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dreamsuvivor · 2 years
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Please would somebody be willing to share the leaked 1D and HS1 songs with me, like through a link or dm or email!! help a dumb bish who wasn’t online out 
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I'm going to force you to play the joke FNAF dating sim my friend and I are making
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ecoamerica · 14 days
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Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared
The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!
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cxlandine · 3 months
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can't describe the energy ally's bringing this season but i am going to model my personality off it for the rest of the year to see if i can get a new prescription
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virescent-v · 1 year
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Bars & Bets
A/N: A bar, a bet, and one night of absolute debauchery.
Emily Prentiss x reader (includes y/n). 18+ ONLY. Warnings: use of pet names, graphic detail of sex, some dom/sub themes, use of restraints.
Word Count: 5,798
You could feel the bass of the club music rushing through your chest, your heart galloping to speed up to match the pace. There was something so electrifying about being surrounded by people of all types, dancing, having a good time. You didn’t need to know their stories, hell, even their names, to have a good time. 
After the week you’ve had, all you want is a stiff drink (or four) and to let loose. If you found someone to spend a few songs with, or even the night with, that was fine by you. But it wasn’t what you were worried about looking for. 
Making your way to the overcrowded bar, you pulled on the hem of the little red dress you were wearing. It was shorter than you were used to wearing, but you couldn’t deny how sexy it made you feel. It showcased your strong thighs and made your legs look like they went on for days. Matched with the high heels you were wearing, your makeup a tad darker and smokier than normal, you knew you were going to turn heads tonight. Men and women. 
While you appreciated the hungry gaze of men, the way their eyes would travel over you, hopeful glints in their eyes that they would be the lucky one to take you home, you had no interest. It was the lustful gaze of women, the softness of their skin, the sounds you could pull from their throats, that made you a needy mess. 
Flagging down the bartender, you ordered a simple vodka cran. Easy enough to sip on while your eyes peered around the bar. While there were a few hopeful men looking at you, none of them caught your gaze enough to consider entertaining them for a free drink. As your eyes traveled back to the other end of the bar, you noticed you were being stared at by two people, together. 
One was tall, dark, and handsome. His eyes traveled over you, stopping to linger on your chest. You could tell he was the type to go after a woman, be incredibly charming, get her back to her place, and be gone before she woke up. Likely to never be heard from again. You could see other women in the bar mustering up the courage to even go talk to him, but he was staring at you. And while that was a nice thought, you were more interested in the stunning brunette beside him. 
She was breathtaking. Dark hair and even darker eyes. A killer smile. Slightly taller than you, but still fairly petite. She had this air about her that screamed ‘dominant.’ While her stance was confident, you could tell that she wasn’t really in her element in this place. She was more of a dive-bar, dimly lit, pool tables and beer kind of girl. She was wearing black pants that were incredibly tight and a white blouse, unbuttoned enough that you could see the edge of a lacy black bra peeking through. 
You could tell the two of them were friends. There wasn’t much exaggerated chemistry between them. While the man was staring at you, the woman kept glancing at you, but was talking to him. It seemed like she was egging him on, almost as if it was a dare. You couldn’t wait for him to make his way to you. Hopefully you could get a free drink out of him before you crushed his hopes of taking you home. 
Finishing your first drink, you turned back to the bar, flagging down the bartender. 
“How about I buy you your next drink, baby girl?” 
You smiled to yourself before schooling your features and turning around to face him. Bingo. 
You looked up at the man that you had seen staring at you from across the bar. A bright smile on his face. You could see how women wanted him. “That would be nice, thanks. I’m y/n,” you said, reaching out for his hand. 
“Derek. Nice to meet you, beautiful.” 
His hand was warm, but you felt nothing. You decided to have a little more fun with him before sending him on his way. “So, Derek, who’s the girl over there that was betting you to come over here?” 
His laugh was deep, barely audible over the loud music of the bar. He gestured back over to the woman in question. You caught her eyes, smiling as she blushed a bit, as if she knew you two were talking about her. “That’s Emily. She’s just a friend from work. She didn’t want to come out  alone tonight.” 
You turned back to Derek. “So, you came over here and left her alone? Not a very good wingman if you ask me,” you said, eyebrow raised. 
Derek raised his hands a little. “She can take care of herself.” 
You glanced back over to the beautiful brunette. “I’m sure she can,” you mumbled. 
You turned back to Derek as you felt his hand settle on your hip. “So, baby girl, how about a dance?” 
You almost felt bad for what you were about to do. Almost. 
“Derek, while a dance sounds lovely, I’m actually not interested.” You said, removing his hand from where it was starting to caress your side. 
His eyebrows scrunched up adorably. He looked utterly confused, as if he wasn’t used to women avoiding and denying his advances. 
You looked at him, giving him a little smile as you said, “While I enjoy your company, Derek, I am far more interested in that beautiful coworker of yours, if you catch my drift. Plus, there is a stunning blonde on the other side of the bar that has been staring daggers into my head since you walked over here. I think she might be the better option for you tonight.” 
Derek laughed loudly, his head thrown back a little. “Fair enough, y/n. It was nice meeting you. And tell Emily I owe her twenty bucks.” 
“I will,” you laughed. “Have a great night, Derek.” 
“You too, y/n. Take care of her, yeah? It’s been a rough week.” 
You raised your glass to him, sauntering over to where he’d left Emily. She was sitting at a table, watching you with curious eyes as you approached. She hadn’t moved from her spot and no one had joined her. For that, you were thankful. 
“Derek says he owes you twenty dollars,” you said with a smile. “I’m y/n.” 
Her face immediately lit up with a smile as she tossed her hair back from her face with a laugh. Now that laugh, it did something to you. But nothing like her voice did. “I love betting against him. I hardly ever lose,” she said. Her voice was deep enough to send chills down your spine.
You took a sip of your drink, your curiosity getting the best of you. “And what was this bet I was seemingly a part of?” 
Emily smirked at you, looking you up and down a little. You felt your cheeks heat up a little under the scrutiny. “I bet him that he couldn’t get you to dance with him. That you would turn him down in under five minutes. I was right.” 
You laughed, not surprised that she was able to read you so well. Something about her told you that she was great at reading people, just like you were. “That’s a good bet. If you had only bet that I would much prefer your company than his, you could’ve doubled your win,” you said, letting your eyes travel down her body, lingering on her chest, before sliding down to her pants, which you could now tell were leather. You licked your lips. You wanted to touch, slide your hands up them. 
When you looked back up, Emily was looking at you with a mix of awe and lust. Like she didn’t think you’d be so forward. It made you giddy with the anticipation of what could happen tonight, if she was willing. You were curious to see if she was as dominant as you thought she’d be, or if she’d surprise you and let you take control for the night. 
“Do you want to dance with me, y/n?” 
You smiled as you finished off your drink. “After you, Emily.” 
She grabbed your hand and led you out onto the dance floor, pulling you into the sea of people already out there pulsating and sweaty to the thick beats of the music. You started off facing her, your arms coming up to wrap around her shoulders, moving your hips to the music. You could feel how tense she was, as if she’d never really danced with another woman at a club before. Leaning in, you whispered in her ear, “Relax for me, Emily. Feel the music, feel me, and let go.” 
Emily’s hands shot up to your hips, feeling them sway left and right. Eventually, she started to move with you, her movements a little choppy at first. You grinned at her, pulling her closer to you, essentially forcing her hips to move with and against yours. You could feel the goosebumps erupt over her skin at your proximity. As the song progressed, you could feel Emily start to fully relax into the music, letting her body lead you both in a dance that was leaving you breathless. 
As the song transitioned from one with a heavy bass line to one with much sexier r-n-b vibe, Emily leaned in close to you and said, “turn around,” with such a note of authority that you didn’t imagine saying no. 
Once you turned around, Emily grabbed your hips and pulled you back into her. Your ass nestled tightly against her front, your back pressed against her chest. You could feel her hardened nipples through both layers of your clothing. Your chest started heaving. You knew she was dominant and you were excited to see more of her controlling side. 
You started moving your hips, whining and grinding against the solid body behind you. Your one hand gripped Emily’s thigh behind you, pulling her impossibly closer to you. You could feel her  breath on your neck, it sending shivers down your spine. You let out an inaudible gasp as Emily leaned closer and started kissing her way up your neck, stopping to whisper in your ear, loud enough to be heard over the music. “Such a tease, wearing such a short dress. Tell me, y/n, are you even wearing anything underneath it?” 
Your head leaned back against the strong shoulder behind you. Emily’s one hand remained on your hips, forcing you to keep up with the music, while the other started to roam. Thankfully, with how packed the club was, no one was really paying attention as her hand ghosted over your chest. You moaned out loud when her hand constricted around your throat. “Answer me, pretty girl.” 
From where your head was leaned back against her shoulder, you just turned it to the side to whisper in her ear. If she wanted to tease, you could, too. “No, Em. No panties. You would’ve ruined them by now anyways.” 
Emily quickly turned you around to face her, an almost evil glint in her eyes, her tongue wetting her lips. Her hand came back up to your face, running her thumb across your lips. Emily’s breath caught in her throat as you intensely connected your eyes, sucking her thumb into your mouth, running your tongue around it. Emily moved her hand back down to your throat, squeezing gently, while looking at you. “Naughty girl, going commando under this dress. What if someone sees what is so clearly mine?” 
You looked at Emily faux-innocently, batting your eyelashes. “Well, maybe, you should take me home and prove it is yours, then.” 
Emily smirked at you, before turning you back around in her arms. She forced your stance a little wider, thrusting one of her legs between yours. You could feel the heat of her leg pressed up against your uncovered pussy, knowing you were leaving a trail of juices on the leather of her thigh. It made you whimper as you started to grind against her. 
“Or, y/n, how about I make you so wet, so needy, right here in the middle of this dance floor, that you’re begging for me to take you here in front of all of these people?” 
You grinded down harder against her thigh, your movements sped up to match the pace of the beat of the music and the thumping of your pulse. If that’s what Emily was intending to do, you knew it wasn’t going to be long before you brought truth to what she said. 
Emily’s hands started trailing lightly across your body, the pressure never enough to satisfy, only to leave you wanting. When her hands gripped your hips and forced you down harder on her thigh, you couldn’t help the salacious moan that left your mouth. You could feel the dark chuckle Emily let out even if you couldn’t hear it. “Such a greedy little slut. Rubbing yourself against me in a room full of people. I bet you want them all to watch you come undone against me.” 
Oh, god. You didn’t have an exhibitionist bone in your body, but the thought of other people watching you as you came apart at Emily’s hands was enough to make your arousal pound throughout your body. 
This time, you did hear Emily laugh. “I knew it. Such a whore. Too bad no one will watch you come except for me, understood?” Emily growled at you. 
“Yes, ma’am, I understand,” you panted, trying to turn around to catch her lips. 
Except Emily had such a grip on your hips it was impossible to turn around. All you wanted right now was to kiss her, have her smother your moans with her lips.
“Em, kiss me, please,” you said, still trying to catch her in a kiss. 
She laughed against your neck, her lips slowly grazing over the sensitive skin there. “That’s what I’m doing, pretty girl.” 
You let out a frustrated groan, “that’s not what I mean and you know it.” 
“I know, baby. But be a good girl for me and keep dancing against me,” Emily said, as she pulled you tighter against her. 
Every sense of yours seemed to be heightened. You could feel the music in your chest, you could smell Emily’s perfume, feel her hands gripping tightly to you, feel the whisper of her breath on the skin of your neck. All of it was beginning to be almost too much. You could feel yourself getting wetter as each moment passed. All you wanted was for Emily to kiss you, take you home, and then take you. 
You were hardly able to get any friction from grinding against Emily’s leg, her pants being coated in your essence. You tried to grind down harder, faster, anything to get you some relief, but nothing was working. 
As if she could feel your frustration rising, Emily finally turned you around towards her, breaking the contact between you and her leg. “You look so pretty when you’re desperate, y/n,” she said, winding a hand into the hair at the base of your neck, pulling your faces closer together. Her breath was hot against yours, both of you worked up, your panting almost matching the thumping of your racing pulse. 
“Emily, please-” you started. 
Before you could finish begging, Emily crashed your lips together. The kiss was sloppy, teeth and tongues crashing against each other. You only pulled away once you needed some air. “Take me home, now, Emily. Please.” You didn’t care about pleading anymore. You just needed her to touch you. Make you come. However she wanted to, it didn’t matter, as long as you got to. 
Wordlessly, Emily grabbed your hand, dragging you from the bar. Before you made it out of the club, you caught a teasing glint from Derek. He raised his glass to you in a silent cheers as Emily pulled you through the door. 
—-- 
The ride back to Emily’s apartment was littered with tantalizing touches. She kept it pretty tame, all things considered, as not to alert the driver. But, with how worked up you’d been at the club, every little touch drove you closer and closer to insanity. 
Emily had snuggled up close to your side, her breath hot and provoking at your ear. She kept whispering indecencies as her hand started teasing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. You subtly thrusted your hips forward, trying to get her fingers closer to your core. 
“Tsk, tsk. Trying to get my fingers to touch your needy cunt in this cab? Such a bad girl, y/n,” Emily whispered. 
You had to catch the moan in your throat otherwise the driver would’ve definitely known what was happening in his backseat. You looked at Emily, a knowing, sinful grin on her face. It made you needier. “Please, Emily,” you whispered back, thrusting your hips more aggressively towards her fingers. She was right there. 
Emily growled, her grip on your thigh almost bruising. “No. Now stop before I have to remind you who’s in control tonight.” 
While you knew it would probably end in punishment, you couldn’t take the build up of pressure anymore. Your own hand started to travel down, teasing the skin on the opposite thigh that Emily had a grip on. The combination of slight pain and enticement of your feather light touch  was enough to force your hips to move again of their own volition. Your hand had just creeped under the edge of your dress before Emily grabbed your wrist in a forceful grasp, making you wince in pain. 
“I said no, y/n. You’ll pay for that when we get back to my place.” The look in Emily’s eye was dangerous, but you couldn’t help but be even more turned on. You were sure your juices were staining your dress at this point. 
When the cab pulled up to Emily’s, she almost pushed you out of the car. Grabbing your hand, she pulled you up the stairs and into her apartment, slamming the door behind her. Emily shoved you into the wall beside the entrance way, gripping your throat in her hands. While it was a little rough, it wasn’t anything you didn’t want, didn’t need. 
“Such a desperate, needy whore you were being during the cab ride. For that, you’ve just earned yourself a spanking, little one. Come with me,” she said, pulling you with her toward her bedroom. 
She stood at the end of her king size bed and turned to face you. “On your knees, princess.” 
You walked up to her before slowly lowering yourself to the floor, head angled down, palms up on your thighs. You decided not to try your luck tonight. You’d be Emily’s good girl by the end of the night, no matter what it took. 
Emily gripped your chin, tilting your face up to look at her. “You look so pretty on your knees for me, princess. You gonna be my good girl tonight?” She asked, thumb rubbing across your cheek. 
Your face heated up with a little blush from the way that she was looking at you. Like you were her favorite possession. You hadn’t known her long, but you were lucky your eyes met in that club tonight. You nodded before softly saying, “yes, ma’am. I want to be good for you.” 
Emily smiled so genuinely that you couldn’t help but smile back at her. It didn’t last long, however, once she gripped your hair in her fist tightly. She brought your face close to her leg, the one you had been grinding on at the club. “Look at my pants, y/n. Look how messy you’ve made them,” she tsked, sounding utterly disappointed. 
Looking up at her from your position on the floor, you couldn’t help but whimper at the look on her face. Emily was in control. She owned you. “What can I do to make it up to you, ma’am?” 
She smirked at you, for just a second, before bringing your face closer to her thigh. “Lick. Them. Clean.” 
The moan you let out was filthy. You quickly stuck out your tongue, not wanting to displease her. At the first contact, you could taste yourself. You knew you were wet at the bar, but you hadn’t realized it was so intense. Your tongue swirled around her thigh, licking up every leftover trace of you. The hand that had lifted your chin was now tangled in your hair, guiding your face around her thigh. She only pulled your head back once her leather pants were glossy with your saliva. “Stand up, pretty girl.” 
Emily helped pull you up from the floor, which you gave her a grateful smile for, since the hardwood left your knees a little aching. “Turn around.” 
Once you had, you felt Emily’s hands brush your hair to one side. Her lips ghosted over the back of your neck as she started to slowly pull down the zipper of your dress. With each click of the metal zip, her lips would brush your skin down your back. It was making you needy in a different kind of way. You could feel the affection of her kisses on your overheated skin. It made you wonder if Emily was a romantic as much as she was a domme. 
Once the zipper was completely undone, Emily pushed each side off your shoulders, letting the dress hit the floor. She turned you back around, taking in your completely nude form. The dress was too tight and too revealing to wear any sort of undergarments. 
Emily’s eyes traversed slowly across all of your exposed skin, taking longer to linger at your ample chest, the swell of your stomach, and the light curls between your legs. It was such a heavy gaze, you could feel the hunger in it, a fire spreading across your nerve endings. You weren’t sure what Emily was planning to do to you, but as long as you got to come, you really didn’t care. 
Making eye contact with you, Emily stripped off her own pants and shirt. She sat on the edge of the bed, gesturing at her lap. “Bend over, y/n. It’s time I make good on that spanking.” 
You took in a shuddering breath as you felt yourself grow wetter in anticipation. Laying yourself over her lap, you flicked your hair to one side, looking back over your shoulder at her. Emily’s heavy gaze was zoned into your tight ass. Her hands started to grip and pull at your cheeks, getting used to the feel of you in her hands. She glanced quickly at you, “Count them. If you stop or miscount, we start over.” 
You weren’t expecting the first smack against your ass to be so hard. You felt the ripple of your skin and knew that if she kept that pressure, you were going to have trouble sitting tomorrow. Lost in your own thoughts, you felt the next smack come down on your other cheek. “Looks like you just want more, don’t you, y/n?” Emily asked, smacking you hard on the same cheek she’d just hit.
“Shit,” you hissed. “One!” 
You could hear the devilish grin on Emily’s mouth. “Good job, princess.” 
You almost rolled your eyes at how arrogant she sounded. Before you could fire back, a swift slap against the bottom of your left cheek, close to your inner thigh reverberated throughout the room. “Two,” you groaned. 
The pain was intense, almost pushing the edge of being too much. You wiggled your hips a little on Emily’s lap, trying to rid yourself of some of the sting. Before you could really get too much relief, you felt a finger at your core. 
“Jesus, you’re so wet, baby.” Emily said, starting to play with your dripping juices. She rubbed her finger up and down, gathering your essence from your opening, spreading it around your lower lips, stopping only briefly to rub at your clit. The pressure was more playful than anything, not enough to get you off, but it was still welcomed. “Just a few more, sweetheart. Then I’ll make you come so hard you forget your own name,” Emily said. She pulled her hand away from your cunt, using that one to strike you again. The slickness of her finger adding to the sting against you. 
“Three,” you panted. You really hoped she was done at five. 
The next slap came down hard on the spot she’d already hit, the pain slicing through you quickly. You could only imagine how red your ass looked. “Four!” Your voice starting to turn hoarse from screaming. 
The last slap caught you the most off guard. Instead of striking you against the skin of your ass, Emily’s hand had mostly made contact with your sopping pussy lips. That one made you mostly moan out of arousal rather than pain. “Five, ma’am. Thank you.”
Emily used both hands to rub against your ass, massaging the reddened skin. “Good girl, taking those spanks so well.” She gripped both of your cheeks in her hands. “Your ass looks so good, pretty and red with my hand prints,” she whispered, admiring her own handy work. 
Emily helped pull you up, settling you down against her sheets, you wincing a little at how tender your backside was. Emily caught it. “You okay, y/n?” She looked a little concerned, which you didn’t want. 
“I’m good, Em,” you cleared your hoarse throat. “More than okay. I’ll let you know if it’s too much.” 
Emily smiled at you, before disappearing off the bed and into her closet. She returned with a shoe box of what you could only assume was fun things. 
Emily first pulled out a satin sleep mask, holding it up for your perusal. At your slight nod, she placed it over your eyes, rendering you unable to see. “If, at any point, you do not like what I am doing, I want you to safeword out. What do you want to use for your safeword?” 
You took a deep breath, licking your lips. “I use the stoplight method to check in, but ‘vanilla’ is my hard stop, ma’am.” 
“Good. If, at any point, you want to stop, you say vanilla or red or tap me anywhere on my body three times and I will stop. There will be no punishments for stopping or using your safeword. Understand?” Emily asked. 
You appreciated the check in. It wasn’t needed; you knew you could just say ‘stop’ and she would. Even with only knowing Emily for a few hours, you trusted her. “I understand. If I want to stop, I say vanilla, red, or tap you three times.” 
“Good girl.” 
Emily lifted your hands above your head, fastening them to the headboard with something soft, likely padded cuffs from what you could tell. 
Once she made sure they were secure, you could hear the snapping of a closure or bottle of some sort. Shortly after, you could smell something minty. Before you could question her, you felt Emily’s hands on your body, starting at your shoulders and quickly moving downwards to your breasts. “Peppermint oil, princess. Relax.” 
You could feel your body loosen with each pass of her hands over you. With your eyesight being taken from you, it felt like all of your senses were heightened. The smell of the oil was strong, but not overpowering. Mint was one of your favorite smells. It also forced your mind into overdrive, trying to figure out where Emily’s hands would end up next, what they would be doing to you also being a mystery. 
As Emily’s hands slid over your breasts, you released a lung full of air. You’d never been so turned on from such a simple massage before. “Please, Em,” you said, wiggling your hips a little, trying to get some traction between your thighs. 
“Patience, baby. I’ll get you there, don’t worry,” she said. 
You almost groaned in frustration. You knew Emily would be good on her word, but you wanted to come now. 
When you felt her hands leave your body, you could hear her shuffling around in the box she’d brought out with her. 
“You can come when you want to, princess. But once you start, you’re not stopping until I say so,” Emily said, immediately putting the wand against your clit and turning it on. 
You had to stop yourself from screaming at the vibration on your oversensitive clit. She hadn’t even really touched you yet, but Emily knew how to play your body so well. She made sure to never keep the pressure in one spot for too long, finding entertainment in watching the way your hips gyrated to get the vibrator right where you wanted it. 
You could feel your wetness seeping out of you, pooling onto the sheets below you. You hadn’t been this keyed up in so long. “Please, ma’am, please touch my clit,” you begged, trying to press down harder on the vibrator. 
“Hm, you’re so pretty when you’re desperate for me, baby.” 
Your next words got choked on a grunt as Emily finally put the vibrator against you, turning the speed setting up a notch. Your head rolled back against the pillows as you thrusted your hips down, increasing the pressure. You knew with just one more second, you were going to come. 
But you weren’t so lucky. Right before your body had a chance to contract and let go, Emily removed the vibrator. 
The whimper that left your throat was embarrassing to even your own ears. You have never been so ready, so desperate, to come for someone before. You could feel the tears of frustration welling in your eyes. 
“Aw, princess, don’t pout. Edging always makes the orgasms that much sweeter…that much stronger,” Emily said, rubbing the outside of your thigh, hoping to ease the discomfort of your missed finish. Her hands traveled lightly over your skin, keeping you worked up, but settling the fire within you just a little. 
As Emily’s hands made contact with your breasts, squeezing, pinching, and rolling your nipples between her fingers, her mouth made contact with yours. The kiss was slow, gentle almost, but sinful enough to make you see stars. Emily kissed you intensely, her tongue making passes against yours; she tasted like her drink from the bar and something else, something her, that drove you wild. 
After kissing you breathless, Emily trailed one of her hands down, lightly circling your clit causing your hips to jump. She did not linger at your swollen bud long before moving down to your pussy, thrusting two fingers inside quickly. 
“Fuck, Emily,” you moaned. 
“I love hearing my name from that mouth of yours, pretty girl. Make sure to say it when you come for me.” 
The pace she set was just what you needed; fast, hard, and deep. She was scissoring her fingers back and forth making you stretch to fit her. Within a few strokes, she found that special spot inside of you that had your back arching off of the bed and pulling at your restraints. 
“Hm,” Emily chuckled. “You’re going to come so hard for me, princess.” 
Your mouth opened as if to moan, but your voice wasn’t working. You could only focus on the feel of Emily inside, thrusting, twisting, and stretching you open. With each brush of her fingers against your g-spot, you could feel the pressure tightening, threatening to snap. “Ugh, Em,” you panted, your chest rising and falling rapidly. Like you couldn’t get enough air. 
“I know. You’re almost there. It’s going to be so good, baby.” 
With the click of the vibrator, the incredible fucking Emily was doing, and the fact that you just needed to come so badly, you almost lost it right then. 
“Aw, honey. You’re so close, aren’t you? You gonna come for me?” Emily sweetly said, each word emphasized by a hard thrust into you. 
You couldn’t speak, opting to just aggressively nod in confirmation. You were almost there. 
“When you’re done coming, I’m going to sit on that pretty face of yours. I’m going to ride you until you make me come. Now come, y/n,” Emily growled, pressing the vibrator harder against your clit, rubbing at that sweet spot inside of you faster. 
“Emily!” 
Your back bowed so hard it felt like you were bent in half. Your legs clamped together, holding Emily in place. But that didn’t stop her from continuing to rub your g-spot inside, flicking her fingers back and forth quickly. 
“Let go, all the way. Give it all to me.” 
The pressure was all encompassing. Overwhelming. With a quick bite to the swell of your breast, you came. Hard. Fluids gushing out of you, soaking Emily’s hand, her lap, and the sheets below you. “Fuck! Emily!” 
Emily brought you down from your orgasm gently, rubbing your body to bring you down. But you were so worked up you couldn’t control the shaking. Quickly undoing your restraints and blindfold, Emily gathered you up in her arms, holding you close to her, whispering sweet words of encouragement in your ears. “Good girl, honey. You came so well for me,” she said. 
You snuggled in closer to her chest, trying to catch your breath. You don’t think you’ve ever been fucked so well before. Never had someone read your body the way Emily did. 
“Was that the first time you’ve ever-” Emily started. 
“Yes. My god, Em. I didn’t even think that was possible,” you chuckled, still breathing hard. 
You could feel Emily smile against the top of your head. “Well, it was definitely possible. I’m glad I got to be your first.” 
Hopefully you’ll be my second…and third…and last.
You paused, tensed a little. 
Whoa, where did that thought come from? 
“Y/n? You okay?” 
Of course Emily could feel your muscles contract. “Yeah, Em. Just realized I still owe you that orgasm, but I don’t think I can move,” you tried to hide behind another little giggle. 
“Oh, don’t worry, princess. You can sleep. And repay me in the morning.” 
You tilted your head up, searching for Emily’s eyes. When you caught them, you almost gasped at how much affection you saw in them. You wondered if she was having the same thoughts that you were. The genuine smile on her face made you smile back. 
“I look forward to it, ma’am,” you smirked. 
Cuddling back into her chest, you sighed with contentment. 
Thank god for bars and bets.
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honestlyvan · 2 months
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And, listen, I don't really talk about it because personally it didn't read as romantic to me but I am a believer in the beliefs of SagaCasey shippers. Like, they're just fucking right about this one, and I love nothing so much as Saga ripping Casey out of Alan's hands, in no uncertain terms telling him fuck you, he's mine, you can't have him. That is, in fact, the only way for me to read the text. Casey is Saga's partner. It doesn't matter what the story thinks, his belonging to her is unconditional.
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WHAT DID HE MEAN BY THIS.....
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hofftrans · 3 months
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very real very canon information about Peter strahm that was revealed to me through psychic visions->
Peter loves collecting vinyl, especially divorced dad rock bands and is an absolute asshole about people's music tastes. Like the kind of guy who only asks you who you listen to so he can immediately insult the band. Unironally asks the "name five of their albums" question to fans. Gets extremely snarky about the digital v vinyl debate.
Mark creates a new hobby where he'll wait for a lull in conversation before saying he thinks one direction has had a bigger cultural impact than pink Floyd so he can watch Peter try and drive the car directly into a tree
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slamminslamminmcgill · 3 months
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i can only support from the shadows but as an SA survivor please DO write about joel killing your rapists it would cure me
LETS GOOOO SA survivors eating good tn!!!! we making it out the rape kit with this one 🥵🥵🥵
warning: descriptions of sexual assault, rape kits, non-consensual drugging, police malpractice/incompetence, victim-blaming, arson, and spanking. one single use of the f slur for shits and giggles. reader is male and joel’s roommate. reader’s assailant is male.
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"So, the next morning I..."
You sniffled as you relayed your trauma to Joel. He wondered why you'd tensed up anytime anyone even uttered the word 'FEDRA'. You’d said it was a bad experience. He’d said that doesn’t really narrow it down much, so you gave him the full story.
“I got the rape-“ You cleared your throat, that word burning your vocal cords like an acid, “got the rape kit done at the clinic… And I asked for a drug test, so that I’d… that I could prove he slipped me something… Nurse was good, she was nice… She gave me the release of evidence form to give to FEDRA’s law enforcement precinct… but they didn’t… they didn’t take it…”
“What?” Joel’s face was contorted in shock, then a scowl of disgust and rage on your behalf. “The hell you mean they didn’t take it?”
“They didn’t believe me. Said it was my *sniff*… my f-f-fault for meeting up with him in the first place…” You had your eyes down, staring off into space, speaking more to Joel’s shoes than to his face. You couldn’t bear to look at him right now. You just know it’d make you burst into tears, tears that you were struggling so hard to contain. “I told them he drugged me… and they said… ‘H-How do I know you didn’t take the drugs before you got there?’”
“Fucking pigs…” Joel grumbled, “…so they just put the blame on you and let him get away with it?”
You nodded. Eventually, you couldn’t hold it back anymore. Your tears flooded the dam, spilling down your cheeks and onto the floorboards with one lone loud sob. Your hands clamped over your mouth, a makeshift plug for the vocal leak. Your body convulsed with sorrow.
“Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay… You’re okay, bud…” Joel cooed as he took you in his arms, squeezing you tight enough for the facade to pop and your emotions to rush out in full. He held you to his chest and let you scream-cry into his clothes. You didn’t have to look at him, you could just let it out, eyes closed, your face buried in his flannel shirt. “It’s okay, little man. I’m here. I’m here.” He stroked your hair to calm you down, and sighed “We’re gonna make this right, you ‘n’ me…”
“H-How?”
How indeed. Joel’s eyes scanned the room for an answer, until they landed on his lackluster liquor cabinet. 2 shelves, on top: one nice bottle of scotch, about 3/4ths of the way full; on the bottom, about 12 cheap-shit bottles of moonshine. He broke the hug, hustled over to the shelves, and grabbed 4 bottles. He set them on the kitchen table, but not before peeling off the ratty-ass tablecloth that sat atop it. He grabbed it by one of its pre-existing rips, tore it into strips, and plugged the bottles with the cloth. Without even looking back over his shoulder, he commanded of you the following:
“Go grab your lighter.”
Thank god you’d had your panic attack when it was dark outside. There were only a couple of hogs working the night shift at the Boston QZ North Pigpen Precinct by the time you two rolled up to bike lock the doors. You’d split up to take the back entrance, while Joel hit it from the front. Then, you met around the side of the building, crouching under a window. He was holding a brick, and you were digging 2 molotovs out of a backpack.
“Alright. Now you’re gonna light ‘em, then I break the window. You throw ‘em in, and we fuckin’ run ‘til I say we can stop. You got that?”
How Joel managed to look so hot even in a ski mask was beyond human understanding. No one’s ever cared this much for you, ever been willing to risk so much for you, and who knew that arson was such an aphrodisiac? You’d been gazing faggily into his eyes, thinking about how hard you were gonna suck his dick after this. It’s the least you could do for him. You were processing such a vivid picture of the rough and nasty catharsis-fucking that you were due later, it was using up all your mental bandwidth. Therefore, his question took some time to buffer. “…What? Oh! Yeah, yup, got it. Sorry.”
Joel raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? Then tell me what we’re gonna do.”
“I light the bottles, brick goes through the window, bottles go through the window, and we run.”
Joel was actually pleasantly surprised that you were listening. “Okay, good.” He gestured to your hand holding the lighter. “Go on, do it, light ‘em up.”
One flick of the lighter, two burning strips of fabric, and three throws later, Joel grabbed you by the wrist and bolted down the street with you. No words, no time to think, just a mad fucking dash for a couple blocks or so. Eventually, he stopped you in another dark alley.
“Here’s good… Fuck…” Joel panted, bracing his hand on the nearest wall. “Ah, shit…”
“You good?” you asked.
“Yeah, ‘m fine… Fuckin’ knees,” he huffed, “Don’t get old, kid.”
You snorted, “I, uh… I don’t think that’s up to me.”
“Yeah, yeah…” Joel took one last deep breath, nudged you on the shoulder, “Hey,” and pointed out to the street. “Watch.”
You peered out past the alley, checking the left side first and keeping yourself mostly hidden behind the brick wall. You weren’t even sure where you were supposed to be looking, until-
BOOM!
Your head whipped around to the other side of the alley, where several blocks down, the precinct erupted into flames. A dark cloud of smoke suddenly draped the side of the building like a ceremonial cloth, smelling like incense lit by burning rage. It was prettier than any firework show you could imagine. The flames roared, sizzling away your trauma, your anger, and cauterizing your wounded spirit so that it could finally heal. You took off your ski mask to get a better look.
“Pretty, right?” Joel’s voice sounded from behind you seemingly out of nowhere. It made you jump out of your skin, snapping you out of your daze and into a new one when he peeled off his mask to show off such a gorgeous face. His expression was nurturing, cut with affection, pride, and yet laced with a lethal dose of violence. Yeah, Joel, you’re right. You sure are pretty. That’s definitely what we’re thinking about right now. You were left speechless, and simply nodded.
“Y’alright, kid?”
You nodded again, tripping over all your words as they tumbled out your mouth. “Y-Yeah, yeah, I’m… I’m fine. Thanks- Thank you… Thank you.”
“You remember where he lives?”
“Huh?” You cocked your head in confusion. “Where who lives?”
“Y’know… The guy who actually…” Joel pursed his lips, trying to find the most delicate word for the situation. “…violated you.”
“Oh!” You hopped up with an unexpected enthusiasm. Truth be told, you were so hyped up in the beauty of the blazing pigpen, that you’d forgotten FEDRA was only half the problem. They weren’t even the original offenders; they just shat the bed so badly that they managed to take the heat off your actual rapist. “Yeah! Yeah, I remember… I know where he lives.”
“Good. He’s next. Let’s go.”
And then later that night,
when you and Joel were back home, in the privacy of your own apartment, your joint safehaven, naked,
your face smushed into the window,
him inside you, behind you, and slapping your ass,
you moaned like a crazed slut, laughed ‘til you cried, and peered through the glass,
to see two vengeful fires lighting the skyline.
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bilolli · 1 year
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Hi, I love my ideas but bringing them to life is another story.
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amusingmusie · 1 month
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I heard 1932 was an election year. Who would Nel and Al vote for, Republican Hoover or Democrat Roosevelt?
Ironically enough, this last chapter happened the weekend before election day 1932 😭
Also, based on how I'm writing them, I think that both Al and Nel would gravitate towards FDR and his plans to combat the depression. That being said, both of them are people who don't idolize politicians and see the flaws of US politics as a whole, so I don't think they were mindless supporters of anyone if that makes sense?
Nel is more likely to assume that all politicians are bastards and Alastor thinks everyone should just eat them because they're all terrible in the end, so who cares? Take them out!
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youchangedmedestiel · 6 months
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I just LOVE trying to guess things about Destiel.
Like when Dean gave Cas the mixtape? Or when did they watch Tombstone? When did they watch other movies and how? (Because there was no TV at least until Scoobynatural I think).
Most importantly when Cas discovered he was in love with Dean? Or when Dean discovered he was in love with Cas? How they both handle those feelings? Did they really knew they were in love? And on and on.
I just looooove finding clues and guessing things. It’s not really easy actually, but mostly I choose what I prefer, because why not. For instance, to watch Tombstone, Cas and Dean saw it on Dean's computer in Dean's room and on his bed, because I prefer it that way. And because it's totally likely.
I'm like a FBI agent and my case is Destiel.
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blueskittlesart · 2 years
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this country needs to bring back political assassinations im not kidding
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imprvdente · 9 months
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@multipleoccupancy . 😈
"I was not expecting any visitors, that is really embarassing."
Fish Lecter spoke as if this was her house and she had been interrupted in the middle of a mundane task, shaking her head in pretend discomfiture. At her feet lay the grotesque tableau she had been carefully preparing, and a sea of blood.
"You're interrupting me in the middle of dinner, Edgar," she almost scolded. Her voice was calm, and she even offered the man a lovely smile. But there was nothing charming about Special Agent Lecter anymore. She had shed her skin of normalcy, the veneer cracked just enough to reveal the BEAST underneath.
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"Now, what are we going to do about that?"
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armadillorollup · 6 months
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MY personal favourite ofmd anachronism is someone calling blackbeard a serial killer, implying the FBI behavioral sciences unit was out and about in the 1700s
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get-back-homeward · 9 months
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Davidwache Police Station | Painting by Klaus Voormann Prior to being deported, Paul McCartney spends a night in the Davidwache police station.
In the meantime, the final four could start playing [at the Top Ten club] now, and move themselves into the bunk-bed accommodation at the top of the building.c Tony Sheridan was already here, possibly others too, and the Beatles were welcome to shoehorn themselves in. It was neither the Ritz nor the pits. John was the first to move. Then Paul and Pete went back to the Bambi to grab their gear.
The place was in near darkness, as usual. They had to strike a match to see their way about … and then they decided to leave Koschmider a little gift. Pete had a few “spunk bags,” and he and Paul had the idea to hang them on nails in the wall in the long concrete passageway and set light to them. “The place was dank and dark,” says Pete. “They spluttered, they stank, and OK, maybe they singed a tiny bit of tapestry on the wall. It caused nothing but a little smoke and a few scorch marks and then they went out.”41 It was the ultimate fuck you, Bruno, or so they thought.
They got to play one night in the Top Ten, and it seems to have been a good one, pulling business away from the Kaiserkeller, but it was just this one night. Having been shafted once by Eckhorn, when he’d prized away the Jets and Tony Sheridan from the Kaiserkeller, Koschmider wasn’t going to sit back and let it happen again. He might also have guessed the Beatles would make some grand gesture for his “benefit”—they could even have hinted of it—because an inspection was made of the Bambi’s rooms very quickly. When the stinkende qualmende Piedeltüten were found, he decided to form the view it was an attempt to burn down his cinema, and informed the police.
The chronology of events over the next twenty-four hours is rife with confusion and contradiction, but may have gone something like this. Paul was picked up by the police while walking along the Reeperbahn, taken by car to the Davidwache police station (two hundred meters from the Top Ten) and locked in a cell. Pete and John were also arrested. Koschmider didn’t know which of them was responsible for the “attempted arson,” so the Polizei rounded them all up. As Stuart wrote in a letter back to Liverpool a few days later:
I am living in the lap of luxury and contentment. Better than the cell I spent a night in last week. I was innocent this time though accused of arson—that is, setting fire to the Kino (cinema) where we sleep. I arrive at the club and am informed that the whole of Hamburg Police are looking for me. The rest of the band are already locked up, so smiling and very brave on the arm of Astrid, I proceed to give myself up. At this time I’m not aware of the charge. All my belongings, including spectacles, are taken away and I’m led to a cell where without food or drink I sat for six hours on a very wooden bench, the door shut very tight. I fall asleep at two in the morning. I signed a confession written in Deutsch that I knew nothing about a fire, and they let me go.42
John was also allowed to go. It was now clear who’d done the dirty deed, and for them the ordeal continued; Paul would always remember the little one-way peephole in the door of their detention room, through which he sensed they were watched. It seems he and Pete were then allowed to leave, but a few hours later—early the following morning—they were dragged out of their Top Ten bunk beds and interviewed a second time. Pete suggests they were taken to Hamburg’s main prison at Fühlsbuttel, Paul remembers it being “the Rathaus … it doesn’t mean rat house, it just felt like one.” They were interviewed by an official of the Bundeskriminalamt (Federal CID), one Herr Gerkins, and it was definitely inadvisable to snigger. Instead, they requested permission to contact the British Embassy, like people did in the films, and were refused; then they were taken for a car ride. “We tried our best to persuade him it was nothing,” Paul says, “and he said, ‘OK fine, well you go with these men.’ And that was the last we knew of it. We just headed out with these couple of coppers. And we were getting a bit ‘Oh dear, this could be the concentration camps’—you never know. It hadn’t been that long [since the war].”43
Criminal charges were not pressed, but Koschmider, inevitably, had the last laugh. It wasn’t a camp to which Paul and Pete were being taken, but the airport—and in handcuffs, according to Stuart. They were being deported, and banned from reentering Germany unless they lodged an appeal within a month. Auf Wiedersehen, Piedels! Handed their passports at the gate, they were put on the London plane, set to fly for the first time in their lives. It then got even tastier for Koschmider because Eckhorn was billed for at least part of the cost of the plane tickets. Bruno must have been rubbing his hands with joy.
—Tune In, Ch. 17 (Oct 1–Dec 31, 1960)
Sources: 41 Author interview, March 7, 1985. Pete says (Beatle!, p72) there were four rubbers and always speaks of them in plural, Paul speaks of one. 42 December 12, 1960, sent to Ken Horton. This letter provides the only suggestion that John was arrested in the roundup; he’s not mentioned in other accounts. 43 Interview by Paul Gambaccini, Rolling Stone, June 12, 1979. Rathaus means “city hall.” Instead of the main prison at Fühlsbuttel, it’s more likely Paul and Pete were taken to the remand prison near St. Pauli called Untersuchungsgefängnis (easier done than said).
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pc-98s · 6 months
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remotes into server at large company. server is running on unlicensed windows 10.
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