post in progress

[eumenis]

This is a catch-all PSL post for smut, heavy violence, and kink-meme prompts. Please check with me via PM before putting a starter here! (If we're already doing a shippy or smutty thread elsewhere, no need to move it here.)

Character Information

Name: Furiosa (AKA Imperator Furiosa, AKA Furiosa Jobassa) Canon: Mad Max: Fury Road Canon Point: Variable. Usually shortly post-movie. Age: Variable, usually played as thirty-something. Sexuality: Right in the middle of the Kinsey scale. I will happily ship/smut F/M or F/F. Defaults to dominant or no power differential, but with buildup and CR may be willing to be submissive. Please feel free to ask! AU?: Modern AU available, as well as assorted historical AUs, fantasy, and superhero-style. Multiverse/Nexus friendly with prior OOC discussion. Rule 63?: Generally speaking, I'm okay with interacting with genderflipped characters and canonmates, so throw them at me--but you will never find me playing a genderflipped Furiosa.

Yes

(IC favorites in bold) Cunnilingus (giving or receiving--look, she has an AO3 tag) Groups/poly-shipping Cuddling Massage Biting Vaginal sex Handjobs/fingering Femdom (giving, receiving if she knows/trusts her partner) Multiple orgasms (giving or receiving) Consensual Teasing/pleasure denial Toys Pegging (giving or receiving with a toy) Romance Dirty talk Licking Humor Sex in/on vehicles Outdoors Bathing/underwater Fellatio (giving) Anal (receiving. mostly she just thinks of this as birth control and has no strong feelings about it. impress her.) Temperature play Praise kink Scratching Breastplay

Ask First

Restraints Artistic bondage BDSM Spanking Mommy kink Dubcon Gunplay Breathplay Knifeplay Sexual pain Choking Flogging/striking/slapping Hatesex Fighting leading to sex Verbal abuse Consensual non-consent Pregnancy A/B/O, knotting (requires discussion. I'm more interested in the social ramifications of A/B/O AUs than the mechanics of boning in them.) Foodplay (not a squick, she's just not going to want to waste food) Face-sitting (the player is not a fan, but IC, Furiosa might not mind) Interspecies (discuss. there's a fine line between interspecies and bestiality; we might not have the same definitions) Petplay Master/slave Double penetration Instant hookups Pseudo-rape (see my note on non-con, below) Fisting (99.9% chance I'm not interested, but you can ask) Lactation

No

Watersports Scat Emesis Ageplay/Infantilism Vore Bestiality Unrealistic sex (i.e. inflation, impalement) Tentacles Immortan Joe/People Eater/Kalashnikov (including Rule 63 versions. will happily play gen, but no smut) Amputation fetish/stump worship (kissing scars is fine, nothing more extreme, please--however, semi-sexual interest in her prosthesis as a symbol of power is acceptable) Macro/Microphilia Prolapsed anything Nonconsensual Death

Notes

Ways to Get Insta-Failsex--(I don't mind playing failsex, whether it's because she's having a panic attack or just turned-off, but you may want to be aware of these): 'Daddy' Immortan Joe canonically referred to himself as Daddy with both wives and war boys. You might get hit. 'Breeding' Even if going for pregnancy, it's wise to avoid this word. Any specifically misogynistic verbal abuse (i.e. 'bitch', 'slut'), unless previously discussed IC as part of a scene. And finally, a note on non-con/rape: It's not my kink, and it's decidedly not Furiosa's kink, but it is a big part of her reality. She might, with someone she highly trusts, play out a pseudo-rape scene as a kind of catharsis, whether as victim or perpetrator, because she is the kind of person who pushes herself into things just to prove she can handle them. This would be far more psychological than sexual. Likewise, I'm not 100% opposed to a line or plot where she's forced to be the perpetrator (or victim) of sexual abuse, but I would be VERY picky about how and with whom, and again it would be psychological horror, not kinky smut.

Comments

for azhee_maii (femdom thread)

[eumenis]

She mostly comes out on rainy mornings, after the girls have been sent off to school. Furiosa loves the rain; fat, heavy droplets lit by lightning darting between clouds, soft misty silver spray, or sharp, warm sunlit spatters. It comes from spending so much time in the desert. Even now, water that comes from the sky unbidden feels like a novelty. An event.
It’s on one drizzly morning she first bumps into Roy on the street, while she’s hauling--by hand--more reusable grocery bags than any single person should be able to carry alone. Possibly the metal prosthesis on the left arm helps, but she’s also quite strong. The way she carries herself is rigid, spine straight and nearly military, but behind the light-tinted sunglasses her eyes are quiet, heavy-lidded as if she’s weary down to the deepest corner of her soul.

They fall into casual chatter, and she’s wary but polite. She’s a single mother, with five adopted girls varying in age from sixteen to eighteen. She doesn’t talk about how she came to foster them. Avoids questions about her past neatly but firmly. She works at a garage; she’s a very capable mechanic, knows a lot about guns and fighting, knows even more about cars. There’s a hint of subtle, perpetual tension about her, like she’s questioning her peaceful surroundings at every moment, waiting for the other shoe to drop. For all that, though, she seems to appreciate his company. After a week or two of chance encounters, she actually starts looking for him when she’s out and about in the neighborhood.

She has absolutely no idea how to flirt. It’s almost funny: she flounders verbally, awkward as a teenager, but at the same time her body language is aggressive. She matches him in height naturally, and she’s not above taking the advantage of uneven ground to loom when she can. She makes sure her walking pace puts her just a half-step ahead of him. She encroaches on his personal space when they’re standing, talking, deliberately, and if he moves away she’ll continue to close in until he’s between her and a wall. There’s something almost playful about it; she doesn’t seem malicious, she’s not trying to hurt him, just pushing her luck to see how much of her bullshit he’ll put up with.

Still, the overall message is clear: she’s interested, but if anything happens, she’s damn well going to be in charge of it.

[azhee_maii]

Even without their shared interests of cars, fighting, and guns, Roy being a single father to a girl rapidly approaching her teens gives them plenty to talk about, despite Furiosa dodging Roy's questions about her past. She's strong, commanding, and yes, a little awkward, but he finds that endearing. He does, eventually, allow her to take the lead, but he doesn't make it too easy for her. He doesn't back down too quickly, not to try and wrestle dominance or anything like that, just so she knows he could push back if he wanted.

Roy has been taking a bit of a break from the superheroing to focus on raising Lian, though he is still on reserves for the Justice League. It keeps a nice, sizeable paycheck coming in doing monitor duty a few times a week. He's trying out that whole "secret identity" thing again, so he claims he works in security when asked. It's not a lie.

It's the third time in as many days that they've run into each other and she's gotten him up against a wall again that he decides to take that step. "So when are you gonna invite me over?" He grins; what experience she lacks in flirting, he makes up for in spades. "'Cause as much as I'm enjoying this little dance we got goin' on, I think it might be time to step up the tempo, if y'know what I mean."

[eumenis]

She doesn't want to talk about where the girls came from, but she's happy to brag about them and their various interests and personalities. It's easy to believe she's smitten with her little family, despite her tendency to be cool and deadpan when she speaks. She seems content to listen to the same from him, too, asking a few soft, non-invasive questions about his daughter and wondering aloud once if she'll attend the same school as Cheedo in the fall.

Overall, though, she prefers talking about cars and guns, and appreciates his willingness to carry on such conversations with her without condescending. She gets tired of men trying to tell her how to fix an engine or clean a rifle, when she's been doing such things for over a decade quite well on her own. It doesn't hurt that he's easy to look at, too, if she's honest with herself. Pretty eyes.

Her lips quirk at his question, a smile that's half-sheepish, half-pleased. "I've thought about it," she admits, gaze sweeping down his face to his chest and back up. "But my house is a minefield with five teenage bombs. You brave enough?"

Not that she couldn't send the girls out to shopping or a movie, but a hotel might be a better idea.

[azhee_maii]

Roy will talk about his daughter forever, though he will deftly avoid the subject of her mother if it ever comes up. Hard to explain that one without getting into the whole "superhero" thing. He doesn't seem to find her knowledge of cars and guns to be strange at all with regards to her gender; he's too used to women who can toss him across the room with the flick of a finger, and a staunch feminist besides.

He fully enjoys the feel of her looking him up and down; he's got a good body and he knows it, has worked hard for it. "I got a pre-teen bomb of my own, remember? Just the one, but I think I can handle it." He grins playfully. "But if you're thinkin' about some other location, I'd be down for that too."

[eumenis]

Flirting is awkward. Hookup negotiations are somehow less so, particularly when he's being so low-key and accommodating. She reaches out with her right hand--the one that's not a metal prosthesis--and brushes her fingers across the tips of his hair. It's delicate, particularly given her previous, more aggressive forays into his personal space. Maybe this time it's more about satisfying her own curiosity than challenging him.

"Mmm." She says softly, studying his face, then giving a slow smile. "I'll be more relaxed in my own space. I'll send them out with movie money. That'll give us at least a couple hours."

Yeah, she just said 'a couple hours'. Evidently, she's ambitious. "Tonight?"

[azhee_maii]

That's him. Low-key and accommodating. Well, mostly the latter. He doesn't move away from her touch in the slightest, welcoming it. Cat and mouse time is over, she's caught him.

Roy's easy smile from her touch grows to a grin at her words. He likes the sound of 'a couple hours'. Ambition is a definite turn-on. "Just gimme a time. And anything else you wanna give me." He waggles his eyebrows ridiculously, keeping the mood light while letting her know he's more than ready to let her take charge.

[eumenis]

The soft caress melts slowly into something more intimate, her running her fingers through his hair and scratching her nails against his scalp. Caught, indeed. Maybe they've caught one another.

She has to bite back a laugh at the eyebrow-waggle. "Six-thirty. Bring a box of condoms."

Yep. Ambitious. And to seal the deal, she abruptly curls her fingers, tugging at his hair and dragging his head closer to hers. Her kiss is demanding, teeth nipping at his lower lip before she sinks her tongue into his mouth, but once she's started it she seems to soften a little. Her eyes close, and she breathes in the scent of him lazily.

[azhee_maii]

He lets out a soft hum at the head scratch, his grin still absolutely filthy in spite of the warmer look in his eyes. A whole box? Oh, this is definitely going to be fun.

Roy lets her drag him closer, hoping that sharp tug is a good indicator of what he'll be getting later. The demand of her kiss is one he is fully willing to fulfill, and he gives as good as he gets, one hand settling on her waist, the other on the small of her back. Roy kisses with his whole body, moving against her and pulling her in close.

[eumenis]

She can practically feel her nerve endings sparking. His response is exactly what she was looking for; letting himself be led, but following with clear enthusiasm. She likes to be in charge, after all, but she's not interested in bullying him. Particularly since she thinks she actually likes him.

It's a bit novel. Her sexual experiences have up until now been hurried flings, usually with less chance to get acquainted beforehand. Some have been very nice, though, and she thinks this will be nicer, judging from the feel of his body against hers, the subtle shift of powerful muscles, and the way he holds her without caging her in his arms. She presses forward, less to force him back to the wall than to lean the full length of her body against his. Seeing how they fit together.

She's flushed and slightly breathless when they part, and when she smiles there's an edge of satisfaction, almost like a smug cat. "Ohh, that's a good start. Very good."

She nudges her forehead against his, a less sensual and more affectionate gesture. "Hold that thought for tonight, mm?"


((Will handwave/summarize until evening in my next tag if that's all right with you?))

for steeledheart

[eumenis]

Immortan Joe's men call her 'Imperator', a somewhat anachronistic title of respect. Technically, the feminine form should be Imperatrix, and she seems subtly disgusted every time one of them addresses her with her honorific. Chances are it's not the intricacies of the Latin being abused that bother her. In short, she gives every indication that she loathes, deeply, the work she does and the man she does it for. It's a mystery how her own underlings don't see that, or at least fail to question it. The people within Sovereign's organization who deal with her as their bosses hammer out their strange merger are relatively quick to register her discontentment.

She's offputting, though, disinclined to respond charitably when asked questions, even more disinclined to answer to small talk. She may hate her work, but she does it well and loyally, without flinching.

Her first exchanges with Samir are purely political. They both perform under pressure, calmly and grimly efficient, and she must develop some kind of appreciation for him--or maybe she just likes the look of him--because she finds him drinking alone one night and quietly joins him. She asks nothing of him at that time, doesn't try to match him glass for glass, just sits and savors a couple vodka twists until she's done, and departs with a light touch to his shoulder.

Since he didn't tell her off that one time, she continues to make free to join him when he appears to be on downtime, steel-cool but undemanding. Eventually silence gives way to soft talk, talk to touch and--at some point, control must have slipped for them mutually, because they probably shouldn't be sleeping together, not even occasional quickies for mutual satisfaction. And it's not just quickies to blow off steam, not after the first couple weeks.

She likes to be in charge. Likes pushing his buttons, making him react--it's a challenge, and that makes it worthwhile. Every time, she pushes the boundaries further, gets a little bit rougher and waits for him to tell her to back off, and seems so pleased when he doesn't.

They've got a hotel room tonight, a luxury either of them can afford easily enough. They also have several free hours, and when she meets him, it's clear from the predatory glimmer in her eyes and the subtle tension in her spine that she has some sort of plan.

"Hungry?" she asks him in a low, teasing voice. "I'll let you have the mints they left on the pillow."

[steeledheart]

Samir - Halberd, he's called by some, but he responds to one as easily as the other, or simply sir by a number of others in Sovereign's organization - is a rather simple man on first appearances. Polite and reserved, a spine that's more than strong enough to keep him upright around those who would prefer to skulk about, a sense of honor and dignity that seems it should have gotten him killed were it not for how capable he is...in short, he almost seems as though he belongs out of a storybook fable of knights and chivalry, instead of working for a man who's already taken over a country and has eyes on the rest of the world.

Not that it's ever stated outright, of course. Olviran is a peaceful land, despite its war-torn past, and the people there are good, decent-hearted sort who are enjoying the reign of their President-King despite his recent...eccentricities. Samir fights so strongly for them, and, indeed, others, attempting to hold that peace and make it so as few lives are lost as possible. It goes without saying that they will still be lost, but he's almost brutally efficient in his orders and tactics, demanding everything from those whom he works with and especially himself. It also goes without saying that he doesn't have nearly as much control over Immortan Joe's men, and his poker face is strained to its limits at times as he patiently tries to structure and-or adjust things to less...chaotic disasters. Mostly he interacts with them as little as possible, simply observing, reporting, and doing as he can to maintain the lines between the organization while taking those drinks.

And then taking in Furiosa's company.

She's...interesting. One of the few in that organization that doesn't make his skin crawl. He finds himself warming up slowly, though he's well aware of the chance that this is simply a tool to be used at best, and, at worst, a weakness. Something he cannot let himself afford, not when he's only half-joking when he admits (after a number of drinks one night) that if he spent the time looking over his shoulder for a dagger actually getting things done they'd have conquered Europe by now. Despite the respect he gets from his own, it mostly comes from those under him, and even then there are plenty who would love to climb over his corpse to gain rank. It's hard for him to find any sort of relaxation, not when he's punishing himself for every failure as much as his superiors, not when he's driving himself on for an unspoken mistake that will lead him to losing himself for long periods at a time before being pulled back.

Letting Furiosa play with him is strangely distracting. A strangely pleasant distraction, though old habits die hard and he has to be coaxed (an understatement) in to relaxing in to things. But at this point, at least, he can roll his shoulders as he starts to take a look around the room. "Mints?" he repeats, a bit of puzzlement in his voice. "Were you planning on taking up the entire meal budget by yourself?"

He plays the straight man very well, and he knows it. Often purposefully to let himself be laughed at, considering being a source of humor safer than a source of ire, but there's just enough of a quirk in his lips to suggest he recognized the tease.

[eumenis]

Compromise makes the world go around. Immortan Joe wants water rights in the lands Sovereign has sway in, and he offers employment in return; jobs to build and rebuild bruised economies. The people in those lands are no doubt practical, willing to accept a dubious ruler in exchange for some well-earned security. Halberd seems to have come to terms with some kind of compromise of his own, willing to wear himself into the ground to protect the innocent from the man for whom he works. Furiosa, by contrast, struggles with her compromise. She can protect a few good men who serve her, and she's grim but kind to her entourage. Still, she's part of the Immortan's ugly system, and there is no ethical outlet for the rage that eats away at her.

Except maybe there is, and maybe he's it. There's something fascinating about his facade of control and perfection, something more than a bit admirable to her eyes about his skill at watching his back, about keeping so many things tied down at one time. He seems like he must have a dozen eyes, all watching the underlings and bosses travel their orbiting paths around him. It must be exhausting. No matter how superhuman he manages to seem, she's sure he feels the strain. Any man would.

He's caught her focus, and maybe that's good for them both. A puzzle to solve keeps her from chafing at her own restrictions, and he wouldn't keep coming back if she gave him nothing worth having. But what she wants, more and more the longer she knows him, is to see him crumble, watch the facade fall apart. Not in a humiliating way, not in a painful way, and not so badly that he can't rebuild...but it would feel like a victory. Not just for her, but for him, too.

"Maybe I'm hungry," she counters his tease with her own, cracking a brief, dimpled smile. "But there's champagne, if you want it. On ice."

She's more of a drinker of hard liquor, herself, but this is sort of an occasion. Maybe. If things go according to plan.

[steeledheart]

He's not so superhuman as to stand toe to toe with, say, Sovereign himself - but then, who could? He's not so foolish to stand in his way. As it is, he's lucky his failures haven't yet earned him the full wrath, and that he's able to mitigate what he earns. Or simply endure. There comes a time when he sees a certain look, though, and mentally braces himself.

Furiosa doesn't have that look. She has a predator's, but it doesn't make him feel like prey - at least, not in the same way that others' have. He's not fully sure what to make of it, but there's a subtle challenge there that he can't help but encourage, if only to understand it.

Know thy enemy, even if they aren't one.

"Room service has been kind." His attention moves perhaps just a little too swiftly towards the bucket, reaching for and then investigating the bottle. "Well, I'm good for the night. What will you be drinking?"

[eumenis]

In Furiosa's opinion, superhuman is as superhuman does. He's survived, and that's quite an accomplishment. Moreover, he seems to have his sense of integrity intact, and that is obviously beyond the power of the average mortal. It's certainly been beyond her power. Samir must know some of the stories, because god knows her men know, and tell them with reckless abandon: a half dozen enemies dragged to death behind her rig; days spent waiting silent and still outside buildings in order to pick off the residents one by one; people that immolated themselves rather than let her capture them alive. Death, and death, and death. Seven thousand days of anger and regrets.

Half of her wants to hurt the world, and half is so sick of pain, hers and other peoples', and just wants something to be soft and sweet for a little while. Maybe it's trying to have her cake and eat it, this lust to conquer and command without doing anything truly unforgivable.

"Didn't anyone ever teach you how to share?" She curls her hand around the bottle, more as an excuse to move in close against his body than to actually take it from him. "If you think I'm going to let you drink an entire bottle of dom perignon by yourself, you're delusional. Get me a glass, they're on the table by the window."