#reminder to anyone who follows me that i can and will do whatever i want in a fictional setting

[shinraelectricpowercom]

Current Events in Silm fandom rlly reinforce my feeling that, despite claiming an ethos of acceptance/tolerance of anything that doesn't hurt ppl, a lot of ppl in the section of Silm fandom I frequent do follow a set of socially-agreed-upon mores about what concepts are "not acceptable" to discuss or propose (or the ways in which certain topics must be discussed to be acceptable), that you all seem to have agreed on despite the things those mores restrict not being harmful to anyone.

And when someone does say smth that violates those mores, the response is disproportionate to the amount of harm done (which is typically none, imo). I know it's tempting to say "but we just want people to be comfortable and safe", but treating ppl badly for the sin of sharing thoughts you dislike is NOT the same as preventing people from doing things that are harmful. The former is much more of a harmful behavior than the sharing of the thoughts that sets it off. Fannish etiquette, people: you shouldn’t act like someone’s meta makes them morally suspect just because you disagree with it; save the “this is morally bad” for things that are ACTUALLY harmful. We're all stuck on this website together & if you want to have any sort of community, you need to ACT like you're in a community, and that means letting other people say things you dislike. Block them if you need to! I block people all the time because i know it's better for me AND for them if we can both blog in peace.

I am not particularly comfortable with the young-queer-on-tumblr silm fandom rn due to this tendency to rebuke things that are uncomfortable rather than harmful. Maybe that's fine with you. But if your goal is to make all fans feel comfortable and accepted, you need to actually do that. If your goal is to make people who share your unwritten rules comfortable in your space, you need to admit that, and write those rules down, and curate your space so it follows them.

Edited 8:10am PST to clarify the specifics of the behavior I find concerning.

[retrobun]

[yeyinde]

Brain went brrrrrrrr

Price and the new 141 member getting into an argument. Price is all like if you don't behave ill take you over my knee girl.

She's all like I fucking dare you or you'll have to catch me first or even you don't have the balls.

🫠🫠

i’ve always wanted someone who was super by the book to clash with John ��i routinely tell my superiors i’m going to maim/murder/hang them” Price. this gave me the perfect opportunity to do so. 

noncon spanking. abuse of authority. power imbalance. size kink. mean, dom!Price. forced submission.

You have this way of getting under his skin. 

An impossible itch. No matter how many times he picks and prods at his flesh, you worm beneath the dermis, burrowing deep. Sitting pretty against his goddamn bones. Festering. 

Incurable. 

He turns to vice to stem the irritation. Cigars. Whiskey. His hand shoved down his trousers like he's a fuckin' boy and not a man on the wrong side of forty. 

Thinking of you—of breaking that smart mouth of yours on his cock. 

It's the way you saunter around with your head held high, balancing golden eggs on your crown, that irks him something awful. The patronising drawl when you huffily remind him that what he's doing is breaking seven, no, ten, different laws, Price. You can't just do whatever you want, there are rules—

And that's the crux of it. 

A difference of ideas. Experience. You still see the world in shades of black and white. Good and bad. Unwilling to acknowledge that the line between is saturated and blurred. A putrid muck that traps all. Bogish. 

He knew it was a mistake when they sent him your file, asked if he needed the additional help. Hostage negotiator. He's heard of you. By the fucking book. You recite passages like it's gospel, turning printed words into a knife. A terrible fit for a team that works in the pivotal no man's land you claim doesn't exist. 

Yet—

He takes you on. Brings you in. Buries his anger at your fucking gall deep in his chest where it rots. Grows. Swallows down the rage, apoplectic fury, when you undermine him at every opportunity, citing laws and regulations like it's a fucking prayer. 

A calamitous decision, he knows. Terrible. But—

Despite it all, you're good at what you do. Brilliant. A budding rose germinating in fecund soil. You'll grow into something wild, won't you? Something untamed. 

Under his hands, you'll bloom the prettiest. He knows this deep in his bones. But—

“You're breaking the rules, Captain—”

—pedantic little thing, aren't you? 

Obediently following the wrong master. 

It irks him. He's been known to step on the toes of his superior officers for less, caustic words hissing foul from between his teeth. 

But unlike them, you're worth something. Even as the moral antithesis to his utilitarian dogma, he sees your potential. How you can shape this world dangling on a brittle thread if you lay down your senseless principles and follow him. Listen to him. 

But of course, you don't. 

And he supposes he ought to have known better. It's dripping gasoline over an open flame. The sequence of events is easily premeditated, seen, when you refuse to listen to what he says (“it's against the law, Price!”), walking away from him, his team, the mission, and take matters into your own, morally righteous hands. Bringing his underhanded methods to the desk of your superior officer, demanding he be investigated for crimes. The result is a loose warning from someone in a suit several sizes too big for them, and your fury when he pulls you back, has you assigned to another mission with the 141, with himself. Preens at your glower when you march back into his office, into his hands. 

In the fallout, he has no one to blame but himself, really. Anyone could have seen this coming. But the thing about shirking his morality in favour of a better outcome—above all else—is that he doesn't have to. 

And so, he doesn't. 

No. He blames you. 

(How perfect for him, then, that there's no one on base except you and him.)

“If you think I'm not going to report you again if you do something illegal, Price, you're wrong.”

He scoffs, shaking his head at your fucking audacity. 

"Better watch that mouth of yours, Sergeant, or you won't like what happens next." 

His palm itches when you look up, offering him a slow, feline blink. Leonine eyes creasing at the corners. 

"And what is that, sir? I'm just doing my job—" it's whispered breathlessly, all faux professionalism even as jest leaks down your brow. They pinch, then. Drawing together in a mockery of confusion. "Isn't that what you wanted me to do?" 

"What is that, mm?" He mocks, arms folding over his chest. He has to breathe through his nose for a moment. Gather himself together before he does something reckless, something like— 

It's the defiant little jut of your chin that does him in. That unravels this fraying knot of control until threads slip through his fingers. Falling too fast for him to clench down on them. 

He's threatened his superiors for far less. His kin, teammates. You have no one to blame but yourself for this, really. No one at all when he pulls his hand from where it's tucked under his armpit, curling rough, worn fingers around your wrist. Pulls you close, wrenching you into his chest until your nose bumps the buckle of his vest. 

"'m'gonna take you over my fuckin' knee, is what's going to happen." 

Your swallow is a gunshot. “You—you wouldn't dare—”

He leans in close, closer still. Breath scorching over your cheek. Preening when you bare your little teeth at him. “Wanna bet on that, Sergeant?” 

It's easier than he would have expected to wrangle you over his knee, pinning you down with an arm across your lower back. The height of his chair keeps your front bent, belly pressed against his thigh. Ass seated perfectly in his lap. Precious gem. 

He hums low in his throat, teeth sinking into the butt of his cigar as he locks you tight against him. Grabbing your wrist, twisting it up behind your back. Holding steady. A warning. 

The dangerous twinge in your bone stills you. 

One wrong move and he'd snap it in half. 

This has you taking a different approach, legs falling limp over the armrest. Head dropping over the other side. Malleable in his grasp—however artificial it is.

“Price—” you breathe, winded. Panic on a spindle. “What are you—what do you think you're doing—?”

He hums, mouth tense around the cigar. Words muffled, slurred. “What I should have done a long time ago.” 

“What—hey!”

Your words pepper off into a choked scream when his other hand falls to the hem of your pants, grabbing the fabric in his fist. The shock fades into indignation. Anger. He tastes it in the air as your hips squirm, legs kicking at nothing. Furious little growls spilling from your lips as you thrash, unconcerned by the ache in your bone. 

“Better keep still, love,” he taunts, mouth curling over his teeth as he twists his hand high, higher, up the small of your back until your fingers brush the skin between your shoulder blades. Any more and he'll break it—

“I'm going to fucking—!” It ends on a whine. A whimper. The pain makes you shiver. “Fuck, fuck—stop, stop, ow, stop—!”

“Not a fan of a little pain then, mm?” 

Your breath is ragged. Paints the air in a fine mist of defeat. He has you. The only option out of this is breaking your bone, a threshold no one is willing to cross. 

Price purses his lips back around the cigar, inhaling once, thrice, before he slips his fingers out of the hem of your trousers, reaching up to take hold of the cigar. It's all so matter-of-fact. So nonchalant when he places it in the ashtray. When he brings his heavy, warm hand back to your ass, curling his fingers beneath the fabric. Pulling. Tugging. 

They come off easier than he'd expected. A harsh tug, and the cleft of your ass is revealed. Plush skin curving enticingly as he rips them down to mid-thigh—panties and all. 

The shock fades back into indignation. You hiss something foul under your breath that makes him huff out a chuckle. 

“Not really in the position for that, are you, love?” 

“Shut up—”

He likes the way you sound like this. Feral. Furious. There's ash in your throat. It blots soot around each word, giving them weight. Gone is the woman who barged into his office, sniffing like you smelled something foul. Backing him into a corner. Sputtering in his face about rules. Regulation. 

Now you're bare-assed, panting, in his lap. Small little fawn in the maw of a bear. But oh, do you fight back—

Teeth bared, indignation bleeding into embarrassment, blotting pink in the whites of your eyes.

The sight is hewn into his hindbrain. 

“Look at you,” he purrs, petting your cheeks. “Been beggin’ to be bent over my knee since you got here, haven't you?” 

“Begging? Don't be—ahh!”

He brings his hand down with a small huff, eyes glued to your flesh. Watching it shake under his hand. The width of one swallowing up an entire cheek. So big is he that you're nearly made infinitesimal in his clutch. The thought makes him groan.

You squirm more in shock than discomfort. Head craning over your shoulder, eyes misting over with tears. Glaring at him. 

“What the fuck, Price!”

He strokes your skin, feeling the heat of your flesh bleed through his palm. Resilient little thing, aren't you? He huffs again, blood buzzing. Electric. There's a kindling fire in his guts. Embers sparking, catching. 

He can't deny how badly he's been wanting to have you like this. Craving your tears, your agony, your submission.

“Count,” he barks out, rough. Abrasive. “You're getting ten. Count ‘em for me, and if you miss one, I'm adding two more.”

“You're crazy, you're—!”

His hand comes down again. The impact shakes the fat of your ass. The strike makes you yowl, thrashing to get away. You don't get very far, still trapped in his hold. The threat of a broken bone keeps you from lashing out too wildly, and all you can really do is sit in his lap, and take it—

The notion has him groaning low in his throat. Something wicked spooling in his veins. Wanting. The sight of you heaving, bare-assed, and begging for mercy unleashes something inside of him. Something primal. Starving. 

Price takes a breath to steady himself, head buzzing. Heart pounding. It feels like the euphoria of nicotine—all bliss, sedation. Ease. 

Cathartic. 

“I said count,” he rasps, words cinder in his chest. Smoke. Dragged up from that burning pyre in his belly. Nocuous, hungry. “That's an order, Sergeant.” 

His hand is scorching against your skin. Thoughts turning over themselves as you hiccup in his lap. So pretty, he thinks, eyes flitting over to you. Taking in the sight of your shock, your denial. It tastes like fine wine on his tongue. Heady. 

“Here comes one—”

“One?”

“I told you, didn't I?” His nail rakes across your skin, cruel. Mean. Something preens when you gasp. Your pain perfuming the air. “M’addin’ two more if you don't count. Thought your speciality was listenin’?”

You scowl, twisting back to level him with an awful sneer. “Oh, fuck you—!”

His hand comes down again, harder this time. Vicious. The scream is tangled in your throat, gagged. He feels pleasure—dark and ugly—bloom in his chest, dripping, liquid, down the length of his spine. The twist of agony on your face is beatific. 

“Not gonna count?” He taunts, pinching your inflamed flesh between his thumb and forefinger. “We're gonna be here all day at this rate, love.”

He leans down, broad chest curling over the small of your back, hand cupped possessively over your cheeks. “But maybe you want that, mm? Maybe all this, mhm, insubordination has just been for show. You wanted this. Wanted to be taken over my knee—”

“You're wrong. I haven't—” it tapers off into a squeak when he pinches your flesh again. 

Price pulls back, breathes shallowly through his nose. 

“You and that smart fuckin' mouth. Told you it was gonna get you in trouble—”

He doesn't wait. His hand rears, and comes down with a loud smack that echoes in the sparse office he has you trapped inside. Your howl races alongside it, curling up the walls. Beautiful in all its agony. 

“Christ—” it's a dagger to his resolve. You sound so fucking good howling like this. Oscillating between feral anger and pain, hissing vitriol between clenched teeth. Choking on sobs. 

The first few are experimental. Testing the waters. Feeling. You're combative during it all. Fighting. Screaming. Each strike is uncounted, echoed only with a plea for help. One he knows won't come—

The only person on base is his Lieutenant. Ghost knows better than to barge in on his affairs. 

“No one's comin’, love,” he grunts, sweat beading along his hairline, dripping down his temple. The room heats along with the blood in his veins, stifling and oppressive. He reinforces each hit with more strength, increasing the tempo until you're screaming on his lap, begging for mercy, mercy, please, please, Price stop, stop—

Your skin raises with each new strike. Swelling. Becoming inflamed. The perfect imprint of his handprint sits on each cheek, edges intumescent. The globes shake, shuddering deliciously under each hit. 

He gets to eleven before you break. Tears streaming down your face, voice a threadbare whisper. Hoarse from screaming. 

His hand rains down, slaps your left cheek so hard it stings his hand. Burns. You whimper. Mewling. Squirming on his lap, and then—

“O–one—”

He grunts, feels himself thicken in his trousers. “Good girl.” 

You shudder, body breaking out in goosebumps. “Price—”

“Ah, ah, love. You're not allowed to speak unless you're counting.”

He hits you again, cock throbbing when you tense up, sniffling. Grinding out a soft two between trembling lips. 

You don't break the way he wants you to. There's a glare on your face despite the tears, the sniffles. A defiance that burns over the bridge of your nose. 

But that's fine. He has eight more strikes to ruin you, doesn't he? 

He sets to it with a low moan, your pelvis pressing taut to his tumid cock, the friction raging in his guts. 

But that, he finds, isn't really the point. No. The pleasure, the arousal, is secondary to the way you fall to pieces at his hand. Flesh stinging his palm with each loud smack that rings out sharply in the room. Uneven breaths. Shuddering little ah-ah-ahs that tumble out through clenched teeth. 

It's addictive, this. Therapeutic. 

There's static in his head. White noise. It renders everything else mute. Moot. Molasses drips down, thick and entrenching, congealing over every churning thought in the back of his head. There's a sense of peace, ease, he hasn't felt in years. In decades. 

He feels his belly knot each time your ass jiggles, skin bulging up from the trauma of being hit so harshly. Chafed under his palm. Welts forming in the shape of his hand. A tattoo you'll have for weeks when he's through with you. Aching each time you try to sit. And fuck—

You'll think of him. Of this. Being taken over his goddamn knee like the bad fucking girl you are. Broken in over his lap. Helpless. Submissive. 

The whimpers fade, replaced with shallow hiccups. Your throat is torn. Raw, ruined, by your screams, yowls. Each rasping whine sends jolts of pleasure down his spine. Liquid want molten in his marrow. 

“S–seven, nngh—”

The moan slips out—scorched, bleached—and drills deep into his loins. 

He peels his gaze away from your blistered skin, glancing at your face, but you duck from his view. Hide. Dropping your head over the armrest. Evading him. 

It's new, this. This meekness. 

You were so combative, so feral before. His gaze rakes down the expanse of your spine, over the curve of your cheeks, before settling, hot and heavy, at the crease where your thigh meets your pelvis. You squirm in his lap, thighs sliding together. Rubbing. It's no different from before when he'd spank you, but—

He catches it. 

It glints in the soft light when you move, and he feels something dark, ruinous, curl in the tar-stained fibrils of his chest. Congealing in the crevasses. Hardening. 

Price flicks his tongue out, swiping over his lower lip. The bristles of his beard graze the soft flesh, prickling across it. His throat is suddenly dry. Parched. 

His hand comes down again, notably softer than the other hits he subjected you to. Almost—

Tender. 

This isn't meant to hurt. Not this one. 

He strokes his finger over your skin, cock throbbing with the rasping gasp that spills—a twisted amalgamation of pain, skin still smarting, burning to the touch, and—

His lashes flutter. Nostrils flaring. 

Your slick, wet, between your inner thighs. 

He slides his hand down, down, until your ass cheek is cupped in the bracket of his thumb and forefinger. Nestled tight. A perfect fit. The sight of your skin—soft, so soft—against his bearish, hirsute paw is sickeningly addictive. He grunts, pressing his thumb into the crease between your cheek and thigh. 

“P–Price—”

And then he pulls, moaning deep in his chest as he peels the fat of your ass away, unveiling your cunt to his rapacious gaze. Fuck—

“What’s this?” He taunts, breathless. Pinched. You squirm, trying to press your thighs together. Hiding your pussy from his scorching stare. He doesn't let you. “Gettin’ off on me spankin’ your arse?” 

“N–no, I'm—”

He pushes his thumb up, sliding it over your skin. Gathers your slick on the tip. “Don't lie to me, mm. You're fuckin' soaked.”

The air is punched from his lungs. Spills out in a wretched grunt. In the vacuum, something grows. Knots. Festering inside his chest. Animalistic. Primal. There's an itch in the back of his head. 

He lets go of your arm, knows you won't run. Won't try to escape. No. 

You're a good girl, aren't you? One who does what they're told. Follows orders. It tangles in the soporific slurry of his head, pitching a bivouac of need when you bring your arm down, curling it through the gap of the armrest, holding tight. 

Bracing yourself. 

His hum breaks in his throat. He drags his hand away from your cunt, reaching for the snuffed cigar idling in the ashtray. There's a fever in his veins. It makes his hand tremble. Shake. He needs the blunted drag of nicotine to quench this heady anticipation blooming in his guts. A brumous storm gyring inside him, an incipient maelstrom of want thickening. Intensifying. Threatening to spill over. 

He needs something to steady himself before he tears into you like a beast—

You cock your head over your shoulder, staring at him with eyes drenched in midnight ink. There's a flicker across your tear-stained expression. Something coy. Feline. Leonine. 

There's nothing said. Nothing needs to be. He finds what he's looking for in the fracture of your mien, and scoffs under his breath at your sheer gall. Little fuckin' minx. 

Tobacco proves to be a paltry facsimile when he draws in a bursting mouthful. The restive glow of it dulled under the adrenaline coursing through his veins, heady. Syrupy. A roaring deluge of anticipation broiling in the balmy air, crackling around him like a storm cresting over the horizon. Ozone saturates in the thickening atmosphere. 

Something will break. Shatter. 

He tenses, waiting for the first stormcloud to breach, and drops his hand back to your tender ass. Stroking over the raised welts just to make you gasp. Your hips flex under the shocks of pain riveting down your spine, undulating in his lap. Pitched perfectly over his cock. 

His breath shudders through a needlepoint. The friction is electric. 

In petty retaliation—and just to see you squirm—he trails his knuckles over your heated skin, luxuriating in the way you shiver. Head falling back down over the armrest, beautifully alluring in your vulpine submission. His fingers dip between the cleft of your cheeks, feeling the slickness sticking to your soft, sensitive skin. Soaked between your thighs. Wretched girl. 

His index and middle finger slide over your slit, parting your folds. He feels the small pulses of your drenched hole against his flesh when he slides over it with the press of his fingers. Eager little thing.  

He hums under his breath at the sight of his hand seated across your hand, fingers shoved between the globes of your smarting ass. Soft and tender to worn and gnarled. The cropping of dark hair over his knuckles, his hand, against your bare skin is obscene. The picture of sin with your stricken flesh and his thick veins. The contrast curdled in the back of his head, morphing into something ugly and wanting. 

Idly, he thinks of making you bounce your sore ass on his lap later, your pussy swallowing up his fat cock. Taking it all the way to the root. Over and over again. Breaking you on it until you're begging for mercy, until this little attitude of yours is crushed between his teeth. 

Slick gathers against the rough pads of his fingers, drenching them. The hair on his knuckles is matted down, wet with your arousal. Naughty girl. He'll make you pay for that. 

And for the puddle seeping into his trousers. 

You mewl when he slips, sliding over your clit. The noise spilling molten over your lips, bludgeoning into his loins. 

He drags in another mouthful of smoke. Lets it rot between his teeth as he drops the cigar into the ashtray once more, attention riveting to the slip-slide of your slick thighs rubbing together for friction against your aching clit. Cunt pulsing needily against his hand. 

You haven't learned a damn thing at all, have you? 

Smoke funnels out of his nostrils when he growls. “Spoiled, aren't you? Need to be taught a lesson in respect.” 

“I, ah, am respectful, Captain—” 

He sucks in a breath between clenched teeth. This lippiness of yours grates on his nerves. He wants you begging for mercy, limp in his hold. Pretty doll. Waiting obediently for him to put you back together again. Soft and submissive at his heel. 

“Got three more to go, love.” You shiver when he strokes over your ass. Petting gently with wet, tacky fingers. “If you're a good girl and take it for me, I'll play with your pretty cunt, mm. You'd like that, wouldn't you?” 

Price brings his hand down, grunting when you moan out his name. Sharp and needy. Your plaintive posturing is a spark inside a tinderbox. 

“E–eight.” 

The next one is harder, sharper. The force twinges his joints. Rattles through his bone. 

It's unexpected, and the pain makes you yowl, body drawing tight like a bow. There's no pleasure when it's like that. No friction against your cunt. It's just—

“Price—!” You yelp, shrill and distressed. The lead up to this has been child's play. A soft hand to tender a nervous mare. 

His old man taught him to never strike with the whip first but to wean them slowly. 

He waits, humming mockingly to your pettering whimpers as you heave, tremulous, into the air. Shuddering in his grasp at the aftershocks of agony rippling through your body. 

Waits. Waits. And—

“Ah, ah,” he tuts, cooing low and condescending when you gasp, craning your neck to level him with an imploring, pleading stare as you stammer out a frenetic nine in a breathless rush. Tears soak your lashline, clumping them together when you blink through another deluge pooling against the rim. Your lip wobbles. The stream breaks, spilling over. Fresh tears run down your wet, sticky cheeks. 

There's real panic in the whites of your eyes now. That haughty, pedant gleam buried under pyretic desperation. Gone is the coy twist to your lips. The wily little bloom of amusement in your gaze. 

Aw, poor thing. But—

Too late. “You didn't count. You know what that means, love.” 

That knot in his chest unfurls, and leaks acid into his lungs. This want is corrosive. A poison. The sob breaks through your chest. The first thunderclap. He relishes in it. Leans back in his chair to bask in the potency of your unmaking. 

“Good girl,” he husks out, burning lungs spewing black smoke into the air. “Just ten more now, love. Know you can take it for me, can't you?”

Pretty thing. He'll have that haughty attitude snuffed out before the end of the night. Have you begging for his touch, his cock, him, before the sun draws across the horizon. 

Your ruination at his hand. The thought strokes along the kindling smouldering inside of his chest. Burning away at the pyre he's been building since the day he met you. When you looked up at him, pretty in your scorn, and disobeyed his command. Undermined him. So righteous in your fury. A burgeoning flame he wanted nothing more than to snuff out under his heel, and now—

Wide, wet eyes plead with him. “Please, Price. Please, please. I'll be good—I promise I'll be good, sir—”

—ash in the palm of his hand. 

He strokes over your searing flesh, humming softly under his breath. “I know you will, pretty girl—” basks in the hiccup of relief you let out, lets it glue in his ears, echoing over and over again. So sweet. 

He lets your relief live for a moment. Take its first breath of air through aching lungs—

“But I told you, didn't I? That I'd take you over my knee.” Price pats his hand over your cheek, shushing you when you startle, squirming on his lap. 

“Now. Be a good girl and count for me, mm?”

[cosmicmunsonwrites]

but you belong to me

bf!rafe cameron x fem!pogue!reader

cw — p in v, unprotected sex, slight breeding kink, dumbification, jealousy, rough sex

summary — after rafe sees another guy “flirting” with you, he takes you home to remind you of something.

a/n — currently working on some requests so heres whatever this is. please request more!!!

do not copy or post my work anywhere else.

“no, yeah, like i actually did so fucking bad. i got an 84 and almost cried,” your friend, daniel, said dramatically as he spoke to you over the loud music of the party. he shook his head at the thought. “god, i hate that old-ass teacher. he can suck my fucking dick.”

you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at him and giggle before taking another sip of your drink. “dude, what are you talking about? that’s not even bad. it’s still a B and i doubt it even dropped your grade.”

unfortunately for you, you could feel rafe’s glare boring into your side as you talked. he was extremely annoyed. he was left wondering what was so insanely interesting that you and this random guy have been talking for 15 minutes already. you looked too engaged in the conversation and you laughed a little too much at what he was saying.

“yo, you good?” topper asked when he noticed his best friend gripping his bottle of beer until his knuckles turned white and his jaw clenched almost painfully hard.

rafe didn’t even spare a glance to him, just continued staring at you. “yeah man, ‘m fine,” he said uninterestedly.

he followed his gaze to where he was looking at you just as you laughed with the boy before chuckling and patting his back. “he’s just some fuckin’ pogue, man. no need to worry ‘bout him.”

“fuck off, top,” he mumbled in annoyance. he never wanted to be interacted with when he was pissed off and this was definitely no exception. unless it was you of course.

while daniel spoke, you finally averted your gaze over to your boyfriend who was still leaned up against the wall like he was when you’d left to get more drinks before being stopped by your classmate. you mentally cursed at yourself. he looked pissed. he nodded over the front door, eyes never leaving yours as he waited for you to follow the silent command.

that was the last thing you could remember from that stupid party. no matter how many times you’d tried to tell your boyfriend that nothing happened, that you were just talking about your grades, he didn’t care or believe that. he knows what he saw and he saw the boy flirting with you.

and that lead you here, face buried into his pillows and your ass up with rafe bullying his cock into your hole with rough hands gripping your hips tight and uncontrollable moans leaving your lips. your nails dug into his bed sheets as you felt the slide of tears run down your cheeks at the overwhelming feeling of his thrusts.

“such a dumb baby,” he mumbled, freezing deep inside you to make you squeal and squirm. “always gettin’ so fucked up ‘nd letting random guys flirt with you huh? can’t even handle your fuckin’ alcohol.”

you cried harder into the sheets as frustration built up inside you from both the situation and the pain of him bottomed out. “di—didn’t have anyone flirting with me, rafe,” you snapped back as sassily as you could manage.

“what was that baby? couldn’t hear you,” he teased in that rude, mocking voice you hated. he pushed his hips further into you, pushing your body to lean forward more and allowing him to press into you at a different angle.

you whimpered and leaned up on your forearms with the last bit of strength you had to look over your shoulder at him. “you’re bein’ mean.”

he jutted his lower lip out and fake pouted. “aw, i’m bein’ mean? so sorry, sweet girl,” he muttered before grabbing your hips and pulling them back to their normal position. he slowly pulled back then pushed forward harshly, making you yelp and jolt forward. he repeated the action multiple times. “maybe this’ll teach you a lesson not to fuck around with other dudes.”

you balled up the sheets and buried your face in them when he began snapping into you quickly. your legs began shaking and threatening to give out under the pressure and rough force of his thrusts. “can you be a good girl and keep yourself up for me, baby?”

after another particularly hard thrust, your body finally collapsed and your cried out when he quickly slipped out of you. you could hear him sigh from behind you. “jesus. went all fuckin’ dumb in me and now i gotta do all the work, right?” he mocked before pressing your legs together and straddling them to then slide back into you.

you squeezed your eyes shut and whimpered at the new sensitivity the angle brought. he leaned forward once he was fully sheathed inside you to grab a pillow and wrap one arm under your hips to lift them up enough to slid it under and ease the pain of your back and hips. the small act of care and kindness made you smile against the mattress.

he began to pound into your used hole from behind just enough to make you scream but not hurt you. “feels good, rafe. ‘s so fuckin’ good,” you babbled mindlessly to let him know you were still here and okay. “so—so deep.”

“yeah? can feel you squeezing around me,” he replied, continuing his punishing pace. “shoulda recorded this shit to show everyone how much of a fuckin’ slut you are once you get my dick inside you. maybe then everyone would stay the fuck away from my girl. maybe i should jus’ knock you up, cum inside this little cunt and have you all swollen with my kid so everyone sees you’re mine.”

you felt yourself involuntarily clench at the words before your legs began to spasm again. “oh! ‘m gonna come, rafe. please, please, please,” you begged for sweet release and he fucked you quicker until he felt you cream around him.

he chuckled and leaned down to kiss between your shoulder blades as you continued to ride through it. “that’s it. feels like fuckin’ heaven around me. best pussy i’ll ever have,” he mumbled against your skin. “i’ve got you, baby. ‘m right here.”

his hands gently kneaded the fat of your ass as you finally came down before swiping the pillow out from under you and pulling out. he rolled you onto your back and took in the sight of your disheveled state. your hair was messy and sticking to your face and up in the air, your cheeks were blushed from the intensity of your orgasm, and your tits were sitting so prettily right in front of him. “so fuckin’ gorgeous, angel. what’d i do to deserve you?”

in contrast to just moments ago, he softly pushed the hair off your face and smoothed it down. he leaned forward to gently suck on your left breast and leave deep colored hickeys along your skin for him to look back at later. while one hand toyed with your other breast, the other lined himself back up with you then pushed himself inside.

you bit your lip and whimpered at the stretch of him. “oh fuck,” you heard him moan against your breast before switching and sucking your other nipple into his mouth. he slowly rocked into you at a much more loving and delicate pace. it wasn’t about punishing you anymore, he just wanted to feel you and be close to you.

you sighed in relief when be began hitting that certain spot inside of you a much more tolerable pace and his pelvis gently rubbed against your clit. it felt like you were starting to see stars with how he’d press against it for prolonged moments. he left wet kisses up your neck and to your jaw then finally your lips. he was leaned up on his forearms at either side of your head while he kissed you softly with that same passionate love he always showed you.

your hands reached up onto his head, searching for something to grab onto only then remembering the buzzcut he now has. you moaned into his mouth when you felt him speed up just slightly while your hands continued to roam for something to hold from the overwhelming pleasure you could feel building up again.

he took hold your hand and intertwined your fingers at the side of your head, letting you squeeze him as tight as you needed as your moans began to pick up and so did his soft pants of breath. “fuck, angel. pussy feels so good,” he whispered breathlessly. “‘m gonna come.”

you hummed in agreement and clenched around him, making him groan and gently suck on the sensitive skin of your neck. “inside, rafe. p—please come inside me,” you moaned, desperate to feel him fill you up.

he mumbled a string a curses before spilling inside you and triggering your own orgasm. he continued softly kissing at your skin and allowing you to squeeze his hand through the pleasure until he finally rode it out for the both of you. “you okay, baby?” he mumbled slightly out of breath.

you nodded and huffed out slow breaths. “mhm, ‘m good,” you replied, still in euphoric bliss.

he slowly laid on top of you as to not crush you with his weight before burying his face in your neck, still inside you. “don’t ever let me catch another dude flirting with you again,” he said against your skin.

you rolled your eyes. “oh fuck off,” you said jokingly while pushing him off of you and out of you then rolling onto your side away from him.

he laughed softly and quickly followed, grabbing your waist to pull you back into his chest to smother your shoulder and neck with wet kisses.

[navybrat817]

Hold You Tight: Part 7

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Part 6 | Series Masterlist | Part 8

Chapter Summary: You meet some of the staff at the club and try to reason with one of Bucky's men about your situation.

Chapter Word Count: Over 4.3k

Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, tension, mention of stalking, inner conflict, insecurities, manipulation, possessiveness, flirting, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: More Hold You Tight! Hope you lovelies continue to enjoy. Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo . ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You weren't sure exactly how far the club was from the bookstore, but you didn't say anything for a minute after his declaration. You’d read stories about instalove before, the accelerated trajectory of feelings and relationships. It wasn't something you thought you’d ever be on the receiving end of. That mixed with a dark antihero.

How was this your life?

Bucky chose to break the silence. “You can change here if you want.”

Your heart rate spiked as you stared at the garment bag. There was a chance that the dress was to your liking, your style. But in the car, it wasn't like you could shield yourself if you undressed. He’d see you. Maybe even try to touch you. Was it worth the risk?

Reaching for it, you took a deep breath and curled your fingers around the hanger. The moment you grabbed it though, you set it right back on the hook. You wouldn't bother unzipping it to take a look. You weren't a doll for him to play dress up with.

“Sorry, Bucky,” you began, shifting to face him. “I’m sure it’s a nice dress, but I'm not wearing it.”

“You sure?” He asked. “You haven’t even seen it.”

“I don't need to see it. You got your way about me going to the club and I think it's fair I get my way about the outfit,” you said. “We both know I could've met your friends another time. It didn't have to be tonight. So they'll meet me like this or not at all."

His eyes snapped to you, pinning you in place as you froze. Giving him an ultimatum over something he may consider trivial wasn't a smart move and it wouldn't be a hill you'd die on, but you needed some sort of win. Part of him had to understand that.

Bucky's lips curled in a small smile, but you still swallowed nervously. “You look stunning to me just as you are,” he said, tracing the collar of your shirt with his fingertip. "Perfect even.”

“What?” You asked. You were far from stunning. “You're really okay with me going into your club like this? I don't think it meets the dress code.” You were lucky your black dress was nice enough to get in the first time.

“And? I said in the bookstore that you can wear whatever you want since you look beautiful in anything, so of course I’m okay with it,” he said, his finger gliding down the middle of your chest. “If you're worried about anyone saying anything, don't be. You’re my girl and my friends and I will shut anyone up who tries to make you feel less than perfect.”

Your eyes widened at the casualness of the threat. There was no reason to threaten anyone on your behalf. You could also hear Marc's voice in the back of your mind, reminding you that Bucky was dangerous. “Bucky, you don't have to do anything.”

“If someone upsets or hurts you, yes, I do,” he said.

Addison was the type of person who would defend you if you were upset or hurt. You would do the same for her. A boyfriend type defending you was entirely different. He could've just said that to make you lower your guard or play on your insecurities. So why did it still sound like he meant it?

You gripped his wrist before his touch could move further down your body. “What if you upset or hurt me?” You asked.

Bucky blinked at your question, an unfathomable look in his eyes. “I promised I’d never hurt you,” he whispered. You were the only one safe from his underlying rage, weren't you? Because something was lurking beneath the surface that you hadn't yet witnessed. “But I'd do whatever I could to make you happy again if I upset you.”

“You realize dragging me to your club didn't make me happy?”

“I didn't drag you. You got into the car with my help,” he teased. When you didn't smile, he sighed. “I'm sorry. You told me you wanted a quiet night and I pushed you to go anyway. I just got so excited for everyone to finally meet the girl of my dreams and…” He shook his head. “That doesn't matter. I should've listened.”

The apology sounded so sincere it threw you for a loop. If gaslighting was an Olympic sport, he could take the gold. Everything about the man had you second guessing just about everything. “I appreciate that,” you said, going with a safe response.

He smiled as the car rolled to a stop. “I’ll make it up to you,” he promised, his gloved hand taking yours.

You wouldn’t ask how he planned to do that. “Wait,” you said, pulling him back slightly before he could open the door. “Can we just sit here for a second?” You weren’t ready to go into the club. Maybe you could buy yourself another minute or two.

“You're stalling,” he smiled. You didn’t disagree. “We can't stall for too long. The longer we stay, the more it pushes back the evening and I promised you’d be in bed by 10.”

“I just want to talk for another minute. I still don’t feel like I know much about you.”

“Like what?” He asked.

“Things like your family? You said there was a story about your mom,” you said.

A swirl of emotions passed in his eyes, a range of sorrow to anger and even hope. “There is, but I want to tell you that story when it’s just us,” he said. Just the two of you. Alone together. “I will say though that the original club belonged to her before I turned it into The 107th. It helps keep part of her memory alive for me.”

“That’s a beautiful thing,” you said honestly. She clearly meant the world to him. “And your dad?”

“He deserved what he got,” he said, not an ounce of pity or sorrow in his voice.

“Oh.” There was no lost love there. You wouldn’t linger on the topic since that was likely another story for another time. “Can you tell me why your left hand is always covered? You said I'd never be a mistress, but are you covering up a wedding ring or something?”

The storm raged in his eyes again and you had to keep yourself from shrinking back when he wrapped a hand around your neck. Your heart pounded as he applied a light amount of pressure, but he didn't squeeze any further. Would anyone help you or care if you tried to scream? “Do you feel a ring beneath the leather?”

“No,” you whispered, your eyes shutting when he leaned in.

His breath fanned across your lips. “I told you before that you’re the only one I see,” he whispered. “So when I do wear a ring on that finger, it’ll be on our wedding day.”

You let out something like a whimper when his thumb rubbed along your pulse. While you wanted to stall before, the car now felt too small. Too hot. You wouldn't be able to breathe if you stayed in there much longer. “I think we waited long enough to go inside,” you whispered.

Both of you sighed when he let go of your neck. “I think we did, too,” he agreed, taking your hand again. “But before I forget, you owe me a picture of you since I found you.”

You glared at him since you hoped he’d forget about that, but he only smirked before he helped you out of the car. Parked right in front of the club, you nearly jumped when you saw Raymond standing close by, his gaze flickering between you and his boss. “Hey, Ray,” you said as Bucky pulled you along.

Raymond said your name in reply as he followed close. There were already a few people lined up to get in, but your attention was on the bright sign of The 107th. It welcomed you. Taunted you. You had a feeling you were going to become very familiar with the ins and outs of this place.

“Let’s go, Kotyonok,” Bucky whispered. You hadn't realized you stopped walking until he slipped his arm around your waist and guided you forward.

Bucky nodded to the doorman and walked tall with you beside him. Of course he wasn't nervous. He had no reason to be. This was one of his castles and he was the king. And he chose a peasant to be by his side. A peasant he wanted to make his queen.

The music vibrated through the floor as you went inside and bypassed the coat check. The sound grew louder as you approached the main floor and watched the crowd, all dressed to impres. The lights bathed everyone in red and it felt like you had walked into a sensual version of Hell. And Bucky, the devil of the establishment, tugged you closer by the waist, but he might as well have put a collar around your neck to show everyone that you were his pet.

“Breathe,” he said close to your ear, making it hard to exhale. You were out of your element, the territory somewhat terrifying since you weren't in the company of your friends this time around. At least your legs weren't shaking. “Would you like a drink?” He asked.

“Maybe later,” you replied over the music.

“Then let me introduce you to some of the staff. And don't worry. They know who you are,” he said. Before you could respond to that and ask what exactly they knew about you, he turned you back toward the way you came and waved a couple of men over. Your breath caught in your throat when they approached. Both wore a black top and pants and were as large as Bucky and looked just as dangerous.

“This is Ari,” Bucky said, nodding to the darker haired man who had a scowl on his handsome face. “And this is Jax.” The blonde smirked when you made eye contact with him. “They’re two of my best bouncers and they’ll help keep an eye on you when you're not with me.”

You scooted closer to Bucky on instinct when both of them stared at you, but you didn't lower your gaze. Their looks could never be as penetrating as the man who owned this place. “Keep an eye on me? Are you my babysitters?” You asked. Would they watch your every move, too, and report back to Bucky?

Ari didn't smile, but the scowl softened. Jax, however, chuckled. “Guess you could say that, but we don't mind,” he said, his grin flirty and eyes twinkling as your cheeks warmed. “It's a pleasure to finally meet you, darlin’.”

“Jax,” was the only thing Bucky said, his fingers digging a bit more into your side. Ray gave the bouncer a warning glance, too.

Jax shrugged. “Just being polite,” he smiled. The man likely had people hanging all over him during his shifts with his charm. He probably wouldn't have looked at you twice under normal circumstances, but you smiled back anyway.

“I appreciate the politeness,” you said.

Bucky’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not being polite. You're flirting with my girl,” he said to Jax, your smile falling immediately when the air around you thickened.

“Just being polite,” he said again, not at all bothered by the look his boss gave him.

“Nice to meet you,” Ari cut in, his voice deep and even. People probably hit on him, too. And as domineering as they were, you felt an odd sense of security.

“It’s nice to meet you both. Hopefully you won't have to babysit me too much,” you said, glancing at Bucky. His fingers were still digging into your side, his muscles tense. Was he jealous? “Breathe,” you urged, giving him the same instruction he gave you moments ago.

The bouncers each had a look of surprise on their faces when Bucky listened and slowly exhaled. “Okay. Thank you,” Ray said, gesturing for them to get back to work. “Boss?”

Bucky’s hold on your relaxed a bit. “Let’s introduce you to Hal and then we’ll go to my office,” he said.

“Office?”

“Quieter than the VIP section,” he explained.

You weren't sure if people recognized Bucky or if it was just the aura of power that he gave off, but people moved out of the way without prompting as he led you toward the bar. He smiled as he did so, completely at ease in his domain. “You know, I don't need babysitters,” you told him.

“You need people to look out for you, especially if you’re with me,” he said.

“Because you’re dangerous,” you said. You’d eventually have to find out why. “Once again, you aren't giving me a choice.”

“When it comes to your safety, I can't,” he stated unapologetically. You grit your teeth as he took you to the bar where a couple of bartenders were working. You didn't pay much attention to the guy at the other end since the one right in front of you had no shirt on, his toned torso on full display.

“This is Hal. Our top bartender.”

“Hey!” The bartender flipped his light brown hair back and flashed you a smile almost as bright as his tan. “It’s good to see you again.”

“Again?” You repeated, nodding as your mind flashed back to Addison’s bachelorette party. “That’s right. You gave my friend a shot before we went into the VIP section. You have a great memory.”

“I’m good with faces and you have a very pretty face,” he smiled.

The attention from his staff was dizzying. It wasn't anything you were used to. What was it going to be like when you met everyone else? You felt so lost.

“First Jax, now you,” Bucky muttered. For a split second, you thought he would try to cover your eyes. “Would you put your fucking shirt back on and stop hitting on my girl?”

“Oh, c’mon. I'll put it on after my shift. This is getting me tons of tips already and will only continue through peak time.” Hal winked at you and you tried to smother a laugh. Between Jax and Hal, you wondered if the two of them had a bet going to see who could make their boss snap. If so, they were brave.

“Bucky, I’m not looking at Hal’s abs,” you said.

The bartender snorted when his boss's eye twitched. “Just get back to work,” he grumbled, stepping a couple of feet away from you to speak to Ray.

“You can look. I won't tell,” Hal smiled, leaning on the bar. “Boss man said you’d make an appearance tonight.”

“And here I am,” you smiled, leaving out that it wasn't by choice.

“Is there anything I can get you? Your drinks are always on the house.”

“I’m fine for-” A man in a blue suit elbowed his way in before you could finish. “Excuse me.”

The guy sneered at you as he gave you a once over. “Ugly underdressed bitch,” he said, making you flinch before he snapped his fingers at Hal.

You glanced down at your clothes, your throat tight. You stubbornly refused to wear the dress Bucky got you on principle, but the jerk’s comment was another reminder that you didn’t belong there. What would prompt someone to be so rude?

“Hey!” The guy snapped at Hal again when he didn’t serve him right away.

The bartender smiled, but it didn't look right as he stood back to his full height. Had he heard what the guy said? “You know, it’s not nice to interrupt a lady, John. Maybe you should apologize.”

“Fuck that,” the guy, John apparently, scoffed. He must’ve frequented the place enough if Hal knew the guy's name and you weren't about to cause a scene. A complete stranger shouldn’t make you feel bad anyway.

Hal’s smile disappeared completely. “Do you know who she’s here with?”

“It’s okay, Hal. Thanks,” you said, your burning eyes on the floor as you moved back to Bucky’s side. You didn't want to be there. You didn’t belong there. Why couldn't you just-

“You okay, Kotyonok?” Bucky asked, lifting your chin with a look of concern. “What’s the matter? What happened?”

“Nothing. I’m fine,” you answered, giving him a tight-lipped smile. You just wanted the night to be over. “Can we go to your office, please?”

Bucky intently searched your face, something dark taking over his eyes as your heart raced. “Ray?”

“Boss?”

“Quick change of plans. You take her upstairs and wait outside my office,” he ordered, swiping his thumb along your cheek. “I think Hal and I need to have a quick chat before I join you.”

“Hal didn’t do anything,” you said quickly. He was a sweet guy from what you could tell and he didn’t need to be on the receiving end of Bucky’s anger for something insignificant.

“But someone did,” Bucky guessed, his eyes still dark when you didn’t deny it. “I’ll take care of it,” he promised, ushering you toward Ray.

“Bucky, it’s fine,” you said over your shoulder, but he had already waved Hal over to speak to him.

“This way, please,” Ray said, leading you away from the bar.

Before you knew it, he took you up a flight of stairs and down a corridor, the decor sleeker than the main floor. The closed double doors at the end of the hall you could only assume was Bucky’s office since Ray had you stop just outside of them. You took a breath and leaned against the wall. Though you could feel the beat of the music against your back, it was much quieter. Less crowded. You didn’t feel completely overwhelmed.

“What’s he going to do?”

“Depends on what or who upset you.”

“You’re my girl and my friends and I will shut anyone up who tries to make you feel less than perfect.

You took a moment to look at the bodyguard as he stood against the opposite wall. Stoic. Pristine. “What am I doing here, Ray?” You sighed. This wasn’t your scene. It wasn’t your world.

“Meeting some of the boss’s staff and friends,” he answered.

“That’s not what I meant. I meant… God, I don’t even know what I mean,” you groaned and wondered how long it would be before Bucky joined you. “But I don't belong here.”

“Yes, you do,” he said.

Why in the world would he think that? “How long have you worked for Bucky?” You asked. It wasn’t that you wanted to really talk, but you didn’t want to let your mind race while you waited.

“A few years now,” he replied.

“You’ve seen him date people then. Has he stalked any of his past girlfriends that you’re aware of or am I the unlucky one?” You asked. Bucky told you he tried to go the traditional dating route and that the last woman he saw tried to rob him.

“You’re the only person he has gone to extremes for,” Ray carefully answered.

“Extremes. You mean stalking,” you said. Did that make you feel better or worse that it was just you? “So, you’re fully aware that he stalked me. And that he plans to move me into his place.”

Ray gave you a single nod, though you wouldn’t say he looked proud. “I am.”

“Can you stop him?” Your stomach dropped when he shook his head. “Why not?”

“You can’t stop or delay the inevitable. He wants you and I’m afraid that’s that,” he said.

Incredulity crossed your face. He sounded like Bucky, but this was somehow worse. Did he not see that his inaction helped upheave your life? “Oh, it’s that simple, huh? Bucky wants me, so he gets me? Did you even try to stop him when he began to do ‘research’ on me?”

“No,” he stated. One simple word that held so much weight.

“What the hell?” Fury seared through you as you pushed yourself off the wall. “You didn’t think to step in and at least tell him, I don’t know, that stalking is crazy and wrong and illegal?!”

Ray blinked and pushed his glasses further up his nose. “You think he’d listen to me?”

Your fury didn’t dissipate, but you did step back. “Well. I assumed…”

“That what? That we’re friends? He may respect my opinion from time to time and he may consider me a friend, but he’s my employer first and will not hesitate to remind me of that,” he said, glancing down the hall. “And perhaps it is not my place to say so, but as wrong as it is this is the happiest I've ever seen him. You ground him.”

“So, as long as he’s happy, it doesn’t matter what he does?” You asked, feeling more hopeless by the second. “Why am I bothering? You don’t care.”

There was no reasoning with Bucky nor his men. At this point, you were going around in circles. It was exhausting.

Ray blinked again. “You assume I don't care because I’m not stopping him. His methods are unconventional, sure, but he just wanted your full attention.”

“There are other less creepy ways to get my attention.”

“Are there? You know what we found when we researched you?” He asked rhetorically. “You never go out. You're either home or at work. When you’re at work, you don't give a second glance to any of the men who come in. Where was he supposed to naturally meet you?”

“That doesn't…” Tears stung your eyes, but you refused to weep. Being a homebody shouldn’t be a tool to use against you or used as a means to manipulate you. “I went out with my friends. And he flat out said ‘where’s the fun in that’ when I asked why he didn't just ask me out. Stop making excuses for him.”

It was no wonder Bucky did whatever he wanted unchecked.

“You went out with friends who are all in relationships and aren't interested in meeting anyone. So you didn't go out of your way to meet others which no one is faulting you for. Breaking in was a bit much, but he was desperate and took drastic steps to get to and keep you,” he said. He spoke like it was natural, logical. “You're afraid. I know. But you’re the one in his eyes. If you try to run, we’ll be forced to catch you. Is that really what you want?”

Your hands shook. “I just want normalcy.” Was that so wrong?

“And you wanted someone to love you. So did he,” he said with more gentleness than you expected. “There’s always some madness in love.”

“And between love and madness lies obsession,” you said. That’s what Bucky was to you: obsessed. “Why am I the one? Why is he so desperate to have me?”

The bodyguard considered your question. “Does there have to be one reason? He has no family left. Work and friends can only take so much of the emptiness away,” he said, glancing down the hall again.

You bit your lip. “When you dug into my life, was there something specific that set me apart from anyone else he ever encountered? An incident or anything?”

Bucky convinced himself you were his soulmate, mind, body, heart, and soul. Ray stood across from you and stated he was happy since you were in his life, the happiest he had ever been. But why? Was the man obsessed simply because you were you or was there a piece of the puzzle you were missing?

“That’s not for me to tell, but I can say he’s devoted to you and you only.” He glanced down the hall again before he straightened up. Was there something for Bucky to tell you then? “Be angry with me if you wish, but know that I’m not just looking out for my boss now. I’m looking out for you, too. We all will.”

You heard Bucky’s footsteps as he walked toward you, but your eyes remained on his bodyguard. “Okay,” you whispered. Ray wasn’t going to help you any further. Not tonight.

Bucky stood in front of you, effectively blocking your view of Ray. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting long.”

“I hope Hal isn’t in any sort of trouble,” you said.

Bucky gave you a wolfish smile, energy buzzing around him. “Not at all. In fact, I’m giving him a raise,” he said, slipping his arm back around you. What did the bartender tell him exactly and what did he do in response? “I do want to warn you before we go in, they may stare since they’re not used to meetings like this.”

“What, they’re not used to you having someone on your arm?” You asked. You found that hard to believe.

“They’re not used to me having someone I’d burn the world down for,” he said proudly, nodding for Ray to open the doors. “All you’d have to do is give me the match.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you said, gulping when you heard the chatter and laughter inside.

Once again, you were the lamb going into the lion’s den. But you could do this. You just had to mingle a bit longer and then you could go on your way. Bucky swore he’d have you home and you’d hold him to it.

The moment Bucky took you into the office, all conversations ceased. The men appeared relaxed, like they weren't aware of or didn’t care about the aura that surrounded the man beside you. He was right though. They all stared. Including a man with a pair of blue eyes you recognized.

The man who bought tulips from your shop.

“It’s good to see you again,” Steve smiled.

With a sinking heart, you began to accept that there really was no escaping Bucky Barnes.

Sorry to cut this off before meeting the rest of the friends, but it was a natural stopping point. And we'll find out what happens to John in the next part. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[charredpages]

[Alt text] ten screenshots of text posts by the user themme_fatale on Instagram. The text reads:

(1/10)

Do you remember the exact moment that anti-masking stopped being a far-right talking point

And became advice you were willing to follow?

(2/10)

I try to make the ways I communicate about COVID as compassionate and non-judgemental as possible because I understand that we have all been failed in this and my primary anger is always upwards.

BUT

I also need you to understand - if you are not taking precautions, you are aligning yourself with eugenicists.

The person who actively says “fuck disabled people they deserve to 💀” and never masks, and the person who never masks because “It’s annoying and besides-no one else is” are BOTH devaluing people’s lives.

(3/10)

And that might feel confronting for some of you, and I know the knee-jerk reaction is probably going to be to deflect by accusing me of “shaming people” or whatever.

I’m not shaming anyone though - it’s just uncomfortable to sit with because if you’re the kind of person who follows me chances are you don’t actually want to be engaging in eugenics.

And re-engaging with the idea that COVID is not only still around, but still actively dangerous is asking a lot of you when the alternative is the comfort of denial.

Especially when so many of the tools to keep ourselves and each other safe have been taken away from us. But the thing is none of that is actually a reason not to act.

(4/10)

There are people IN YOUR COMMUNITY relying on you to take precautions so that they don’t d1e.

(5/10)

With love, and compassion for the fact that this shit is hard - ignorance is running out as an excuse. It’s time to do better, and help your mates do better too.

People in your community shouldn’t have to constantly remind you not to put their lives in danger. Surely you can see that’s a pretty fucked up dynamic, right?

(6/10)

We shouldn’t have to push so hard on “it’s good for you to protect yourself too!” Like it still absolutely is, but saving the lives of people in your community should actually be enough to motivate you to act.

It’s genuinely fucked up to be ok with a whole proportion of the population being either being locked in their homes indefinitely or at risk of 💀 on the daily.

(7/10)

It should be considered more socially awkward to engage in eugenics by k1lling and isolating disabled people in your own community than it is to put on a mask

The fact that it’s not should embarrass all of us until we change it.

(8/10)

It should be considered more selfish to put people’s lives at risk than to ask to be kept safe

Your choices can change or reinforce that culture.

(9/10)

Government inaction puts a weapon in your hand

Pretending it’s not there puts us all in danger

(10/10)

Why do you require a mandate to care about other people?

[brattyspence]

safe and sound | s.reid

summary: in which post-prison!spencer finds himself so comforted by your presence that he can’t help but fall asleep whenever he’s around you. (anyone else remember that tiktok trend abt how frequently falling asleep around certain people is a sign of someone feeling safe? no? just me?)

tags: fluffy! post-prison!spence (but its not rlly mentioned in detail)(just reminding u all that man is Traumatized capital T), gun mentioned, sleeping… that’s it i think

a/n: hey idk how to follow up my last fic so here is this??? its a drabble!

word count: 651

(a very short) masterlist here

You had been sitting on your couch, laptop open on your lap as you typed away the last bit of paperwork you needed to complete for the night. The TV was playing softly, some random documentary channel you’d put on hours ago. The room was dim, only the soft lighting from the table side lamp illuminating the space.

Even though your relationship was relatively new, you were at a point where simply existing in each other's presence was an acceptable reason to hang out. You didn't need to be doing something, you were just content to exist in each others orbit. 

In recent weeks, you’d observed a new phenomenon; nearly every time he came to your apartment, he would fall asleep within an hour. 

Not that particularly you minded. Sometimes you found yourself tangled somewhere in his arms, the book you had been reading slipping from your fingertips as you also fell asleep. Other times you were so busy with work and laundry and whatever else you were up to to notice that he had been sleeping at all. 

You shut your laptop and placed it on the coffee table in front of you. It was late now, nearly 11pm. 

“Spence…” you reached over to ruffle his hair softly, hoping to stir him. “It's past 11.”

He made a slight whine of protest before fluttering his eyes open. You watched him squint at the digital clock on your TV stand. “Ugh. I'm sorry. I’m going.”

“I wasn't kicking you out,” you reply. “I just thought maybe you didn't want to spend the night on my couch.”

He sat up, rubbing his eyes for a few seconds. “Yeah, that's probably not very smart,” he replied, a slight smile creeping across his lips. “I don't know why your apartment makes me so tired.”

He did know, in fact. It was no secret that the past year hadn't been kind to him. Prison had left him changed, and touched every part of his life irreversibly, including his own home. It was stupid, he knew. He was a fully grown man, a trained agent who owned a gun and knew how to use it, and he still could never feel as safe in his own apartment as he was in yours. You were the only person in his life who didn’t see him during that point in his life. You hadn't watched him change and expected anything from him. Being in your presence was the only time there was no weight to bear.

“It's more than fine with me,” you said. You shifted across the cushions enough to tuck your head against his shoulder. “You can sleep on my couch whenever you want. But you should probably consider the bed instead, if you don't want back pain for the rest of your life.”

He chuckled softly, sliding an arm around your side to settle you against him. “I’ll consider it.”

The air grew still again. You closed your eyes, savoring the feeling of his fingertips tracing lines up and down your side. Eventually you felt him place his cheek against your head. You were certain you’d also succumb to the temptation of sleep that had been creeping up on you.

“You should just stay the night,” you mumbled. 

“We both have work tomorrow, honey.”

You huffed. “But we’re so comfy right here. Please?”

“Maybe I can just get up extra early tomorrow to have time to go home…” he said. “Just because you asked so nicely.”

“Mhm. Do that.” You nodded. “And next time just pack a bag. Or I'll make space for you in my closet. Whatever will get you to stay.”

You felt him laugh quietly before he removed his arm from its position around you. He stood up before you could protest further, offering his hand to you. 

“Come on. Let's go to bed like adults.”

You groaned, accepting his hand anyway.

[billybutcherrtrash]

Throne

Link to Pt 2 <-

CW: 18+ (MDNI) oral (f) and fingers and smut.

You and Spencer are friends who attended at party for a mutual friend and find you have an interesting shared book fantasy.

It had been several hours since you’d arrived at the party for a mutual friend. Reid had been cautiously watching you as you talked to everyone and gave them a small amount of your time. Every so often your gazes would meet and you’d exchange a smile from a distance. Although you’d greeted him when he walked in, you’d been rushed away my another friend for some kind of emergency. Every guy you talked to made Reid anxious. He hated the idea of you walking out of this place with someone else. Anyone else but him. Finally you made your way over to him, sitting down beside him and smiling.

“Welcome back”. Spencer said as you took a sip of your drink.

“Thanks. It’s been very hectic. You’d think for a going away party it would be more fun. Instead I’m chasing down my drunk friends.” You sighed.

“Yeah, I think I saw one of my drunk friends fall off the bar earlier.” He laughed.

“I saw that. I think we’re the only two here that aren’t drinking.”

“I like to be in control of myself. I drink occasionally but in this atmosphere I don’t think it’s wise.”

“I agree. To much going on and I’m already over stimulated”

“Glad I’m not the only one.” He nodded.

You tucked your hair behind your ears and shifted closer to him. “I’m really happy you came.”

Spencer’s eyes lit up, “I’m glad too. I’ll admit I was on the fence until I heard you’d be coming too.”

“Really?”

He nodded, “Yeah. This isn’t my thing. Bars. Or people.”

“I would much rather be at home reading. I hate all this.” You shrugged.

“Oh, that’s reminds me I started reading this book about ancient erotica and I think -“

At that you held up your hand to stop him,“Did you just say erotica?”

Spencer nodded, “Yeah, but not in the way you’re thinking of pornography. It’s rather tasteful compared to today’s idea of erotica. I’ve read a few of what is considered erotic today and I think it’s just porn on paper.”

You stared at him for a long moment. His brown eyes stared back anticipating your response.

“Porn on paper is called smut now.” You smirked.

“Yes, and it is just sexually charged writing. Ancient erotica is art. Paintings and images that are tastefully done.” Reid explained.

“I guess my bookshelf is filled with porn then.” You laughed softly.

“You read…smut?” He bit his lip.

Suddenly you felt hot. Did the temperature go up? You’d just admitted you had read spicy books.

“I-wel-…I mean…I have other kinds of books too.” You stammered. “I have biographies and nonfiction also. Fantasy.”

Spencer was enjoying watching you squirm. You were flustered now. He could see trying to save whatever semblance of a normal conversation there was left.

“Fantasy? What kind of fantasy?” He asked.

“No sexual fantasy…I have Fourth Wing. Have you read it?”

“Dragons and thunder…I have read it and its sequel.” Reid nodded. “But may I ask…how you felt about the throne scene?”

He was torturing you now. He watched as your eyes went wide and your breathing halted just enough to notice.

“I…uh…Spence…you’re doing this on purpose.” You said softly.

“Am I? I’m just curious.”

You raised an eyebrow, “Are you?”

“Very…” He nodded.

He watched you bite your lip. The conversation had taken a sharp turn and now you were staring at each other, both quiet. You wished you knew what he was thinking about.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Spencer finally asked.

“Yes”. You agreed.

He stood and held out his hand for you. You took it and slipped out of your seat, following him out the door. You felt anxious as you walked out into the cold air, cautiously looking up at him.

“Did you drive?” He asked, looking back.

“No…I came with (your mutual friend’s name).”

“You should probably tell her you’re leaving.” Spencer smirked.

“I can text her.” You blushed a little as you arrived at Spencer’s car.

You turned to face him as he opened the door for you. It was only now that you realized he was so much taller than you. All the time working with him at the university and you’d never noticed. He stepped closer and slid a hand around your waist.

“Can I kiss you?” Spencer asked.

Your brained seemed to short circuit, unable to form words, so you nodded almost too enthusiastically. Spencer leaned down and cupped your face, kissing you gently. The feel of his mouth on yours was dizzying. You weren’t drunk but you felt like it. He pulled you a little closer and you welcomed the feel of his body. After a few long moments he pulled back leaving you aching his touch. He gazed at you, stroking your cheek gently.

“Still want to go home with me?” He asked.

“Yes” Was all you could managed, still seeing stars.

Spencer helped you in the car before closing the door and running to the other side. You watched him get in and start the car.

“Don’t forget to text (your friend’s name).”

“Oh, right.” You reached for your phone and sent a quick text letting them know you’d found a ride.

They sent a reply with eggplant emoji’s and water droplets. Thank God it was dark because your cheeks were red at the idea of them knowing who you’d left with. The man you’d confided in her to having a crush on from the minute he’d walked into your life. As he drove you pulled your sleeves over your hands and fidgeted with them anxiously. You couldn’t have possibly expected him to not notice. He reached over and laced his fingers with yours.

“You play with your clothes when you’re nervous.” Spencer said, glancing at your hands.

Of course he’d noticed. The many meetings you’d sat in together, the times you’d been in the elevator together alone, the time he’d come to you asking for your opinion on a case, he’d seen it every time he was near you. You looked up as you felt the car slow to a stop. He put the car in park and you both sat for a moment. Finally your eyes met his. He gave you a soft smile.

“Do you still want to come inside?” Spencer asked.

“I do.” You answered.

He nodded and got out of the car, coming around to open your door and helped you out. Her nerves were started to become more noticeable. You didn’t do this. You never went home with guys. Especially not guys you worked with. Especially not anyone with an IQ of 187 and read books on ancient erotica. Spencer took your hand and led you into his building. Once in the elevator you chewed at your lip, your fingers linked with his as he pressed the button to his floor.

“Are you okay?” Spencer asked, reaching up to brush your hair behind your ear.

“Spence…you need checking on me. I’m fine. I’m sure. I promise.” You said, standing on your toes to kiss him.

He cupped your neck, returning the kiss. He was gentle and soft. You could only hope he maintained that once you were in his apartment. The elevator dings upon arriving at his floor. He pulled away reluctantly and you stepped off, making your way to his front door.

“I’m slightly surprised we aren’t stumbling down your hallway, too impatient to get inside.” You joked.

Spencer slid his key in the door, “We could have been but you deserve more respect than me just trying to fuck you.”

Your jaw dropped, surprised. “Spencer Reid said fuck!” You smirked.

“I’ve been known to swear on occasion.” He replied, letting you inside.

You stepped inside the apartment, looking around. He closed the door and locked it.

“So…what now?” He asked, stepping closer to you.

“Spence…we both know what’s going to happen…but can we pretend for five seconds that you’re not thinking about undressing me and be making obscene sounds shortly thereafter?” You asked, taking his hand.

“Well now that you’ve put that image in my head…it’s going to be hard not to.” He smirked.

“You mentioned you had books. I want to see the collection.”

“The lady gets what the lady wants.” He replied, leading you to his bookshelf.

It seemed to overflow with classic literature in many languages. You looked at the titles, a few familiar and many you’d never seen or heard of. Then your eyes caught a familiar gold cover. You smirked and pulled out Fourth Wing.

“You really did read it.” You smirked.

“You and Penelope wouldn’t shut up about it, I was curious what had you so worked up. It’s not my thing but it peaked my interest.” He replied. “Especially chapter 48 in Iron Flame.”

You froze, knowing exactly what he was referring to. He leaned in close, his breath hot on your skin.

“My house. My chair. My woman.” He whispered.

You looked up at him, your mouth suddenly dry. You had forgotten he’d mentioned the throne room scene.

“You…um…you know the exact chapter.” You stammered.

He smirked down at you. “Of course I do. You never told me how you felt about it.”

“I mean…obviously it’s hot.” You turned to face him. “What woman doesn’t want a man worshipping her on his knees on a throne.”

Spencer raised an eyebrow. “Is that what you want?”

“Do you have a throne?” You asked.

“Not quite a throne, but I definitely have a chair we can pretend is a thrown.”

You licked your lips as you felt your pulse rising. You felt hot again. You knew why you’d come to his apartment and now was the time you stopped pretending it was innocent.

“Show me.”

Spencer gave a soft smile and led you to his room. It was neat, bed made and everything orderly. Your eyes fell upon a gorgeous leather chair near the window. It was the perfect reading chair, but tonight it was going to be a throne for him to worship you on. He walked you over and you admired it. You could see it was tall enough that your feet might dangle if you sat down, and the leather was soft. God forbid you dig your nails into it and mark the leather.

“Are you sure?” Spencer asked from behind you.

You felt his hands sliding up your arms, stroking your biceps gently. His breath was hot on your neck as you leaned back into him.

“Yes.” You said, eyes closing when he kissed your neck.

“Then sit down.”

You swallowed anxiously, turning to face him before sitting down. You could have sworn his eyes darkened just a bit as he moved to the floor. Surprisingly the chair was the perfect height for you to be face to face. You pulled him against you and kissed him. His hands ran through your hair and down your shoulders. You knew exactly want was coming. He pulled away and removed your shoes. As his hands moved to your jeans you feel your pulse racing and your breathing quicken. He pulls you to the edge of the chair and tugs them down your legs. The air conditioning sends goosebumps over your skin as Spencer looks up at you. His eyes met yours and you forgot to breathe. He didn’t look away as you placed kisses on your legs, creeping higher and higher up your thigh.

“You’re so gorgeous.” He said, stroking your opposite thigh. “God, you’re perfect.”

You bit your lip, having trouble forming words. All you wanted was for him to devour and absolutely worship you. His hand slid over your hips and to the top of your underwear. The second they were gone you knew you’d never be able to recover. You ached for him. Slowly he slid them down and you watched him carefully. Spencer’s eyes darkened even more at the sight of you bare before him. He could see the moisture pooling at your core and he was instantly rock hard.

“Last time…you want this?” He asked.

“Last time, yes.” You panted, “Please, God, just touch me.”

Begging wasn’t something you’d thought you’d be doing but you were desperate. He nodded, moving one leg to sit over the arm of the chair and the other over his shoulder. You nearly came as his tongue slid through your wet folds. You let out a loud gasp, your head falling back against the back of the chair. He swirled around your clit, toying with it gently.

“Spencer, fuck!” You moaned, nails digging into the leather.

He smiled as he continued his actions, lapping up your juices. His hands held you firmly in place and you squirmed under his.

“Don’t stop, please.” You whimpered.

Spencer watched you coming undone, enjoying every second of it. Watching your breathing catch when he licked your clit. You moaned even louder when he slid a finger into you. It was nearly enough to finish you. Your hand moved to his hair and you tugged at it, causing him to groan against you. The vibrations only added to the pleasure. He added another finger, pushing you closer to the edge.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck…” You panted, so close to cumming.

Spencer felt you clench around his fingers and he moved them faster. His tongue massaged your delicate folds until finally you couldnt hold on.

“Spence, oh, fuck…” You whimpered before coming undone.

He smiled, working you through it. Finally you could breathe again and you looked down at him. He was just watching you, stroking your thigh gently.

“You okay?” He asked.

“More than okay.” You blushed as you sat up.

“How was it?”

“It rivaled all the fantasies I had about being worshipped in a thrown”. You admitted.

[pretty-little-mind33]

Count Alexei Vronsky x wife!fem!reader

Summary: When you start feeling insecure, your husband reminds you just how much he loves you.

Genre: SMUT (nsfm)

Warnings: unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), kissing, praising, passionate/sensual sex, kinda cock-warming, breeding kink, they already have a daughter, porn basically no plot for this one <3

COUNT VRONSKY MASTERLIST

Under the Moscow snow, the shine of Count Alexei Vronksy's blue eyes matching his army uniform is always eagerly anticipated by the women, and men, in the station.

Of course, The Count's reputation is widely known around Russia. He is a player. A womanizer. A handsome gentleman who could have an lady he possibly desired.

You had believed those rumors once and sometimes, even as you lay in bed with him now, that dainty, sparkling, promise sitting pretty on your bedside table, you wonder if there's still some truth in them.    

It feels unfair to think that way now. Alexei is your husband. He'd married you, and not by force or by convenience, but because he's madly in love with you.

Since the moment you met him, he had never stopped showing you how much he loved you—so why couldn't you fully believe him?  

"Alexei?" you whisper into the darkness of the room, turning onto your stomach and gently running the ends of your fingers on his chest until he stirs. You smile when he nuzzles into you in his half-asleep state and mumbles incoherent words into your hair.

"Honey," you say a little louder and lean down to kiss him behind his ear, moving his blond hair to the side. Once he feels your lips on his skin, he opens his eyes and automatically tilts his head to capture your lips in his.

Alexei kisses you and then sits up, running a hand in his curls. "What is it, my dove?" he asks gently, his voice thick and hoarse from being asleep.

"Why did you marry me?" 

It sounds like an even stupider question said aloud than when you had said it in your head. Alexei must find it stupid too because he laughs, his eyes flittering. "Because I love you, принцесса (princess)."

"Yes, I understand, but why?"

"Why?" Alexei is fully awake now and his hand has found a way into your hair as he gently massages your scalp, trying desperately to soothe whatever worries you have out of your head. 

"Why do you love me? What do you love about me?” It feels selfish to ask this, very egotistical in some way, but you yearn to know the answer, "Why have me when you can have anyone you wish?"

Your husband grins, "Anyone? You think so highly of me."

"It is because it is true,"

"Well, I don't want just anyone," he hums and you feel his hand slide down to caress your cheek and pull your head up so that you can see him in the dim light of the moon from your bedroom window, "I want you." 

You open your mouth to ask why again but Alexei kisses you. He mumbles into your mouth once he catches his breath and says, "God, I adore your lips. I love how they're always so soft and eager for me.”

Your cheeks burn and you muffle a moan.

Alexei's hand slides down your neck and your body, his fingers trailing between your breasts and down your stomach. You're wearing his favorite silky nightgown—easy access—he likes to tease and when you remember this, you become flustered all over again.  

In one motion, your husband is on top of you, his weight resting on his forearm as he looks at you with sleepy eyes and kisses your forehead.

"I love this, and this," he kisses your cheekbone, and then your nose, followed by the corner of your eye, "and this and this," he continues as you giggle and squirm. 

Alexei lifts himself and smiles at you fondly, "May I?” he teases again, sliding his hand down the curves of your sides and thighs, until he plays with the hem of your nightgown. You look up at him, eyes wide and glassy—the portrait of femininity and innocence.

You nod and his hand slips under, finding what he's looking for. He smiles and nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck, kissing your cheek. 

"I love all of you, my dove. Including this pretty pussy," Alexei smirks triumphantly as his fingers start exploring your folds. You're already aroused and you squeeze your legs around his hand as if to hide that admission of guilt. Your husband just smiles and opens your thighs again.

"No, my lovely, I want to see you," he murmurs and moves to hook his arm under your thighs as he shifts further down the bed and his breath is warm on your skin. You shiver, your breathing becoming harsh as you squeeze the sheets in your hands and try calming your harsh breathing. 

"Муж (husband)!" you gasp, arching as you feel his lips on your sensitive skin. 

Alexi smirks and kisses your pussy again, his hands tightening on your thigh. "Жена (wife)," he smirks and licks up your folds. "I want to worship you like you deserve," he smiles and continues to use his tongue.

He takes his time, making sure you're open and dripping for him as he licks your juices until his mustache is slick with your arousal. Alexi looks up, his hair falling in front of your eyes as he sends you a devilish smirk and licks his lips before he dives in again, eating you out like a starved man.  

You whimper and moan the entire time, feeling weak as you're so close to breaking. Your hands find your husband's hair, tugging gently as your back arches away from the mattress and you let out broken whimpers. The moonlight shines on Alexei's bare back as he continues to suck and licks with fervor. 

"I'm close," you whimper.

This causes Alexei to shake his head and he sits up. Your eyelids flutter and you whine at the loss of contact until you feel an all-too-familiar sensation and you gasp.

He's pressing himself into you and your eyes snap open to watch him as he does so. "I want you to finish when I'm inside you, my love. I want to fill you up with my seed. You're gonna give me more pretty children, aren't you, принцесса (princess)?" 

You nod, holding him close as you feel him inside you. You rock your body in time with his, fucking him passionately as he holds you and his lips press to your ear. "You feel delightful, my lovely. Such a good little wife for me. You're all I want," he mumbles, his breathing heavy and harsh as he snaps his hips into yours. 

  Alexei nips at your skin, smiling as he moans, "You look so pretty carrying my child. So claimed. Claimed as mine. My woman," he chuckles and thrusts into you harder, earning small whimpers of pleasure from you, "Gonna give Klara a sibling, hmm? Gonna make our little angel a big sister for me, won't you? Make me proud? Show everyone how well you carry my child?"  

"Yes," you whisper breathlessly and that's all it takes for Alexei to finish inside you with a growl, causing your own pleasure to crash over you in waves as you hold him closer. You're both panting as he collapses onto you, his face buried in the crook of your neck as his cock twitches inside you a little. 

"I love you," he kisses your cheek, his hair tickling your skin, "Please, never doubt how much I love you, my love. You understand me?" His hand caresses your cheek and you hum, too exhausted to even think of arguing with him. You feel like you're in heaven. Alexei takes your silence as an understanding and looks at you as he kisses your lips. 

"Go back to sleep now, lovely. It's still early," he says as it is still dark outside.

"Alexei," you murmur, squirming a little when he stays inside you but he holds your hips down so you're still. 

"Just a little longer, dove, I want to make sure it works," he chuckles and makes a few slow thrusts just to fuck his cum deeper inside you.

You whine at the feeling, your pussy already sore from his size and your previous orgasm. Still, you turn your head and nuzzle into the pillows as exhaustion takes over and your husband's warmth spreads across your skin. His sweet voice lulls you to sleep with praises and his lips kiss your neck.

"You're my happiness," he whispers with a smile.

[yumeka-sxf]

I'm finally home from my vacation and able to discuss the latest SxF chapter...all I can say is, I have a lot to say! I'll start with funny stuff first before I move on to analyzing...

Anya was especially hilarious in this chapter - where do I even start with her gremlin-ness? 😂 First off, there's her calling the butlers "henchlings' henchlings" (in the Japanese version, I believe she's using some mispronunciation of 弟子, which means "follower")

Then she calls out Twilight for being, well, Twilight, even giving his behavior its own acronym 🤣

She feels bad for George because his family isn't important enough for Twilight's aforementioned Twilighting 😅

And this doozy of a nickname for Bill!

In the Japanese version, she calls him something like "old man bully who hits people with balls" 😆

But joking aside, we get these profound words from Jeeves that seem to resonate with Twilight.

His words remind Twilight of the hypocrisy of his position: on the one hand, he agrees with Jeeves and wants the children to be able to grow up as they wish, without being burdened by the expectations of their parents. But that's exactly what he's been corralling Anya towards this whole time...doing whatever's best for Operation Strix, regardless of what may be best for her.

This scene reminded me of his musings when they first took Bond to the dog park; another case where he's aware that the morals he believes in are the opposite of his actions and yet...he continues with the mission.

I also think it's great that the other parents thank Anya for her bravery during the bus hijacking. Even if their kids don't act grateful, the parents should be on their behalf. Perhaps seeing this praise for Anya right before his eyes is what made Twilight feel even more guilt upon hearing Jeeves' words - he's seeing more and more what an exceptional girl she is despite not having the perfect traits for his mission, and yet he's still manipulating her (not realizing she's aware of the mission and wants to help).

But on that note, it's nice to see that George's dad and Becky's mom somewhat agree with Jeeves. As of now, I'd say out of all the Eden kids we've gotten to know, George and Becky seem to have the most decent families. I especially like how Becky's dad is adorably doting, to the point where he gets crushed when Becky asks Yor for help instead of him 😅 Also Martha having to reel him in, lol.

But despite being an overbearing dad, at least he isn't quick to jump on Loid supposedly "seducing" Becky 😂 He seems to not take it seriously, which is good since Becky is the one making the moves with her silly little girl crush.

Also Emile thinking Yor is pretty~ I'm surprised he had something nice to say about anyone connected to Anya, lol. I really want a chapter where Yor takes all the Eden kids on a playdate and they start thinking she's awesome like Becky does, even Damian.

Speaking of Yor, just when I thought she would be demoted to "background character" for whatever arc is coming, the last few panels give the impression that she'll have her next moment in the spotlight soon! Is she just destined to always catch Melinda when she falls? 😅

Not only are we getting more Yor/Melinda interactions next time, but also (hopefully) more of Anya reading Melinda's mind. I know there's theories floating around of how Donovan may be able to read minds and is possibly the one behind the experiments done on Anya, and that Melinda may have some psychic abilities too. Also some relation to that Arnold Crowley character introduced several chapters ago. I'm not good at theorizing, so I'll leave it to fans who are better with that kind of stuff 😅 But I think they're all good theories and I'm keeping my fingers crossed we'll get more insight into Desmond secrets very soon!

...but unfortunately the next new chapter won't be until November 25th, so we'll have to be satisfied with theories for now!

[itsa-me-lily]

I am still tired, but brain is less mush after some lunch. (Can you guess what I had)

Here is other Military Program Spouse (mobile is fighting me to add the link)

It helps to assume here that unless stated otherwise Simon is wearing a medical mask around reader. She’s just like whatever floats your boat my dude

Content warning;

Mention of food, medical devices, scars, cellulite

“Simon whatever your middle name is Riley you better not be looking at my legs.”

Maybe his mum had a point, that women developed eyes in the back of their head. He wasn’t deliberately looking at your legs, but he wasn’t not not looking either. For some reason unbeknownst to him, you had decided that you had to make the biggest batch of soup known to man. Sure the seasons were changing, summer slowly letting go for fall, but it wasn’t as if a chilly wind was rattling at the windows threatening to steal whatever heat existed. It was still relatively balmy, warm enough to have the windows open and enjoy the breeze. Warm enough that having the stove going made the kitchen borderline stuffy, encouraging you to cook in just a loose tank top and shorts that hit mid thigh.

Simon wasn’t a prude, he wasn’t scandalized at seeing the curve of your thighs, or grossed out by the cellulite. Everyone had fucking skin and however you wanted to dress in the comfort of your home you were welcomed to it. But he had eyes and well he was curious. His own body was covered in scars and tattoos that told a myriad of stories. So he looked to see what yours had to say.

Picking at the chicken you had left on the counter he counted the spots that your insulin pods left behind like stars, noticed how you missed a small strip of hair when you were shaving, even the mole that you had on the back of one ankle; they all came together to make up parts of a story about his wife that he was just starting to get.

He was so lost in thought, mechanically putting piece after piece of poached bird into his mouth, barely paying attention to anything besides the action of seeming busy, that he didn’t notice when you turned around, the exasperation in your voice finally catching his attention.

“Seriously? What did I just say?”

Simon wasn’t someone who startled, didn’t jump or hunch his shoulders to his ears. He had spent far to much time sharpening himself as to cut anyone who tried to catch him unaware. He just wasn’t prepared for you to admonish him like that, hands on your hips and looking for him to answer your question.

“What? You said not to look at your legs…I wasn’t lookin’ at them”

Not a lie, but not quite the truth.

“Yeah instead you’re eating your way through them!”

He blinked at you slowly once and then twice, following your gaze down to the plate of chicken leg quarters he was indeed making his way through. At least one looked like it had been pounced on by scavengers.

“You said no lookin’, nothing about no tasting.”

That was most certainly a twitch to your eye. That probably should have been concerning, but honestly Simon was secure enough in his height and size that if you tried to suffocate him he could throw you off. He was a good head taller than you, honestly how much damage could you do? When you pointed your wooden spoon threateningly at his chest it didn’t do much besides remind him of a little old grandma who would wield the same utensil as a weapon.

“You sir, are an asshole. Now go run to a shop and get me one of the pre cooked chickens.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Because you’ve eaten half my damn chicken and like hell is my sancocho going to suffer for it.”

“Your what now?”

Yes Simon Riley knew he was being as ass. Yes he also thought that there was a realm of possibility that your upset face and clear murderous intentions were slightly endearing. But only slightly.

“My god damn soup. I swear to god if you fuck this up for me I will find a way to make you suffer the consequences.”

“Alright alright, no need to have a bird over some-heh, bird.”

He didn’t stay to see the double middle fingers you aimed for his back, he didn’t need to. He was pretty sure you were also cursing his name and maker. It wasn’t until the front door shut behind him that your colorful vocabulary was loudly shared with the world. It made him chuckle as he picked up his pace.

Heaven help anyone who got between a woman and her soup.

Edit

I am very passionate about my soup

[katebeckets]

Emily’s Follower Appreciation Event 🌷 ⤷ 💝 I GOT YOU: a f.r.i.e.n.d.s playlist

when colors turn to shades of grey with the weight of the world at the end of the day, oh, what would I do without you?

for @userlaylivia ♡ playlist / songs ↘

Friends is a show about friends who become your family, so this is a playlist of songs for those people; songs I hope would bring comfort, reassurance, and strength.

SATELLITE CALL by Sara Bareilles / "this is so you'll know the sound / of someone who loves you from the ground / tonight you're not alone at all / this is me sending out my satellite call." Starting this playlist with a reminder that no matter where you are, you're not alone—I'm reaching out with my heart, sending out a satellite call to you anywhere you are, reminding you I'm here.

PLEASE STAY by Lucy Dacus / One of my favorite parts of this song is when she sings "call me if you need a friend or never talk to me again, but please stay." It feels like such pure, unselfish love—if you need me I'm here, or if you choose to never talk to me again, that's okay as long as you stay.

CALL YOUR MOM by Noah Kahan & Lizzy McAlpine / "Don't let this darkness fool you / all lights turned off can be turned on / I'll drive, I'll drive all night / I'll call your mom." Whatever you need, I'll do it, as long as you get through this with me.

BE STILL by the Fray / This was sent to me by someone when I was having a really hard time, and I remember crying on my bed, listening to this song as though it could surround me in a hug. To me, it's a hug in song form.

SURROUND YOU by Echosmith / "Wherever you are / whenever you need me / just crawl in my arms / oh, and I'll hold you beside me / I want my love to surround you."

HAS ANYONE EVER WRITTEN ANYTHING FOR YOU by Stevie Nicks / This is another song that was sent to me by someone and I'm so glad; I probably never would've heard it otherwise. The lyrics are so beautiful. My favorites are: "so if not for me then do it for yourself / if not for me then do it for the world." Find a reason to keep going... no matter what it is, it's enough.

YOU MATTER TO ME by Jessie Mueller & Drew Gehling / Even though this song has some romantic undertones, it doesn't necessarily have to be romantic. And it's one of my favorites because the message is so simple and so profound: you matter to me. What you say matters, your very existence matters to me.

FOR GOOD by Idina Menzel & Kristin Chenoweth / Nothing I could say could ever do this song justice, and the lyrics really say it all.

WHAT WOULD I DO WITHOUT YOU by Drew Holcomb & the Neighbors / The featured lyrics in this gifset are from this song, and it has such a beautifully simple message: what would I do without you?

LET YOUR HEART HOLD FAST by Fort Atlantic / "This too shall pass" in song form.

CALL ME ON YOUR WAY HOME by Emily James / There are so many was to say "I love you," including "text me when you wake up" and "call me on your way home."

SOMEONE WHO LOVES ME by Sara Bareilles / Some of the most beautiful lyrics I've ever heard and what I hope all of my friends feel with someone in their lives, whether it be me or someone else.

I GOT YOU by Leona Lewis / "For better, for worse / I got you."

FEELS LIKE by Gracie Abrams / One of my favorite songs to begin with and all the more so when I found out it was written about her best friend. I love the feeling of wonder it describes—"met you at the right time / this is what it feels like."

I'M ONLY ME WHEN I'M WITH YOU by Taylor Swift / Such a beautiful way of describing friendship and a beautiful type of friendship to experience, one I hope all my friends experience.

WITH YOU by Colorfire / This song always reminds me of friendship because when I graduated middle school, one of the friends in my friend group made a video of us to this song. I like how it says "keep turning, turning;" there's a feeling of time passing in the song, but that friendship and relationship stays constant.

SWEETER THAN FICTION by Taylor Swift / "I'll be one of the many saying look at you now, look at you now / I'll be one of the many saying you made us proud, you made us proud."

RAINBOW by Kacey Musgraves / A final hope for this playlist: hope that you'll make your way to the other side, that you'll be able to see the rainbow that's been there, maybe hidden out of view. A promise that when you can't have hope, I'll have enough hope for the both of us until that hope—that rainbow—is once again visible.

[mandy-asimp]

A game for two

Pairing: emily Prentiss x fem! Reader (she/her pronouns)

Warnings: teasing, profanity, smut, fluff(?),

Summary: y/n is the youngest agent with a TikTok account. And after video goes viral, people notice a connection between her and emily.

"Come on Pen! It'll be a quick break. No longer than thirty minutes!" Y/n beamed as she dragged Penelope from her office.

It was a known scene for anyone to see. The youngest member of the BAU pulling someone or a few others with her to teach them a new trend. Posting on a page she ran and deemed the official BAU page, naming it bootylicious_BAUbaddies. Fitting.

"What even is the trend this time? You post like every single day, people are gonna think we don't do our jobs." The blonde grabbed the phone. It was a complex dance with a lot of camera work. "This is what you want to post onto the BAU page? You don't think it's a bit risqué?"

The word made Y/n laugh, "it's an unofficial page under my personal information. I can post whatever I want. Plus, you are the only one who understands camera work." That's when her eyes landed on Matt and JJ walking in. "Omg! Can you guys throw papers and be flashlights?!"

"Y/n...we just got home from a case. It's almost midnight." JJ sighed, putting her stuff down anyways to help out. "Is it another dance?"

"Another? You did one today?" Penelope frowned, had Y/n found someone else to film her?

"It was a rough draft of the dance. So I could critique it and work on it. I only learned it this morning. Spencer filmed...but he doesn't have your magic Penelope," she reassured. "Lights on the sides at all times, Penelope moves forward following me, and it'll be a one take if you do it right."

Emily watched the one take from her office. Amazed by how smoothly someone could move even after a long day of murder. But yet, there was Y/n. Stretching very lightly before getting in position. The faint music from the phone played as Y/n moved in ways that made Emily blush from her office.

"You had all this energy for that dance, but you didn't have enough when running?" JJ teased, putting her phone away as she collected her belongings. "Goodnight to you all, I hopefully won't see you till nine." She left quickly, needing to get home.

Everyone else was close behind as their day came to an end. Another case and dance completed.

What Y/n didn't know, was that dance would be the one to bring her page to light.

By the morning, when Y/n was on her way, she had checked. Laughing a little bit about is the video blew up, but she scrolled and found another little idea to do. It was something simple and sweet, giving a kiss on the cheek to everyone and seeing their reaction.

It truly was harmless since the team was used to her affectionate behavior. She made it known that she cares for everyone on levels they don't even realize. How she had made it a point to spend time with them all individually continuously.

By the time she got to the bureau she could spot almost nobody. Her eyes jumped to the round table room, frowning as they all waved her in.

She set her stuff down and trudged over, "one day serial killers will respect our schedule." She sat before looking at the screen. Her frown instantly becoming laughter as it was her video. "Thats what you all were in here for?"

"Well it's only been up for a few hours and it's already surpassed three million likes." Penelope dropped the tablet with the data pulled up. "You put the BAU as one of the top units now."

"Means we'll have a lot more attention on us, and as the unit chief I have to remind you, just because it's personal, doesn't mean it won't affect you. If something is posted that is not appropriate to share, there will be consequences. Use this freedom wisely Y/n." Emily bowed her head and walked out. Heading to her office, where she would watch the dance over a few times before getting back to work.

And that's how most the day was. Just another paper work day with Y/n going around and gauging reactions from everyone for her next video.

Penelope covered her face and kissed her all over, leaving bright pink lipstick marks and a blushing Y/n. They also recorded the cleaning up and retouching as a separate video.

Luke gave his classic smile, which only earned him an eye roll and a playful laugh as he spun her and dipped her.

JJ smiled and gave a wide smile. The two talked about how sometimes the trends Y/n did brought light to such a dark job. And JJ really appreciated that.

Spencer was taken aback and started spewing facts about germs as Y/n wiped off her lips gloss from his cheek.

Rossi thought the trend was stupid, but still let it happen. Never having a smile on his face, making the viewers think he wasn't a happy old man.

The only one left was Emily. And Y/n couldn't have been happier. She knocked lightly before waltzing in. Setting the phone down on the desk, already recording as Y/n pulled over a chair.

"And what is this trend?" Emily looked at the camera, more watching how Y/n fixed her appearance and reapplied lip gloss. She was so entranced by the young agent.

Her eyes then jumped back to herself, she had silver hair and a few wrinkles. She wasn't as young as she used to be anymore. "You are still beautiful for your age, Prentiss." Her voice broke in. Could she read minds? "No you forget I'm one of the best qualifying new agents in my generation. Of course I can read your mind when you space off."

"Right..." Emily whispered. "So the trend?"

Y/n beamed, "yes the trend! In short because I can't tell you too much, it's quick simple, and everyone else can tell you that if you need another backing source. Even Rossi took part."

Emily pondered over for a second, but overall agreed. "Ok. I'll bite."

And so the younger grabbed Emily's phone, having already pre sent her the audio before walking in. "You know, I'm surprised you even have TikTok on your phone. I figured you would've been apart of the group that thinks it's useless and a waste of time. But then when I got the little notification that you joined, I have to admit, I got a bit excited. I can teach you about it if you ever need. And teach you any trend you want to learn." Y/n rambled on. Not giving Emily a chance to say anything as the sound started.

Soft music began to play as the two sat there and Y/n just so suddenly turned and kissed Emily's cheek. Her lip gloss shining against her pale skin, that soon turned a light pink. Her world went silent as her heart hammered and she looked to Y/n with a stunned smile.

It was silent as the two just stared at each other. But it wasn't a friendly stare it seems, Emily was looking absolutely smitten and Y/n could see it. The thought that her boss could possibly like her making her grow a matching pink.

The sound ended and began to replay, but was lost upon deaf ears. Suddenly the room felt different. Did it suddenly get warm in here?

Y/n was forced to watch as Emily glanced down to her lips. Licking her own in the process. It made her blush even deeper. "Emily..." she barely got out.

The silver fox leaned in closer to her prey. Suddenly eager to get just a taste. Her hand reached up to cup Y/n's soft cheek, feeling truly how warm she was. Smiling down at the stunned agent.

She pulled Y/n closer. Just barely touching their lips. Emily enjoyed the small gasp that escaped as her eyes widen in shock.

However, the knock at the door ruined their moment. Emily grabbed her phone, turning it off to end the song playing on repeat. That's when she noticed the other phone still recording the whole moment. And she flashed a smile to the camera, her canine seeming to twinkle in the light.

"Come in," she recomposed herself. Hands folded on the table.

Y/n on the other hand, had composed herself on the outside. But internally she was a wreck. She never knew Emily would be so capable of making her a mess. Yeah, she's thought about it, but it wasn't anything like what just happened.

JJ poked her head in. "We just got a case....it's bad." The worry on her face being enough for both to snap into work mode.

~

The case was over in a week. A week of sleepless nights and too much coffee. Everyone was exhausted.

"I can not wait to be on that plane," Y/n groaned. "I swear I'm taking tomorrow off. I'm going to sleep all day long."

"Now that does not sound like a bad idea," Luke agreed, along with the others. "A nice little at home day. What do you say Chief?" He turned to Emily.

She took a good look at everyone's exhausted face, and her decision was clear but she took too long to observe and didn't notice Y/n walking over and hugging her.

"If you say no, I will make the world think you actually hate us." Y/n playfully threatened, smiling up to her boss and practically skipping back to her bags. "I mean it." She suddenly had a serious face on.

Emily knew it was just the sleep deprivation that was causing this much attitude. But a little part of her, felt that she really did mean it. "Fine, tomorrow you can all have the day off. It'll be Saturday anyways." She gave in.

They all cheered as they boarded the plane. Spencer spread out on the small couch, JJ across curled up into a chair, Luke and Rossi on the other side sitting horizontally from each other, Matt and Tara in the other seats across from each other. Then there was Emily.

Y/n figured she would've sat across her, keeping a small space, but she wasn't complaining when she sat next to her. "Switching it up on me?" She teased.

"Mm well, I figured last time we were this close we got even closer." She threw back, reminding the agent of their last encounter. "Did you ever post the video?"

Slightly stunned, she shook her head. Her ponytail brushing against the seat and reminding her of her headache. She went to reach for it, eager to pull it out.

"Here," Emily broke in quickly. "Let me," her hands were up by the black rubber band suddenly. Carefully pulling at it and the hair. Dropping the hair tie onto the table and taking it upon herself to scratch the others head. Her nails sending tingles all down Y/n's body.

And y/n couldn't deny it, Emily was good with her hands. She seem to suddenly know how to touch her in ways she didn't even know. She scratched in the right spot and she hummed a moan as her eyes were shut.

The team all looked over to the two of them. Questioning at first but then laughing. "So she finally gets the famous 'Prentiss scratch," Spencer cracks the joke.

"Have you all had one..." Y/n sharply inhaled when she got a new spot. "Ohmygod..." she whispered as her face contorted.

"Enjoy it while it last, you only experience it once. Mine was four years ago." Luke mentioned.

"Mine was for my birthday, I felt like my hair was thirty times lighter." JJ gave her experience. Soon everyone was talking about theirs.

And before she could process any words, Emily's hands were leaving from her head. "No, don't stop!" She protested, earning chuckles from around at the reaction. But her hands left anyways, and Y/n whipped to look at Emily. Her pupils blown wide.

It wasn't a reaction Emily thought she could get. Did her touch really work her agent up that much? A sly smirk crossed her lips as she shook her head and turned away.

"You can't just give us the knowledge of how good your head scratches are and then just rip it away! That's vicious!" She put up a fight. Hoping that it would get Emily to continue her actions. "I thought you liked us..." her eyes suddenly pleading.

"I'm with her on this one, come on Prentiss!" Luke played along. "It's a gift, those hands."

Y/n dropped her head to look at Emily's hands. They were stunning. How only a few rings decorated them, but they all matched perfectly. Matching the bracelet that wrapped her wrist. Then were her arms. Strong and yet so careful. Sculpted by the best.

"Those hands..." Y/n mouthed to herself. Her eyes snapping up to Emily's. Already finding hers staring back. With a huff and blushing cheeks, Y/n turned away.

~

Y/n woke up, but it was colder on the planes than usual. Everyone was asleep, and by best guess they still have four more hours. It was too cold to sleep though, she wanted her sweatshirt.

But she was on the inside, the window seat. It was either over and out or under or just climb over the sleeping woman.

"Do you need something?" Emily's eyes fluttered open. Her head rolling over to stare. Even waking up she was still beautiful.

"It's cold..." she mumbled. Hoping it wasn't to much to ask, "my sweatshirt is in my bag." But instead, Emily slipped out of hers and handed it over. Falling back asleep before any protest could begin.

She sat there with the sweatshirt in hand. Knowing there was nothing to do but put it on. And so she did, along with setting up her phone and grabbing the mic of her headphones.

The video began. "Hey vlog, or whatever...turns out, I read her ," the camera panned over to Emily. "Signs right! She gave me her sweatshirt and the video we made...guys listen I can't even add it in because of how intimate it is. Maybe I'm delusional though. Cause she's literally my boss ...I think I'm being crazy....nah, she definetly likes me. Emily Prentiss, I hope you're ready for what's next." And the video ended. Lasting a little over a minute.

But she didn't fall back asleep, she couldn't. Her mind raced with too much thoughts. For another two hours she had to weighs her pros and cons of going for it.

Eventually she rubbed her eyes and sighed. She leaned back and closed her eyes again. Counting sheep until she drifted off.

A few more hours had passed, leaving only an hour left until the landing. Emily had woken up know. Instantly feeling something on her shoulder. Slowly looking down, she saw Y/n peacefully asleep.

In her moment, she pulled out her phone and took a few pictures. Dropping it quickly as the other stirred awake. Lifting her head and peeling open her eyes.

"That was some good sleep, holy shit." She yawned. Her comment earning tired laughs from everyone else. She leaned over to Emily, "see how they all are followers? Waking up at the same time as me? Wannabes." She joked.

Emily shook her head. "I'm glad you got some sleep." She hummed. Checking her phone now, and when she opened it, the pictures were pulled up. She tried to swiped out of them, but Y/n had seen them.

Blushing madly when the woman met her eyes. It was a hard stare, causing feelings to arise when they shouldn't. Her legs squeezed slightly at the eye contact. "Was that...I'm sorry if I was leaning, I truly didn't mean to." The apology fell with a laugh following. It was genuine and still light. "You're a little weird though, Unit Cheif Prentiss. Taking pictures of your young sleeping agent."

Her comment was full of playfulness. Emily knew that easily. It made her smile slightly. "Can you blame me? When a cute agent as yourself is sleeping, it's no doubt I'd take pictures."

Y/n elbowed her arm and shook her head, looking down to her phone. "Be careful, if someone sees they'll think I'm your sugar baby." The joke fell without second thought.

It caught Emily off guard. How easy the joke was made. She didn't continue playing the game, silently pondering over the joke.

"Seems like someone can't handle being a sugar mommy," Tara teased from across the way. Having watched the entire interaction. "Should make it your lock screen, really sell it. It'll bring you in more sugar babies. Have one for everyday of the week."

Y/n scoffed with a smirk, "who says I wanna share my new found sugar mommy? I like the attention only on me."

The jet laughed. "You make enough to not even need a sugar mommy, plus, sharing is caring." Matt butted in now.

"Even if I don't need financial support, Prentiss is still attractive and also...I don't care." She gave a shrug, looping her arms with the woman next to her and leaning on her. "There's only room for one sugar baby in her life."

Emily couldn't believe the conversation she was hearing. The term they kept using. Sugar mommy. Would Y/n let her spoil her if she asked?

Then there was the physical contact. How she held onto her. Pushing her breast against her arm and holding on so possessively. Who says I wanna share....her words rang in Emily's head. She wouldn't want to have anyone else if she had her.

She took a quick glance down to the other, finding her completely unphased by the conversation. Instead she was scrolling through her phone, looking for a new trend to partake in.

~

It had been a few days now. Everyone was doing paperwork and trying to finish their day. That's when Penelope came rushing in towards Y/n.

"People are noticing!" She squealed as she put the phone onto the desk. There was an edit made between the young agent and her boss. Comments about how they look 'down bad' for each other. "You and Emily are becoming a very popular topic, fifth trending hashtag."

"That's hilarious. How much evidence is built against us now?" She scrolled through a few comments, them all making her smile. She took it upon herself to scroll further on the new hashtag. Over a thousand videos reacting to the edit and a few more edits.

"Just wait till they find out she's your sugar mommy," Tara came and took interest in the phone as well. "Looking at it now, you two do look like you're beating around the bush."

"Well that's cus it's only a one sided bush. Emily Prentiss does not want anything romantic to do with me." Y/n clicked off the phone, handing it back over. "She probably wants someone more wise and shit. I have a TikTok account with the term bootylicious in it."

Both woman looked down in disbelief. That when JJ came in. "I have know Emily for a while now, and I can tell you know, that woman let's you get away with more than she ever would've. There's definitely two sides of the bush."

The woman in question came out, looking over her team and being curious of what the women were all talking about. "What's the conversation?"

Y/n sighed, "we've become a trending hashtag. They're beginning to think we're more than just friends. Then Tara made the joke about when they find out you're my sugar mommy." She explained shortly. Leaving out the bush part.

"Oh? What are they saying?" Emily questioned, almost feeling desperate to hear more of this new information.

Penelope opened the phone and handed it over. The four letting their boss scroll a bit and read. A small smile cracking on her lips. "Yeah...wait till they find out you're my sugar baby." Emily joked as well.

Truly, she was hiding the sudden excitement. Was there a chance? Surely she had made enough moves for the other to figure it...right? She almost did kiss her the other week.

"I have a meeting though, if anything comes through just shoot me a text." She made her exit, the smile really growing as she couldn't stop thinking of the two together. The things that she would do.

But the thoughts got lost over the long day. Papers being filled out and turned in. By the end, everyone was just happy to be free.

Emily had walk out, her bag in hand. Confirming they were actually done.

"We so have to get drinks. We haven't had a day were we finished reasonably on time." Y/n groaned, stretching from her chair. "Plus I wanna do who we all think will be the drunkest."

"If it's a competition I'm so there," Luke agreed. "But you're so going down."

Tara scoffed, "you do not want to play any drinking game with that one. She reigns undefeated on girls nights."

"We don't know how she does it, she's held the title since the first night. We were all set up that night..." Penelope reminisced in the memory. How drunk they all were...

"But you're so welcomed to try, Alvez." She beamed in pride. "I say we all change and meet in an hour?"

They all agreed and began to walk out together. Emily noticed how Y/n walked over to Penelope's car. "I can drive you?" She offered. "I live closer than Pen does to you so she wouldn't have to go out her way."

She glanced to Penelope, her head now facing away from Emily. Giving the blonde a wink before turning back. "Sure, it makes more sense. Though, this is very sugar mommy esc of you, Emily." She joked as she walked over. Looking through her lashes with such an innocent look, "I bet you'll even put your hand on my thigh and help me pick what to wear, won't you?"

Emily stared down, her pupils dilating at the words. Her lips curled into a devious smile. Her mind running with possibilities.

She simply turned, leading back to her car. Opening the door for the other as she slowly rounded the car, the smirk never leaving her lips.

And for the entire drive her hand traced circled on the others thigh. Yet, Emily never got a reaction. Y/n played it cool and just scrolled through her phone.

Although, Y/n could hardly read anything on her screen. The burning sensation being the only thing she could truly think of. But she enjoyed the game, eager to see how much Emily could take before loosing it.

They parked and walked in silence next to each other. The teen in the main lobby giving a second glance at how the two looked. She had seen the edit and couldn't believe her eyes now. Quick to pull out her phone and film the two getting into the elevator. Capturing how Emily's right hand fell to Y/n's lower back and the two shared a look before moving. Disappearing into the silver box.

Y/n gave a small exhale once it was just the two of them. "Someone can't handle their own game?" Emily's words were quick. Her eyes already staring back and full of wonder.

"I don't know what you're getting at, Agent Prentiss" she tried to deny the grin but it was useless once she looked at Emily. The whole situation was just setting in to her.

It set in even faster when the silver fox had her against the elevator wall. Her right hand gripping at her jaw as the other held her close by the waist. "You don't seriously think you'll win, do you?" Her voice was vicious. "Y/n, you're so much smart than that." Her brown eyes scanned over ever feature, lasting the longest on the plush lips.

The elevator dinged, and in a blink Emily was off her. Standing as if nothing happened, but she was stunned when Y/n walked away...unbothered entirely.

Her hands fiddled with her keys before finding the one to unlock her apartment. Laughing lightly as Emily rested her hands on her hips. "You are handsy, I must say." She joked. As the door unlocked, her hips pushed back into the others, causing the hands to slip more forward. A playful gasp came, "maybe even too handsy!"

She broke from the grasp, entering the home and taking a deep breath. "It's nice to be home," she dropped her stuff by the door. Y/n disappeared around a corner, only giving the choice to follow.

When Emily obeyed, she was speechless. The view from the big window was insane. Being able to see over half the city and the bureau. "If you would like to pregame, I have a mean stash of dark."

"Trying to get me drunk already?" The older came closer, leaning against the cool marble counter. Once again, her answer was a mere laugh.

Y/n had this glimmer in her eyes. It's the same one she has every time she's about to say something unexpected. This time being no different.

She came close to her boss, leaning into her and pulling her down by the neck. "I don't need you to be drunk for you to sleep with me. I already have you and you didn't even notice, so much for a profiler." She backed off now, still housing that devious look. "It's a shame the teams waiting for us, would've loved to see where this went..." her voice trailed off as her eyes looked Emily up and down.

Y/n winked, leaving the guest in the living room as she went to her bedroom. At first not hearing foot steps behind her, then they were hot on her trail. Glancing over her shoulder, she couldn't help the rush of excitement at the frustrated Emily. Everything was going to plan.

Emily turned to shut the door, carefully and not slamming it. Spinning on her heal to really lay it down, but Y/n stood by the closet entrance fiddling with the hem of her shirt. Pulling it up slowly, but right when her bra shows, she turns. Entering the closet with a sexy sway in her hips.

She passed through her outfits, trying to find the new dress she ordered. As she was about to push the George Town sweater over, hands wrapped around her waist and a nose was burrowing into her hair.

She let it play out, continuing to search for the dress. Stepping over twice while the woman still held her. Her hand pushed the black formal dress over, finding just what she was looking for. She felt the felt of the hanger under her hand, but forgot everything by a new touch. Soft lips hovered over her neck, letting warm breaths fan over the skin. Skilled hands roaming up to her chest and cupping her boobs through the bra.

The moan was light, quiet. But the groan following from behind was deep, lustful. "Is that all it took? Touching you right?" Emily whispered against her ear.

Y/n wanted to cave in, she was ready to as well, but she knew just one more would win her everything. So, with a steady hand, she grabbed the dress and turned in Emily's arm. "And what would you know about touching me right? Do you fantasize about me? Is that how you know?" Her voice steadier than ever.

Emily let her tongue dart over her lips. "You have no idea..." she thought this was it. That drinks would be forgotten and she could finally have her.

But it's never easy with Y/n. "I can give you a sneak peak if you'd like..." she beamed up to Emily. Not giving her the chance to respond as the younger stood on her tip-toes to be next to her ear. Fake quiet moans falling from her plush lips, "oh...right there...yes Emily...yes.."

Her grip tightened on the other's waist as her breathing became erratic. "Baby, id make you scream." She leaned her lips closer. She was right there, lips practically on hers.

That's when the small laugh came, and Emily had no idea what was so funny. "I always win," was all she got out before breaking away and leaving Emily on the verge on loosing it.

She groaned again, this time in frustration. Her head was shaking as she tried to piece together what the next move could be. The dress, she figured.

Her eyes snapped up when she thought of the outfit. Hands covering her face as she tossed her head back. It hugged onto her so well, showing off enough legs to keep Emily busy for hours. The perfect amount of cleavage could be seen. And the flowy sleeves to give a little arm coverage. It fell right below her ass.

Emily swallowed thickly as she left towards the door. Trying to ignore the sound of laughter that followed her out. "Can't handle a little skin?" She teased as she brushed pass. Locking her door before looping her arm to Emily's and handing over her keys.

The action confused Emily. "Why didn't you bring a purse? I'm sure you had one?" They stood outside the elevator.

"I don't plan to come home tonight," Y/n hummed. She stepped a little closer to the woman, squeezing her arm just a little to bring her eyes down. "That is...if you give up first. Cause I can play this out all night. And personally, I don't think you can last all night."

"You have no idea what I'm capable of, bunny." She gave the new nickname. And it made Y/n's heart beat a little faster and her smile grow a little more. The blush dusting her cheeks as her pupils dilated a little more.

"Bunny? Is that because you're a silver fox?" Y/n joked, feeling excited at the new found name. The elevator opened and the two get on. Just them. Neither one stepping away or saying anything until they hit the eight floor.

The doors opened and in walked a man that seemed unfamiliar. He was fine as he was...until he gave a once over on Y/n, then one on Emily. The difference being the smirk he gave the first, then the disgusted he gave the second.

He seemed closer to Y/n's age, and that's what they assumed was the reason for his comment. "If you ever get tired of the old hag, I can support you." The words fell out and both agents seemed star struck.

"And what is it you do for a living?" Y/n asked, loving how the interacting had Emily pull her closer to her and wrapped her arm around to hold her hips.

"I'm a college professor. Youngest in my building." He flashed his smile. Enjoying the attention, but soon letting his mood fall when the woman shared a look. "And what does she do? Crochet and feed her cats?"

"She's the FBI's section chief....so I think she's got you beat..." Y/n shrugged with a mocking look. Getting a mean look as he got off on the fifth floor. Grumbling as he shook his head. The doors closed a few seconds after. "I told you people think you're my sugar mommy."

Emily scoffed and let the tiny smile spread on her lips. "Maybe you're the one who fantasizes...this whole sugar mommy talk. Would you like me to spoil you rotten? Is that what this whole game is?" Her hand sliding down from the hip to rest right on her lower back.

It was a quick motion suddenly. She pushed Y/n forward and let her arms wrap her up. Her left hand holding onto the left boob and her right hand gripping her right thigh.

Y/n's hips pushed back into Emily. "I don't kn-,"

"I don't know? But bunny, you do know. You know you want to give in and just let me have you." Her hand slid closer to her core. "We could have so much fun if you give in."

It was tempting, but she shook her head. They were at the second floor. Trying to ignore the hand slipping into her panties. How close she was.

The elevator dinged, and Emily was off in no time. Something she was so good at. Disappearing like a ghost. Leaving Y/n cold from her touch.

The doors opened and Y/n relooped their arms. Passing the teen in the lobby once again. Y/n flashing her a friendly smile as they left. Emily's car being right in the front.

~

It was about two in the morning, and the drinking battle was about to begin. With the entire bar watching, Luke and Y/n had ten shots of light, and three dark shots.

Matt stood behind him, cheering him on. Saying how the rumors were fake and she couldn't drink. And Y/n knew they were all drunk and just saying things cause they can.

Emily was behind her. Hands on her hips as she gave them a squeeze. "Put him in his place and make me proud, bunny." Her voice was seductive on all levels.

Y/n met Luke's eyes. Both having hands on the pool table by their first shot. "You're so fucked Alvez," she slurred. She leaned over to him slightly, "I'm gonna make her proud."

"Wait let's film this!" Penelope came up. Setting up one of their phones to capture both of them. Giving a drunk thumbs up as Tara stood on the other end.

She inhaled, "ok, I want it nice and clean. Ready.." the room went silent. "Set..." the two contestants glance at each other one last time. "Go!" Tara shouted.

It was a blur, truly. Shot after shot. They stayed close the entire time, but by the fifth, Luke began to slow by a millisecond. That was all Y/n need for a lead, and she jumped three shots ahead. Making it to the darks before he could get down his sixth. Cheering when she slammed down the last one.

Her arms in the air as the room cheered with her. "I told you Alvez! I make my woman proud!" She gloated around. Reaching and grabbing the two dark shots he never made it to and turned to hand one to Emily. Pleased when she understood and they shared the victory.

JJ laughed at the sight, "do you even have a limit?" She also grabbed an unfinished shot. Passing one to Tara and Penelope. Matt taking the last vodka shot and handing Rossi the dark.

Y/n shook her head with a wide smile. "I was the academies party animal. I had to be able to out drink everyone." She spilled her secrets.

"You're who threw the party that nearly caused a city power outage?" Tara furrowed her brows, enjoying the openness.

Y/n grinned, "that's me! I out drank Captain Johnson that night." She took pride in that achievement.

"Mmm as much as I would love to hear a drunk confession, we are closed. Your drinking battle was the last round I poured." The bartender came over and informed.

And everyone was out within half an hour. The team biding drunken goodbyes as they went their own ways. Everyone too drunk to notice Y/n and Emily leaving together.

Their drive back to the closer apartment being filled with humming and wind blowing through the car. They stopped at a stop sign, and Y/n stopped humming along.

A sudden realization that the night was almost over...and Emily had still yet to make the her move. "What's wrong?" Her voice rang through her head. "You seem upset now..." the worry laced her words, only to be countered with a cute pout.

"You're being stubborn." Y/n grumbled. The effects of how much she drank really getting her in the car. Which was new for Emily to be witnessing.

She figured that the passenger would be more submissive now, but that would be too easy. Y/n was the farthest thing from easy. Always throwing in a curve ball. This was her drunken curve ball.

While the light stayed red, she just acted. Grabbing Emily's jaw with her light pink nails digging just slightly into her soft flesh. She brought the older closer, tight to touching their lips.

"Why won't you give in?" She pouted. Eyes flickering down to her lips, then back up. "Do you not want me? Have you played me Emily?" Her voice was quiet and fragile.

A laugh nearly fell out of Emily's mouth, but she contained it. Grabbing the hand that held her face, "because I want to be able to do whatever I want with you." She pulled the hands away as the light turned green. Y/n huffed and crossed her arms. Looking away and out the window. "Pouting about it won't help your side, bunny. You could give in and we'd be over this game already."

"No," the response was instant. Her eyes wide and back on Emily. "I'll play this game forever until you give in. I know you want me in ways I can't even think of, so you'll be the one suffering. Especially since you can't do anything about it." She yapped. Her mind truly telling her that her plan was going to work.

Emily rolled her eyes as they pulled up to Y/n's apartment. Ignoring the questions of why they were here. She opened the passenger door, sighing at the agent who was acting childish.

"Y/n."

"No."

"Y/n, let's go."

"No."

They got into a staring match. And Emily was just not having it anymore. It was late and she was tired just as much as the other was. So instead, she reached in.

"Wait no, stop!" Y/n tried to protest but the hold Emily had was too strong. She was thrown over the shoulder as she kept trying to get free. "Out me down! My butts gonna show!"

That's when a hand was placed over it. Holding the dress down and making Y/n burn red. As soon as it was there, it was gone and she was set down. Facing the elevator.

"You're no fun." She grumbled. Meeting the brown eyes in the reflection. It earned her a small laugh as the doors opened and she got nudged in.

"And you're drunk. If that's even possible." Emily joked. Her hands found home on the others waist. Holding her swaying body up and from falling. "But you did take thirteen shots in a row. Which I must say, is pretty impressive."

Y/n suddenly switched moods. Turning with a bright smile. "Anything to make you proud." Her eyes being genuine with each word. "Luke never stood a chance anyways."

"That confident from the start, huh?" Her brow arched in question.

Y/n shrugged, "I had you on my side from the start. Well actually I planned it and you fell right into the trap. But shhh that's a secret." Her index finger rose to her lips.

"Your trap?" Emily was full of curiosity now. What plan did she come up with? "Tell me about it?" But she shook her head, spinning to face the silver doors. "Please? What did that pretty head plan?" Still nothing. "Bunny?"

The doors opened and the younger was gone. Swaying while fidgeting with her keys for the right one.

It wasn't until Emily came up and carefully grabbed the keys. Getting the door open in only a few seconds. The accomplishment getting a loud cheer from Y/n, who was being directed into the apartment.

This did not set well with Y/n. And making it easy wasn't gonna happen either.

Before Emily knew it, she was chasing Y/n down the hallway. Scooping her up bridal style. "We do not need to be running around like this. Someone will hear us and file a complaint."

Y/n gave a chuckle, "we're the only ones on the floor," she pointed Emily's chest. Stumbling into the apartment and kicking off her shoes. She found her way to infront the big windows.

Emily moved in the silence to get a glass of water. She figured Y/n would stay by the window...but then again she just chased her down the hall.

Arms wrapped around her and a head hit the back of her dark silk shirt. The action was cute, she'd admit that, but she was also set to get some water in with all the alcohol.

Without thinking much of her actions, she turned and gently gripped the jaw. Tilting her head back and bring the glass to her lips. "Drink." Emily simply commanded. Watching at how easily she complied, tapping twice on her wrist to say she was done. "No. All of it. If you can do thirteen shots you can finish a glass of water."

~

Waking up, Y/n felt like hot garbage. She had to have been drunk last night for the consequences she would face. Especially once her stomach begin to turn. In a blink she was in the bathroom. Letting the night free from herself.

There was a hand holding back her hair and another on her back. And if she wasn't regretting whatever happened, she would've been in defense mode instantly.

"I'll go get you some water," Emily's voice rang in her head. Oh dear god. What happened last night?

She sat back and tried to recall anything. Not getting past roughly ten. She came home with Emily, then went out for drinks, then had said drinks.

The possibilities of what could've happened continue to haunt her. "Here," the voice broke her thoughts. She looked up to Emily, who was giving such a kind look almost always while looking at her and holding out a glass of water.

It made her feel less nervous. "Emily Prentiss, did you sleep with your sugar baby while she was drunk?" She joked about what she thought happened, taking the glass. She wanted to know what happened in the missing hours.

The comment made her boss flush pink, "no! No you were far too out of it for anything of that sorts..." She shook her head, pausing ever so slightly. "I'd want you to remeber screaming my name."

It was Y/n's turn to flush. "Well played." She downed the water and got up. "Unfortunately I don't remember much after ten...and seeing that it is well into the day makes me assume it was a long night?" She prepared to brush her teeth and rid of the lingering taste in her mouth.

Emily laughed at the confession. "So you would say you finally got drunk?" She teased, coming up close to the other. Y/n rolled her eyes and was about to walk away from the bathroom. But Emily grabbed her wrist and spun her back. Holding her firmly at the waist. "You didn't answer my question."

"Wouldn't you enjoy that? Me obeying you so easily?" Y/n was so easy to quip back. Never in the mood to back down. "And even if I did confess that to you, nobody would believe you."

Emily was surprised at the remark. "You think the team wouldn't believe me? And why's that? You have something to counter it?"

"If you as much say a word of me being drunk, you'll never get what you want. And I will make it only hell for you." She got closer, the two being nothing but a whisper apart.

"And what is it I want?"

"Me."

"Confident much?"

Y/n answered with a smirk of many implications. Leaving the grasp to change into a different lounge outfit.

"Do you have any Saturday plans I should be aware of?" Emily sat on the edge of the bed. Watching as Y/n moved to collect a new outfit. Throwing each article onto the bed.

"Why yes, actually! I have a hot date coming over." She flashed a smile over her shoulder. "Wouldn't want to third wheel would you?"

Emily rolled her eyes and looked towards the window, facing away from Y/n. "Your date would be the one third wheeling." She was about to stand, but she was weighed down.

Y/n had made her way over into Emily's lap, straddling her and looking down to her. "You're right. Especially because you're my sugar mommy. If they touched you I think I would've lost it."

"So you admit it?" Emily had a hopefully grin. Hoping that maybe, just maybe, this was it.

"Admit to what exactly?"

"That you would let me spoil you. Be your sugar mommy?"

"Mm...no. I don't need your money. Plus, being a sugar mommy is an arrangement with no feelings involved. And if I wanted to put myself through a literal living hell than I would, but that's not on my bucket list. Not good for my mental state either." She answered truthfully without directly saying her truth.

Emily processed the words, slowly putting them together. Not realizing how Y/n began to form a smile and get up. Her head shaking while she thought in her own world.

"I don't have any Saturday plans. The most is finding some movie that I haven't seen before. Do you have any Saturday plans?" She began to get dress.

Emily was still in her own world with the words. And when she looked back to the now dressed woman, she was full of questions.

"So does that mean...?" Was all she let out, still not knowing if she meant was she meant.

Y/n laughed and came to stand in front of Emily. Hands on her shoulders, and Emily's pulled her closer by the back of her thighs. "You are the worst profiler in the entire unit," Y/n teased, a cocky smirk in her lips.

"But that whole little game you played? You're telling me you meant it?" Emily stared up, confused still by the idea of it.

Someone as young as Y/n having a crush on someone older. Old enough to be her mother almost.

"The idea is not that hard to grasp Emily Prentiss. I like you for you. I don't want you for some arrangement. I want you as my girlfriend." Y/n cupped her cheek, bringing her lips to be just a breath away. "But now that you mentioned my little game, just know I still plan to win."

The younger began to back up, making the mistake of turning her back on Emily. It was the second her back was turned, that Emily was moving. Spinning her around and pinning her between the dresser.

"I am not playing your game anymore. You're not going to tell me all that and then just walk away after a night of teasing." Emily's eyes were dark and swarming with emotions.

Y/n cupped her cheek once more, watching the woman lean into the touch. Turning her head to place a kiss to her palm. From her palm to her fingertips and back, the action caused Y/n to fail at comprehending anything. How delicate Emily's lips were against her skin. To be able to feel her lips pushing against her skin.

"Give in." Y/n whispered, knowing she was only a few seconds off from giving in herself.

"What is winning to you?" Emily kept placing kisses against her skin, trailing up her arm and to her neck.

They met eyes finally, a hair apart as they stared at each other. Y/n licked her lips, "everything." And that's when Emily closed the space. Kissing hungrily but softly. Tasting the fresh mint in a delightful way.

Y/n smiled in the kiss, putting just as much emotion into it as the other, if not more. How her heart was beating to a fast pace tune, her mind was silent with only thoughts of Emily.

The two stayed there for a little before the kiss began to get more heated. Emily dropped to scatter kisses all over the others neck. Taking Y/n by surprise with a bite to her pulse point, eliciting a gasp and a grip in the silver mane.

Y/n tried to push off the dresser, her back still digging into the edge, but it seemed Emily was lost in the moment and almost growled. The sound was deep and her voice came out gravelly. "I could practically eat you, you're so sweet. Letting me have you here."

Her hands slipped under the oversized shirt, feeling how soft and warm Y/n was in contrast to her cold hands. Her rings not helping as the metal touched the skin.

Y/n tried to push off again, growing eager to get to the bed. "Emily...the bed is right behind us." She managed out, eyes glossy as she scanned over the messy duvet. Her hand came up to her chest when she didn't get an answer, pushing her off slightly to break her trance.

Emily's breathing was erratic and her pupils blown wide. Her brows dropped as she was confused by the push. "You got a bit too lost there," Y/n blushed. "Is that really what I do to you?"

"Oh bunny you have no idea," Emily smirked. Throwing a look over her shoulder to the bed. "Are you sure about this?"

Y/n followed and glance over Emily's shoulder, looking at the bed. "Yes. But...I won Emily." She smirked up, watching the dread fill her eyes. "Oh trust me, you'll enjoy me being in charge. I'm full of surprises remember?"

The older groaned and took a step back. "What is it you want me to do?" She sounded almost defeated.

Y/n laughed and pushed her back to the end of the bed. Leaning over her slightly, "you make it seem like I'm going to torture you. You wait here for five minutes, I'll knock and you'll close your eyes and then I'll tell you to open them, m'kay?"

"That's it?"

"That's it."

"Fine." Emily agreed. Sitting for the two minutes on the edge of the bed, taking in every detail in the room. Hoping to see it again. The knock had came and Emily closed her eyes.

Y/n peeked her head in first, making sure they were closed. Before going in to set up her winning. She had changed into a cute lingerie set, one she knew Emily wouldn't be able to resist.

The outfit change taking five minutes. "Ok." She stood right in front of Emily. Entirely on display for her. "You can open your eyes."

And when Emily did, her mouth ran dry. Y/n looked absolutely stunning. "I don't.."

"Ruin me Emily Prentiss." Was all Y/n had to say before she was being pulled in and being covered in kisses.

Emily took her time covering every inch she could get with kisses. Leaving several hickies on her neck before scattering them all across her chest. To anyone else it would look like a whole different story.

Y/n's pants and moans spurred the boss on. She truly would start to believe Emily had fantasize about this for how she just knew where to touch. It made her squirm for more. "Mmm, Emily..."

"I'm going to take my time with you." She was nothing short of stating a fact. "You look so adorable in this set. Have you been saving it?" Her deep brown eyes bored down at Y/n. "Did you order it with that dress from last night? I never told you how good you looked." Her head dipped down and kissed over the hardened nipple. Sending a jolt of electricity through her body. "And then when you beat Alvez," a kiss to the other. "You truly are something special, Y/n."

Her hands slipped behind to unclasp the mesh bra. Freeing the boobs and watching them naturally be. Emily licked her lips once again, ducking to the right nipple first.

Her tongue swirling over it lightly at first, but then adding more pressure. Listening to the sinful sounds that rang in the room.

"Emily...please..." Y/n breathily begged. Not knowing if she was ready for what Emily was planning. But her answer was teeth grazing her chest. Earning a new sound from the woman above.

"Baby, best things come when you wait. I want to work you up so much that it's undeniable that you'll never want anyone else." Emily answered truthfully, continuing her ministrations.

Y/n was lost in the feeling, but it wasn't enough. And it was clear it wasn't going to be enough anytime soon.

And after minutes that felt like timeless hours, Emily began to move down further. Her hair tickling in her previous place. She was back to her loving kisses all across her thighs. Feeling the legs shake slightly.

"You're so easy to work up," Emily hummed against the inner thigh. Her eyes staring up at the beauty above her. Watching as her head shook side to side. "Really?"

"You're just better than what I imagined," Y/n confessed without thinking. Realizing her words too late to even take back, and she knew they fed Emily's ego like a three course meal.

She wanted more though. Emily pulled back and hovered over Y/n, a yearning look hidden behind all the lust. "You've imagine it? So you do admit it. You've thought about me in naughty ways, how perverted of you." A laugh followed out. Making Y/n suddenly feel small at the comment, and not in an enjoyable way.

There was no answer in return and that's when Emily could see through the clouds. She had crossed a line and potentially screwed everything up.

Without realizing, the silver fox backed off entirely. Moving to the end of the bed and rubbing her eyes a bit. "Y/n...I'm sorry if I've crossed a line."

The younger sat up, crawling over to the other. Grabbing her hands and holding them silently at first. Trying to gather the right words for this situation. "...it's ok, but just know you're dealing with a pillow princess in all honesty. I like to be treated highly, like when you call me bunny. I enjoy that very, very, much. Your stone cold demeanor is sexy at work, but I want the real Emily Prentiss. The one who knows what emotions are." She snuck her hand on Emily's cheek and leaned in. Kissing her softly and with unspoken words. "Now don't let this afternoon be ruined." Y/n whispered before slowly moving toward the middle of her bed.

Sitting on her knees with her back arched and pushing her bruised chest forward. Her eyes glistening for Emily to come finish what she's started.

And Emily was not going to miss her chance. She took a deep breath and her eyes were filled with lust again. Exciting Y/n on a new level. She made her way up, standing on her knees as her hands slipped around the smooth waist. Leaning in and claiming the plush lips as her own now, forcing Y/n to bend back as well. Emily sunk down with each kiss until she was eye level.

"Can I undress you?" Y/n fiddled with the shirt. Only now realizing that Emily was in her clothes. The shirt and sweats making her seem so at peace. But as her hardened nipples poked against the fabric, it was hard not to imagine the lack undergarments.

A small smile played on Emily's lips, "of course you can, bunny." The two stood and Y/n took her time. Trying to mentally prepare to see her wild thoughts with her own eyes now.

She played with the hem of the shirt, balling it up before pushing the fabric up. Showing of the freckles that adored her chest. Taking a moment to admire the skin details, eager to ingrain every spot into her brain.

Her eyes then jumped up to Emily, who was staring and focusing on every move. "You're absolutely stunning...." Y/n let the smile take over as she leaned in for a kiss. Their bare chests pressing against each other.

The warmth of Y/n clashing with the coldness of Emily. But together they balanced the other out. Cooling down the burning skin, and warming up the icy touches.

Pulling back only slightly, Y/n slid her hands down. Slipping her hands to push down the shorts. Revealing the simple black underwear.

"Those mine?" Y/n gave a playful laugh, figuring if everything else was.

Emily shook her head though, "no I went home while you were asleep. I had to change from last night's clothes."

Y/n furrowed her brows. "So then why wear my clothes?"

"So that even when you were asleep, I could still be surrounded by you." Emily answered so easily. Gaining blush from the younger.

Emily would've loved to stay in that moment, it was simple and the start of something new, but when Y/n stood there in nothing but lace panties, it was hard to stay there.

"I could be surrounded by you forever," Emily smirked before pushing the other back onto the bed. Not waiting to dive to where they both wanted her. She took a deep breath in, "you smell so sweet, do you taste this sweet?"

Y/n let out a giggle, "you could find out." She propped herself up a bit on her elbows. Finally seeing Emily between her legs, growing impossibly wetter at the sight.

Maybe it was the lighting, but the sparkle in Emily's brown eyes was enough to say she planned to. She littered a few more kisses, leading Y/n to believe that there was more teasing, but with the first swipe of her tongue, both knew how this was going to end.

It was like an instant addiction. One Emily would never get enough of and wouldn't want to try and quit. And maybe she got a little out of hand when she tore the panties right off. Causing a surprised gasp to echo in the room as she dived right back in.

The room being filled with Y/n cursing, panting, moaning, and lewd Emily's that slipped from her mouth. It had to be a crime how good she was.

"Mm..fuck Emily," her name came out broken on Y/n's tongue. Her head rolling into the comforter under her. Emily swirled around her clit, moving so smoothly.

The tightening in her stomach grew suddenly. But right as she thought she would find a release, Emily wasn't working her magic anymore. Instead, she watched as Y/n clenched around nothing before meeting her eyes. "I told you. And with how addicting you are bunny? God we're gonna have a fun time," she smirked. Her hands massaging at the pillowy thighs. "You're beautiful you know that? Anybody would be lucky to have you."

Her hands slid up to her waist. Squeezing it in her hands and humming. "You look amazing in everything as well. It would take an entire country to make you look bad. But even then, you'd still be the most beautiful." She kissed all over her stomach.

Kissing up between her boobs. Where she took notice of how ragged her breathing was. "To be able to share these moments with you, baby. I promise to never let you go. I'll make sure you're safe everyday."

Her lips pressed against her neck. Sinking into the already bruised skin and sucking. Listening to the moan. They drove her into a different dimension, she would swear on that.

Y/n choked on a gasp as two fingers slid into her, catching her once again by surprise. The burn of being stretched was tedious, but it melted into pure pleasure. "You..." she couldn't think as Emily moved her hand. Her mind drawing to a blank as her palm hit her clit as it went.

"Yes baby?"

"You...mmmph...do you mean it?"

"Every word."

Tears pricked in the corner of Y/n's eyes as the feeling drew her close again. She prayed her legs not to give her away, but they work on their own for Emily. It seems all of Y/n worked against her. They began to shake, trying to close around her hand and keep it there, but with Emily in between, it was useless.

"Please," Y/n huffed. Her back arching up off the cover. And when she was just one more thrust away, Emily was gone again. "You so suck." She panted while looking up at the white ceiling.

"Oh, is someone upset they didn't get their way?" Emily faked a pout. Leaning in close and placing a chaste kiss to her lips. "I've told you my plan."

"The working me up?! If that's the case I want to redo my reward." Y/n sat up quickly and crossed her arms.

"Oh yeah?" Emily laughed a bit, "and what is it you want now? Even if you change it all now, you're still all worked up and no release. Now who do you think is gonna give it to you?"

Y/n blinked a few times, really thinking it over. Emily was right. She was worked up twice and knew it wouldn't be the same now that she's had Emily. She pondered a little more before crossing her arms and looking away.

"Are you gonna keep pouting?" Emily tilted her head to the side. Not getting Y/n to look at her. She knew what the other was wanting, it was obvious. "You are one princess you know that?"

Y/n smirked over her shoulder. "I told you I was, remember? Right after you called me a pervert?"

"You gonna hold that over my head?"

"Till you're on your knees begging me, I will sit here and look away." Y/n looked away again. Letting the choice be up to Emily now.

And man did Emily enjoy this more than she thought. The brattiness wasn't over done and Y/n knew what she deserved. She still held more control than she let on. Emily could feel herself give in almost instantly too, but she held down for a few seconds.

Then, she pulled Y/n to the end of the bed and got down in front of her. Hands traveling up her legs and wrapping them around her own head. Emily now sat with her head between Y/n's legs and looking up to her.

She placed caring kisses to the thighs next to her. "Is this better?" Emily glanced through her lashes, meeting the others eyes.

"You're not begging." She had spoke down to her, a devious smirk pulling at her lip. "Why should I let you?"

"That's how you play?" A brief nod. A beat of silence. And a silent sigh of defeat. "Please bunny, I need to taste you again. You've denied me too long. Please, please, please, I need you." Her humorus tone disappears as as she spoke, turning into true desperation as she could smell the effect of her words.

Her hands held her thighs, her grip tightening. Y/n wasn't budging yet. She was holding out on her self just to watch Emily fall apart. "Y/n. Please. I can't wait long. Please."

Y/n gave a look, tilting her nose into the air a bit to look down. Opening her legs to give Emily access and wearing a winning smile. "That's so much better," her tone was cockier than ever. Even her moan as Emily took her first swipe again.

And even for the second time, Y/n still tasted just as addicting. She sounded even angelic with her sinful noises. Everything about her lured Emily further in. Almost loosing herself in the moment. Her mind could think of nothing other than the beauty on the bed.

"God, Y/n...." she hummed lowly. "You're just so delicious. So beautiful. So desirable." Her tongue picked up. Her thoughts of wanting to see the other fall apart becoming heavy. "Just like that baby."

Y/n gasped once more before her breath hitched in her throat. The knot in her stomach snapping without much warning. Her hand flew down to Emily's hair, nails scratching at her scalp as she rode out her high. Profanities running from her like no tomorrow.

Emily once again littered her kisses once more before coming up. Placing a kiss to Y/n's plush lips, but following as it turned into a soft make out.

"Fuck Emily." Y/n laughed. She couldn't help but to think of the moment that just happened. "You definitely had fantasies."

The silver fox shook her head with a smile, laying down and pulling the other into her. "You know how to lure someone in, it's hard not to think of you." She shrugged off her truth. "We still have the rest of the day....can I take you to dinner?"

"Aww, was I not fulfilling for you?" She joked one more time before kissing Emily. "I would very much like dinner with you. But....it looks like I was in a fight and lost..."

Emily sat up and looked down at the other. Scanning over the amount of love bruises that covered her. "That does seem like an issue, you don't have any makeup?" A shake of the head. "Well then I guess we're going on a run to get you makeup and something to cook for the night."

"We're gonna cook? Didn't you almost give someone food poising last time you cooked?" Y/n loved how the idea sounded, she was thrilled. "What'd you have in mind anyways?"

Emily let a nasty smirk take over again, and Y/n could hear the thoughts and laughed. "Something easy. Maybe pasta? Then after....who knows what'll be for desert."

The younger let out another laugh at the implied. "Fine, but I'll make it a deal. We make a video while cooking, and then I'm all yours again. But the video has to get at least 100 likes by the time we finish."

"And if it doesn't?"

Y/n let her smile grow even more, "then you get nothing."

"What?!"

A shrug was her answer, "I don't make the rules." She sighed, glancing to her bathroom. "I could go for a shower, couldn't you?"

Emily looked over to the bathroom as well, taking a second to process what was being implied. "I could, I really could!" The thought to see the woman in her arm dripping with water and soap worked her up all over again.

~

Monday had came again, and the team was back in the bullpen. Enjoying the paper work to the best they could.

Penelope however was walking at a dramatic pace to find Y/n. Eager to know about this weekend that was all over TikTok now. And she came in hot with her phone already being opened. "Y/n! Care to explain?" She shoved the phone in.

Y/n watched the cooking video, smiling at the time they had. "We spent our Saturday together. And maybe our Sunday too but that's all."

Tara laughed enough to let everyone know she was listening. "Cooking doesn't leave a mark on your neck though." She pointed out the hickey right below her ear.

The side eye she received was vicious, "I burnt myself curling my hair."

"Yeah ok," Emily walked in with a knowing smile.

Tara leaned over to JJ, "bet the curling iron was that Prentiss brand."

"All the way up to it seems," the blonde fed the joke. "And what did you cook?"

Y/n sighed, feigning hurt," you don't even follow my account? You've made like a gazillion appearances."

JJ shook her head, "I don't have TikTok. But let me guess, there was a deal within that video that only you two know about?"

Emily came back with her coffee in hand, and another for Y/n. "She didn't win."

Penelope had been standing there shock about how simple they made it seem. "So! What I'm getting is! You two?"

Emily and Y/n shared a secret conversation. Both letting an infectious smile appear, "yeah, us two." They said in union. Too busy getting lost within each other to listen to the blonde jump for joy.

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Love That Burns ~ 20

LOVE THAT BURNS MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 1,810ish

Summary: Logan continues to do whatever is needed for you.

Warnings: nightmares, bad memories

Notes: I hope you like this! Let me know!

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks! 

Your nightmare fueled flames had done more damage to the building than anyone had thought. The whole school was forced to live in the hotel for a month. Though, the parents who were willing did come and get their children quickly. You couldn’t help but feel terrible about the whole situation, despite what others had tried to tell you. 

Logan and you continued to share a room and a bed. You always started out on different sides of the bed only to wake up cuddled together. Neither of you said anything of it. 

You busied yourself throughout every day with caring for the students there at the hotel. Logan busied himself with keeping an eye out on you. He didn’t want to tell you that you had been catching items on fire in your sleep. Or been crying out and thrashing around. Logan had become a master at not waking you while he put the flames out or holding you tightly so that you weren’t able to hurt yourself. He knew that there was more going on in your mind than you had yet to admit and he hated it. So for now, Logan would have to be content to doing what he could.

Finally, it was the last night in the hotel. But you and Logan seemed to be the only ones on edge about it. 

It would be the last time you shared a bed with him. And it killed you to even think about. You sat on the bed, staring at Logan as he brushed his teeth. He caught your eye in the mirror and quickly spit out the tooth paste. 

“What’s going on?” He asked turning around.

“Nothing,” you said, shaking your head.

“You don’t gotta do that.”

“Do what?”

“Lie to me. Act that you’re protecting me or some shit. I can handle whatever you’re thinking.” You looked down at your lap. Logan sighed, coming over and sitting in front of you on the bed. “Talk to me.”

“I’m… overwhelmed…” Logan stayed silent at your admission, letting you continue. “I was tortured. My free will stripped from me by the man who rescued me from homelessness and ruined our lives.”

“Homelessness?”

You sighed. You had forgotten that Logan didn’t know—or remember—your story. “I was homeless because of my father. He killed my mother for being a mutant. He was going to kill me too… I didn’t know about my mutation until that night.”

It was then that Logan realized that you had told him everything you knew about his past and the past you shared, but nothing about your individual past. “How old were you?”

“Early teens. I was in my late thirties when Stryker found me on the streets… before I killed him, he tried to appeal to me. Tried to remind me that I wouldn’t be where I am today without him… it’s the truth. For better or worse… the thing is, is that he called you the animal but I’m the one that ended up killing him.”

“He was an evil man.”

“I’ve learned that that doesn’t always justify actions. You could’ve killed him too and didn’t.”

“I didn’t because you were standing there. If you hadn’t been, it would have been a whole different story.“ You stayed silent. He moved closer to you. “What else is bothering you?”

“A lot,” you mumbled.

“Tell me.”

“I… I don’t wanna be a burden.”

“You never could be, sweetheart. Not to me.”

You could have melted right then and there. If you only knew how much Logan truly meant that. How much he was doing for you without your knowledge, that he never intended to tell you about.

You opened up to Logan that night. About everything. Your past before meeting him, what happened after Charles found you. Your overwhelming emotions about recent events. Logan listened intently, giving comments and light touches when necessary but mostly just there. 

“Thank you,” you told him after everything had been said. You were lying in the bed, ready to fall asleep.

“Nothing to thank,” he responded, leaning over and kissing your forehead. “Get some sleep.”

Your brain was too tired to comprehend anything you were saying anymore, but you still spoke. “I’m going to miss this… time with you.”

Logan’s brows furrowed. “What do ya mean?”

“It’s been different… it’s been good… like before…” You fell asleep almost as soon as the words left your mouth.

Logan’s lips pulled up into a small smile. He finished getting ready and slipped into bed. Tonight, he didn’t wait until your nightmare to pull you closer. Logan wanted to keep you next to him all night.

~~~

“Professor—“

“No.”

Logan halted near the entrance of Charles’ office. “You don’t even know—“

“I am telepathic, Logan, and your thoughts have been growing louder for weeks.”

“I need you to try to held me remember.”

“Logan, I told you—“

“I know what you said but I have to try something. Y/N is trying to put on a brace face but it’s hurting me to see how badly she’s hurting.”

“It could kill you or it may reveal something you didn’t want to remember. It could even make you lose everything again.”

“I don’t care. I have to try something.”

Charles studied Logan for a moment before sighing. It was clear that Logan was determined to do this and Charles would rather be the one to do it than Logan finding someone else who would.

“I will do it,” Charles agreed. “But I will stop if it gets too much, no matter if it’s working or not.”

~~~

Logan found you in your classroom, prepping for the week ahead. You smiled when you saw him come in.

“Hey, Lo,” you greeted. “What brings you around?”

“Need a favor, sweetheart,” he answered.

Your head tilted slightly to the side. Logan wasn’t one to ask for things, so this intrigued you. “What is it?”

He pulled a crinkled paper out of his jean pocket and handed it to you. “I need you to go to the store for me.”

You took the paper from him. “What? Are you serious? Why can’t you go yourself?”

“The Professor needs my help with a project.”

“A project?”

“Yes.”

“And you can’t go after?”

“Don’t know how long it’ll take.”

You sighed. “Fine.”

He shot you a smile. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

“You owe me.”

“Of course.”

~~~

Charles and Logan went down to the lab as soon as you were clear of the mansion. Colossus’s and Scott went down to help if needed. Logan was secured to the table as best as he could be, just in case something happened.

Rogue and Bobby were upstairs, put in charge of making sure you didn’t come down if you arrived home early. Though, Ororo had decided to come along with you and make sure you take your time. But you could tell that something was up because each time you had everything from Logan’s list in your cart, one of the items would disappear.

“Ororo,” you were irritated. 

“What?” She replied, faux innocence.

“Stop taking things from the cart. I want to go home.”

“I wasn’t—“

“I will light you on fire so fast. I’m serious.”

You didn’t let Ororo get near the driver’s side of the car, already wary that Ororo would somehow get you lost on the way home. Rogue and Bobby were there at the door to meet you.

“Let me take those,” Bobby said, swiping the bags from your arms.

“Thanks?” You were growing more confused. 

“Y/N! Bobby is going to take me out tonight and I need help choosing an outfit,” Rogue said, slipping her gloved arm through yours.

“I don’t know—“

“It’ll be fun.” 

She began pulling you up the stairs. You were about half way up when you heard a scream.

“James,” you breathed out. You pulled your arm out of Rogue’s hold and turned around. Ororo and Bobby were standing at the bottom of the stairs. “Move.”

“We can’t do that,” Bobby said.

“Why not?”

“Logan asked—“

“Logan asked what?” Suddenly, it all made sense. The whole day. “Why did Logan need you guys to distract me?” Another loud scream echoed through the halls. “What is going on?”

Ororo sighed. “He asked Charles to try and help him regain his memories,” she told you.

“What? I need to get down there!” You rushed down the stairs, only for Ororo and Bobby to move to block you further. “He could make it worse!”

“Y/N—“

“Move, Ororo, or I will burn this place down to get to him.”

Ororo and Bobby shared a look before they stepped aside. You ran down to the lower levels, with the others close behind. As soon as the doors opened to the lab, you came to a screeching halt. Logan was screaming and struggling against the holds on the table while Charles was at his head, holding it between his hands with his eyes closed in concentration.

“Stop it!” You yelled. “Stop it now!”

“If I stop now, it could make it worse,” Charles stated calmly. You came to Logan’s side and reached out to him. “Don’t touch him.”

You pulled your hand back and leaned closer to Logan. “I’m right here, Logan. I’m here.”

He screamed out in pain, his claws releasing from his knuckles. Tears filled your eyes, hating to see Logan in any pain. You stood by, watching, until Logan eventually passed out. Everyone slowly filed out of the room beside you and Charles. Charles opened his eyes and pulled his hands away from Logan’s head.

“Did it work?” You whispered.

“We won’t know until he wakes,” Charles answered before rolling out of the room.

You set your hand on top of one of Logan’s, brushing it lightly until the claws slipped back into him.

“Wolverine,” Logan mumbled.

“Logan?” You called, trying to coax him awake more.

“Wolverine,” he repeated, slowly opening your eyes. “You told me that story about Coo Coo Ca Choo… it’s the reason I chose the name Wolverine. Do you remember that story?”

You let out a watery chuckle as tears fell. “Do I remember? Of course, I do.”

“You’re the moon and I’m your Wolverine… I’ve got to bring you more flowers.” With barely any use of strength, Logan sat up, breaking the restraints. His hands came up to gently hold your face. 

Your hands came up to hold onto his wrists. “Do you remember anything else?”

He thought for a moment. There were still missing pieces to his memories, but a lot of you were there. “Just the important stuff, baby.”

“Why did you do that? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I had to do something… I hate seeing you hurt.”

“You did it for me?”

“I would do anything for you, sweetheart. Whatever you need.”

next chapter >

[navybrat817]

How would Bucky (any of the soft boyfriends like Stud or the Florist) handle it when their girl gets bad news? Like a death in the family or something of that nature? I could use some soft sweet Bucky.

As someone who was hit with unexpected grief this week, it's tough.

Not Okay

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky comforts you after a bad day.

Word Count: Over 900

Warnings: Established relationship, grief, hurt, crying, comfort, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: You're free to picture this as regular Bucky, Stud, our florist, anyone. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You heard a long time ago that grief comes in waves. Or did it flow through people like a river? Perhaps both. One moment you were fine and then the next you felt as if the tide would sweep you away. It pulled you under, the pain and sorrow like weights dragging you down. It was dark. Hopeless. You feared you wouldn't be able to surface again.

And then out of nowhere, light sometimes burst through the grief like a guiding hand.

“Hey.” A familiar voice beckoned you to pull yourself out of your throbbing head, to not drown in your sorrow. “Are you okay?”

With blurry eyes, you looked up to find Bucky standing over you with concern written all over his handsome face. When did he come in and when had you collapsed on the couch? It was too much of an effort to make it to your bedroom at the time. Why was grief so tiring? Why were normal tasks so hard to manage?

Bucky crouched down, hesitating for a moment as he reached for you. “Is it okay if I touch you?” He asked. Sniffling, you gave him a nod. It meant the world that he asked. The warmth of his touch seeped into you as he helped you sit up, his hands moving up and down your arms in a comforting motion. Why were you so cold? “Can you tell me what's wrong?” He reached up to brush a tear away with his thumb.

There were so many unspoken questions in his stare. What happened? Who did this to you? Are you hurt? How can I make it better? Are you going to be okay? You sensed how badly he wanted to comfort and protect you from whatever he could. He was the kind of man who would have spared you pain and taken it into himself if he had the ability to do so.

How did you get so lucky?

"I…" To say nothing would've been a lie since you were clearly hurting. To say everything also would've been a lie. You were still breathing and had a roof over your head. Tears ran down your cheeks, so you were still feeling and that was better than being numb to it all. You had Bucky. Those were all good things, things to be thankful for.

But not every day could be warmth and smiles. Today was a day of coldness and tears and you were in the eye of the storm, the screams in your head drowned out by the rest of the noise. You had to push through because once the dust settled the sun would come out again. It seemed so far away though, so out of reach.

Bucky wiped another tear, not pushing you to say more. Why couldn't you just tell him what was wrong? It should've been an easy question to answer, but being vulnerable and talking about feelings rarely was. It was like cutting open your own heart and asking someone else to stop the bleeding.

I’m in pain, Bucky. It hurts. It hurts so much and it isn’t fair. Please, take it away. If you can’t take it away, please, make it better somehow. I don’t want to carry this alone.

Maybe that’s why the words were stuck in your throat. You didn’t want your burden to become his. How was that fair? But looking into his blue eyes, you were reminded that relationships were about give and take. Some days you’d have to carry each other through the dark times and other days he’d lift you up. The scale would tip until it balanced again.

That was love.

“I got some bad news today,” you finally whispered, trying not to shatter into a million pieces. Grief didn’t care if you wanted to stay whole or not. It would find the smallest of cracks and burst through whether you wanted it to or not.

Bucky nodded in understanding, still not pressuring you to say more. He knew you’d tell him exactly what happened once you were ready. “I’ll order us something for dinner,” he offered. If he cooked for you, he’d be apart from you for too long. Ordering would allow him to stay with you if you needed him. And you had to eat. “And maybe a movie on the couch under a blanket?” He suggested, so you wouldn’t have to move out of the room if you didn’t want to.

“Yeah. That sounds nice.” You tried to give him a smile after he kissed your forehead. “Thanks.”

“What else can I do?” He asked, searching your face for the answer. “Please, tell me.”

“Just hold me,” you answered. A simple request, but one that took a lot to ask for.

He gathered you into his arms and held you tight, allowing you to stain his shirt with your tears. Crying helped you cleanse your soul, allowing you to let go of things unsaid and slowly start anew. He gently rocked you as the sobs faded to tiny sniffles and he whispered how much he loved you. Through your crying you said you loved him, too. You’d always love him.

Time passed as he continued to hold you, neither of you wanting to move. The hurt didn’t fade completely, but him being your rock and wrapping you up in love was the soothing balm you needed. And for today, that was more than enough.

We could all use a Bucky. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[thatnonameuser]

The Red King holds a Bleeding Head

A Wonderland of Yanderes - Masterlist Chapter 1. Heartslaybul Part 6.

So this is strange.

Last time you came here, Alice recognised you and the card soldiers didn't. And now, someone barely mentioned in your childhood storybooks was standing her before you.

Instead of the tiny animated King that the Queen of Hearts could crush underneath her foot should he ever raise his voice, an actual person was cowering and shivering in fear and anxiety, at the thought of his over-controlling wife finding out about you.

This world just kept getting more and more strange....

<Y-you need to l-leave. I-If she loses h-her temper, you'll lose- > He stammers, trying and failing to push you back into the mirror. The glass remains hard, will it be like that till you wake up? Probably.

"I'll lose my head, I get the jist." Why did he notice you? He wasn't mentioned in the original story until the Queen of Hearts was introduced, so why was he here? "I want to leave but......where exactly is here? And please don't tell me some riddle..."

<You're in the Queen's Rose Garden....b-but how did you even get in here? T-The guards sh-should have stopped y-you> You watch him nervously twist his hold on the cape, and if holds it any tighter it might rip in his grip.

"Probably the same way Alice got here-"

His face blanches, turning so white that it rivals the white petals of the roses. <Who....Who's Alice?>

"She's a girl lost in here, she's supposed to be painting the roses with some of the guards, I haven't seen her since-Mmph!" The Red King slaps a palm over your mouth mid sentence, his eyes widening with terror. You can't hear anything, but you can feel the hand over your mouth start to shake violently.

<Th-the girl....I need to get her out before she finds her!> He takes off running into the depths of the rose garden. Well, the dream brought you here for some reason, maybe he is.

"Hey! Wait up!" You chase after him, because what other choice do you have? Whatever the mirror wanted to show you, what you'd seen already clearly wasn't it.

The Red King disappears around a corner, which you follow only to skid to a stop. You arrived at the original rose garden from your first dream, and it's now filled with dozens of card soldiers. You take a few steps back until you're somewhat hidden by the bushes. Maybe it's best to heed the King's warning, especially with who's in it right now.

Wielding a massive rosebush of red and half painted roses, over her head in anger, with the roots of the bush still clinging to some of the dirt it had been planted in, is the Queen of Hearts.

<For painting my roses red, someone will lose his head!> She looks exactly like the statue in the main street, and her colors have been drained to match the greyscale environment around you. The only color, still a deep red, makes up her dress. She reminds you of the tiny animated King of Hearts.

And she's infuriated.

A paint covered Alice is at her feet with the card soldiers from earlier, who cower fearfully.

<Y-Your Majesty, if anyone's to blame, it's him!> <Have mercy, Your Grace. It was the Ace!> <Gah, no, it was the TWO!> <It was the Three, I say!> The card soldiers are quick to turn on each other, desperate to escape the Queen's wrath.

<Enough of this. Off with ALL their HEADS!> The Queen's voice booms with rage, and a part of you thinks she's going to save herself time with a beheading, and just beat them to death with her rose bushes.

The Red King runs in between with the Queen and her future victims, trying to shield them from his angry 'wife', though captor might be more appropriate. <D-Dear please, they were just trying to correct their mistake!> He tries to reason with her, but as you watch her grip tighten around the rose bushes, it's safe to assume he's doing the opposite.

<Winston, are you disobeying me?> The Queen's voice is deathly low, as if threatening the King, or Winston, to choose his next words carefully.

You watch Winston's face morph into one of abject terror. <No! NO! Of course not! I-I would nev- >

The Queen's hand shoots out and grips his ruffled collar pulling him close, but like a movie you can still hear what she says despite it being a quiet hiss of a threat. <Then, I suggest you hold your tongue before you lose it along with your HEAD!> She yells that last part, just terrifies the person she's supposed to call her 'one true love' more.

Winston looks like he's going to pass out from fear, and even from this far away, you can see him trembling and hear his shakey reply, <Y-Yes, dear. I-I'm sorry.>

The Queen smiles, triumphant, pressing a soft peck to the still terrified and trembling Winston's cheek, either ignoring the evident fear on his face or not caring, before her rage comes forth full strength. <NOW OFF WITH ALL THEIR HEADS>

<Ooooooh! Yaaaaay!>The surrounding card soldiers cheer at the death sentence. The Red Queen smiles in glee at the reception to her verdict, while her husband's eyes meet yours.

Terrified. He's terrified. Why is this considered love, this is just abuse.

<Hee hee hee.> The Queen's even laughing, for shit's sake!! How in the hell was this romanticized! In any way!

The cards start to sing, and it's a chilling tune.

<A fitting end. Color, you can't mend.>

<Everyone knows the roses should be red.>

The world starts to fade around you. Are you waking up? But you still don't know what's going on here. Why was the mirror showing you this anyway? 

Was it trying to convince you this world was even worse than it was?! Because it worked.

You open your eyes to your bedroom ceiling. The sunshine from outside tells you it's dawn. "It was just roses. Why didn't anyone try to help Winston? Why didn't anyone else try to stop the Queen?" You mutter.

You sit up and stare at the window, now normal. Not glowing, no ripples. Slipping Grim from your arms, you slip out of the blankets and approach the mirror. Setting your palm on the glass, it doesn't do anything. It doesn't faze through or pull you into another world.

"So......was it all just a dream?" You don't even have an answer to that, and you're just as confused as you were before. Why do you keep dreaming things like this? What was the point of seeing the life that poor Winston lived?

Is.....Is there someone watching? Is there someone watching you and sending you these? As a warning or to help?

But the contents of your dream, minus what Winston was going through, felt similar to reality. Riddle had kicked out Ace for a petty reason. Sure, it was theft, but it wasn't something worth taking someone's magic over. And if your experience from lunch yesterday held any water, then the card soldiers of Heartslabyul were just complicit. Willing to stand aside if it meant keeping their heads, or in this case, their magic.

But since today's the unbirthday party, let's hope your reality doesn't mimic your dream.

You're still lost in thought about your dream as you push through your morning routine. You're no expert on bad omens, but this feels like a bad omen. Like a really bad omen.

To be honest, you didn't have very high hopes for today. Not because you thought Ace was going to supremely fuck it up, but because having high hopes shot you in the foot yesterday and that was a really long and grueling day. And a little because you thought someone was going to fuck things up.

Mornings are hard enough when you know that you have a long day ahead of you. It's even harder when that long day might involve a lost head.

So when Ace finally pulled himself out of bed, or rather off your couch, while Deuce was using your bathroom, you weren't expecting much.

You also weren't expecting him to take you by surprise while you made breakfast.

He also probably wasn't the punishment of having a rubber spatula slapped across his face.

"What the hell, Ace!" You scream, your once clean uniform now covered in pancake batter from when you jumped in surprise. "Don't scare me like that!"

You're just glad you are making pancakes when he sets his hands on your shoulders instead of taking the pan out because that pan would have probably made a permanent indent in his skull.

“Jumpy much, Prefect?” He laughs, massaging the reddening bruise forming on his face. 

You groan, “And to think I bothered to make you breakfast….”

Ace’s eyes brighten at the mention of food. “Well, don’t mind if I-” 

You snatch the plate out of reach and let a teasing smile cross your face, “Well, I guess you can wait till the party to eat then. Since you’re fine with scaring the person feeding you…”

“Fine, fine, I’m sorry ______.” He puts on his most apologetic looking face as he ‘apologizes’, and it’s so melodramatic that it makes you laugh,  “Food, please.”

You hand them over with a laugh, “Just don’t finish them, the Great Grim will be very hangry if he doesn’t get his tower of pancakes in the morning.”

Ace stuffs one into his mouth, before his eyes widen, “D’l’shush.” He says with his mouth full, and swallows before continuing, “Can you cook for me everyday, Prefect?”

You wipe the stray batter from your vest, there goes your last clean shirt. “Will it stop you from stealing your dorm leader’s tarts?”

“You aren’t letting that go, are you?”

“Nope.” You say with a teasing smile on your face, before turning back to breakfast making. A peaceful start to the morning is nice. It’s probably going to get hectic later on, so you’ll enjoy it while it lasts. 

“Hey, uh, Prefect, can I ask you something?” Ace pauses mid-sentence for some reason, “Something important.”

There it is, “Sure, what’s up?” 

“Do you remember what we talked about last night?” You stop to think for a second. You remember Ace and Deuce talking last night but not what it was about. You occasionally dragged into it, but you responded with one word answers. Now you wish you hadn’t. But you were so tired last night.

“N-Not really.” You curse yourself mentally for the stutter, but you feel the peaceful feeling leech away from your body. You don’t like where this is going.

“We talked about you a lot last night. You didn’t seem to notice.” And now you really didn’t like where this was going. “Juice told me about what happened on Main Street after you went to bed.”

You can feel Ace’s stare through your back. Please don’t go down this street. Please. “Y-Yeah about the delinquents….”

“Yeah, we talked about that but I’m talking about what you told him.” Dammit Deuce, you knew that Ace and Deuce are slowly growing into their friendship, but if Deuce was obsessed with you, why the hell was he telling Ace about your private conversations. 

But Deuce is a yandere that doesn’t know about how to be a yandere. Because his mother, seven bless her, had tried to shield him from the influence that probably made her own life hell for a time. And Ace is a yandere who does know about this stuff. 

Who better to ask than your knowledgeable roommate.

“About what?” You can feel your heart speed up. 

“About your home world.” The grate of a chair on the floor tells you that he stood up, followed by footsteps tell you that he is so much closer. “You’re burning the pancakes Prefect.”

“Shit!” You snap out of your stupor, tossing the burnt pan into the nearby sink. Great, this is going splendidly. “W-What about my homeworld?”

You can feel Ace’s breath by your ear, he’s that close. You can feel a hand on your shoulder, and you tense. “About how your world sees darlings and stuff. Do they really punish what we do?” 

He’s suspicious. Fuck, he’s suspicious. You should have asked Deuce to keep it a secret. But that could have made you suspicious to him. Talk about a Catch 22.

“Yeah….it’s,” You turn to face him. Your face is so close to his. It’s that stupid collar that grants you some distance. “It’s complicated.”

“Yeah, it probably is, is that why you freaked out in class? Because what’s allowed in our world isn’t in your world ____?”

Um…”Yes?”

“But why were you scared?” Okay, you are taking back all of your ‘Ace is an idiot’ comments. He’s actually very perceptive. And to you, that’s a bad thing.

Ace studies you as you reply “I-I thought murder was going a little far..?” 

Ace smiles at that and a sigh of relief bubbles into your throat. “Yeah, I get that,  my dad told me he’d be pissed if I killed someone on campus.” Phew.

“After all, it’s not like you’re hiding something Prefect. I mean you have this charm to you that pulls people to you, it would be terrible if someone thought you were a darling." Do you agree? Why does it feel like this is a trick? You hold your face as calm as possible, given your pulsating heart beat. If this is a test, you are not failing it.

“Yeah, it would be. But it’s not.” You cross your arms in an attempt to exude dominance but like the last time you still feel a little small.

“But if you were, It’s not like I’d do anything to ya, Prefect.” He pulls you in closer in a ‘hug’, which it would be if his collar wasn’t in the way. “We’re friends, aren’t we?” Not really, you trust him as far as you can throw him, which isn’t even possible.

“If Prefect was what?” Deuce pokes his head in the kitchen, Grim is a bubbling mix of hangry in his arms.

“It’s nothing, Juice.” he pulls away from you and you can still feel chills. “Just if Prefect was a darling, we wouldn’t hurt her, right?” You hate how he gives you one of his friendly smirks when he finishes that statement. 

“Oh, yeah we wouldn’t.” Deuce smiles at you. But it doesn’t soothe you. In fact, it makes the underlying terror even worse. “Ow! Grim!” 

Grim frees himself from Deuce’s arms with a well placed bite to his forearm. In his morning grumpiness and anger, he exclaims, “Henchman! You left me!"

You force a smile. "To make you breakfast boss. Eat." You hold out a plate full of food that Grim happily snatches, devouring it with usual gusto. You, on the other hand, have lost your appetite. You’ll just eat at the party, where there’s an audience to whatever happens to you. 

Plus, after what just happened, it’s for the best that Grim keeps full today. The last thing everyone needs is Grim to eat one of the sacred tarts before Riddle does.

But right now, all you want to do is leave. Leave the horrible oppressing air beating down on you to smother you in fear. And you have an excuse to leave,  drying pancake batter on your shirt. Quickly, you shove another plate full into Deuce’s arms. "Help yourself, Deuce. We have a long day ahead of us. I’m gonna go and change my shirt.” The sooner you’re out of here, the calmer you’ll be. 

Deuce gives you an appreciative smile but he looks concerned. “T-Thanks but…Are you okay Prefect?” 

You calmly, not really but you really did try to act calm, shake your head. “Yeah, fine. Just…..” You’re too scared to be alone with them right now, “Don’t want to be late to the unbirthday party. Be right back!” 

As you get a good distance away from the kitchen, you press yourself to the wall. It’s a great thing that the walls are thin. 

“What did you tell her Ace?!” Deuce’s whispering sounds outraged. So he was putting up a front for you.

“Hey, I just asked her whether she was a darling or not, plain and simple. Besides, we both know we wouldn’t hurt her.”

“I don’t think she thinks that…” 

“It’s not like we're going to. Take it from me Juice. First rule of dealing with darlings, don’t make them feel afraid.”

“If she is a darling…” Deuce doesn’t believe it. Thank the seven, he doesn’t believe it. 

“You don’t think she is?”

“No..Not really.”

“It doesn’t matter either way. If she’s not a darling then, we’ll figure something out.” What does that mean? What does figuring something out entail? 

There’s silence for a bit, as if Deuce is thinking about something, “But we’re scaring her…”

“Well, after the unbirthday party we’ll make her feel better. Spend time with her, make her trust us again. Don’t worry about it, Deuce.”

Silence, followed by an, “Alright.” The sound of something heavy hitting your cabinets and the noise resounds through the house. “But if you’re wrong about this and we end up hurting her, you’ll be sent home in pieces–if there’s even enough of you left to send out.”

“Got it. You gotta trust me more on this Juice, y’know since I’m the only one that knows about this stuff.” 

“Fine. But you better not be wrong.” Shit. So they’re both suspicious of you and even worse, they’re working together. At least somewhat. 

But there is some hope. Deuce, above all else, doesn’t want you to be hurt. If you use that against him, then maybe you can use this to your advantage. As a figurative bodyguard, to protect you from harm.

Another bombing knock on the door nearly makes you jump out of their skin. “Helllooo!?” It’s Cater, not the best person to pop up, but beggars cannot choose. 

“I-I’m coming!” You call out as Ace’s and Deuce’s voices hush at the sound of your voice. But you already doubt that you would get any more information. 

As expected Cater has a very bright smile greets you as soon as you open the door, "Good mooorning! Did you enjoy your sleepover? Did you bond over pillow fights and card games?”

“N-Not really, I was really tired. Could barely stay awake.” Cater’s eyes widen slightly, but he doesn’t vocalize whatever he realized. “W-Why are you here so early?”

Cater pushes past you into the foyer, and envelopes you into a hug. “Do I need a reason to see my favorite underclassmen?” 

You squirm in his hold, “No, but-” 

“Oh, it’s you Cater.” Ace, Deuce and Grim all poke their heads out of the kitchen in confusion.

“Hiiii, did you have fun?” 

“Yeah, but-”

Cater interrupts them, “Well, you should get one of the tarts we made yesterday and go apologize to Riddle.” Cater hesitates for a moment and his expression drops into a frown, “And you should probably hurry, because after the trouble yesterday, we’re a little short handed.” Is something wrong because he’s never this serious.

“What does that mean?” “Don’t worry. I’ve totes got it under control. Anyway, off to the party we go!”

“Wait, I haven’t changed-” Whatever you were about to say is cut short by Cater dragging you by your arm all the way to Heartslabyul, with Ace, Deuce and Grim not far behind. So after this shitshow of a morning you’ll be attending an important tea party with a super strict dictator with dried pancake mix on your shirt. Thanks Ace.

Heartslabyul looks as neat as ever, with the rose bushes perfectly trimmed, et cetera, et cetera. 

Ace, massive chestnut tart in hand, is prepared to march inside and spare you the additional migraine. “All right, so I’ll hand over the tart and say I’m sorry, then-”

But no, no that’s not happening.

Because Cater popped out of the rose maze. The same Cater that was still holding your arm at the mirror entrance, a good ten feet away. And y’know what. You might want to consider visiting Sam for some extra-strength headache medicine. 

Cater B waves at Cater A, “Hey, it’s about time I got back! Good to see me!”

Cater A, not bothering to explain his sudden perfect copy, waves back at him. “And me! Looking good as always, me!”

Well at least you could now explain how he gave that flower to you in the rose garden yesterday. Wait if he can clone himself, doesn’t that mean he can send a clone out to follow you around?

“Bwuh?” 

“Th-There’s two Caters?!” 

“Are you guys identical twins?!”

You don’t share your friends’ noise of confusion, it’s already 7 AM and you’re exhausted for the day. 

“Nope. Don’t have any siblings.” The explanation is one you were expecting, it’s his unique magic ‘Split Card’ that allows him to clone himself. Cool. That's just cool. Deuce puts two and two together about their loss yesterday, but once again, you’re already exhausted. 

And more headaches come jumping out of the bushes.

“Welcome home, daaarlings.”

“Good to see you, ____”

You yelp as more appear from nowhere. Just how many of these can he make at once. He could be his own card soldier army if he wanted, for seven��s sake!

“J-S-Y-K, I’m actually the real Cater.” No,we are not playing this game of who’s the real Cater, you’re here to give Riddle this stupid tart and then you’re eating too much of Trey’s desserts. Not this game of human bullshit. 

“Making these duplicates is suuuper exhausting, so I can’t maintain them for long.” Well, that’s a little relief. But Riddle’s left Ace’s collar on for a good day now, is there not a time limit for magic or something? Has Riddle not slept to make sure the collars stay on or something? “Anyway , if we’re late, heads will roll. And since we’re several people short, we’ll need your help.”

“But-” You start but Cater interrupts you. 

“When this is over, I promise I’ll take you straight to Riddle.” Well, there goes head straight to Riddle, this better not bite you in the ass.

Wait. Oh, not the roses again. 

“What, MORE roses?”

“And here we go again!”

You sigh, let’s get this over with already.

And now, red paint now joined the creme-colored mess on your vest and shirt. Today was becoming as big a mess as your shirt. Yay….

But on the brightside, Deuce and Grim managed to get the hang of painting the roses with magic.

On the dark side, painting the roses took so long that it was time for the unbirthday party to start.

So now you were in the extravagantly decorated tea garden still stuck with that stupidly big tart that should have been given to Riddle an hour ago, thanks Cater.  

By now, all the Heartslabyul students had gathered in the garden, and, at least to you,  it’s not very festive for a party. Everyone, decked out in a pretty cool uniform, looks as stiff as a soldier on the battlefield. As if waiting for a bomb to go off.

Some students buried in the crowd have collars just like Ace’s around their necks, the rule breakers collared like dogs with a cone of shame. It’s just barbaric. 

The sound of trumpets make the few slouching stand at attention in utter silence and terror, as one of the students play announcer, a something of Spades. 

“All Hail our Leader, the Red Sovereign Himself….Dorm Leader Riddle!” You instinctively cringe at the title. Who would willingly want to call someone that, and isn’t clearly joking?

The man of the hour walks in with all the nonchalance of someone who definitely didn’t hear what you just did, but the card soldiers do exactly as the ones in your dream did, and forgive the pun, followed suit. 

“We salute you, Dorm Leader Riddle!” Are they not going to introduce Trey? He’s right next to Riddle and the Vice Dorm Leader. But for some reason, they don't. Is this why Trey seems so insecure?

Riddle inspects every nook and cranny of the tea garden as if looking for the tiniest error or mistake, from the table cloths to the flamingo enclosure for what you hope isn’t an actual croquet game with live animals. You watch each of the other dorm students tense in fear as he makes his rounds. 

After too many minutes of silence, Riddle finally makes his judgment, “Hm. The garden roses are red, the tablecloths are white…This seems a proper unbirthday indeed.”

The surrounding dorm students all sag in visible relief. How much of a traditionalist and a perfectionist is this guy?! 

“Is there a dormouse asleep in the teapot,” There’s a what in the what?!, “as there should be?” Just as you make a mental note to not drink the tea, you watch the formerly relaxed card soldier tense up like someone lit a fire under their ass. 

Though they sag again when Trey tells Riddle that they’ve prepared everything to the Queen of Hearts, and Riddle’s expectations. 

Just how much fear has Riddle instilled in the hearts of his fellow dorm mates?

Grim seems less concerned with the terror on the faces of nearly everyone here and is more concerned with their outfits. “Myah! Those are some fancy duds!”

You have to agree they are pretty nice, but they are bigger things to focus on here right now, like how the soldiers seem like they're about to have a stroke with all the stress they’re under.

“These are the Heartslabyul dorm clothes.” Cater explains, “Aren’t they fierce? At the forefront of fashion, and they look great in Magicam.”

“Yeah, but-” There’s a flash of light to your left, and Cater’s in his dorm uniform.

“One of the Queen’s rules mandates formal dress on party days.” Once again cool, but you want to know about- “As a show of kindness from a beloved mentor, I’ll help coordinate your outfits.”

Another light flashes, and you feel the dirty clothes you’re wearing ripple around your body, reforming and changing. 

In place of the messy version of your Ramshackle, is a version of the Heartslabyul uniform fit precisely to your style of dress (masc version/fem version). 

It’s nice, not bad but nice. As long as you get those clothes back, you don’t really have clothes to spare. 

Ace and Deuce are in uniforms that match the rest of the card soldiers, and even Grim’s bow matches the Heartslabyul colors.

“Whoa!”

“Lookin’ sharp!”

“Myah! So cool! Henchman, do I look cool!”

“Yes, you do. You look very cool, Grim.” Grim smiles in your arms, and you might as well complement the other two who call you friend, “You both look fantastic too!”

The two’s faces brighten as they smile at you. “T-Thanks!”

“So do you, Prefect!”

“Now, let’s tear this party up! And don’t forget to give Riddle the tart.”

“Yes! Let’s not delay this anymore! Give him the tart.” You’re about to push Ace in the direction of the tyrannical and not your damn problem dorm leader. When the sound of teacup being hit by a teaspoon rings out. “Oh, c’mon!”

“Before we begin the croquet tournament, let us make a toast. Does everyone have their teacup?” You pick one of the teacups up as politely as possible to keep the dorm leader’s eyes off you. But if you grip it any harder, you’re going to break the china.

“On this most significantly unauspicious of days, I bid all in attendance….a very merry unbirthday!” That tart that got Ace kicked out better be good for all you had to go through. 

The whole garden repeats the same cheer, minus you because you’re going to lose it the longer you stay. 

“Ace, this is your chance!” Cater whispers. 

“Yes, finally. Ace, let’s go.” You practically drag Ace by his arm all the way up to Riddle, careful to prevent that tart from falling to the ground because if something happens to that damn tart you’re going to lose your mind. “Now apologize, like you mean it. Even if you don’t.” 

“Right…Uh, dorm leader, sir…”

“Ah, it’s you. The tart thief. Oh, and _____, I see you’ve been keeping out of trouble.” Ace gives you a confused look.

“It’s a long story, I’ll tell you later,” you whisper, before turning your attention back to the tyrant, “Yes, I have,” You laugh nervously. “I wanted to make sure that Ace apologized….correctly.”

“Do you, now?” Riddle crosses his arms, awaiting that apology. Don’t screw it up Ace.

“Yeah, so I wanted to apologize for eating that tart. We made you a new tart to replace it.”

“Hmm? And what kind of tart is it?” So far so good. Now just tell him what is before they cut that nice looking cake over there. You’re really hungry now.

“I’m so glad you asked! It’s a chestnut tart, and I swear, we weren’t stingy with the chestnuts.” Okay, no snark, nothing that can be taken out of context, we’re almost through the woods.

Riddle reacts like he’s just been struck. “A CHESTNUT tart?!” Shit. 

“What?!”

“Is…is something wrong?”

Riddle’s eye twitches in anger, “The Queen of Heart’s rule 562: One must never bring a chestnut tart to an unbirthday tea party.” FUCK. 

Riddle looks like he’s going to blow a gasket. “This is an utterly flagrant rule violation! Do you not understand what you’ve done?!” Oh no….” You’ve ruined an otherwise perfect unbirthday!”

“Rule 562..?!” How many fucking rules are there!?

“How many of these rules are there?!”

“There are 810 rules in all,” What the FUCK, “And as dorm leader I can of course recite each and every one of them.” What the hell….

Shit, you need to damage control, “W-Wait, we didn’t know that! And besides, we weren't planning on bringing it to the unbirthday party.”

Riddle, like an asshole, ignores you, “As dorm leader of a dorm established to honor the Queen of Hearts’ rigor, I cannot ignore this. Destroy the offending tart immediately! Then throw these rulebreakers out of the dorm!”

Fuck this place.