his lips. “Save that silver tongue for our next mealtime.”

“I look forward to it,” Loki smiled, and found himself being honest once again.

#sifkiweek17 #sifki #loki x sif #pirates #this was fun to write #it won't be long before loki is dressed in leathers and billowy shirts #and sleeping in Sif's bed in the captain quarters lbr #i wrote words again

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queensmemoirs · 7 years

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The Interesting Light Bulb Market

Interesting Fact About Bulb as Against best tactical led flashlight

The market is interesting at the moment - at least in Denmark where the opportunities are more than I ever remember seeing. This is caused by new efficient technology and banning of old inefficient technology. And some solutions in between... I'll explain why LEDs are so efficient compared to incandescent lights. And check the bulbs advertised wattage - which isn't always correct.

I may also find time to just... [oink] goof around... But first let's look at the difference between incandescent and LED. Here we have two large decoration bulbs. One of them is at full power drawing close to 40 watts. The other one is dimmed. If I crank it up, it still only draws around 7.5 watts but gives off much more light.

Why is the LED so much more efficient? Well, there's a clear difference. The incandescent bulb is hot to the touch. The LED is not. Incandescent light actually works by heating up a small metal wire until it glows white-hot from thermal radiation. We may not think about it every day but the hotter things get - the more they radiate.

If hot enough it's a visible glow to us. For example a flame or a wire heated by a flame. The heat in the wire excites the electrons pushing them to higher energy orbits around the atomic nuclei. When the electrons fall back to a lower energy orbit again their energy is converted to a photon - light. The metal wire in an incandescent bulb is typically heated to thousands of degrees.

It is therefore made of tungsten. Most other metals would melt at this temperature. But where does the heat come from? There's no flame inside the bulb? Tungsten isn't the best conductor and the wire is also very thin. So it has the highest resistance in the electrical circuit.

The filament wire is therefore a resistor and its resistance causes friction for the electrons passing through it. This friction generates heat. Like when you rub your hands against each other. LEDs on the other hand do not work by heating up a wire. Instead of incandescence LEDs emit light by electroluminescence. The Light Emitting Diode is a semiconductor which has a negative side with electrons in excess and a positive side with holes - missing electrons. When the right voltage is applied to the semiconductor, electrons flow from the negative side and fills the holes on the positive side. This releases energy as light photons.

No heat is needed but even an LED will warm up in use. The operating temperature inside the semiconductor is usually 60-80 Celsius. Way less than the wire in the incandescent bulb. And this explains why LEDs are much more efficient. It takes A LOT of energy to heat anything to thousands of degrees. Only around 2-3% of the electricity is converted to light in the old-fashioned bulbs.

The rest is lost into heat. Therefore incandescent bulbs for house lighting are banned or being banned in many countries. The incandescent bulb to the left is illegal to sell in Denmark. I generally hate bans but looking at the specs I have to admit it makes sense. There is a problem though... I recently had a brunch at a local restaurant and noticed that the lunch meats looked not delicious.

It was lit by LED-bulbs with a bad color rendering index. CRI is a measurement of how well colors look when only lit by the bulb. Not all bulbs give off light that will make all colors look natural to you. 100 is the perfect score and incandescent bulbs are very close. But many LEDs struggle with color rendering. Let me try to show it. I will use the Danish lunch meat called 'rullepølse'.

- "Repeat after me: Rullepølse" And test with these three bulbs that are fairly similar except for the color rendering. This LED has a rendering index above 80. This other LED is above 90 and the incandescent bulb is close to 100. I filmed each bulb with the camera locked to the exact same settings

So the difference in the three recordings is only the bulb. Here's the side-by-side comparison. Notice the color difference. On my monitor the middle one is an ugly yellow-greenish. The left one is way better but the right one has the best meat-look and a white plate. I'll leave it up to you which one looks the most delicious - if any - but over a dinner table I highly recommend bulbs with a high color rendering index. LEDs also need electronics built into the bulb to work.

The semiconductors need DC and not the AC from the mains electricity. If the electronics are poorly designed LEDs can flicker badly. It's not easy to film but hopefully you can tell which of these two is flickering the most. In real life - not chopped into 25 frames a second -the one on the right has an annoying stroboscopic effect. And the electronics don't like excessive heat so LEDs aren't suitable for oven lights. This incandescent bulb is rated to 300 C - no electronics to melt... Speaking of speciality bulbs... Sometimes heat is exactly what you want. Heat radiation is infrared radiation and this bulb is meant for keeping baby animals warm Like chickens and piglets.

The bulb is tuned to emit a lot of heat and this pig will soon feel it and start... venting... [hissing noise of air escaping under pressure] [oink...] Did... did I mention that these infrared bulbs are also excellent over a buffet for keeping the food warm. Like bacon... and... pork chops... [disapproving pig squeal and oink]

Are uh... Are you okay, piggy? [long, deep, sighing oink...] He's fine. Let's move on. I think it's time to show and quickly test some of the more special bulbs I've found. These are the big decoration bulbs from earlier. They are advertised at 7.5 - 40 watts.

Let's test it. The silvery gadget is a wattmeter and the top number shows the wattage. The 40-watt incandescent draws 37 watts - a little low but that's okay. The two LEDs are closer to spec and draws around 7.5 watts. It takes a little time for them to warm up so let's jump to the spec-sheet with the final readings. Here you really can see the differences in the two technologies.

I've marked the not-so-good specs with a red color for a fast overview because we are gonna expand with more bulbs. These two take decoration bulbs to a new level with a complicated glass shape. I know it's upside down but this is just a test rig :) Apparently 40W incandescent bulbs use close to 10% less than advertised. How about a 40W LED?

This is mostly for industrial use because at 3200 non-dimmable lumens it isn't.... cozy. But it surely is a 40-watt bulb. Just for reference I'll show a comparison with a 40-watt incandescent decoration bulb. Yup! That looks like a normal cozy lighting. Let's try the other one... Wh... well it's cozy... in the... lying-on-the-beach-with-sunglasses-on way...

Let's carry on... This is an example of a bulb that will be hard to find in the future. An incandescent bulb with clear glass. Apparently tinted glass models will be permitted for longer in the EU. While clear glass incandescents are banned. Halogen bulbs were also supposed to be phased out by now but so far the ban has been delayed. At close to 70W each they are a little power hungry but halogens are still more efficient than the endless choices of decoration bulbs. Alright, this is the summary so far. Only a few more to test now. The next bulb is a fluorescent one I use in my soft boxes for video lighting. It is a big one - advertised at 125 watts and a CRI over 90.

However the specs may not be very accurate because it is only using around 50W. Hmm... I guess that's one way of saving energy... Letting the bulb use less watts than advertised. Now this is a real energy saver. Its energy rating is A++, since it is only using 6W to generate over 800 lumens. And the wattage is very precise - even from a cold start. This bulb was a little different because it was the only one which started at a higher wattage than advertised and only dropped after a long warm up. The final bulb is the very popular 400W halogen work light. It may use a lot of electricity but puts out close to 9000 lumens. This one is a little below spec at 368 watts. So here is the final summary. I hope you liked this video and liked it enough to click the thumbs up button. That would make me very happy :) My next video will be something different. I visit a fellow Danish youtuber and... mess up some of his stuff... - I can't say safety first because then we shouldn't do this at all. - It is a little dangerous and actually I'm a little nervous because...

- We're not gonna ground him. His not gonna be wearing a... Here's a little bonus for hanging on to the end. Look at the advertising on this one. On the front it clearly says anti-insect and insect repelling. On the back it says it attracts less than white light English is not my first language but 'repel' and 'attract less' isn't quite the same, right?

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