#Power Consumption Measurement

[electronalytics]

Digital Power Meter Market Trends, Key Factors, Opportunity, In-depth Insights Strategies and Huge Demand by 2032

Market Overview: The Digital Power Meter Market refers to the market for electronic devices used for measuring and monitoring electrical power consumption in various applications. Digital power meters provide accurate and real-time data on power usage, enabling efficient energy management and facilitating cost savings. These meters are widely used in residential, commercial, and industrial sectors to monitor electricity consumption and optimize energy usage.

Global Digital Power Meters Market Report Predicts Industry to Grow at 4.1% CAGR to forecast period (2023-2030).

Demand:

Energy Efficiency and Monitoring: Growing emphasis on energy conservation and cost reduction is driving the demand for digital power meters. These meters provide accurate real-time data on energy consumption, allowing businesses and individuals to monitor and manage their energy usage effectively.

Utility Modernization: Utilities are upgrading their infrastructure to smarter grids. Digital power meters enable utilities to remotely monitor energy consumption, detect outages, and manage energy distribution efficiently.

Smart Buildings: The trend toward smart buildings and home automation is fueling the demand for digital power meters. These meters are integral to building management systems, enabling remote energy monitoring, load optimization, and demand response strategies.

Renewable Energy Integration: As renewable energy sources become more prevalent, digital power meters play a critical role in tracking the energy produced and consumed. They enable effective integration of solar panels, wind turbines, and other renewable sources into the grid.

Data-Driven Insights: Businesses are seeking data-driven insights to optimize operations and reduce costs. Digital power meters provide granular data that can be used for energy audits, load profiling, and predictive maintenance.

Scope:

Industrial Applications: Digital power meters find extensive use in industries to monitor and manage energy consumption in manufacturing processes, helping industries identify energy-saving opportunities and enhance operational efficiency.

Residential Sector: As smart home technology gains popularity, digital power meters are becoming a central component of home energy management systems, allowing homeowners to monitor and control their energy usage remotely.

Commercial Buildings: Office complexes, retail spaces, and other commercial buildings are adopting digital power meters to comply with energy efficiency regulations and improve sustainability.

Utility Companies: Utility companies are deploying digital power meters for their customers to provide accurate billing based on actual consumption and enable demand-side management programs.

Opportunity:

Data Analytics and IoT Integration: The opportunity lies in enhancing digital power meters with advanced data analytics and integration with the Internet of Things (IoT). This can enable predictive maintenance, anomaly detection, and real-time energy optimization.

Demand Response Programs: Digital power meters open up opportunities for demand response programs where energy consumption can be adjusted in response to grid conditions. This creates potential revenue streams for consumers and businesses.

Energy Auditing Services: The accurate and detailed data provided by digital power meters can lead to the growth of energy auditing services. Energy consultants can analyze the data and recommend energy-saving measures to clients.

Renewable Energy Tracking Services: Businesses and homeowners with renewable energy systems may require tracking services to monitor the energy generated, consumed, and fed back into the grid. Digital power meters can offer such tracking capabilities.

Energy Management Solutions: Companies can develop comprehensive energy management solutions that integrate digital power meters with software platforms for holistic energy monitoring, analysis, and optimization.

Market Expansion: As digital power meter technology advances, there is an opportunity for market expansion into regions where energy efficiency initiatives are gaining traction.

The digital power meter market is evolving in response to increasing energy awareness, technology advancements, and changing energy landscapes. This creates opportunities for innovation and growth across various sectors and applications.

 Challenges: The digital power meter market also faces certain challenges, including:

• Cost Constraints: The price of digital power metres may prevent their adoption, particularly in markets where prices are sensitive. To meet this issue, manufacturers must concentrate on cost reduction and provide competitive pricing.

• Compatibility and Interoperability: When integrating digital power metres with current energy management systems or smart grid infrastructure, interoperability problems may occur. For seamless integration and functionality, compatibility and standardisation are crucial.

• Data Security and Privacy: As sensitive energy consumption data is collected and transmitted by digital power metres, guaranteeing data security and preserving customer privacy are significant issues that need to be resolved by putting in place effective cybersecurity measures.

Overall, the digital power meter market offers significant opportunities driven by energy efficiency initiatives, smart grid deployment, and growing awareness of energy management. Addressing challenges related to cost, compatibility, and data security will be crucial for sustained market growth.

 By visiting our website or contacting us directly, you can explore the availability of specific reports related to this market. These reports often require a purchase or subscription, but we provide comprehensive and in-depth information that can be valuable for businesses, investors, and individuals interested in this market.

“Remember to look for recent reports to ensure you have the most current and relevant information.”

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Market Segmentations:

Global Digital Power Meter Market: By Company

• General Electric

• Toshiba

• Wasison Group Holdings

• ABB

• Eaton

• Holley Metering

• Siemens

• Itron

• Landis+Gyr

• Schneider Electric

• Honeywell

• Jiaxing Eastron Electronic Instruments

• Kamstrup

• LINYANG Energy

• Murata

• Simpson Electric

Global Digital Power Meter Market: By Type

• Single Phase

• Three Phase

Global Digital Power Meter Market: By Application

• Residential

• Commercial

• Industrial

Global Digital Power Meter Market: Regional Analysis

The global Digital Power Metre market's regional analysis sheds light on how the market has performed in various parts of the world. The research contains a market prognosis for the predicted period and is based on current and upcoming trends. The following nations are included in the regional analysis of the digital power metre market report:

North America: The North America region includes the U.S., Canada, and Mexico. The U.S. is the largest market for Digital Power Meter in this region, followed by Canada and Mexico. The market growth in this region is primarily driven by the presence of key market players and the increasing demand for the product.

Europe: The Europe region includes Germany, France, U.K., Russia, Italy, Spain, Turkey, Netherlands, Switzerland, Belgium, and Rest of Europe. Germany is the largest market for Digital Power Meter in this region, followed by the U.K. and France. The market growth in this region is driven by the increasing demand for the product in the automotive and aerospace sectors.

Asia-Pacific: The Asia-Pacific region includes Singapore, Malaysia, Australia, Thailand, Indonesia, Philippines, China, Japan, India, South Korea, and Rest of Asia-Pacific. China is the largest market for Digital Power Meter in this region, followed by Japan and India. The market growth in this region is driven by the increasing adoption of the product in various end-use industries, such as automotive, aerospace, and construction.

Middle East and Africa: The Middle East and Africa region includes Saudi Arabia, U.A.E, South Africa, Egypt, Israel, and Rest of Middle East and Africa. The market growth in this region is driven by the increasing demand for the product in the aerospace and defense sectors.

South America: The South America region includes Argentina, Brazil, and Rest of South America. Brazil is the largest market for Digital Power Meter in this region, followed by Argentina. The market growth in this region is primarily driven by the increasing demand for the product in the automotive sector.

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Reasons to Purchase Digital Power Meter Market Report:

 Comprehensive Market Insights: Global research market reports provide a thorough and in-depth analysis of a specific market or industry. They offer valuable insights into market size, growth potential, trends, challenges, and opportunities, helping businesses make informed decisions and formulate effective strategies.

Market Analysis and Forecasts: These reports provide detailed analysis and forecasts of market trends, growth rates, and future market scenarios. They help businesses understand the current market landscape and anticipate future market developments, enabling them to plan and allocate resources accordingly.

Competitive Intelligence: Global research market reports provide a competitive landscape analysis, including information about key market players, their market share, strategies, and product portfolios. This information helps businesses understand their competitors' strengths and weaknesses, identify market gaps, and develop strategies to gain a competitive advantage.

Industry Trends and Insights: These reports offer insights into industry-specific trends, emerging technologies, and regulatory frameworks. Understanding industry dynamics and staying updated on the latest trends can help businesses identify growth opportunities and stay ahead in a competitive market.

Investment and Expansion Opportunities: Global research market reports provide information about investment opportunities, potential markets for expansion, and emerging growth areas. These reports help businesses identify untapped markets, assess the feasibility of investments, and make informed decisions regarding expansion strategies.

Risk Mitigation: Market reports provide risk assessment and mitigation strategies. By analyzing market dynamics, potential challenges, and regulatory frameworks, businesses can proactively identify risks and develop strategies to mitigate them, ensuring better risk management and decision-making.

Cost and Time Efficiency: Conducting comprehensive market research independently can be time-consuming and expensive. Purchasing a global research market report provides a cost-effective and time-efficient solution, saving businesses valuable resources while still gaining access to reliable and detailed market information.

Decision-Making Support: Global research market reports serve as decision-making tools by providing data-driven insights and analysis. Businesses can rely on these reports to support their decision-making process, validate assumptions, and evaluate the potential outcomes of different strategies.

In general, market research studies offer companies and organisations useful data that can aid in making decisions and maintaining competitiveness in their industry. They can offer a strong basis for decision-making, strategy formulation, and company planning.

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[roxysmini]

Let there be light !

Finally finished electrifying my dollhouse ! That was pretty long and finicky to do, but I absolutely love the results ! The lower floor "neons" really add light to the room.

Buy my favorite is the under-stairs toilet bulb x)

Everything is LEDs, all using round wire, and each set for light has its own independent switch. There's also a "main" switch, next to the DC jack powering the house, both hidden under the porch stairs.

[futureelectronic1113]

Introduction to Bare Metal Programming With Microchip Episode 7: Lowest Power Blinky

https://www.futureelectronics.com/resources/featured-products/microchip-bare-metal-programming-attiny1627. In this 7th bare metal episode, we will make a low power Blinky using the Real Time Counter (RTC) and Periodic Interval Timer (PIT) and compare the current consumption to the Blinky projects in the previous videos. https://youtu.be/FVqj-6qSRn0

[futureelectronic1112]

Introduction to Bare Metal Programming with Microchip Episode 6: Low Power Measurements

https://www.futureelectronics.com/resources/featured-products/microchip-bare-metal-programming-attiny1627. In this 6th episode of the bare metal programming series for the AVR® Tiny2, we will cover: - Modifying the Curiosity Nano for Low Power Measurements - Measure current consumption - Compare to expected current consumption from datasheet. https://youtu.be/XyWBoo3f37g

[dirtytomatoedwrites]

THE RESIGNATION

Summary: You can quit. It doesn't mean Rafe will let you.

Paring: CEO!Rafe Cameron x Fem!Reader

Strictly 18+ No Minors to Interact

Warnings:  18+ Smut. Oral (w receiving) Masturbation (w), Rough Sex, PIV, Creampie, Fluff, Romance with a dash of Angst. AgedUp!Rafe. Not Proof-Read. Enjoy.

Word Count: 2k words

Author's Note: Something a little shorter, lighter and sweet. Happy reading and much love to you all ❤️

Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Please don’t steal or copy bits of my writing or any writing from other writers cause karma will get ya.

-------

*Buzzzzzzzzz*

“Yes.”

“Y/N is here to see you.”

“Send her in.”

Rafe watches in fascination as you shuffle in, your face taut and serious. Your eyes cast downward, clutching a file. As you tuck an unruly strand of hair behind your ear, he realizes you're nervous. The tension, his silence, makes you even more anxious.

“Sit,” he instructs, motioning to the chair across his desk. Meanwhile, he keeps his gaze on his papers. He continues to read and leisurely sign forms. Yet, he can distinctly feel your eyes on him, both of you fully aware of the meeting's purpose.

For Rafe, the dynamics at play are exhilarating. After finishing his tasks, he lifts his eyes to find you focused on your file, seemingly avoiding his gaze.

He unbuttons his suit jacket and leans back, his fingers drum lightly on the fine-crafted letter in front of him. The paper carries a soft hint of perfume. It smells like you.

There's a part of him that wishes to be cruel, to use biting words he's often used with others in his employ. Yet something about you prevents him. The game of power was always in his favor, but with you, the boundaries become ambiguous, shifting in unexpected ways. With you, it's always been personal.

“Why didn't you tell me you were unhappy?” he asks. His tone is calm, yet probing. You seem taken aback, eyes widening as they search his face.

He decides to try another approach. “It's clear to me now,” he points to your letter of resignation. “You were unhappy at Cameron Enterprises. How long have you felt this way?”

Your surprise is palpable, and he watches you closely, enjoying the tapestry of emotions that flash across your face, each one more captivating than the last.

“Well?” he prods.

You shift, straightening your back. “I am grateful for my time at Cameron Enterprises. Truly I am. The team has been so kind to me, and I'll honestly cherish the friends I've made—”

“But?” he asks, cutting you off, eager to understand.

“But, I believe it's time for me to pursue other opportunities,” you admit, measuring your words. You slowly nod your head, as though you have thought this whole thing out, and now you are not only resolved with the thought but you truly believe it. It’s this sureness, this resolution, that truly makes Rafe react.

“I see,” Rafe says as he presses a button, making the office walls turn opaque. "So, you think you've outgrown us."

“No—”

"No?" he interrupts, rising from behind his desk and walking slowly toward you.

"No. I just- I feel it's time for me to try something... new.”

"Something new," he repeats, his gaze lowers to meet yours while you look up at him. His eyes scrutinize you carefully. “I respect that,” he nods, and as you avert your gaze, he gently hooks your chin with his fingers, prompting you to look him in the eye.

“No, really. I do. What's the point of life if not to grow, right? But let me be crystal clear: leaving here is not an option. So, here's what I'm willing to offer," his voice is as smooth as honey as his thumb strokes your jaw. "First, a five percent raise. But seeing as you’re already on one of the highest salaries here, I suspect that won't really sway you. You’ll also be given a new title.”

"Raf—"

"And to sweeten the deal," Rafe interrupts, "a vacation to any destination you want. You'll be whisked away on the company jet, stay at a five-star, luxury hotel—every need pampered and taken care of. I'll see to that, and we'll get to that, but here's the thing—" he whispers, his voice low and seductive.

"You embarrassed me today—ah, ah, I'm talking," he asserts, his eyes commanding yours into silence. "If it were anyone else, anyone else, no one would have noticed or given a flying fuck. But since it’s you, your little resignation created a lot of gossip. It made us look weak, hinted at instability, and in a Fortune 500 company, that's not going to work. Do you think the board cares about your need to ‘try something new'? Hm," his gaze is drawn to your mouth as you clamp it shut.

"So for those reasons, I'm going to punish you,”he says, while his thumb gently taps your chin. "But how to punish you...” he muses. “That’s the real question.”

Pulling away, he slides his hands into his pockets and, after taking a few steps back, leans against his desk.

"Rafe, you know I was just— I mean I wasn’t trying to—”

"Spare me, all right? I'm not interested in hearing what you have to say. Not right now. What I want..." he said slowly as he tapped a finger to his chest "What I want, is for you to open your legs, yeah? That's what I want."

You're shocked — he gathers as much from the way you gulp, and Rafe can't help but let a smirk of self-satisfaction curl his lips.

"Don't look so surprised. You knew what working for me entailed when you agreed to it. Now, spread your legs. Let me see what I'm shelling out nearly half a mil for."

"Rafe, I… I" you murmur.

Crossing his arms, his gaze locks onto yours signalling the end of the discussion. Hesitantly, and with much caution, you eventually slide your legs apart, your skirt riding up ever so slightly.

"Wider," Rafe commands, "Lean back and open them wider."

Breathing heavily, you do as he asks. Leaning back against the chair, you spread your legs open fully, causing your skirt to ride up to your waist, revealing your panty-covered sex. The damp patch, dark against the bright red fabric teases him.

"Pull your panties to the side. Let me see how wet you are.” he whispers silkily.

You turn your head away shyly but eventually you hook a finger into the fabric and pull it aside, exposing your slick wet folds to his ravenous gaze.

Rafe smiles in approval.

"That's good." he purrs, "Now, touch yourself. That pussy looks like it needs a good fingering " his voice rumbles with authority as his gaze flickers from your face to your exposed weeping slit. You hesitate, breathing heavily while trying to form a protest.

"I… I'm not—"

"Do it," he interrupts firmly.

You hesitate for a few moments, but eventually obey by pushing a finger into your dripping sex. A moan escapes your lips when Rafe lets out a deep groan as encouragement. Your hesitation seems to disappear and you push another finger in.

"Fuck," he hisses. "Add another. I know you can handle it."

You nod slowly and introduce a third, while the middle finger of your other hand gently rub your clit. Sinking into the sensation you open your legs wider for more access, your fingers moving hard and fast.

Rafe groans in protest. “Go slow...This isn’t for you. It’s about what I want, and what I want is for you to tease yourself. You're not allowed to cum. Not yet. Not until I say.”

You whimper but follow his command. You slow your speed til it's teasing almost leisurely and Rafe soaks it all in. The jolts of pleasure that have you mewling, the way your chest rises and fall, breathless, desperate. The way you curl your fingers just enough to make you gasp. It's incredible to watch and as your hips begin to buck against your massaging fingers, Rafe finds himself looming over you, taking in the sight of your ecstasy-filled face and finger-stuffed pussy.

He leans in and kisses you. His tongue lashes yours, tasting your moans and desperation. He pulls away, eyes back on your wet centre, focused on your fingers moving in and out, accompanied by the sweet wet sounds it makes and your hips rising from the chair.

"Go on, make that pussy cum." he orders. In no time, your orgasm washes over you. He can see it build from your core as you shudder and your thighs shake, your breath hitches fighting to stave it off and then it radiates out from the depths of your soul in a moan of pure ecstasy.

Before you can catch your breath, Rafe pushes your hand away and laps at your essence with his tongue. His hands on the back of your knees, push your legs right to your chest, keeping it wide open as he tongue fucks you.

Eating you out was always an appetizer he savored, making sure you had cum at least twice from his efforts, but right now, with his blood boiling with anger and frustration, he's famished and desperate for the main course.

Urgently, he undoes his slacks and lifts your legs even higher, pinning your ankles above your head with one hand. Without giving you time to adjust, he smears his cock with your slick and plunges deep into your tight heat, pressing you into the chair with his body weight as he begins to pound you.

It's a painful position, and he's acutely aware of that. It's deep and aggressively forceful, the type of position that should be approached with care, or ease you gently into it. But right now, it's not about you. Right now he's too riled up to care and so he fucks you without remorse or restraint, reducing you to nothing more than a fuck toy- his fuck toy spurred on by the delicious moans that escape your parted lips.

Your hands cling to the armrests for dear life as you desperately try to maintain your balance. Rafe continues to slam his hips against the back of your thighs, taking pleasure in your inability to move while he plows you deep. You whimper, desperate to escape his grip, but it does nothing to deter him. Instead, he revels in your struggle, knowing that your lack of control will only intensify his orgasm and your own.

"You want to quit..." Rafe sneers. He watches you whimper and feels your pussy tighten like a vice, while simultaneously soaking the front of his slacks. It makes him feral and he redoubles his efforts, fucking you into the chair until it starts to scrape against the cherry-oak floor.

"You want to quit on me?" he strains, while he observes ecstasy wash over your face, your eyes roll back in a pleasure-filled awe. With one hand, he gently taps your cheek to keep you focused.

"You wanna quit on me? Huh?” And he leans in further, his cock repeatedly hits a spot so deep you’re shaking, babbling and barely coherent.

“You're not going anywhere. Not now, not ever," he grunts, "Now fucking cum. Fucking cum.” His ruthless demand pushes you higher until all inhibitions are obliterated. You scream out in surrender, bucking up onto his plundering cock while Rafe releases a guttural moan, filling you with ribbon after ribbon of thick cum.

Several minutes have passed when his movements gradually stops, signaling the ebbing of his energy. He's exhausted, his fervor having reached its climatic end. He pulls out, his balance wavering slightly until his back meets the glass desk behind him. A contented exhale escapes his lips as he takes in the sight of you.

There you are, looking thoroughly fucked out. Your legs are splayed open, a sheen of sweat glistens on your skin, reflecting the aftermath of passion. His cum slowly leaks out of you and you wear it like a carnal badge of honor. Observing your state, he’s acutely aware that his own appearance mirrors yours—fucked out and messy. His clothes is in disarray, his cock is hanging out and physical exhaustion makes his body seek support against the table.

Despite the disheveled scene, a wave of affection swells within him, washing over any remnants of his earlier anger. His chest heaves as he gulps in air, attempting to control his breathing.

"You're lucky I love you," he manages to say, each word punctuated by his effort to recover. His gaze locks onto yours, intense yet softened by the rush of emotions. "No one else has this infuriating, intoxicating effect on me. You drive me to the brink and back," he adds, a playful seriousness lacing his tone as he licks his lips. "For that little stunt, I should fire you," he teases.

Your fingers glide through the cum dripping from your sex, and Rafe can't suppress a sense of pride. He always takes pride in the chaos he creates, especially when you revel in it.

"I've been trying to talk to you, but you've been so distracted lately, you haven't been listening" you sigh, as you try to catch your breath. "What else was I supposed to do to get your attention? Hand me some tissues, will you?"

He pauses, his eyes narrowing as he digests your words, then reaches with a trembling hand for the tissue box on his desk. "When? When did you try to talk to me and I wasn't listening?" he asks. He takes a clump of tissues and hands them to you.

"This morning at breakfast, and last night during dinner. I barely started speaking before you turned the conversation back to contractors and deadlines and even when I gave you a solution, not just one Rafe but two- two concrete solutions you ignored me. It was like I wasn't even there. It's not the first time." you explain, accepting the tissues from him.

"I didn't realize—"

"You did," you interrupt, ensuring your eyes stay fixed on his to underline your statement. "Why do you think I kept singing the song about wanting to make some changes, wanting to try something new. I've been saying it for weeks on and off because this is clearly not working."

“I thought you were talking about remodeling the offices, not resigning from the company. It's a family business—how would it look if my wife quits?" His voice carries a hint of concern, not just for the optics but for the unspoken bond that this business represents between the two of you.

A soft sigh escapes you as you lock eyes with him, a delicate blend of frustration and affection. "Rafe, I don't want to walk away from this," you admit "But I need more than just a title and a desk. I need to feel heard, to be part of this with you, not just in name because I'm married to a Cameron. I want to be a part of the decisions and changes we dare to dream up together."

Rafe's eyes hold yours, a moment of realization dawning upon him. "I see you," he says quietly, the weight of his oversight apparent in his tone. "I'm sorry I wasn't listening. Do you really want to leave? Is that what you truly want?"

His question, earnest and laced with vulnerability, hangs between you, but you shake your head gently. "No, I don't want to leave, Rafe. I just want... more. More involvement, more acknowledgment, and yes, maybe even a little more attention. But leaving? No. This place, with all its madness, is where I belong."

He exhales, the relief evident in the way his shoulders drop slightly, the rigid line of worry softening around his eyes. "Thank fuck for that," he says with a hushed intensity. "Because I can't imagine doing any of this without you. But let's agree on no more 'resignation stunts' in the future, yeah? It's bad press and only makes for bad business—besides, I doubt my heart can take it."

You nod, agreeing, a mischievous glint in your eye as if to say you’ll find another effective way to get right under his skin, because in the end you always do. “Fine. But for the record, I do have some ideas for my office too."

He laughed, the sound rich and warm, and he pulled you into a messy, loving kiss. "We'll discuss it at home, Mrs. Cameron. For now, let's get you cleaned up, yeah?"

"Speak for yourself. You're the one with your dick hanging out."

With a shared laugh and a sweaty kiss, you both begin the task of putting the office—and yourselves—back together, the line between professional and personal wonderfully blurred.

--------------

A/N - See guys I can do sweet 😈 I tried to keep the reveal until the end shhhh 🤭 Thanks for reading x If you enjoyed it please reblog as it supports writers. Until next time ❤️

[zhejiangleihaoelectric]

[marvelfilth]

🎥 girl (18+)

Part 2

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x f!reader

Warnings: camgirl!Tara, bottom!Tara, smut, strap-on sex (Tara receiving), blow job (R receiving), weed consumption, pet names

Summary: Tara asks you for a favor, you're more than ready to deliver

Masterlist

You have a simple agreement with your roommate - you ignore the whimpers and moans that echo throughout the apartment whenever she's shooting a video (which happens a lot, almost every day), and in return she stays silent about your own hobby. 

The agreement is not the best, and you're definitely at a disadvantage, but, outside of her online persona, Tara is nice and considerate, and she tried very hard to soundproof her room, which didn't help at all to no-one's surprise. 

It certainly does help that she greets you every morning with a bun or two from the bakery across the road, and lingers by the door when you leave for work, promising to cook something for dinner. 

Really, it almost feels like a perfect life, until she locks her bedroom door and you have to plug your ears and roll a blunt to keep your sanity intact. 

See, Tara is nice and considerate, but she's also breathtakingly beautiful and casually seductive, walking around the apartment in tight shorts and barely there crop tops, pressing against you in all the right places when she hugs you goodbye and looking so pretty when she walks out of her room after hours of filming, clad in a silky robe, with sweat still clinging to her as she skims past you to the bathroom.

You're not sure she's aware of the hold she has on you.

"Can I have some?" She asks from your doorway, pulling you out of your thoughts. 

You turn in your chair and wave her inside, your eyes lingering on her cleavage as she walks past and sits on the desk, pulling your chair closer so you're stuck between her parted legs. You look her up and down, noting the slight shakiness of her hands and her dilated pupils. 

You reach past her for another blunt, but she stops you with a shake of her head, and pulls at the one still stuck between your lips. You watch her relax as she takes a drag, leaning against the wall. You can't help it, your eyes dart lower, catching a glimpse of her nipples straining against the confines of her white tank top, then even lower to the glimpse of skin between her shirt and her sweatpants. You curse her for choosing the least revealing clothes today of all days, when she is sprawled right in front of you. 

She nudges your chin up. Her cheeks are reddened and she struggles to keep eye contact, biting her lip as she passes you the blunt, pressing it against your waiting lips, pads of her fingers grazing the plum skin.

"I wanted to ask you something." Her words are barely coherent, or maybe you're just too far gone from the weed and the pretty girl who doesn't know how much power she has over you.

"Yeah?" You swallow, playing with the hem of her pants over her hipbone. Her breath hitches. 

Her blush deepens and you try not to swoon at the sight. "You know how I'm almost done with my student debt..?" She mumbles, catching your fingers and interlacing them with hers over her lap.

"Mhm," you hum, fixated on the way your hands fit together.

"I thought of a way to speed up the process." She trails a pad of her thumb over your knuckles. "I'll need your help." She looks up, her eyes glazed over.

"What kind of help?"

She takes a moment to respond, and eventually climbs off the desk and onto your lap, planting her hands over your neck. She takes measuring breaths, hiding her face, her chin tucked into her chest. "For my site," she reveals and launches on a ramble, not giving you time to respond. "You won't have to do anything, I'll do all of the work. I'll just need you to wear a harness and be you. You know, hot without even trying. You can wear a mask, if you want, or you can stay out of the frame." She chews on her lip, finally looking up to meet your eyes. One of her hands settles on your thigh, squeezing. "I bought something for this. It's perfect for you. And me." 

You stop breathing altogether. "You want to ride me?" 

She chokes on her breath. "I- well, yes, but- No! I mean…" She clothes her eyes and you hear her curse and her breath. "I mean, I had something else in mind…" she trails off, hiding her face in the palms of her hands.

You take her wrists and pull them apart, settling them on your shoulders, and plant your hands over her waist, squeezing in reassurance. "What did you have in mind?" 

This time she doesn't hesitate. "I want you to deepthroat me." 

Your jaw clenches. Never in your wildest dreams have you thought a moment like this would come. But here she is, on your lap, eyes full of hope and want, asking you to fuck her face, implying she wants to ride you. 

She takes your silence as a sign of hesitation and continues on, sliding closer to you in your lap, pressing her chest against yours. "I'll give you a share, of course, and no one will know it's you, I promise. You'll be visible only from your waist down, I'll just get on my knees and-"

"Stop," you cut her off, "I'll do it, just stop talking." 

"Yeah?" She asks with trepidation. 

"Yes." 

"Then let's go." She hops off your lap, tugging you along to her bedroom.

"What, now?" You ask, stopping her in the doorway.

"Now." She nods with fervor. There's a new glint in her eyes, one you've never seen before.

"Okay." You let her guide you to her bed.

She spends at least half an hour setting up her camera and rummaging through her closet, before she comes back to stand in front of you in a pink lingerie set. You gulp, taking her in. The undergarments do nothing to hide her pretty breasts and gushing pussy. Your hands itch to tear away the garter belt holding her fishnet stockings. She basks in the attention unapologetically, slowly turning around to let you see her butt, arching her back to grant you a glimpse of her folds. You feel like you need to be restrained in order not to pounce on her and run your tongue over her cunt. When she turns back to face you she pushes her elbows together, bulging her breasts as she hands you a change of clothes. 

You didn't even notice she was holding something.

"You really thought this through, huh?" You ask to fill the suffocating silence.

She smiles, nodding, and reaches for the hem of your shirt, tugging it up. You follow her lead and undress as fast as you can with your shaking hands. She takes a seat on the bed, drinking you in, her thighs clenching when you're left in your underwear. She reaches behind her and hands you the harness without another word. You gulp when you notice the size, taking a double take before pulling it over your hips. She stands up and helps you fasten it, her hands lingering on your heated skin. You pull on black slacks, a white dress shirt and a silver wrist watch without a question, but hesitate when you notice black boots on the floor near the foot of her bed. You look up questioningly and see her nod, so you pull them on too. Her tongue darts out to wet her lips as she starts rolling the sleeves of your shirt up to your elbows, keeping her eyes pinned to your lips.

"Better," she whispers.

You nod, feeling her warm breath on your neck. 

"Kiss me?" She asks, batting her lashes, and pushing you to sit on the bed, straddling you the second the backs of your thighs meet her soft bed. 

Your hands find home on her hips, sneaking past the fabric of her panties, making her grind against your lap.

"I thought I wasn't supposed to do anything?" You tease, enjoying the way the tips of her ears turn red.

"I just don't want this to be awkward." She mumbles, threading her fingers through your hair. "Please?" 

You grant her wish, pulling her in for a lazy kiss, languidly moving your lips against hers, pulling the softest whimpers out of her mouth. Your hands move up on their own accord, eagerly cupping her tits, barely holding back from tearing the lace of her bra apart. She moans at the intrusion, her grip on the back of your neck turning painful. It's not enough for either of you.

You pull away for a breath before diving back in with vigor. She parts her lips, letting your tongue in to explore the warmth of her mouth and you moan at the feeling. She parts her thighs even more, desperately rubbing against you. 

You stop her before it's too late, pushing her off your lap and onto the bed.

"Hm?" She hums, blinking up at you in confusion.

You rub your palm over your face, gesturing at the camera with your other hand. "We got off track."

She exhales and looks away, before getting up and turning the camera on. You look at her for guidance and she pulls you to your feet, turning you so your side is facing the camera, her eyes fixed on yours the entire time. She takes hold of your wrists, placing your hand under her jaw, and your fingers automatically clench around her face, making the smaller girl close her eyes before sinking to her knees. She wastes no time undoing the buttons of your pants, placing sweet kisses over your abs, trailing down and finally pulling the silicone cock out, letting it slap the side of her face before placing a kiss to the tip.

You can't look away from the sight, your mouth falling open and your chest heaving rapidly as you try to control to urge to bend her over the bed and fuck her raw. She looks up at you innocently, before giving you a slow, long lick down to the base of the shaft of your fake cock and sneakily placing a kiss to the visible patch of skin of your inner thigh. Your other hand takes hold of her long locks at that, wrapping the strands around your fist before tugging harshly, placing her mouth over the tip and thrusting inside. She tears up but welcomes you eagerly, moaning loudly as she her fingers clasp on the backs of your thighs, nails digging in.

Tara ignores her own burning need in favor of finding a way to make you feel good, bobbing her head on the cock and watching your expression with lust filled eyes. She knows she found the spot when your hips jerk and eyes roll to the back of your head. Her throat hurts and her tears ruin her mascara, but she doesn't care, as long as she gets to see you like this, all flushed and panting because of her. She chokes when she notices a trail of cum rolling down your inner thigh. She can't help it, she pulls away, and before she knows it she's catching it with her tongue, moaning at the taste. 

"Fuck," she whimpers when you tug her away and back to the fake appendage, your cheeks painted red. "Feels good, doesn't it?" She asks, sliding her hands up to grip your ass. 

"So good, baby," you groan, pushing into her mouth, making her gag around the length. "You have no idea what you're doing to me."

She looks at you like she does know, her eyes wide and full of need. She shifts on the floor, tugging one of your legs forward and you comply with no hesitation, pulling the wet hair out of her face before settling on gently massaging her scalp. 

Her eyes fall shut and that's when you notice it. She's grinding down on your boot, painting it with her wetness as she desperately rubs against it.

"Look at you, getting off on my foot like a slut." You grip the sides of her face, and use your hips to thrust into her mouth. "My dirty girl, looking so pretty like this."

Her eyes bulge as she fucks herself against you, letting you use her and using you in return. 

You can't take it anymore.

You pull out and give her no time to question you before pulling her up and crashing your lips in a heated kiss, full of lust and passion. You walk her back and she falls on the bed, scurrying up and tearing away her bra. You take a moment to appreciate the sight of her body, sprawled on the bed with her legs spread, granting you a perfect view of her puffy pussy, partially hidden away by a piece of fabric. She wiggles impatiently when you take too long to move, biting on her lip and reaching down to part her lower lips for you, her hips buckling against her hand. You take no time in tearing her lingerie away, carelessly throwing it over your shoulder as you lunge at the brunette, attacking her neck with biting kisses and littering a path down her stomach with hickeys. 

"I need you so bad," she whines, trying to tug you lower.

"Yeah? You want me to fuck your pretty pussy?" You ask, spreading her folds open. She's dripped all over the bed already.

Her face turns beet red as she tries to hide it in the soft cushions, but you don't let her, forcing her to look at you with a tight grip on her chin. "Answer me." 

"Yes," she whines.

"I don't think you want it bad enough." You start pulling away, but she catches your shoulders in an ironclad grip, pulling you back in and forcing your face down on her breasts. You suck on her nipple, rolling it between your teeth.

"I've wanted you to fuck me since the first day I saw you," she confesses, throwing her legs over your hips. "I wanted you to bend me over the counter every time you looked at my ass a little too long. I wanted to get on my knees and eat you out when you came back from a date with that bitch, to show you how it's actually supposed to feel, to make you forget about everyone else, but me." 

You release her nipple with a wet pop and move to sit, trailing your hands over her sides. Her eyes are closed, like she's afraid to face your reaction. You cup her cheek, swiping your thumb over her cheekbone, gently coaxing her to look at you. You smile when she does, and circle her waist, tugging her up to sit on your lap. You're face to face now, and you waste no time in letting her know where you stand.

"Then I'll spend a lot of time making it up to you, angel. Does that sound good?" 

She nods feverishly. "Please," she moans and claws at your shirt, tearing it off. "Want to feel all of you." 

You quickly take off the rest of your clothes under Tara's watchful eyes. She doesn't waste a second in throwing herself over your lap once you're done, pulling you in for a kiss, moaning at the feeling of her skin pressed against hers. Finally.

"How about that ride?" You ask between the kisses, nudging her legs further apart. She shakes her head, nuzzling her nose against your cheek. "I- we can do that next time, right?" She asks, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. 

You see the hidden meaning of her question easily. 

Will there be a next time? 

Your heart melts. "Of course, baby." 

She relaxes, and falls back on the sheets, tugging you down with her. "Make love to me?" She whispers.

Your chest fills with so much warmth it might spill over. You take hold of her hand, interlacing your fingers over her head and place a soft kiss on her lips. "Always." 

She giggles happily, and you think this is what heaven must feel like. 

You tease the tip of your cock against her heat, collecting wetness. She's so wet there's no need to get her ready, so you waste no time in bottoming out in one thrust, pushing her knees against her chest. You stay like that, letting her catch her breath, your entire body tense. 

You wish you could feel her clenching around you. 

You pull out until only the tip of the cock is left inside her tight pussy, before shoving back in. "Taking me so well," you mutter against her neck, enjoying the pain of her nails scratching your back. "Such a good girl for me." 

She cries out, gasping. "Only for you."

You fill her up to the brim, hitting her in all the right places as you fasten your pace, chasing her orgasm. She has to bite your shoulder when you hit particularly deep, making her eyes squeeze shut and her toes curl. "Ah-  just like that," she moans, "fuck- baby, feels so good." 

You double your efforts, rutting into her hard enough to make the bed shake with each thrust.  Your orgams is fast approaching, but you can't afford to think about it when she looks so utterly breathtaking under you, looking up at you with tears stricken eyes, her lips red and puffy from all the biting and her neck red from your lips. 

You see the moment you take her over the edge. Her jerks hips jerk violently and her eyes roll back, the cry she lets out so loud it makes your ears ring. 

You fuck her through it, watching as she comes down from her high, eventually pulling out when she starts nudging away. You take off the harness, throw it somewhere behind you, and tuck her into your side, basking in the way she clings to you, lazily pecking your neck every now and then.

Her hand moves languidly down your stomach, but you stop her, pulling it back up your waist. She sleepily whines in protest, but you know she won't be able to put up a fight. You kiss her on the lips, smiling. "Rest now, we'll have time for that later." 

She pouts, blinking heavily, but relents in favor of burrowing into you even more, throwing her leg over your hips, pinning you down with her weight. "Later," she promises into the crook of your neck.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

All In 5

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, power imbalance, low self esteem, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you meet a mysterious man on a night out with your sister. (petite!reader)

based on the winning option for this poll

Characters: casino owner!Bucky Barnes

Note: Happy weekend.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The car comes to a stop. It takes you a minute to notice as you reel yourself back to reality. You blink through the tinted window as Merv turns the music down; a song about glory days or something. 

“Here we are,” he announces and cranes to look back at you, “have fun, miss.” 

“Have fun...” you whisper to yourself in confusion, “what? Where do I go?” 

He laughs, not mockingly, and he points through the window, “well, you’ll want to go into that restaurant and give them Mr. Barnes’ name. They’ll sort you out, I’m sure.” 

“Oh,” your brows draw together. A restaurant. What? 

You undo your seatbelt hesitantly and peer out through the glass again. This is strange. You’ve only had a few interviews and most of them were in cramped backrooms or closets. You pull the handle and let yourself out, thanking Merv before you step up on the curb. 

You shut the car door and hook your bag over your shoulder. You stare up at the restaurant’s marquee. It’s a bistro of some sort. Upscale by your measure, thought you have little experience beyond chain joints and fast food. The white facade with its tall windows is intimidating as you approach the entrance. 

As you step inside, you’re all but assured that you don’t belong. A woman greets you with a pearly smile, her hair in a wispy bun, as she sports a flowery white dress. You look back and forth as she cradles a tablet in one arm. 

“Do you have a reservation?” She asks. 

You look down at yourself. That’s a generous assumption. You don’t know how she’s not telling you to leave. 

“Erm, I... I think I’m looking for someone,” you say, “Mr. Barnes?” 

“Barnes, yes, party for two,” she taps the screen, “he’s waiting. Won’t you follow me?” 

She spins on her heels and strolls away. She’s tall and gorgeous, just like the woman at the casino. You peer around and find no less finery and beauty among the staff and diners. The table are all white and polished and the walls are hung with abstract paintings of heaping fruit and bright cocktails. You’ve never seen brunch done so extravagantly. 

You nearly trip as you look ahead just before you reach the stairs. The hostess climbs ahead of you. You envy her modelesque figure. How is she stuck here? She’s breathtaking. She could be in magazines. 

More importantly, where are you going? 

Several flights and you emerge into the open air. You've never been on a rooftop. You’ve seen things like these in movies. There’s a bar center to the space and tables beneath umbrellas set all about. There is only one diner despite the sunshine. It is strangely desolate for such a warm scene. 

You’re led to the only occupied table. Mr. Barnes stands as you near. He wears a pair of teal slacks and a patterned shirt with an open collar. Casual but just as refined as before. It hardly seems like job interview. 

“Doll,” he greets you with a kiss on the cheek to your surprise. You don’t comment on it, it might just be his way. “You made it.” 

“I...” you check your watch, “it was before noon when I got to the casino.” 

“That’s on me,” he insists as he pulls out the chair for you, “I got restless. Changed my mind. Please.” 

He gestures to the seat and you accept stiffly, moving your bag into your lap as he tucks the chair in under you. He resumes his seat and looks up at the woman patiently standing to the side, “Melody,” he says, “she’ll have a vodka cran, give me my usual. Thanks.” 

“Yes, Mr. Barnes,” she replies eagerly. 

“Oh, and the lunch menu,” he returns. 

She clacks off in her heels as you squirm and clutch your purse. You peer around the rooftop and finally at Bucky. You give a sheepish smile. 

“This is a nice place.” 

“Sure is,” he sits back carelessly. There is no tension in him but your wound tight as a spring. 

“Never been anywhere like this...” your eyes drift over and you stare at the city skyline. 

“Made sure we weren’t near the edge, doll,” he assures, “I remember you’re not a fan.” He rests a hand on the table, rubbing his index and thumb. “And I wanted to have this time alone so my pal did me a favour and cleared the roof.” 

“Oh, wow.” 

“He owns this place,” he shrugs. “Never got into the restaurant business. It’s fickle.” 

You nod, not knowing what to say. He knows about these things. Obviously, a lot. You’ve never even worked a full-time week of work. 

“How’s your sister?” He asks, “I assume you got home safe.” 

“Yes, er, thank you, again, for doing all that,” you bite your lip and his blue eyes catch the gesture as his eyebrow tweaks. “I’m really sorry she did that.” 

“Doll, you’re real sweet apologising for her,” he inclines his head slightly, “but you gotta worry about yourself, don’t ya? That’s why you’re here.” 

The hostess, Melody, reappears and sets down two glasses. Yours is bright red with a lime on the rim and his is dark, no ice. She lays down a menu in front of each of you and straightens her posture. 

“I have to get back to the door but Hailee will be up to help you shortly. Our specials today are a goat cheese and beet salad or a brown sugar salmon with seasonal veggies.” 

“Thanks,” Bucky says as he taps the menu. 

Melody leaves you again and you bend your neck to read the menu. You look for a price beneath the dishes and find none. That can’t be good. 

“I’m not very hungry,” you sit up straight. 

“Doll, don’t worry about it. It’s on me,” he circles his hand around his glass, “why don’t you try your drink? Make sure it’s up to snuff.” He sits forward and lifts his own, “cheers.” 

Your hand slips up the condensating glass before you get a grasp on it. You raise it and clink it against his. You bring it to your lips slowly as he does the same, mirroring you as he watches you intently. You gulp and set down the glass as your cheeks strain. 

“You don’t like it?” He wonders. 

“No, I... well, I don’t drink much,” you take the cloth napkin and dab your lips. 

“Ah, if that’s too tart, you can have a look at the cocktails. Some of them are so sweet, you wouldn’t know the difference.” 

“I’m okay,” you assure him, “so...” you swallow and force out your breath, “about the job--” 

“Damn, doll, I’m so all over the place lately, I didn’t even tell you how good you look.” 

“I...” your eyes widen but you quickly wipe away your shock, “that’s nice. I mean, thank you.” Your voice shakes as you struggle to comprehend the compliment. What do you say? “You too.” 

He smirks, “yeah, you think so?” 

“What?” Your voice cracks. 

“You think I look good?” He combs his fingers through his long hair. Oh god. 

“Yes,” you answer cautiously, “I like your shirt.” 

“You’re adorable,” he snickers and shakes his head, leaning forward once more, bending his arms against the table. 

“Uh...” you peek down at the table and back to him. You can’t even blame the sun that you’re about to melt. The umbrella blocks out the bright beacon though a glare comes over the edge. “Bucky, sir, Mr. Barnes,” you shuffle through his titles, “the job. What would that be?” 

His brows rise and he brings a hand up to drag over his mouth and beard, his fingers brushing along the trim of his jaw. 

“The job,” he repeats as he narrows his eyes, “ah,” he lowers his head and presses a fingertip to the menu, “let’s order before we get into all that.” 

You look over the menu again then raise your chin, “I appreciate it, but it’s too much, Bucky. I wouldn’t want to... waste your money.” 

“It’s my money,” he looks at you, “so I’ll decide how I waste it.” 

“Oh,” your cheeks set alight, “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be,” he tilts his head again, “you’re just that type of girl. You don’t know what it is to be treated so allow me to show you.” 

You’re confused. This is the oddest encounter you’ve ever had. You almost feel like it’s a joke. You’re this poor helpless girl and he’s flaunting how rich and powerful he is. Is there even a job? 

“I’d feel worse if you didn’t eat, so doll, don’t step on my toes.” 

You chew your cheek and look down again. That’s it. You’ll have the cucumber sandwich. That’s not too much. It can’t be. 

The waitress arrives, a different woman but just as stunning. She introduces herself as Hailee. Bucky prompts you to order first before he gives his own. As she leaves, you rock slightly in your chair, stilling yourself before you can look weird. 

“So... I could clean or... I could learn something--” 

“Let me stop your there, doll,” he puts a large hand up, his palm rough and lined. “It’s my turn to apologise. I... haven’t been honest with you.” 

Your heart drops and you can’t help the glimmer in your vision. No. You’re going to have to go home and tell your mother you failed again. That you wasted her time and gas. You close your eyes and frown. 

“Doll, doll,” he says and you hear his chair scrape. You open your eyes as he pulls his chair around to sit closer to you, “hey, let me finish here.” 

You look him in the eye. Big mistake. You could drown in the blueness. He smirks and rubs your arm. 

“I’m not... it’s not a job I have to offer you,” he says deliberately, his other hand fluttering on your knee, “I would call it an arrangement. Mutually beneficial.” 

You stare at him. You’re entire being is on fire. You don’t understand what he’s saying, more so, you can barely think with him touching you. 

“But... I need a job,” you sniffle. 

He scoffs, not unkindly, “you’ll have money. I know you got a family, your sister, maybe your parents? Economy’s tough, I know it.” 

“Money? For what?” 

He squeezes your knee and sits up, draping his arm over the back of your chair as he leans even closer, “for your company. For yourself.” 

“What?” Your voice piques sharply. “I don’t...” 

“Look, let’s take it slow here, alright? Today is the taster. We spend some time together, see how we vibe, and go from there. Now I know you went to a whole lot of trouble to get so nice and pretty for me today,” he coaxes, “and I’m not gonna waste your time so you won’t go home empty handed. One thousand.” 

“Thousand?” You breathe. 

“Just for lunch,” he says, “I’d pay a lot more so I’m open to bartering.” 

“That’s... a lot...” you mutter. 

“Nothing’s too much for a girl like you,” his fingers dance along your shoulder. 

“I... I...” you heave each word. 

“Now don’t you freak out,” he’s on the edge of laughing, “doll, I mean it. Just lunch. You and me. Nothing...” he pulls away from you and puts his hands up, “untoward.” 

He stands and moves his chair back across from you. He sits and pushes his shoulders wide, “I mean it. Let’s get to know each other. I want to know all about you, doll.” 

“Me?” You gulp. 

“You,” he points over the table, “you must like music. You went to that concert, didn’t ya?” 

You nod and curl your shoulders. 

“What kinda music you like?” 

“Oh, I... old stuff, I guess. Destiny’s Child?” You give a sheepish cringe. 

“Old school,” he remarks, “I like it. Spice girls too?” 

“Yeah,” you clamp your lips together. 

“I’m not teasing ya. I can’t lie and say I never turned the radio up when I heard them,” he chuckles, “no judgment. That goes for you too, alright? When you find out how much I like ABBA, you can’t giggle.” 

Your cheeks dimple as you try not to smile. It’s hard to imagine him listening to Dancing Queen. You push your shoulders higher and look away. 

“Don’t laugh,” he chides. 

“I didn’t,” you turn back to him. 

“Yeah, you’re too nice, that’s why,” he purrs, “you gotta tell me your fave ABBA song.” 

You shrug and he squints cynically, “everyone has one. Come on. Fernando?” You shake your head at his guess. “Waterloo?” Again, no. “Mamma Mia?” Nope. “Take a Chance on Me?” No. “Alright, I surrender, tell me.” 

“Gimme, Gimme, Gimme,” you eke out. 

“Hm, not what I would guess but interesting,” he muses as his eyes wander from your face and back up, “but I at least knew you had taste.” 

He winks and you let out a giggle. Whether your nervous or something else, you can’t untangle all your emotions from one another. Yet you do feel a little better, a little lighter. It’s an unexpected situation but not as bad as you foresaw. 

[afeelgoodblog]

The Best News of Last Week

1. ‘It was an accident’: the scientists who have turned humid air into renewable power

Greetings, readers! Welcome to our weekly dose of positivity and good vibes. In this edition, I've gathered a collection of uplifting stories that will surely bring a smile to your face. From scientific breakthroughs to environmental initiatives and heartwarming achievements, I've got it all covered.

In May, a team at the University of Massachusetts Amherst published a paper declaring they had successfully generated a small but continuous electric current from humidity in the air. They’ve come a long way since then. The result is a thin grey disc measuring 4cm across.

One of these devices can generate a relatively modest 1.5 volts and 10 milliamps. However, 20,000 of them stacked, could generate 10 kilowatt hours of energy a day – roughly the consumption of an average UK household. Even more impressive: they plan to have a prototype ready for demonstration in 2024.

2. Empty Office Buildings Are Being Turned Into Vertical Farms

Empty office buildings are being repurposed into vertical farms, such as Area 2 Farms in Arlington, Virginia. With the decline in office usage due to the Covid-19 pandemic, municipalities are seeking ways to fill vacant spaces.

Vertical farming systems like Silo and AgriPlay's modular growth systems offer efficient and adaptable solutions for converting office buildings into agricultural spaces. These initiatives not only address food insecurity but also provide economic opportunities, green jobs, and fresh produce to local communities, transforming urban centers in the process.

3. Biden-Harris Administration to Provide 804,000 Borrowers with $39 Billion in Automatic Loan Forgiveness as a Result of Fixes to Income Driven Repayment Plans

The Department of Education in the United States has announced that over 804,000 borrowers will have $39 billion in Federal student loans automatically discharged. This is part of the Biden-Harris Administration's efforts to fix historical failures in the administration of the student loan program and ensure accurate counting of monthly payments towards loan forgiveness.

The Department aims to correct the system and provide borrowers with the forgiveness they deserve, leveling the playing field in higher education. This announcement adds to the Administration's efforts, which have already approved over $116.6 billion in student loan forgiveness for more than 3.4 million borrowers.

4. F.D.A. Approves First U.S. Over-the-Counter Birth Control Pill

The move could significantly expand access to contraception. The pill is expected to be available in early 2024.

The Food and Drug Administration on Thursday approved a birth control pill to be sold without a prescription for the first time in the United States, a milestone that could significantly expand access to contraception. The medication, called Opill, will become the most effective birth control method available over the counter

5. AIDS can be ended by 2030 with investments in prevention and treatment, UN says

It is possible to end AIDS by 2030 if countries demonstrate the political will to invest in prevention and treatment and adopt non-discriminatory laws, the United Nations said on Thursday.

In 2022, an estimated 39 million people around the world were living with HIV, according to UNAIDS, the United Nations AIDS program. HIV can progress to AIDS if left untreated.

6. Conjoined twins released from Texas Children’s Hospital after successfully separated in complex surgery

Conjoined twins are finally going home after the pair was safely separated during a complex surgery at Texas Children’s Hospital in June.

Ella Grace and Eliza Faith Fuller were in the neonatal intensive care unit (NICU) for over four months after their birth on March 1. A large team of healthcare workers took six hours to complete the surgery on June 14. Seven surgeons, four anesthesiologists, four surgical nurses and two surgical technicians assisted with the procedure.

7. From villains to valued: Canadians show overwhelming support for wolves

Despite their record in popular culture, according to a recent survey, seven in 10 Canadians say they have a “very positive” view of the iconic predators. 

Here's a fascinating video about how wolves changed Yellowstone nat'l park:

----

That's it for this week :)

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[devilevlls]

Creepy Obey me! AU

𝖲𝖾𝗇𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗈𝗉𝗂𝖼𝗌 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝖻𝖾 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌, 𝗌𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝖺𝗌: 𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗌𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗁𝖺𝗏𝗂𝗈𝗋, 𝗆𝗎𝗋𝖽𝖾𝗋, 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖺𝗌𝗌𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍, 𝗏𝗂𝗈𝗅𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗎𝖺𝗀𝖾, 𝗌𝖾𝗑𝗎𝖺𝗅 𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗌, 𝖽𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗇𝗂𝖼 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌, 𝖼𝗈𝗋𝗉𝗌𝖾𝗌, 𝖺𝗆𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗌. 𝖯𝗋𝗈𝖼𝖾𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇. Remember: The following information might not be that accurate comparing to Lucifer's canon personality.

Lucifer

⌞Feeding Habits⌝

  ࿔ Carnivorous (meat-eating)

  ࿔ Hunting habits: Lucifer harbors a distaste for the act of hunting souls directly. Instead, he frequents a secluded area in Devildom where lost souls wander, offering a more palatable source for consumption.

However, when it comes to acquiring meat, his approach takes a stark turn. He revels in the thrill of stalking his prey from a distance. The panicked screams only serve to heighten his excitement, igniting a primal thrill within him as he closes in on his target. ㅤ

⌞Unique features⌝

 ࿔ Two pairs of black feathered wings, some says they can cure wounds, but no one was brave enough to try plucking a feather.

 ࿔ Specific scent: He emits a natural scent reminiscent of roaring flames, so potent that it can induce discomfort and even prompt coughing fits. ࿔  Height: 1,97 m ㅤ

⌞Reproductive Habits, Seasonal Changes⌝

  ࿔ Mating seasons: Courtship displays - Lucifer's devotion to his mate knows no bounds, often manifesting in grand gestures and displays of affection. However, don't be too quick to celebrate, for alongside his demonstrations of love, you may find an unexpected presence creeping into your surroundings. Ghostly apparitions, once mortal souls he dispatched, now transformed into loyal servants, subtly assist you with your daily tasks, a testament to his unwavering commitment to your well-being.

  ࿔ Nest building - He leaves a whole mess of feathers scattered across his bed, evidence of his restless nature and feral instincts. Some of them bear traces of blood, torn impatiently from his own wings in moments of unchecked impulse. Afterward, he may find himself sore and in need of assistance, perhaps even seeking your help to tend to the wounds inflicted by his own fervor.  ࿔ Seasonal variations: Aggressive Behavior - He won't let his brothers come closer to you until his breeding instincts are gone. They won't try either, none of them wants to be hanged from the ceiling for weeks. Scent Marking - Brushes his feathers against you, imparting a subtle scent that escapes human detection but leaves you enveloped in a warm, weighty sensation. Alternatively, he may press his face into your neck, tracing gentle licks along your skin. As he marks you with his presence, you notice a distinct shift in the demeanor of other demons, since no one wants to defy Lucifer himself by getting too close. ㅤAnd of course, an intense craving to ravage you at least 3 times a day. ㅤ

⌞Territorial Behavior⌝

࿔ Aggressive displays/Territory defense: Lucifer wanders around the house when he has free time. Not just casually walking tho, he makes guttural sounds and stomps heavily. No one dares getting out of their room when he is passing the corridor. ㅤ

⌞Sleeping and Resting Patterns⌝

You see, there isn't Day/Night in devildom, just emptiness and darkness, so we are using as reference, RAD's daily activities to measure time. Class time being the morning, class end being twilight and after dinner being night.

 ࿔  Nocturnal (active during the night). The avatar of pride hates waking up early in the morning, he gets more active at night, and you can see a slight change in his behavior at this time, getting more chill than normally. ㅤ

⌞Bad/Creepy habits⌝

  ࿔ Lucifer loves classical music, especially cursed records. Do not dare come close to the music room when his songs start playing, or you might end up piercing your own eardrums, trapped in an unstoppable curse. ㅤ

⌞Defense Mechanisms⌝

  ࿔ Lucifer has the power to hear through walls and can teleport behind someone if they say his name out loud to check why he is being mentioned.

  ࿔ Possesses a remarkable immunity to the majority of poisonous substances found within Devildom. Similarly, he remains largely unfazed by the powers wielded by angels. Only the most ancient and powerful curses have any hope of affecting him. ㅤ

⌞Hygiene and Grooming⌝

 ࿔ Self-grooming: Grooming, or preening, is the meticulous art of cleaning and maintaining various parts of the body. Lucifer, in particular, dedicates himself to keeping his feathers impeccable, adhering to a strict schedule of cleaning every three days. This meticulous task demands much of his time and attention, occasionally leading him to fall asleep in the middle of his grooming rituals. ㅤ

⌞Playful Behavior⌝

 ࿔ How do they release stress? For Lucifer, playing the piano serves as a refuge where he can lose himself in the soothing melodies, calming his mind and easing the burdens of his responsibilities. However, if one were to delve into his more sinister forms of stress relief, a scene of horror awaits. He takes perverse pleasure in seeking out the terrified sounds of lost humans, reveling in their fear as he approaches, a dark satisfaction coursing through him at the sight of their trembling forms. Proud of the intimidating aura he exudes, Lucifer finds solace in the knowledge of his power and dominance over those who dare to cross his path. "Yes, scream, let me hear how much it hurts when I devour you. I could do this all day" ㅤ

⌞Human Interaction⌝

  ࿔ Responses to human presence: Annoyed, he doesn't understand why such an important demon as himself needs to be in the same ambient as an insignificant mortal. Won't attack unless you trespass his boundaries, but will threaten the hell out of you.

  ࿔ Domestication behaviors: None. Jk jk, he has his soft spots, but hides them very well. Give him some ultra-rare cursed vinyl. Or worship his boots. He will pretend it doesn't affect him, but seeing you bend down to his feet? That makes him excited. If you manage to earn his trust and affection, a rare privilege indeed, you may find him unexpectedly responsive to your touch. A shiver courses through him, and a near-purr escapes his lips when you scratch the base of his horns, a gesture that elicits a subtle display of pleasure from the typically composed demon lord.

Hope you guys enjoyed, please give me your opinions! Sorry for any grammar mistakes ＞﹏＜ Check my Creepy AU masterlist for more content!

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[nurse-sainz]

F1 and VO2 Max Training

(x)(x)(x)(x)(x)

What is VO2 Max Training and why do drivers do it?

VO2 Max is the maximum amount of oxygen the body absorbs during exercise and can measure aerobic fitness levels. VO2 = Volume of oxygen consumed by the body per minute - it is one of the strongest predicters of heart disease and death. It is the best measure of cardiac and respiratory fitness available.

VO2 is measured in ml (of oxygen) / kg (body mass) / minute

How much oxygen the body consumes - the amount of blood the heart pumps per minute and how much oxygen was taken from it.

Now...why do F1 drivers need this?

Drivers put extreme demand on their cardiovascular, respiratory and overall physical health during races. Their bodies are subjected to enormous amounts of g-force and experience extreme heat and stress. They need a lot of energy to do this and as a result can burn a lot of calories per race.

VO2 max training is a useful measurement to assess a drivers endurance at their maximum during exercise which they are subject to during a race. The strain they're under during a race would require their bodies to be pushed to the max, requiring optimal oxygen intake and energy production.

It can ensure drivers are fit enough to endure the stress they subject their bodies to despite the environment within the car - maximum speeds/ heat. It gives drivers and their teams a greater understanding of how hard they can push their bodies and also how they can further maximise their performance during races.

Want to know a bit more about the science? Read below.

Now the (more) science-y bit - oxygen is used in respiration and as you breathe in oxygen the lungs turn it into energy called ATP (adenosine triphosphate). This powers the cells and helps release the CO2 in the body that's created during respiration when you breathe out.

The greater a persons VO2 max, the more oxygen a body can consume and the more effectively the body can use this to create the maximum amount of ATP energy and the better the body can handle aerobic/ cardio exercise.

During the test the goal is to get to maximum exercise to determine max heart rate, vo2 max and an estimated lactate threshold. The test measures oxygen consumption and CO2 production using a mask to determine values. The goal is to run at a comfortable speed but not too comfortable for around 10 minutes to max out oxygen consumption and heart rate. During the test heart rate is measured using the ECG dots you can see on the chest.

The Fick Equation is used to calculate VO2.

VO2 (mls O2/ minute) = cardiac output (stroke volume x cardiac output) x arteriovenous oxygen difference (difference in O2 content between arterial and venous blood - how much O2 is used by tissues in systemic circulation).

So in short, VO2 is how much oxygen the body consumes - how much blood the heart pumps per minute and how much oxygen was taken from it.

[tremendum]

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Me and the Devil; v

(not my gif)

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previous next series masterlist

word count: 8.7k

summary:  "Paul's breaths are as sharp as yours; both of you like wild, scared beasts being hunted by something you cannot see. Something in the back of your mind tells you that you should not be wasting your anger on each other."

warnings: canon-typical violence, blood, v light smut, brief oral (m!receiving), choking, height difference mentioned (paul is taller), more mommy & daddy issues, nothing else i can think of but always lmk if you see anything.

notes: back with another chapter! Paul and r are once again Confused by everything that is happening, and keep going back and forth with each other,, But they're learning to use their words <3 Referendum is nearing closer and things are beginning to happen!:)

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Houses Prepare to Assemble for Landsraad Council

In preparation for next week's Space Trade Referendum, representatives from across the galaxy have begun to prepare their travels. This pivotal meeting, set to take place on the planet of Kaitain, will see the great houses Major and Minor deciding on crucial matters, foremost among them the future of space trading routes.

Along these decisions next week will be the final arraignment in the case of House Bourbon, as well as proposals to establish standardized protocols for resource extraction and deposit of space debris. Expected to be on the agenda is the recent and surprising disruptions in Spice supply, which has forced the Spacing Guild to explore alternative fuel sources in preparation for the increased traffic of intergalactic travel for the Referendum. Nexarite and Petroleum have been suggested by Guild engineers: Though Nexarite proves to have dimensional warping implications if used at lightspeed, petroleum is secondary and similarly less effective. 

Pressure has befallen Baron Vladimir Harkonnen, whose governance over the planet Arrakis holds him with the most power in the Spice trade; While petroleum may serve as a stopgap measure in the absence of spice, its inherent limitations underscore the urgent need for a sustainable long-term solution to the galaxy's energy consumption.

Will there be a decision drawn up at this Referendum, or will the scarcity of spice thrust the market power of these new fuel sources? 

- Collected Galactic News report sent to Duke Leto Atreides, 10191. Caladan. 

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You wake up with a gasp and fly upwards.

The sun is still slumbering - the sky a deep royal blue, castle so silent you can hear the waves crash against the cliffs below. You swallow breaths as they lurch down your throat, fighting off a cold sweat, a haunting; Paul's eyes - the fear, the recognition. Familiar.

You find the pitcher of water that was left for you and down almost half of it straight from the glass, letting it dribble from the sides of your lips as you gulp, the drops sliding over your damp skin and onto your trembling breasts. 

The wall is stagnant under your gaze - there are dried lingonberries that remain on your resting table, harvested fresh for you days ago. You don't know why you asked Hestia to keep them there when she was cleaning. Their sickly scent infiltrates your mind, stomach turning queasy. 

Mindlessly, you blink back the images of Paul's gasp, the blood flowing from his porcelain skin, the gritting of his teeth as he'd slumped against you. 

You're very troubled.

In a moment of weakness, you almost pull your robe on to seek Paul and tell him, but a nervous part of you suspects he may already know what you dreamt. The look in his eyes was so.. familiar; as if... 

You swallow hard. Perhaps you should have just told him. Told him all of it, even if he already knows it - about the breeding programs, about the selective mating, the Kwisatz Haderach; The reason it was so quickly approved for you to become Paul's child-bearer when Feyd-Rautha was no longer an option for you.

Fuzzily, you try to recall the nagging familiarity that his words yesterday had left you with. One of two, he'd said. You chew on your lip until it is raw. 

Guilt swirls in your stomach, but you stay put, sitting still below your bedsheets, staring silently ahead. I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. You repeat the mantra over and over until the sun rises over the cliffs, burning a bright orange and pink haze into the center of your vision. 

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Late in the morning is the Strategy Council - once again struck with a bout of fuzz-brain, you're half-asleep as you walk into the chamber, eyes seeking only one person. There has been nothing on your mind all morning - even when Hestia had entered to find you wide-eyed and spooked, when she had whispered of some castle gossip that you didn't listen to. 

Paul's chair is absent.

Your stomach drops as you slide into your own seat, blinking in surprise at the emptiness across from you. As Duke Leto enters and begins the meeting you try your hardest not to think too much about Paul's absence; Lady Jessica's eyes are on you intermittently, not serving to ease your worries. 

When Duke Leto speaks, the sound cuts through the hushed murmurs of the assembled council members. Your eyes meet his.

"Before we begin our discussion on the Space Trade Referendum, there is a matter of great importance that we must address." He's kind, stern; kind, in a way that makes you look back on your own incompetent, nearly absent father with regret. 

The Duke's gaze softens, "The arraignment of House Bourbon is set for the day after the Space Trade Referendum, and I believe it is imperative that we address it with you accordingly."

You blink in shock; you've all but accepted the fact that you might become a criminal within the next week and would have to beg the Atreides to buy your bail in front of the noble Landsraad Houses- you didn't expect to discuss it, though, and certainly not at a Strategy Council.

You've been ignoring this moment ever since news of the charges against your house and the consecutive assassination of your family had reached your ears; but there's no avoiding it now.

"Of course, sir," you reply, steeling yourself for the difficult conversations that lay ahead. "I'm ready for whatever measures need to be taken."

He nods. "The council and I have discussed it, and I am fully committed to advocating for your house's interests during the arraignment on behalf of House Atreides." He leans forward, "I plan to do everything in my power to convince the other houses to see reason and vote in your favor as well."

Given the political complexities surrounding the case, you raise your brows. "This might put you in a precarious situation, my lord," You start, throat dry. "I appreciate it more than you'd know, but..." You look around at all the faces; all of them but enemies to you weeks ago. All of them, loyal to the end of the House; the House that is claiming you as one of their own, even in the looming presence of what might come. "The Harkonnens are- well, they're powerful - not that House Atreides is not, but-" You flounder under the scrutiny of attention and for the first time, you feel small, embarrassed in front of them all. You're not sure what's gotten into you; gritting your teeth, you realize that Reverend Mother Helen has gotten into your head without even seeing you on her visit. 

"-We understand your concerns," Lady Jessica speaks up. "but you are now a part of our house, and we will protect you." 

You can't help the surge of gratitude washing over you; nodding, you concede. "House Bourbon has long been allies of House Atreides," Gurney Halleck says, his stern eyes meeting yours, "this is a return of the favor." 

"Thank you." You say, voice sounding almost warm for what might be the first time in front of the council, "Your support means more to me than I can express." You wish your mind was less consumed with your visions; perhaps then you'd feel truly appreciative of their gesture. You force a smile onto your face, hoping it comes across less as a grimace. The Duke nods, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"I cannot speak for the other houses," he admits, his tone somber suddenly. "But I fear there may be those who seek to exploit this situation for their own gain."

You expect nothing less, nodding in agreement. The great houses are not in your good graces, and you not in theirs. 

"Whatever the outcome, you have the support of House Atreides behind you." Duke Leto says firmly, eyes meeting yours with unwavering resolve.

As the subject is laid to rest in preparation of the upcoming off-world travel, you try your hardest to listen and absorb the information about the Referendum next week.

You'll be leaving at the end of this week, in only a few days - half of the Duke's council will attend for the Referendum and the conferences, and you must go for your own arraignment. 

Trying as hard as you can, you cast away the turmoil that spins around restlessly in your stomach - staring hard at Paul's absent seat, you can't stop thinking. Even as the meeting continues, you go through the motions and relay your own input with a hollow voice, eyes downcast. 

Pain in his voice, gasps of sharp, labored breathing. 

The glint of Feyd-Rautha's skin behind him as blood spills. 

You need to find Paul. 

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Your luck is struck within minutes of the council's conclusion.

Immediately after the Strategy Council is the first of likely many wedding planning meetings - significantly smaller in party than the Strategy Council, but infinitely more intimidating for you. 

You never got any say in your wedding with Feyd-Rautha; likely why you remained living on Giedi Prime for four cycles and never actually married. He chose rather to train and attend strategy councils about spice and Arrakis or more often concerns on-planet; when he did consider the wedding, he would often disregard your opinions and insist it was only important after you gave him an heir. 

Not that you've ever been keen to marry anyone, but what say does a girl have in such a matter? 

Nevertheless, you are more than relieved to attend, solely because you're sure Paul cannot miss this meeting; if anything, because his parents would chastise him like a petulant child. 

The Duke walks with you back to his own quarters, making conversation politely. You find a surprising comfort within his voice, even if you're still on edge - perhaps because of this, you actually succeed in making him laugh once as you mention your interest in learning to pilot a ship; He himself wanted to be a pilot when he was young, you learn. 

You settle into your seat with a grace you don't quite feel; the room is more intimate: in the Duke's new study, at a round table with five chairs, four of which are occupied within seconds. 

Paul's eyes have been on you since you crossed the threshold - an intent gaze that has you shifting, meeting his stare head on when you settle. He looks similarly spooked but there is an anger that simmers, bubbling low. 

You want to ask where he was this morning; why'd he miss the council, when he'd clearly planned to attend not twelve hours before? 

His own eyes scream at you; clearly, he also wishes to speak with you. You open your lips to say something, anything to him. Your dream - he has to know, he must.

But Duke Leto breaks the silence before you can. "Thank you both for joining us. This is our House Administrative Assistant, she helps us plan events." 

You introduce yourself to the woman; She is kind, very serious but jolly at the same time - you wish you could be more present, but your brain is not willing to cooperate. Perhaps as a defense mechanism - the prospect of planning a wedding is thoroughly uninteresting to you, to be tied inexplicably to Paul; More present than this, your thoughts and opinions are overclouded by the more pertinent threat of war, economic or otherwise, being planned by the very sisterhood you were raised to be a part of. 

They have their hands everywhere, especially in the great houses, and you do not wish to see the roles designed for you and Paul within their plans. 

It is then that you realize the last chair is likely for Lady Jessica, who has foregone this small meeting.

Vaguely, you wonder if the Duke and Paul can tell how unsettling she is to you; it's nothing against her, actually - her loyalty to her house as well as the sisterhood is admirable - but perhaps she reminds you too much of your past. Of your own mother. 

Easily, the coordinator launches into discussion, outlining the initial plans for the wedding; it will be an evening event, with most of the court and family invited - you barely hold in a sardonic laugh at this, looking solemnly at the ground. Shall we invite my father to walk me down the aisle? you think bitterly, recalling how hard his body had hit the sand in that arena, the sickening way his head snapped back. 

You listen as intently as you can, nodding along as she discusses potential venues, guest lists, and ceremonial traditions.

"And now, onto the matter of your family's traditions," the Coordinator says, turning her attention to you; it jolts you from your own thoughts, images of a blood-stained blade, a gasp for breath, brown curls. "We'll be sure to incorporate them into the ceremony as you see fit."

You hesitate, brow furrowing slightly - she does not seem like she's planning on listing them now, so you're unable to pretend you know what to expect; sheepishly, you clasp your hands against the table. "I must admit, I am not as familiar with my house's traditions as Paul is," you confess, casting a glance in Paul's direction. 

His eyes meet yours; tilting his head, his eyes almost chirp, I offered you the book. You glance back, I know. His lips press into a fleeting grin and for a moment, your stomach runs cold as if he'd actually heard you. But he hadn't. 

You can't ignore when the Duke's lips twitch into a subtle smirk of his own; you fight the flush of embarrassment that creeps into your cheeks as he takes in the information, nodding slowly. He mustn't misinterpret your bond with Paul as romantic interest - instead of a keen instinct for survival at all costs.

"Is that right?" He asks his son, who nods curtly, almost indifferent.

Your eyes cast away, wondering when exactly it was that you started to see yourself on Paul's side; was it when he'd offered to share lunch, or when you'd seen those books about your house and homeplanet on his bedside? No, certainly not. Those are much too trivial; while charming, you know better than to trust a man on such frivolities.

Perhaps, more likely, yesterday - when he'd told you of the Bene Gesserit plans, of the visit - when you'd told him about his own mother. Or, the dreams.

While no amount of sexual fantasies could genuinely sway your opinion on an enemy (the Bene Gesserit in you has seen to it that sexual manipulation can only go one way), the other parts - the more unpleasant ones...  

You're rather restless.  - after the dream last night, you're not sure who to trust, or if you should tell the Duke; Paul may be the only one you can trust with this information, regretfully.  

"Whatever rituals you deem fit will be incorporated into the ceremony. We're planning for it to take place in a month, just before the end of the galactic year." Leto says, watching you for your response. "Perhaps you two can review them and work with our coordinators after you've decided what seems right." 

Paul nods dutifully, eyes flickering to you.

Your stare is intent, wishing to convey the urgency you feel to end this foolish meeting and get somewhere private, not caring one single bit about any rituals or ceremonies. It's all means to one end, isn't it? 

"Do you still have the book on Bourbon Customs, Paul?" You ask, voice just as emotionless as usual; it feels as odd as it sounds to discuss something that might normally excite a wife with the tone of such boredom, but you truly have way more important things to be talking about. You hope he can read between the lines you so delicately convey. 

"Yes." He affirms, perceptive and intelligent as always; sitting up, he starts to address his father and the coordinator, "Perhaps we can meet after the Referendum to further discuss the wedding - in the meantime, Lady Bourbon and I will discuss which of our house traditions we'd like to perform at the wedding." 

You let out a microscopic breath of relief at the pleased look on the Duke's face; he dismisses the small meeting, but Paul is rushing out of the room quicker than you can even stand. 

With as much effort as you can harbor, you exchange short pleasantries with the woman beside you and the Duke before rising to follow after Paul briskly, trying not to be too obvious. 

Within the dim hallway that leads to Paul's quarters, his cloth tunic looks nearly gray.

"Paul." You call, your shoes clacking on the stone as you try to catch up with his stride; pausing slightly, he allows you to catch up to him. Your name is breathed gently, his voice sharp with importance as he pulls you with him towards his room. 

You stumble to catch up with him, caught off-guard by the fearful, angry energy that radiates from him. He is calculating, quiet; this has not changed, but there is a heat in his sharp glare that alarms you. 

"It was you." His voice is quick, whirling around on you - for a moment, there is a darkness in his eyes you haven't seen. He doesn't have to elaborate for you to swallow, staring up at him.

"Yes." You affirm, "And you..." 

He nods so microscopically; your heart flips. It's silent, heavy with the realization in his silent bedchamber.

"It was normal, at first." He starts, shaking his head smally, "but then... suddenly we were standing there and- I felt it." He mutters, watching you intently. His jaw clenches. 

"I know it was you. You used this." He rips away your robes from your left hip and it slides from your shoulders; affronted, your hand comes to halt his wrist, snapping him away. He expects to see the same engraved hilt - you see it in his eyes - but, where there is usually the black leather of your nameday knife, today there is just your waistline.

He stares down, eyes cold. 

You couldn't bare to take it with you this morning when you left; you could barely stand to look at it as Hestia had dressed you.

His eyes rove over your figure slowly, as if expecting to find your blade snugly hidden in some curve of your skin; no avail, as he reaches your own strict gaze. There is heat in your abdomen, but you ignore it for the fear in your veins. 

He dreamt that you stabbed him. He didn't see Feyd at all. 

"I didn't..." You shake your head, "I didn't stab you." You insist. He looks off towards the wall above your head, sighing sharply, "You did in my dream." 

"-No." You argue, "He was behind you," Your voice is a hushed whisper, so close to him you can almost feel the warmth that radiates; there is a fuzzy electricity in the room that makes your fingers itch as you release the grip on his cotton-bound wrist, pushing his grip away from you. His hand flies back like it'd been burned by your touch, anger seeping through his lashes. 

"Feyd-Rautha." You clarify, your own jaw setting, "He was there, holding my knife." 

Paul's brows furrow. "You stabbed me. I felt you, with me. You were there." He insists, shaking his head. You swallow thickly, "I know I was there. You aren't listening to me."

"Why should I?" He snaps, staring at you with distrust, "If Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen was there, why didn't I see him?"  

"I-" You tug at your hair in exasperation, "Fuck, Paul, I don't know." you hiss. 

Such implications strike your heart with dread; and if your dreams with Paul are inexplicably intertwined, a beat of fright hits you - for once in your life, you wish beyond your world that Feyd-Rautha has been finding seamless, dreamless sleep recently. 

You are dimly aware of the slight chill upon your bare shoulders; the tank-top you've donned, cotton like Paul's, is breezy without your robes to cover your exposed skin, and the material pools lazily around your bent elbows from where Paul had disrobed you, searching for your dagger. 

"We can't risk telling my mother," he murmurs, his tone laced with urgency, "If she learns of our dreams, she'll never let us pursue Sabberon if the Harkonnens take it."

Begrudgingly, your fears are mirrored in his words and you run your hand over your face, "So we just hope she can see through our lies? Paul, you know just as well as I that it is a near impossible feat." 

Paul hesitates- there is a shadow in his eyes, a dark looming thought you wish to unearth. "She'll stop at nothing if it means going against the Bene Gesserit's plans for us. We just- we don't know which path that is."

Your voice is steely with resolve, "I won't let them dictate my future." Not when the rest of the galaxy is going to do so next week. 

Before Paul can respond, the distant sound of footsteps echo down the hallways outside and he guides you slowly backwards, away from the hall. Near the bedpost in his room, he stops and leans to whisper closer to you; his curls hang unruly in front of his eyes, not styled like it typically is. He looks slightly rumpled, as if poor sleep has rendered him consumed by thoughts. 

His eyes flicker to the bedstand and back down to your eyes, "I think you need to let my mother train you." 

You blink, inhaling sharply, "You don't know what you're saying." 

Somewhere in you, you know he's right. He sends you a look, "I do, and you know it. Even if we can't lie to her, we need to stay sharp. Maybe we can find out what the Sisterhood wants from these dreams, because they're clearly important to them. We have to be prepared for whatever happens." 

You lift a brow, "And if nothing happens?" 

"You believe this all to be in our heads?" He asks, eyes genuine; a plead, a small hope that perhaps all this danger and concern is for nothing.

Your sharp sigh is answer enough.

He continues. "You wouldn't have brought up the Harkonnen petroleum reserves for nothing. Or the materials on Sabberon. This threat is real, and even if it isn't, our dreams are." He insists this, and you cross your arms. 

"You sound like your mother." You snap. "She believes everything Reverend Mother Helen Gaius Mohaim says." 

He stares at you incredulously, "You were in my dream, were you not?" His voice is stern and it sets your teeth on edge. "Unless we unknowingly consumed Spice last night, I think that was pretty real." 

You are not a fan of the sardonic tone he takes - he's right, but it does not soothe your concern. Paul has been raised to become a Bene Gesserit by his mother - a male Bene Gesserit? The only reason for that lingers in the back of your mind; perhaps if you continue your learnings, you could remember. A phrase whispers to you, but you do not know what it means. The Shortening of the Way. 

You briefly entertain the thought that Lady Jessica has slipped something into your morning teas - some Spice-laden elixir that makes you and Paul dream together - but this is a childish thought, an escape from the harsh reality of destiny and fate. You know these things to be true, because you know it was woven into your DNA centuries ago. 

"I think this is a bad idea." You say honestly, relieved to have the freedom to argue with your husband-to-be without the real threat of having a throat slit or tongue removed. "Why should I trust your judgement?" 

He huffs smally, "Why should I trust yours? You try to kill me in half of my dreams." 

You glare sharply, "Well I haven't killed you yet, have I?" You snap, growling at him.  

His glare is sharp, hostile. "I know my house better than anybody, and I know my mother just as well." He says, "You and I will train with her together. We need to find their plans out ourselves, and this is the only way. We will just ensure Reverend Mother Helen Gaius Mohaim is none the wiser." 

"You are a fool if you think she will not catch on." You insist.

His jaw sets. "I have trained my whole life to make decisions like this."

"And yet, you make the wrong one."

"Watch your mouth." His voice is ominously quiet, taking a step into your personal space. "I will be your Duke one day." His chin tilts, ever prideful; you scoff. Defensively, you bristle. 

"-and I will be your duchess. That means but little to me, my lord." You retort, leaning towards him; You're close enough to smell the soap on his skin again, the anger, the fear that radiates in beats of his heart. "I did not ask to be here, if you recall." 

Even a sneer looks somewhat graceful on his face. "That means but little to me." He parrots back, eyes sharp, "You're here, so you will do what I say." 

Fury rages in you; his voice is deep, more commanding than you've heard yet - your jaw clenches, not backing away even with him towering over you. 

You're mine to keep. There's plenty of life left for you to serve - the voice in your mind warps, though, the ever-haunting rumble of Feyd's voice morphing into Paul's smooth, low one - fear and resistance sprout within you. 

It's an impulse, a trauma response. You barely think. Your hand moves, palm open flat - aiming to strike him on the cheek, to slap him hard. 

But to your shock, he catches it with reflexes quicker than you can imagine, fingers wrapping around your wrist just before it makes contact with his skin.

Eyes angry, his nostrils flare and the chimes that hang near his bedroom window tinkle gently as energy slips around you. His lips move before you feel the Voice. 

"Don't." 

The Voice sets your spine straight and your teeth on edge - still considerably weak in the skill, his command is combatted by your urge to drop your wrist as you stare at him, beyond bewildered. 

He told you yesterday that he's been trained by his mother - until now, you haven't really considered what this means - he possesses the skills to use the Voice. He is keenly intelligent and, by your suspicion, being trained by Thufir Hawat in more than just tutelage, but also as a Mentat; an unlocked secret tries to worm its way from the back of your mind. 

Your spine shivers. A phrase whispers in the back of your brain, a fear long-nestled and roused awake after years of hibernation: Kwisatz Haderach. The Shortening of the Way. 

You shake yourself of the sudden trance, trying to wrench your hand away but failing by his surprising strength and grip on your wrist. You know you should tell him but you're too presently angry, too absorbed in your own fear and pride. 

Using your free hand not caged by his hold, you shove hard against his chest, until he hits the wall with his spine and skull; wincing, his grip on you only tightens as you fight to free your hand. You glare at him, on your tip toes as you hold your palm flat against his heaving chest, feeling his heart thud against his sternum. 

"No man holds power over me." You say, pressing harder, wrestling your wrist away from him to no avail; he maintains a firm, furious grip on you, his eyes sharp, watching you. "You are no different." 

His breaths are as sharp as yours; both of you like wild, scared beasts being hunted by something you cannot see. Neither of you are truly trying to fight: Tired of running but knowing you've just started. Something in the back of your mind tells you that you should not be wasting your anger on each other. 

His eyes still have that sinister stare; serious, calculating. 

"It should not be a man you worry about." He whispers, head tilting down to you. His features are dark even in the light of day; "Despite what we feel about them, the Bene Gesserit give us power." His grip is tight; guiding with his heart, defiance in his eyes. Your lips part, arm relieving the pressure against his chest, still making sure he doesn't move otherwise. 

His brows furrow, jaw set. "You should be accustomed to living with the enemy, anyways." 

It's a slight against you; you grit your teeth - he's right, though. The Bene Gesserit is not an enemy, per se -both of you know this, but the sisterhood is dangerous, and if you aren't careful, this whole thing might completely backfire. 

There's a moment of silence as you consider his words, the weight of your situation pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket; Paul is right - you can't just go blindly and without training that can help you in the future, no matter how fiercely independent you both may be.

You almost relent, but in the silence your arm drops and Paul's - still holding your wrist tight - follows until he holds your arm stiffly between you. In the tense silence, your other arm slides off of his chest slowly, your eyes flickering to where his hand still holds your wrist; as if genuinely concerned you might unsheathe a hidden blade and plunge it into his stomach in the blink of an eye. 

"Paul?" 

The voice belonging to neither of you makes you jump in shock; Paul similarly jolts, both of your heads snapping to the entryway where Lady Jessica enters, a servant hovering nervously behind her with a laundry basket in her hands. 

"-I'd like to speak with you about-" 

Her words trail off as her eyes flicker towards the two of you; your face burns, jumping away from Paul as he drops your wrist like a dead stone, jumping from the wall. 

Your stomach flips in fear. How much did she hear? 

Paul glances at you sharply, your heart pounding; it was as if she knew that you were speaking of her and the Bene Gesserit. Had she heard anything? How silent was she when she arrived in his quarters? 

She averts her eyes at the sight of the two of you so close - at short glance, possibly appearing as if in some kind of embrace - but unfortunately her gaze lands on the bed right beside you; there is a faint blush coloring her cheeks. 

You share the fleeting glance with Paul, a silent understanding passing between you; Despite the true nature of your conversation, the proximity of the bed and the... intensity of how close the two of you could be easily misconstrued as something far more intimate.

Which might actually play in your favor. 

She presses her lips into a thin line, "-Apologies. I didn't realize-" 

Paul clears his throat, shaking his head. "No, Mother, you're not interrupting anything," Paul assures her quickly as he moves away from the bed; another quick glance at you once again shows his fear of being caught talking about her.

You wipe sweaty palms on your trousers, hoping she can't see your hands shake; The embarrassment of her and the servant thinking you were becoming intimate is better than her becoming suspicious of your whispers and secrecy. You're nearly shaking with fear at the prospect of her overhearing your plot. 

Thankfully Paul holds the same thought. 

"We were just... discussing some matters of importance." He utters, clearing his throat as he reaches to adjust the robe of yours he'd knocked askew minutes before. You play the part just as well as he does. Smiling sheepishly, you pull your robe tight around your frame and duck your head. 

Lady Jessica nods, eyes narrowing slightly. "Well, I was just hoping to chat with you while you walk to your weapons lesson, Paul," she said, her tone even, "I didn't realize you had company, my apologies. I'll leave you to it."

"-no, please," You interrupt as she turns; she stops, turning back to the two of you. You flash what you hope is a convincingly kind smile, pulling further away from where you stand next to Paul. "I was just leaving." You insist. Your heart beats hard in your throat still, but you turn to place your hands on Paul's shoulders. He stares at you, shocked as you lean towards him. If it were a different situation, you might've chuckled at the alarm in his eyes as you near him with your lips. 

Your breath hits his cheek as his head cranes down slightly to meet you, sensing what you're trying to do under the awkward attention of the others in the room. "Find me later." You whisper, barely more than a breath, against his cheek. His curls tickle your lips gently.

Playing the part you peck his skin slightly over the sharp cheekbone, eyes flicking over his shoulder to see his mother avert her gaze politely. You hope, to the servant and Lady Jessica, that it looks like you're bidding him a good day - a flushed, embarrassed lover caught in an act of passion and taking her leave. 

How simple life would be if that were the case. 

When you pull back from him fully, his cheeks are a dusted rose color - a good actor, then. He nods tersely, watching as you spin on your heels and bow to Lady Jessica, smiling at the servant slightly as you slide past them, hurrying down the hall towards your freedom. 

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Paul does find you later, in the afternoon when the sun is hidden by misty clouds.

Out in the gardens of Castle Caladan, the season is ending with the year and the plants that bloom are resilient to the less rainy months that come. Your feet are bare, your dress long as you stroll, unaware of his presence. 

Odd to see you so relaxed - your hands smooth over stone figures within the garden; he walks up behind you silently, murmuring your name when he's close. 

You jump slightly, acting fast; pressing with your full force, he's caught off-guard and shoved against the hedges which line the area. Catching his footing, his hands stop you - one on your hip, the other around your shoulder. His thumb dips against the hollow of your throat. 

There is a misty rain that falls lazily from the clouds in the sky; serene, quiet. Your breaths intermingle, your hands against Paul's chest. "I dreamt of you this afternoon." You say, voice faint. He hums, tilting his head at the fuzzy feeling. "Did you?" He asks; his voice is far away. You nod, leaning towards him like you'd done earlier - you brush his own lips instead of his cheek, and he feels far away. 

"I dreamt of you in a large throne room..." You whisper, lips just barely brushing over his, your hands roving over his chest. His own squeeze you; the one around your shoulder slides to hold your neck, the one around your hip holding you close. "One I've never seen before." 

Your lips ghost over his neck then, head tilting back to the misty skies. "There was spice in the sand that tracked in through the entrance..." You whisper, biting at his skin; he feels like he's floating. His hand squeezes the softness of your throat. 

"You sat on the throne atop the stairs," You whisper, suddenly sinking lower - your hands tug his belt, now on your knees before him. He does not fight the arousal that swirls within him, instead letting one hand gather your hair from your face. Your eyes are bright - for a moment, they're glowing a blue he's never seen, but you blink and it's gone in a hazy fog. He cannot seem to make out many features of your face, even as he blinks. It feels as if he'd swallowed cotton. 

"-and I, between your thighs." You whisper, lips moving to mouth over his trousers; he lets out a groan, growing more hard by your touch - his hand squeezes and he's not sure if it's against your throat or your hair; you let out a mewl either way and it floods him with desire. You've never made a noise like that before, and he would quite like to hear you make it again. 

Throne room? He starts to say - he is not so vain as to ever desire a throne to sit on - but the feeling of your warm mouth around his cock has him groaning, forgetting his words as he gasps-

Paul wakes up, sitting straight up -drenched in a cold sweat from the breeze that flows coolly through the open window. His chest heaves as he blinks at the wall ahead, disoriented and thoroughly discomfited. 

"Shit," He whispers to himself, head falling back against his pillow.

He can hear the misting beginnings of rain - he must have slept for a few hours, because the sky was clear when he returned from his lesson with Thufir Hawat, intending to lie for just a minute. 

The sun is hiding near the ocean; he must have missed supper. 

Groaning, he forces himself up and into the shower, where he stares ahead at the wall silently and lets the ice-cold water soak through his skin. 

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When he finally drags himself out into the castle, he has no luck tracking you down - done with lessons, you're likely in the dining hall or in your own room eating supper. 

He checks your quarters first.

Walking in hesitantly, he calls your name and casts his gaze to the ground, wary of what he might catch glimpse of should he burst in unexpected. 

"Paul?" A voice calls, but as he crosses the threshold into the room, he sees it is not you, but another familiar face. 

"Oh, hello." He says, nodding as Hestia stands near your dining table - packing up the remnants of dinner. He eyes the two sets of silverware and dishes, noticing a crumb on the corner of Hestia's cheek; You've been taking your meals with her nearly every day since you arrived here. "Have you seen her?" He asks, trying to remain formal. 

"Who?" 

He gives her an unimpressed look; she rolls her eyes with a sigh. She's surprised to see him, he can tell. It shows on her face. "She just left for the gardens," Hestia says, crossing her arms suspiciously. "Why do you ask?" 

His head tilts at her, "Is it odd for me to wonder where my betrothed is?" 

She gives him that look - the all-knowing one, the one that makes him wonder if they really are siblings. She knows him much too well. "Yes, it is odd, Paul." She's blunt; she'd never dare speak like this to him in front of members of the House court, but in their own time or with his parents, Paul insists they're equals. 

"I didn't even know you talked to each other." she snarks, lifting one brow.

Normally he might entertain her teasing, but his mood is quite sour on the subject of you and he'd rather not hear more chastising about your strained relationship with each other.

He shakes his head, turning to head towards the gardens.

"You should watch your tongue, Hestia." He says half-heartedly. He ignores her laugh as he leaves, walking quickly to find you. 

It doesn't hit him until he's in the garden, walking down a path that feels oddly familiar: It's just like his dream. 

Cheeks heating, he rolls his eyes; Coincidences won't kill me, he thinks, but you might. 

When he sees your figure, he's extremely relieved to see you completely bundled from head to toe and sitting on a bench, looking up at the darkening sky, squinting in the mist. When he's still a safe distance away, he calls your name. 

"Paul." You say curtly when your gaze finds him. You pat next to you - a surprisingly child-like action as you scoot yourself slightly. "Sit." 

He does. It's silent for a moment, in which the wind blows his curls around just as it does yours; it's evening, and this late in the year it is already growing dark. 

"I told your mother I'd like to train with her." You say, staring up at the sky again. "I don't think she heard what we were saying earlier." 

His shoulders relax at this; fear had shot through him at the prospect of his mother discovering the reason behind your sudden willingness to cooperate.

"She seemed pleased with me. She suggested we start after the Referendum." 

Paul expected his mother would suggest this; With only a few days until several members of their House leave for the Referendum and your arraignment, there'd be no real time to start again until after. He knows better than to say I told you so, but he wishes to. 

The thought of your arraignment has him turning to look at you, noting how your eyes look against the green of the grass, the dark of the sky, the soft light from the castle. 

"How do you feel about it?" 

You do that odd exhale from your nose again, shaking your head, "You must know how I feel about the Bene Gesserit by now, Paul." 

"No," He starts, tilting his head to look sidelong at you, "the arraignment." 

Your face changes, but you say nothing. He takes a breath. "The Baron is a cruel man." Paul starts, "You know we will do everything we can to make sure he does not sway the opinions of the other Houses." 

To his surprise, your lips morph into a soft smile; a rare one, very uncharacteristic of such a cold, strong woman; it doesn't make you seem any less fierce, though. "You're so much like your father." You say, voice shockingly reflective. He doesn't know why you choose to say it. A moment of hesitation before you speak again, surprising him with your words. "You're going to be a good Duke." 

Praise does not seem to come easy from you, nor does it from him; He lets himself be vulnerable for a moment and admits to himself that it is a good thing you are so headstrong and sharp-tongued. To keep him in check. He knows your argument earlier this morning was too far; both of you were anxious, stressed - truthfully, he's glad you are willing to push back. 

"And you'll be a good Duchess." 

In the quiet of the garden, not daring to meet each other's eyes, you huff a short laugh of doubt. He doesn't bother arguing with you about it. 

"I know House Bourbon doesn't have any real power over Sabberon anymore, but it is still by decree under my family's sovereignty." You say; he nods as he stares off into the hedges across the way. "-when I lose it officially next week, it cannot go to the Harkonnens." Your voice is hollow. "They are unfathomably evil." 

He knows - but, he realizes as your finger traces over a scar fading on your hand, he doesn't know like you do. He's seen that knife now in person and in dreams; he's studied enough to know the kind of ritual one must go through to get one. A nameday knife for a future bride of House Harkonnen - because that's what you were going to be, once upon a time. He's read about it, and it is not pleasant.

For a moment, he remembers you when you'd arrived on Caladan; teeth sharp and voice distrusting, a woman ready to lash out at any moment. A beast, you'd wanted everyone to think. 

You're not a beast. 

Confusing, dangerous, foreboding- sure. But you're just a girl, as he is just a boy; thrust into the hands of the powers way above your heads. There is real fear in your eyes when you speak of the potential for Harkonnens to gain power over the trading markets; real fear when you confess your dreams to him - real anger when he'd accused you of stabbing him; Real breath from your lips, upon his ear when you'd kissed his cheek earlier. Yesterday, real tease when you'd poked fun at his bedside reading choices. You are real, and you are stubbornly human. 

Giedi Prime had forced you to build layers and layers of walls around yourself; it's still quite disarming to see glimpses of the woman inside. 

"My mother's half-sister is Lady Ginaz." You say; both of you know that he knows this, but you say it anyways, fingers picking at the concrete under you. "She's sent me letters again. They were destroyed before I could read them on Giedi Prime." 

He lets you speak, listening intently. House Ginaz; another old ally of House Atreides. 

"I think... if we end up needing anything, like more fighters," You lick your lips. More fighters- the prospect is indeed chilling; House Atreides has great legions of soldiers, but you're right. If they war against House Harkonnen, it'll take everything they can find to maintain power. 

"-I could try to convince her to send all of the Swordmasters." You whisper, sighing. A beat, then you quirk your lip up so fast Paul wonders if he imagined it. "We'll have to invite her to the wedding, of course." 

Your humor is dry and hollow, but it still makes Paul crack a wry huff. "Looking forward to giving input into every aspect of the event?" He asks, feeling a freedom to poke at your shared misery - it's the least of your worries, and it's not so bad if you're in it together. 

Your smile shows nice teeth, full lips. "It's a good thing our house colors are both green." You hum, turning to him, "No decisions to make there, at least." 

He nods, "More time to decide what kind of ribbon to use for the handfasting." 

You look off towards the same hedge across the way that he finds so interesting. "Whose tradition is that, mine or yours?" You ask. He blinks away a raindrop as it slides onto his eyelashes. 

"Yours." He affirms. You nod thoughtfully, and Paul is plagued with the visions of you below him, looking up with those wide, big eyes - just across the garden to the right. He blinks away the thought. 

"I thought you were Bene Gesserit when you came to Caladan," He says, "And I knew what kind of power you could hold over me if you were." 

You look at him, a fire in your gaze. "And you're not afraid of that same power your mother holds over you?" You retort. He sighs; both of you, quick to irritate. 

"She loves me. She'll try hard to protect me, and if she knows that we dream of death, she will not let us go to Sabberon." He says. "You don't love me. If you were Bene Gesserit, and knew what path the sisterhood intended for me - for us - you wouldn't hesitate to encourage it." He admits, and feels no particular heartbreak at the concept; you barely know each other. You look similarly unaffected. 

"I don't know the path." You sigh, "But I suppose I'll be Bene Gesserit again soon." You mutter, voice imbued with regret. 

The air is chilly, and a short breeze moves a curl into his eye. He brushes it away. "I know you don't think we're doing the right thing by training with her." Paul says, unable to ignore his thoughts on the subject. "But what would you have us do instead?" 

You sigh, shaking your head. "I don't know." He watches you, how your hair - unstyled, natural- glints under the night, moving with the breeze. "But it feels like we're walking straight into a trap."

Paul's brows knit together in frustration, his jaw clenched tightly. "We don't have a choice."

"I understand that," you reply, your own frustration bubbling to the surface. "You don't have to keep saying it. But how do we know what to do if we don't even know the Reverend Mother's plans? At what point do we start causing harm just because it's what we think we're supposed to do?"

 He shakes his head, head aching. He wishes to sleep; To wake up to find it was all a hallucination - to roll over in bed, and find none of this happened at all. "All we can do is play our hand and hope to come out on top." He says stiffly. 

You are bitter, crossing your arms. "That's easy for you to say," your voice is eerily calm. "It's all means to your end. You shouldn't know anything of the Sisterhood, but you've been taught. You've had everything handed to you on a silver platter."

The accusation hangs heavy in the air between you, a silent condemnation of Paul's privileged upbringing and the stark contrast it poses to your own struggles; he knows how hard you've had it - but at the end of the day, you are still a Lady, a highborn member of society, marrying into one of the most powerful houses.

He does not know why his mother has tried to train him in ways that only sacred Sisters should know; For a moment, he wonders if you know more about his own destiny and that overhanging prophecy than you let on. One of two candidates, a voice whispers in his mind; You have more than one birthright, boy. 

The air is significantly more tense, irritated - angry. He doesn't care to continue this discussion anymore.

"I don't know why you pretend to know anything about me," his own voice is sullen, sharp. It's foolish for him to waste his time trying to convince you that what he says is right - if, in the end, you might betray him anyways, going in circles is getting him nowhere. 

"Me neither." Your voice is cold. 

There is nothing left to say; in three days, his House will leave for the Space Trade Referendum, and you will be representing your House for the final arraignment.

Paul wants to sleep - to sleep, and not dream. 

He leaves you in the gardens, surrounded in the dark. 

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That night, when Paul dreams of you once again, below the great Pine that burns and cracks above his head, there is a hiss that blows in the wind. When you keen against his hands, your chest trembling and hands on his shoulders, there is a whisper, something that you cannot hear. 

A sense of duty surrounds him as images of the planet he's never visited flash before him. A knife, glinting - a hand, pale, curling around the hilt - your own sharp gasp of pain.

Some whisper in the dredges of his vision, you are too deep in the throes of passion to stir at the sound; Paul hears it clearly, though it is not meant for him. 

It is a deeply eerie voice - playful, sinister.

"I will never let them keep what is mine, my pet." 

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follow @tremendumnotifs for updates.

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[emilybeemartin]

Not to brag but I got new stickers for my water bottle and I now wield a power too great and terrible to imagine

Extremely pleased to be able to measure my water consumption in Richard Sharpes (design by @chiropteracupola)

Homage to Cabin Pressure, and a very smug Eugenides in bed by my faaaavorite @storylinecaroline

The shards of Narsil and my best girl Annie Clare the Wonder Dog (because we always wondered what kind of dog she was; turns out she was 100% long-hair best friend).

All of these are on Redbubble, except Annie.

[late-to-the-party-81]

Power Play - Chapter 1

AN: And here is Week 5 of HBS and the start of a new multi-chapter fic, this one a Bucky x Reader story, cos I like to give you all some variety. This also strays into Soft!Dark! Territory, cos, you know… Mob! Bucky. Thanks @buckybarnesevents for the inspo.

I’ve chosen the prompt When I first met you... Electricity

Beta’d by @buckysbarne

Dividers by @firefly-graphics and banner by me. Pictures of Seb courtesy of https://sebastian-stan.com/

Master list | Hot Bucky Summer Master list

Summary: Waking up in a mobster’s house the morning after the night before was not how this was supposed to go…

Relationship: Mob! Bucky x Undercover Agent! Reader

WC: 2.3k

CW: Kidnap, Manipulation, Soft!Dark! Bucky, Alcohol consumption, Reader briefly believes Bucky will force her against her will (use of R word once), kissing, Russian Pet names as mangled by Google translate (all variations of sweetheart/darling except Pchelka, which is explained.)

Your head was foggy and your mouth grainy as you opened your eyes, blinking against the harshness of the late morning sun coming through the window.

“Good morning, Pchelka.” Strong fingers gripping your chin and pinching your jaw harshly, brought you out of your stupor, and you looked up at the owner of the gravelly voice. 

“Did you sleep well? I slept like a log. I’m going to say that it was because of the connection we made last night.” He chuckled darkly. “Did you feel it, sladkiy? The electricity when I first took your hand in mine? Because I did.” His body shivered at the memory, and you felt a fission of fear travel down your spine.

His eyes were blue - cool and chilling - and you wished you were looking at them under different circumstances. Wished you were here with him under different circumstances, because although he was your enemy, you weren’t blind.

James Buchanan ‘Bucky’ Barnes. Revered head of the New York Mob, and so sinfully handsome it was no wonder that men and women swooned at his feet.

“Are you going to answer me, Pchelka?”

His brow was arched, amusement still playing at his lips. Challenging you to defy him.

“I’m not your ‘little bee’. And I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He let your face go with a snort that told you that he knew you were lying. Because you were. How could you not have felt it, when your slim hand had been completely engulfed by his when you’d been introduced? When he’d raised your hand, gently turning it to press a kiss to the fluttering vein in your wrist.

You should have known then that you were fucked. Should have called the whole thing off and got out of there. 

But no. You’d decided that you had to stay - had to pull your big girl pants up, get a hold of yourself and prove to everyone else that you were capable of carrying out this mission. You wondered if your colleagues, your fellow agents, were trying to actually rescue you, or were they laughing at your ineptitude?

Barnes crossed to the far side of the room, a classic dark wood office with floor-to-ceiling bookcases filled with leather-bound tomes. Turkish wool rugs covered the wooden floor that matched all of the furniture. He picked up a decanter, poured a hefty measure of amber liquid into a matching tumbler and brought it up to his lips. You didn’t even realise that you were watching him that intently until he smirked.

He walked back over to you, power and grace showing with every move of his body. He sank into a crouch before you, dipped his finger into the alcohol and then painted it over your lips. Instinctually you licked it away, and the whisky burned on your tongue.

“They think you’re dead, by the way.” That got your attention, making you halt with your mouth part open, tongue tip still midway through catching the errant drops he’d applied. His finger returned to the glass, then back to your lips once again as you sat, stock still. 

A sudden anger burned through you, and you tried to leap to your feet, but you hadn’t counted on the bonds that tied you to the chair. You struggled against them, hands curling into fists and feet ineffectually kicking as you let out a wail of frustration.

“Tsk tsk.” Barnes admonished you for your reaction as he stood and backed up to rest against the edge of his, no doubt antique, desk. “And here I was thinking you’d be more grateful. If you’d continued in that job you’d have died of boredom, milyy. Just think. I’ve actually saved you.” He took another sip of his drink, observing you and you wanted to shrink under his gaze - you had to look a mess.

Your evening gown, which had looked stunning on you when you’d gotten ready for this op, was now torn and filthy. Your nail polish was chipped, a couple of the nails torn, and no doubt your makeup was smeared across your face. Somewhere along the line, you’d lost your shoes, or had they been taken from you? Admittedly a lot of it was a blur and you’d also been unconscious for some time, only waking up once you were here, tied to this chair, a smirking Barnes looking down on you.

Conversely, he looked so put together it should be illegal. Last night he’d smouldered in a dinner suit, but this morning he exuded power and danger. His shirt was black, with two opened buttons, showing off the silver rope chain around his neck. His suit jacket and pants were also black but covered with a wide pinstriped check. He had a large signet ring on the pinky of his left hand, and silver and black onyx ring on the adjacent ring finger, and it was hard to take your eyes off them. His pants were tight across his crotch, leaving little to the imagination, and he’d finished off his outfit with a pair of patent black boots and a pair of blue-tinted sunglasses, perched on his head. In a nutshell, he was sex personified and you needed to get your head back in the game before you did something you’d regret.

“You’re deluded, you know that?”

“Focused, Pchelka. Not deluded. I didn’t get where I am now without knowing what I wanted and taking it. And I want you. I think you want me too.”

It was your turn to snort, and you didn’t bother to hide your derision. “In your dreams!”

He was back in front of you in an instant, his beringed fingers curling into the leather chair back, his face millimetres from your own.

“I don’t think I imagined how you trembled when you were in my arms, lyubimyy. When I led you around the dance floor and you felt as though you were made to fit in my embrace. I don’t think I imagined how you sighed and leaned against me as I spoke soft words in your ears.”

Heat burned your cheeks and you tried for some bravado.

“All an act, I assure you. As you know, you were my mark.”

His mouth broke into a feral grin and, for the first time, you were worried. Worried about what he had in store for you… and worried that you might like it.

“You keep telling yourself that. I don’t think you’ll be able to maintain that lie when you’re screaming my name later.”

“I didn’t know your name was Rapist.”

He moved one hand from the back of the chair to rest at the base of your throat, fingers applying just enough pressure to remind you who was in control here.

“Don’t insult both of us, Pchelka. When I take you, you will welcome it. Want it. You will be begging me to make you mine. And I think it will happen sooner than you think.” His voice was a hypnotic whisper, and you could feel yourself spiralling, enchanted by the power that he exuded from every pore, so when he kissed you, you were unprepared.

Barnes used the thumb of the hand he had around your neck to tip your chin up. His pink, sinful lips demanded entry efficiently and you were powerless to resist. His mouth explored yours, tongues tangling, and when he teasingly broke the kiss you were horrified to find that you were whimpering.

Your captor just continued to smile, animalistic and condescending.

“Electric, as I said. You betray yourself without even meaning too. It’s a good thing that I’m a nice man, and I’m not torturing you for information. You wouldn’t last five minutes.”

Feelings of anger, shame and embarrassment rose within you. He was right, god damn it. You weren’t cut out for this work. You knew it. He knew it. The people you worked with knew it. Backroom paper shuffling was where you excelled, but there was no way you could’ve turned down the opportunity for undercover work, because success would have meant a level of recognition and respect that you could never have hoped, to gain otherwise, even if the op was a classic, and somewhat demeaning, honey-trap. 

You closed your eyes and willed the tears not to fall.

“Please, Mr Barnes. Just let me go. I don’t know anything. Nothing has happened here that can’t be forgotten.”

“Call me Bucky, lyubimaya. And I don’t want to let you go, or forget you. Stay here with me. Leave those narrow-minded idiots you work for. I would treat you with the respect you deserve. And you wouldn’t just be on my arm and in my bed, you would be by my side. You have useful skills that shouldn’t be wasted.”

Your eyes snapped back open and looked at him in surprise and confusion. “What do you mean?”

Barnes - Bucky - ran the knuckles of his left hand down your cheek, the coldness of his rings a balm to your heated flesh. Tattoos peeked out from under his sleeve, twisting and winding down his skin, and onto his fingers. Vines and flowers and thorns. Letters of the Cyrillic alphabet.

“You think that I would bring you here, to the seat of my power if I didn’t already know every… little… thing… about you? I know what your role was before you started this ill-advised op. I know where you lived. I know what cereal you like for breakfast and what your regular coffee order is. You’re always flitting too and fro, concentrating on work. Busy as a bee.”

You weren’t sure why you weren’t shocked, but you asked him all the same. “There’s a mole inside my unit?”

“Of course, Pchelka. There’s always a mole. Always someone who is more than willing to trade loyalty for power and money, or someone who is so desperate that they can be easily persuaded. Desperate people do desperate things, and tell themselves they aren’t really the bad ones, it’s just their circumstances.”

Both his hands had now settled on your waist, the size of them making you feel smaller than you often thought of yourself. Bucky himself was still on his knees, between your bound, spread legs, his torso virtually pressed against your inner thighs. You absently noticed that the knife you’d placed in a thigh holder was missing. No doubt Bucky or his men had found it almost straight away once you’d been rendered unconscious. You hoped it had been the man in front of you - the idea of being touched in such an intimate place by someone other than him was abhorrent. A part of you wondered why you didn’t think that him touching you was also horrifying.

“And which one do you think I am? Disloyal or desperate?” You arched your brow, trying to ignore the way his fingers were branding you through the satin of your dress.

“You, milyy, are a secret third thing. You are an intelligent woman, who makes decisions based on all the information available. It’s not disloyalty if you’ve been betrayed first. It’s also not desperation that would make you join me if I have no pressure point - no sick aunt, no cousin in debt to a loan shark, that sort of thing. If you joined me it would be because you wanted to. Because you saw the merits of such an action.”

You had to admit, his offer was tempting. You hated your job and you hated your co-workers. It was still a ‘boy’s club’ and all the inclusion and diversity training in the world couldn’t counteract the toxic masculinity that the job attracted. You hated that, despite putting up with this job for so many years, you were still living in a crappy apartment with too long a commute to work.. You hated that, despite the fact you never even got around to taking your PTO, you also weren’t making any decent deposits into your savings account. Okay, you weren’t quite living paycheck to paycheck, but you were by no means where you thought you’d be by now. 

The long hours also meant little time to socialise, and the friends you’d once had, had all dropped away one by one as you’d cancelled one social engagement after another. This also meant that your love life was, as the song goes, DOA, and after a while, all the toys in the world failed to satisfy. Which also meant that the feeling of soft, expensive wool, encasing a warm, hard body, rubbing against your inner thighs was upsetting your equilibrium quite a bit.

Then, as if he knew exactly what he was doing to you, his face dipped closer again, his breath, tinged with whisky, fanning over you.

“Imagine how it would feel, Pchelka. The power. The pleasure. You’d want for nothing. Every need would be met. Every whim indulged.”

It was your turn to shiver and as your eyes fluttered closed again you heard him chuckle.

“You want it, don’t you. You want me and everything I can give you. It’s okay to want those things. I want things as well. I want you, lyubimyy. I’ve waited a long time for a Queen.” 

“You don’t know me…” Your denial was whispered, and even you didn’t believe what you’d said.

“But I do. I know exactly what you need...”

His lips captured yours once more, but this time you didn’t even pretend not to respond. You drank him in as though he would quench your thirst and you only remembered your bonds again when your body strained against them. Your knees managed to dig into his waist though, and you felt him smile against your lips.

His hands slid from your waist, to one wrist and then the other, freeing them. You threw your arms around his neck, not even trying to get away. In any case, your ankles were still bound.

Your fingers brushed over the short hair on the sides and back of his head, the strands prickling your skin. His own hands were now cupping your face as he continued to kiss you, and you knew what was going to happen. You were falling under his spell.

Chapter 2

Tag list: @jobean12-blog @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky @tuiccim @sidepartskinnyjeans @flordeamatista @bodeckersdiamonddoll @goldylions @luxeavenger @wheezy-stucky @doasyoudesireandlive @chemtrails-club @seitmai @peaches1958 @pono-pura-vida @writing-for-marvel

[daisynik7]

Hi!! First of all, i love how you write♡ and i'm here to request some fem!reader x Eren where the reader tells him "i love you" many times. Context: both of them are friends and she isn't too much into alcohol, so, when she drinks a bit during a personal party, she tells him that when they are alone for a moment, don't caring if he likes her in that way, she just smile and tells him again and again

Pairing: Eren x f!reader

cw: alcohol consumption, friends-to-lovers, fluff, all characters are in their mid-twenties

Author’s Note: You are so sweet, thank you so much for the kind words and the cute request! I love writing fluff for Eren, so I hope you like this one! Divider by @/saradika.

Everyone knows you’re a lightweight when it comes to alcohol. One shot you can handle just fine. Two is pushing the limits. At three, your friends, have to keep you close by in case you go running off somewhere, causing trouble. And four is the stuff of legends that you rarely ever get to, except that one time that people still talk about to this day. 

Tonight, you reach three shots, and by the time the liquor hits your tongue and burns down your throat, you know it’s a mistake. That’s because tonight, you decide to confess to your best friend Eren that you’re madly in love with him. How does the saying go? Loose lips sink ships? Well, this ship is heading towards the abyss with no chance at resurfacing. It’s do or die, and alcohol has decided your fate.

After Jean blows out the candles on his birthday cake, the music starts back up again, the bass reverberating through the speakers. You grab Eren’s hand, pulling him towards the dancefloor, aka the living room. He’s got an amused expression on his face, watching you shimmy back and forth towards him. Occasionally, he’ll offer his hand to twirl you. That’s one thing you love about Eren: how easy it is to be with him. It’s effortless. Like all the stars aligning to create the perfect little moment, no matter where you are. You spin for him one more time, pausing to wrap your arms around his neck, peering up at him, mouthing the words, “I love you.”

He laughs, giving you a curious look. “What?” he yells out, the music blaring. 

Leaning closer, you cup the shell of his ear to say, “I love you.”

He grins, giving you a playful boop on the nose. “You’re drunk.”

You roll your eyes, annoyed at the failed attempt. While Eren can be completely in tune with you for the most part, sometimes he’s terribly oblivious. Which is why you’re still friends and nothing more, despite everyone claiming the two of you are basically married. Soulmates, even. Is he too scared to cross that line from friendship to lovers? Or is it worse; does he not feel the same way? 

You try a few more times during the party, whispering the words to him in the kitchen while he hands you a cup of water to sober up. He smirks, running his fingers through his hair. “You’re funny. Now chug it.” You say it to him when you’re outside on the balcony, watching the cityscape from the twentieth floor of Jean’s apartment, bright lights illuminating the night sky in the distance. He shakes his head, clicking his tongue at you. “You seriously can’t handle your liquor.” To him, it’s a joke. And you can’t tell if you’re offended or relieved. But that doesn’t stop you from trying. 

Fed up with each failed attempt, you decide to kick it up a notch. You reach for a shot glass, pouring yourself the fourth shot of the night. It’s dangerous, but desperate times call for drastic measures, right? You down it in one go, feeling powerful, maybe a little unhinged. 

And, of course, this backfires on you. Because at this point, Sasha and Mikasa rope you into a game of strip poker, and you keep removing articles of clothing even though you’re not the losing hand. It’s when you’re down to your bra that Eren pauses the game to take you home, resulting in a round of boos from the crowd. 

He drives you back to your apartment, patient as ever as you chant the same words to him. I love you, I love you. I love you, Eren. He continues to chuckle at you, totally unaware that you really mean it. 

Back home, he forces another cup of water on you, watching you with a pleasant grin on his face. He always looks at you like this, like you’re precious to him. In your bedroom, you manage to change into your pajamas and tuck yourself under the covers, the booze starting to wear off. There’s a soft knock on the door before he enters, wearing his own sweats. He’s staying the night, as usual. It’s a routine on the weekends; you go out to party or hang out with friends, and he crashes on your couch. But tonight is different. You want it to be different from here on out.

He sits beside you at the edge of the bed, laughing, tugging lightly at the tag sticking out from your collar. “Your shirt’s on backwards, doofus.”

“Hey! You’re the doofus,” you snap. “You weren’t even listening to what I was trying to tell you tonight.”

“What are you talking about? The love thing? I heard it the first time. I love you too, okay?”

“No, Eren,” you say, firmly. “I love you. Like, love love. I’m in love with you,” The words slip out of your mouth easily, as if they’ve been at the tip of your tongue for the longest time, waiting for release. 

He stares at you, jaw hanging open with shock and realization, eventually stammering, “You-you’re in love with me?”

You roll your eyes, shaking his shoulders, his head bobbling back and forth. “That’s what I’ve been saying this whole night!” 

“You told me you love me, not that you’re in love with me!” 

“What’s the difference?”

He doesn’t respond right away, staring at the tag still sticking out from your shirt. Eventually, he murmurs, “I don’t know what to say.” Clearly he’s rattled by your confession. Part of you wishes you hadn’t said anything at all, afraid of rejection. It’s too late now to take it all back. Is it ruined forever? You knew that fourth shot was a disaster waiting to happen.

You swallow hard, brain still a little hazy from the buzz. “Look, I’m sorry it came out like this, but I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I understand if you don’t feel the same way; I just wanted you to know how I feel.”

“That’s the thing, though. I do feel the same way.”

It’s your turn to be surprised. “What?”

He leans towards you, holding your hand in his, smiling. “I’m in love with you, too. I love you.”

And maybe it’s the shock of it all, or the booze landing it’s final blow, but his precious face canoodling yours is the last thing you remember before you pass out on the pillows, into the most poorly timed slumber.

When you wake up, it’s morning, and you’ve got a throbbing headache. Despite the obvious hangover, your memory is still intact, sitting up quickly to inspect your surroundings. It’s then that you notice Eren’s hand entwined with yours, sleeping soundly beside you. You lay back down, facing him, scooting closer until your noses are touching. Slowly, his eyes open, a sleepy grin spread across his face. “I just had the craziest dream.”

“Yeah? About what?” you ask, playing along.

“I dreamt that you were in love with me. And I was the happiest man in the world.”

“Well,” you start, squeezing his hand tighter. “Sorry to break it to you, but that wasn’t a dream.”

His smile widens. “Really?”

“Really,” you answer, brushing your lips over his. 

He kisses you back, whispering, “Then I truly am the happiest man in the world.”

[cloudlessly-light]

I'd rather be a wild one instead (Stepdad Hotch/stepdaughter Emily AU, one-shot)

A/N: I know we’re a few days away still but since I’ll be working this Christmas I wanted to post this before I didn’t have time to write. I will say this universe really is the one sending me straight to hell, not one stop on the way. But I love daddy Hotch and we all know I’m a perv so I hope you enjoy our idiots being filthy in this universe as well!

And special thanks to @criminalmindsgonewrong for requesting Emily in a sexy Santa outfit! Hope this is okay bestie!

Happy holidays, whatever you celebrate (or don’t), wherever in the world you are!

Title: I’d rather be a wild one instead  Summary: She hasn’t seen her stepfather in three months. But now it’s Christmas and she promised to come back.

(One-shot from my AU Find me where the wild things are) Word Count: 5,2k. This is so long I’m sorry!! Rating:  Explicit Warnings: Smut, cheating, age difference, taboo relationship, stepfather/stepdaughter relationship, dirty talk, power dynamics, daddy kink, rough sex, in public, fingering, teasing, spanking (with a belt), consumption of alcohol

“I said I would stay at uni for Christmas, but I think I’ve changed my mind.”

“Is that so?”

“I’ll be back for Christmas, Daddy.”

It’s been three months since they’d been in the same room. Three months of her thinking back on her summer with him. It wasn’t love, nothing even close to it, but it was carnal, a need she hadn’t been able to shake no matter how many guys she might have dated. No one could measure up to him. 

And now it’s December 22nd, almost Christmas, and she’s standing outside looking at the closed door, knowing that he was inside. So is her mom, which makes her gut twist nervously. They’d spend the holiday together as a family, as her mother had put it while on a skype call a couple of weeks ago and Emily had to force the frown away.  

She opens the door and is almost smacked in the face by the Christmas decorations. Her mother had never been big on celebrating, always put up just enough decorations to keep up appearances that their life was as neat as the moronic Christmas card she’d send out every year. But this was more than that, lights and trinkets everywhere and a fucking reindeer sitting just to the left of the stairs. 

“Emily!” Her mother walks towards her, a glass of champagne in hand. 

“Mother.” She accepts the hug that feels forced. “Why does it look like Santa’s threw up in here?”  

“You don’t like it?” Aaron’s voice makes her pause, her eyes on him as he walks closer, a smile on his face.  

“It’s… different.” She mutters and looks around as Aaron wraps an arm around Elizabeth. “Didn’t think you’d be a Christmas kind of person.”  

“Oh he loves all the holidays.” Elizabeth gushes and smiles at her husband before looking back at her. “Go on and change Emily, the guests will be here in a little while.”  

It was a Christmas party, one that always took place if Elizabeth spent the holidays in the states. And Emily hated it every time. But she stays quiet as Aaron takes her bags and heads upstairs, following him only a few steps behind. She’s unsurprised that her mom stays downstairs, already heading back toward the back of the house where the party will mostly take place. 

“Did you have a nice flight?” Aaron asks as they head towards her bedroom and she thinks that maybe he hasn’t been thinking about her the way she’s been thinking about him. But then the hand that wasn’t carrying her bag lands low on her hip as she walks ahead of him through her bedroom door and she feels the heat she now associates with him.   

“I did.” She looks around and while her room has been saved from any Christmas decorations, there’s a black gift box sitting on her bed. She walks towards it when Aaron nods, a smirk tugging on his mouth. “From you?” 

“Daddy thought you’d like it.” His eyes gleam in that familiar way when she looks at him with wide eyes, her tongue quickly licking over her bottom lip.  

“Should I open it now? Or wait until Christmas morning?” Her throat feels dry, her pulse quickens and he walks towards her until he’s standing close enough for her to feel the heat of his body against hers. 

“Open it now, wear it tonight.” His voice is low, a rumble that’s as thrilling as it is familiar.  

She opens it with trembling fingers, pulls on the red bow and lifts the lid while he studies her closely. When she carefully picks up the red silk panties, his eyes are darker, pupils blown wide. 

“Crotchless panties?” She smirks and his hand wraps around her throat, his thumb pushing just under her chin. 

“Yes, so when I get bored I’ll have something pretty to play with.” He leans in, lips hovering above hers and she whines when he doesn’t kiss her. “And you still want to be a good girl for your daddy, don’t you sweet thing?”  

“Yes.”  

His confident grin turns a little darker, a sound of contentment leaving him. 

“Good girl.” He squeezes around her throat once and then let’s go of her. She stumbles in place, almost chases after him when he turns to leave without another word. It was unbelievable, the power he held over her, how she so easily submitted to him, how badly she already needed him.  

Before he disappears out her bedroom door he gives her a wink. Any worrying she had done had clearly been for nothing.

Just like she had expected, she hated the decorative party. She was bored standing with a flute of champagne in a red, sparkling, floor length dress with a slit up one thigh. She had decided on it for two reasons, one Aaron loved her in red, two the slit was dangerously high, showing off her smooth skin. But even as she saw the way he was tracking her, she was bored and alone. The only saving grace was the panties she was wearing, making her shiver in excitement.

“Em!” The sound of JJ’s voice cuts through her train of thought surprisingly, and she looks up to see her best friend heading towards her with a wide smile.

“JJ!” She greets her with a tight hug, at least now she had someone interesting to talk to instead of lusting after her stepfather all night. “What are you doing here? I thought your family was going to Switzerland for the holidays?”

“We’re leaving tomorrow, and I couldn’t skip seeing you now could I?” JJ takes a sip from her own glass of champagne. “I want to know about school and everything, but first, I need the details about Mr. Hotchner.”

Emily grunts in disgust.

“Oh god JJ, please it’s Aaron. Mr. Hotchner makes him sound so old.” She watches as the blonde rolls her eyes, a teasing smirk already on her lips.

“He is old, Em.”

“Shut up.” She pushes gently at her shoulder. “You want the details or not? Cause if you’re going to be a bitch, I’ll be one right back you know.” She grins when JJ starts to laugh, a breathy chuckle that Emily had missed hearing.

“Fine I’ll be nice. Now tell me everything.”

So she did, not that there was much to tell. She told him about his gift and what he had said, mentioned that if Aaron wasn’t going to come to her, she was most certainly going to come to him.

“I swear if I came here for Christmas and I’m leaving without getting another taste of that man, I’m not coming back until after graduation.” She joked, mostly.

“Just be careful, if someone finds out you’re screwed. It would be the biggest scandal that’s happened in years.”

“It’ll be fine JJ, the only people who knows are me, him and you.” She arches an eyebrow at the blonde who quickly squeezes her lips together and pretends to zip them up.

“Your secrets, no matter how depraved, are always safe with me.”

“Girls,” Aaron is suddenly there, somehow sneaking up on them without either of them noticing and while JJ jumps slightly, Emily only smiles knowing very well that her mother is watching them. “the dinner is about to start, Emily you’re sitting with your mother and me.”

“Seriously?” She frowns slightly. “I can’t sit with JJ?”

The polite smile hardens just a bit, his dark eyes zeroing in on her and holding her gaze.

“No.”

“But what-”

“Don’t argue with me.”

She glares at him but in the end she knows there’s no fighting it so she sighs.

“Fine, we’ll be right there.”

When Aaron nods and starts walking away she turns back to JJ who’s standing next to her with flushed cheeks.

“Okay, I get it now.” She says and Emily nods.

“Told you, he’s hot. Come on let’s get this over with.”

When she sits down she’s surprised to find herself next to only Aaron, her mother on his other side and she looks between his blank face and the empty chair. Normally Elizabeth was always seated in the middle.

“For God’s sake Emily, sit down!” Her mother mutters quietly and with an eyeroll she does.

The food is delicious, that’s the one upside to this night. Or at least that’s what she thinks until she feels Aarons warm hand on her thigh, easily moving up the slit. So technically there’s two upsides, she thinks as she gives him a sparse glance.

The conversations around them are loud, the drinks flowing, and while Elizabeth is turned to talk to a senator, Aaron leans a tiny bit closer to her.

“Spread your legs and don’t make a sound.”

When she doesn’t immediately do what he says and instead looks around the room to see if anybody is paying them any attention, his grip tightens on her thigh.

“No one is looking and you’re already on thin ice with your attitude earlier. Do as I say.”

She’s so close to muttering a yes daddy, but instead she gives a subtle nod and leans back slightly in her chair and her legs spread.

“This is dangerous.” She says while his hand moves higher up her thigh, easily finding the hem of her underwear. He smiles when he feels bare skin where underwear would usually be, happy that she has done as he had told her.

To everyone else it looked like they were having a normal conversation, Aaron’s face neutral as he strokes silky soft skin.

“It is. Which is why if you can’t control yourself I’m stopping.” With that he turns back to Elizabeth who’s still turned away. He’s quickly engaged in another conversation, his best friend David Rossi sitting right across from them.

Emily on the other hand can’t bring herself to talk, can barely bring herself to move in fear of someone noticing his hand that’s hidden under the tablecloth. He’s teasing her, running the tip of one finger along her folds slowly, starting at her clit and then just barely dipping inside of her before repeating the process.

She forces herself to eat small pieces of food, wanting to look busy. She takes another sip of champagne, and swallows that along with a soft moan down when Aaron suddenly circles her clit a little harder. It amazes her, how he looks so indifferent as he continues talking to the people around her like he isn’t fingering his stepdaughter in front of all their friends and associates.

He keeps his finger there, circling slowly but adding a little more pressure and while he laughs along with the jokes and continue conversations that he finds boring, he listens to any sound coming from her, watches her in his peripheral. He sees the flush on her cheeks, something he had missed seeing, notices how her breathing comes out in shorter puffs. She’s getting close but as much as Aaron wants to watch her fall apart, he knows that there’s no way she’ll be able to cover an orgasm so he stops.

“Do not complain or I won’t let you come at all tonight.” He mutters before she can argue and he sees the way she wants to fight him, her eyes heated, a small pout on her face.

“Why would you do this if you weren’t going to finish what you started?” She huffs and he chuckles and wipes his wet fingers on her thigh.

“If you weren’t such a desperate little thing I would have. But we both know that everyone would notice. Besides, you’re my plaything, or do you not remember the rules?”

Her mind goes back to that night in the study, when he had her bent over a couch and talked against her ear, making sure she heard every word he said.

“You do what you’re told, you get what I give you. If I decide to use you as a toy you will say thank you daddy and lay there, if I want your mouth, you’ll be on your knees for me, if I am nice enough to let you come then you can. You ask for what you want, because that’s what good girls do. And you want to be good for your daddy, don’t you Emily?”

“Yes Da- Aaron.” She whispers, swallowing down the urge to kiss him, her hands fisted at her sides to keep from reaching for him. He held her stare for another moment and then Elizabeth said his name and he turned to face his wife.

Emily used the rest of the dinner to try and calm herself, but it was hard when her clit ached and pulsed, the dark heat of arousal simmering just under her skin, her own slick coating her thighs.

It was going to be a long night.

After dinner the real mingling and dancing started but Emily wasn’t paying much attention. JJ had found a southern boy, leaving her alone while her best friend spent the evening flirting and dancing. Not that Emily minded, she could barely focus enough to keep a conversation going.

“Emily!” Elizabeth approaches her with swift steps and she automatically squares her shoulders. She knew that look on her mother’s face and she didn’t like it. “Come dance with Aaron.” She said, trying to usher her away from the corner where she had hidden away.

“What? Why?” She pulls her hand out of her mother’s grasp.

“For the photos, of course.” Elizabeth says like it’s obvious. “Stepfather and stepdaughter, it’ll look good.” She takes Emily’s hand again, this time not letting go.

“You don’t think that’s a little weird, mother?” She mutters but Elizabeth seems to ignore her.

“Don’t be so difficult, Emily. It’s one dance.” She huffs right back and continues to walk with Emily behind her until they’re standing in front of Aaron.

“My darling, would you mind dancing with Emily for a few photos?” She smiles at her husband and Aaron nods.

“Of course, dear.” His eyes move from Elizabeth to Emily, a light chuckle leaving him as he watched the pursed lips and clearly annoyed woman in front of him. “Let’s turn that frown upside down, shall we?”

“I’m not a child.” But she doesn’t fight him when he starts leading her away towards the middle of the room, his hand resting on the middle of her back.

“Oh trust me, I know.” He murmurs lowly when he’s sure they’re far enough away to not be heard. “But we are doing what your mother wants. And after you’re going to go to my study and wait for me.” As he’s talking he’s keeping an arm’s length away from her, one of his hands clasping hers and the other on her waist while she rests hers on his shoulder.

She can faintly hear the clicking of the photographer as they dance and she shivers when she realizes that this conversation will be caught on photos, photos that will most likely be printed out and hung up somewhere in the estate.

“Emily? Are you listening to me?” His voice cuts through her hazy mind and she looks up at him, pupils blown wide, cheeks tinted pink.

“Y-yeah, I’ll wait in your study.” She says and he smiles, satisfied by her answer.

“No one will enter, but remember that people might hear you from inside, so I’m going to need you to be quiet okay?” His voice dropped a little lower, the rasp of his voice coming through when he speaks again. “What do you say?”

“Yes daddy.”

She knows that’s the picture that’s going to be saved, that exact moment.

It’s dark in his study, only a small light on in the corner of the room, it’s cooler, less stuffy in here and Emily takes a couple of deep breaths. She can hear people talking outside, just like he had assumed, but to get into his study, you needed a key that only Aaron had, something he had slipped into her hand right before they had separated on the dance floor.

A few minutes go by, and the longer she waits the more stir-crazy she gets. Seconds feel minutes, minutes like an eternity. When there’s a decisive knock on the door she’s quick to open it, and Aaron is even quicker to push past her and locking the door behind him.

“Finally.” He breathes, dark eyes looking at her with the kind of heat she had missed since this summer. “You really are a tease, deciding to wear that dress.” He starts to walk in a circle around her, taking her in from every angle.

“I don’t think you can call me a tease when you left me hanging during dinner.” She argues and he makes a tsk sound, shaking his head.

“I see you being gone, you’ve completely forgotten how to behave.” He stops right behind her, lets his words fall against her naked shoulder and watches in amusement as she shivers.

“I wouldn’t say that.” Her voice is surprisingly steady when she speaks and she feels his lips curl into a smirk against her neck.

“I would. But we have time for a lesson later, right now we’re on limited time.”

She gasps when he suddenly turns her and pushes her against a bookshelf, a few of the books rattling when her back hits it with a thud. His body feels just as strong as she remembers as he crowds her space, his chest pressed against hers. When he finally kisses her, she sighs into it, her fingers gripping his suit jacket in tight fists to try and get him closer.

He’s already hard, the thickness of him pressing against her even through their clothes and she moves one hand from his suit down to palm him over his pants.

“So eager, so willing.” He breathes in between heated kisses. If they could he would spend hours taking her apart but he knows that they don’t have that luxury so he gets his belt undone, and then Emily takes over, her small hands unbuttoning and unzips his pants with nimble fingers.

“Daddy, I need you.” She whimpers and he groans at her words, it had been too long since he’d heard her voice like that. He hikes her leg up, never having been more thankful for a slit in a dress or Emily’s balance in high heels as he is right then. She’s biting her bottom lip, looking at him with pleading eyes and he ruts against her, feeling her slick folds against his heated shaft.

“You need me huh?” He bumps her clit and she whines and nods, her arms looped around his neck to keep steady.

“I’ve waited all day, please daddy.” If she had been more coherent she probably should give it some thought that she gets this desperate for him, but he’s pushing inside of her, pressing her back against hard shelves and any thought other that him, was gone.

“Fuck baby girl.” He growls against her neck, jaw clenched as he gives them both a moment, her tight walls cling to him, her hands grip his neck and then she moans, something soft and breathy and Aaron can’t wait another moment.

His thrusts are deep and hard, crushing her between his soft front and the hard edges of the bookshelf and she finally feels that feeling she’s longed for. The feeling of complete bliss. He kisses her to muffle her moans, pushes his tongue into her mouth and dominates the kiss, just like he dominates everything else. When they break apart to breathe she’s gasping, her nails close to ripping his suit.

“Daddy, don’t stop.” She pleads and he fucks into her harder, causing a few books to fall around them. Neither of them seem to notice, both too desperate to focus on anything but each other and pleasure.

“Did you think about me in college?” He growls against her ear and she mewls. “Did you think about how good your daddy fucks you while you were fucking boys?”

“Y-yes.” She admits and he snickers, the sound just as graveled as she had remembered.

“But they don’t fuck you like you need to be fucked, do they?” He slows down and pulls back enough to look at her face. “Only daddy knows how you like to be fucked, isn’t that right?” He rolls his hips against hers, pushes as deep as possible and then pulls out while studying her intensely.

“No one knows.” She whimpers, her eyes locked on his. “Only you do, daddy.”

“That’s right.” He claims her lips in a kiss, changes the angle of his hips slightly and Emily cries out. “Shh, it’s okay baby girl.” His large hand covers her mouth and then picks up the pace of his thrusts, continuing to press right against that magic spot inside of her.

She could feel her leg starting to tremble, the strain on it inevitable, but she didn’t care because the tension in her belly was spreading quickly. Her eyes find his, a wordless question in them and he nods.

“You can come.” He mutters lowly, his own orgasm building by each deep thrust. She clings to him as she comes less than a minute later, her leg giving out and if it weren’t for the way he had her pressed against the bookshelf she would have fallen.

“Jesus Christ you get so tight when come on my cock.” He grunts through clenched teeth. She’s panting, head back, jaw slacked, eyes hazy and this is how he had missed seeing her, fucked out and at his mercy.

“Let me feel it daddy.” She whispers and it’s the last push he needs before he comes with a strained groan. He tenses against her, doesn’t move until he’s empty and when he pulls away Emily almost falls to the floor.

“I knew it was a good idea coming back for Christmas.” She joked lightly as she leaned against the wall. She squirmed slightly when she felt his release on her thighs, the crotchless panties doing nothing to help her from creating a mess.

“A very good idea indeed.” He agreed, still catching his breath. “Still, we should clean up, someone will notice soon.

She nods, absentmindedly swiping a finger across her inner thigh and tasting him.

“I swear you’ll be the death of me Emily.”

They manage to get away with it, somehow, and when Emily goes to bed that night she feels sated. But she still had plans, plans that would require her mother leaving them alone. Luckily for her, she had last minute errands to run the following day. Emily might not always get along with her mother, but she knew her, and she knew that she always left buying gifts to the last possible moment, and she smiled at the thought.

“I’ll be back no later than 7 tonight.” Elizabeth said as Aaron helped her put on her coat.

“We’ll be fine here.” He smiled and kissed her cheek.

“Check in on Emily would you? Just to make sure she doesn’t run off. She’s done that before.”

“Will do.” He ignores the way his cock stirs at the thought of him and Emily alone in the house until he’s closed the door. He hadn’t seen Emily since breakfast, that was a few hours ago so he decided to seek her out right away. “Emily?”

He doesn’t knock on her door, can hear soft music playing from inside so he simply opens it. When he sees her his mouth goes dry, eyes not knowing where to look as he takes in her appearance. She’s laying on her bed, a Santa hat on her head and the shortest, skimpiest red Santa dress he’s ever seen and thigh high fishnet stockings on her legs.

She smirks at him, happy that she for once managed to catch him off guard.

“Santa baby, just slip a Sable under the tree for me. Been an awful good girl. Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight.” She sings softly before standing up and walking the short distance to where he’s still standing, seemingly frozen to the spot. “Merry Christmas, daddy.” She hums and presses a kiss to his cheek. It seems to be enough to jolt him out of the temporary shock and his hands wrap around her waist, keeping her against him.

“I don’t think you’ve been a very good girl, my sweet thing.” He nuzzles her nose and she smiles. “But it’s time to change that.”

The switch in him is so quick that she has no time to register it, one hand wraps around her throat, the other grabs the leather belt around her waist and pushes her back. She feels like a ragdoll, almost weightless as he moves her around the room and then spins her around, the hat falling off in the process.

Her face is pressed into the mattress, the obscenely short skirt pulls up exposing her bare center and for a second she wonders how he manages to turn the tables on her so effortlessly. But she knew it would happen, granted she thought she would have gotten a few more minutes but there was no way she was complaining. Especially not when she heard the sound of his belt being pulled through his jeans.

“You had an attitude all day yesterday, baby girl.” He folds his belt in two and gently moves it up a smooth thigh, smiling when Emily’s breathing hitches. “And no matter how cute you look in your little outfit, you’re still going to get a punishment.”

She turns her head on the bed to look be able to look up at him but she doesn’t try to get up.

“I promise to be good.” She says quietly and he laughs, the sound bordering on condescending and her cheeks flare up in response.

“Oh is that right?” He lets the leather stroke down her other thigh then dip between her legs, pressing against the wet heat of her.

“Yes, I promise.” Her hips press back against the leather, the feeling against her clit new and Aaron shakes his head.

“No, I think you’re lying.” He muses and Emily whimpers. “You know what’s going to happen. You’re going to stay still and ask for your daddy’s forgiveness.” His hand tangles in her long hair and he pulls her up so she’s on her hands and knees. “And if you do a good enough job I’m going to fuck you again.”

The filthy grin appears on her face instantly and Aaron shakes his head at her.

“Dirty girl. Open your mouth.” When she does so without question he spits in her mouth and she swallows dutifully.

“Thank you daddy.” She feels him shifting behind her and then let’s go of her hair. She lays her face back down on the bed, preparing herself for the first hit.

The first slap of the belt stings as it lands on one of her cheeks and she jolts slightly.

“I’m sorry daddy.” She whimpers, the words barely out before he strikes her again, this time on the other cheek.

“What are you sorry for?” He asks as the third hit cracks down on the back of her thigh and she cries out.

“For having an attitude.” She tenses just as the fourth hit, this one hard enough that she’ll know she’ll bruise.

“And?” He hits her just as hard the fifth time, enjoying the welts that’s appearing on her pale skin.

“For questioning you.” She jerks away after the sixth hit and Aaron gives her a moment to either stop or get back in position. She takes a few breaths and then bends over again.

“Are you sorry?” He asks and hits her two times, the sound loud as the leather connects to her skin.

“Yes!” She cries out as her muscles start to tremble.

“Are you sorry!?” He says it louder, hits her straight across both cheeks and she whimpers, any other sound stuck in her throat.

“Yes daddy!” She finally gets out and then she hears the sound of the belt falling to the floor and she sighs in relief.

His hand is gentle as he caresses her hip and the outside of her thighs, then up her back under the red fabric of her dress until her breathing has calmed and she’s stopped shaking.

“You did so good baby girl. Daddy’s proud of you.” He whispers gently and Emily relaxes. When she turns over on her back she hisses at the raw feeling of her ass against the bed but she ignores it in favor of being able to look up at him.

Aaron smiles down and kisses her, something he’s intended to be soft and gentle that Emily immediately deepens, hand holding on to the back of his neck. He lays down on the bed and she helps him off with his jeans while he rids himself of his shirt. His hand moves between her legs and finds her slick and ready and he hums in satisfaction.

“Come on baby girl, ride me, let me enjoy this outfit for a bit.” He reaches for the Santa hat and puts it on her and then lays back, eyes roaming over her as she straddles him. She sinks down on him with a low moan and Aaron’s head falls back against the pillows at the feeling. He watches her through heavy-lidded eyes, from the plunging neckline, to creamy things, to her blissed out face. She was a gift wrapped in sin, he was sure of it.

She’s quick to start moving, twisting her grinding on him while his hands are on her hips, not relenting all of his control. Her hand moves down her body and starts rubbing her clit in tight circles, his low grunts only spurring her on. She rocks her hips against his, taking him as deep as possible.

“I’m gonna come daddy.” She mumbles in not time at all, her breathing heavy and his hands tighten on her hips.

“Already?” He grins as she simply nods, hips buckling wildly on top of him, fingers moving faster on her clit. “Do it.” He pushes his hips up, helping her ride out the pleasure as she starts to spasm on top of him, her moans loud and raw as her eyes roll back in her head.

She’s still coming down when he flips them around. They stay like that, Aaron whispering filth in her ear until she’s coming again and then he turns her over and straddles the back of her thighs. The heat from the welts makes him groan and Emily shudders underneath him.

When he comes it’s with a loud groan, bodies sweaty and exhausted, Emily’s dress ruined in scraps on the bed and the floor. He collapses next to her and Emily stays on her stomach, head turned towards him with a lazy grin on her face.

“Thank you daddy.”

“You’re welcome, baby girl.”

A few hours later she’s seated at the dinner table, bruises and welts on her ass that make her want to squirm. Aaron notices, a small smirk tugging on the corner of his mouth while her mother obliviously talks about anything and everything. She locks eyes with Aaron and winks.

It was a very merry Christmas indeed.