#Billie Dean Howard imagine

[iamnotoriginalphil]

Sweet Girl (Billie Dean Howard x f!Reader)

Synopsis: Meeting your mother's friend was the best day of your life.

Words: 6.9k

Warnings: Semi-choking, praise kink, smut, age gap, marking, alcohol consumption, swearing

“Hey, mom, I-”

You paused in the doorway. The blonde woman who looked up at you, hands curled around one of your mother’s mugs, steam wafting upwards, was most certainly not your mom. Her pink lips quirked up into a smile, eyes sweeping over your body before settling on your face again.

“You’re not my mom,” you said.

“I’m certainly not,” she replied.

You weren’t sure what else to say. She was still watching you, head tilted to one side, and you felt yourself tremble under her gaze. There was something about it that felt like a caress across your skin.

“Um, is my mom around? Only I’m pretty sure this is still her house. Unless she moved without telling me which I wouldn’t put past her,” you said.

“She’s upstairs,” she replied.

“Right.”

Your weight rocked forward before you fell back. Looking away, you were feeling something growing in your stomach, familiar and warm, making your fingers itch. You shoved your hands into your pockets. Her low chuckle was throaty, your eyes snapping up to her again.

The silk blouse she was wearing was open just one button too far, an enticing shadow making you want to lean forward and run your tongue between the valley of her breasts. She crossed one leg over the other, drawing your attention down to where her skirt fluttered around her calves. A hand tipped in pink acrylics began to drum over the tabletop, slow and deliberate. You felt breathless, standing under her gaze.

“Ah, darling, you’re here. Wonderful. Have you met Billie? You must have,” your mother said, coming down the stairs.

You dragged your eyes away from her guest, Billie, to look over to her. She was smiling at you, looking ready for brunch. In your jeans and t-shirt, you were definitely the most underdressed in the room.

“Why are you dressed like that?” your mother asked, sweeping past you to sit at the table with Billie.

“You asked me to come over. Is everything okay? What’s going on?” you asked.

“Darling, we’re going to brunch,” she replied.

“What? Mom, I have class in twenty minutes. I thought this was an emergency,” you said, your exasperation leaking through.

“Surely you can skip just this once,” your mother said, “you’re always too busy to see me anymore.”

“Mom,” you sighed.

“Billie was so looking forward to meeting you,” she said.

“Come on,” Billie said, leaning towards you, “live a little.”

“Fine,” you said, “fine, but you’re buying my meal. And drinks.”

“Whatever you say, darling,” she said.

Sitting in the back of your mother’s car as she drove, you did your best not to stare at the blonde head in front of you. Her eyes kept finding yours in the rear view mirror, sparkling brown, while she kept up with her conversation with your mother. You felt like a sullen teenager sitting there, silent and annoyed. The guilt churning in your stomach was an irritant, your mother knowing how to push your buttons.

The restaurant you were brought to was fancy, fancier than you would ever go to with your friends. From the way you were being looked at, you knew you weren’t dressed well enough for the place. You sat outside, across from Billie, your mother between the two of you. Your server poured iced water into the glasses before leaving the three of you, your quiet thanks the only one given.

“What are you studying?” Billie asked.

“Media and communication,” you replied, fiddling with your cloth napkin.

“A useless choice,” your mother scoffed, scanning over the menu, “I told her to choose something worthwhile. Like biology or accounting.”

“I want to make documentaries,” you said, ignoring your mother completely.

“Well, that sounds wonderful,” Billie said.

“Don’t indulge her,” your mother said.

“Mom, we’ve talked about this,” you sighed.

“You’re so smart, darling. You could do more with your life than making silly movies about things people don’t care about,” she said, placing her menu down.

You gave a cursory glance over yours, not wanting to answer her. You’d had that very same argument time and time again, there was no point trying again. She had her opinion and there was no changing it in your experience.

“Perhaps I could put you in contact with some documentarians,” Billie said before your mother could go into it again, “or if you’d like work experience my show is always looking for interns.”

“Show?”

“Darling, you know Billie. There’s no point feigning ignorance,” your mother sighed.

“Billie Dean Howard,” she said, extending her hand over the table, “medium to the stars.”

You shook her hand, the brush of her skin over yours bringing heat to your cheeks. She was giving you a small smile, chin tilted down, her eyes sparkling with interest. Your breath caught, tongue darting out to wet your lips. Her gaze dipped down to your lips, making heat bloom in your stomach.

“You know her,” your mother was saying, not noticing of the moment you were having, “I’m sure you’ve seen her show. It’s always on.”

“Mom, I don’t… own a TV,” you said, breaking the moment, turning away from Billie and the gravity you felt begging you to fall into her.

“You don’t?” Billie asked.

You turned to look at her, finding her resting her chin in the palm of her hand. Your breath caught again, the way she was looking at you was like you were the most interesting thing she could imagine. You weren’t used to being looked at that way.

“May I take your orders?”

You startled, not having noticed the waiter approaching. A curse slipped over your lips, Billie’s throaty chuckle only bringing more heat to your cheeks. You muttered your order, passing over the menu.

“And a round of mimosas,” your mother said.

You opened your mouth to argue but then shut it again. Billie caught your eye, giving you an amused smile. Butterflies burst in your stomach. You looked down to your lap, not needing this while also dealing with your mother. Why did your mother have to have such a beautiful friend?

You listened as they talked, staying silent. Billie kept catching your eye across the table, a twist of her lips and wandering gaze making you wonder if this wasn’t some kind of torture. Your mother seemed none the wiser of your crisis, but the blonde was watching you as you did your best not to wonder what her fingers would feel like trailing along your skin as they circled the rim of her mimosa.

You downed yours in your attempt to keep yourself from groaning when her tongue darted out, chasing a drop of orange juice at the corner of her lips.

Your French toast was placed down in front of you, the mimosa replaced without being asked. Digging in, you watched Billie salt her eggs Benedict. Your mother wrinkled her nose at you.

“Darling, at some point you’ll have to raise your palette to something more adult,” she said.

“You know I have a sweet tooth,” you mumbled.

“It’s hard to resist something so sweet, isn’t it, sweet girl?” Billie said and you thought you had to be reading too much into her words.

There was no way she’d blatantly flirt with you in front of your mom. Would she? Maybe she would. You didn’t know her at all.

You wanted to though.

As you went to take a sip from your replenished mimosa, you felt a foot graze along yours. You spluttered, dribbling some of the cocktail down your chin. You wiped it away, ignoring your mother’s admonishment to glare across the table. Billie had her lips pressed together, suppressing laughter as she peered back at you, eyes twinkling.

Her foot was slow to glide up your leg, taking her time as you felt yourself become more unhinged. Swiping up some of the sauce on her plate, her tongue licked along her fingers before she sucked it into her mouth, cheeks hollowing, dark eyes keeping your attention hostage. Your mother was still speaking, but it was on the periphery of your senses, your entire being focused on the feeling of her foot brushing your leg, her tongue flicking over her skin, her eyes boring into yours.

Her small smirk told you she knew exactly what she was doing to you.

“I should go,” you said, abruptly standing.

“So soon?” Billie asked.

“I have class,” you muttered, “I’ll text you later, mom.”

You fled from your brunch, heart racing and skin tingling. Dark eyes haunted you on your trek to college and you found yourself wondering what pink lips would taste like. You were stuck contemplating the entire experience instead of listening to your classes, not willing to admit how much you wanted her.

Later, at home, you watched clips of her show on YouTube, one hand in your underwear, imagining it was hers.

A week later, against your better judgement, you agreed to join your friends at one of the bougie bars that you knew was overpriced but catered to a certain clientele. Growing up with a relatively rich crowd, you still felt out of place, even with your mother’s money. It had always settled around you like an uncomfortable skin. But every now and then, you joined your childhood friends for a night out.

This time you did not come underdressed. Your dress was nice and your hair was styled. You’d even put on some makeup. You had heels on. No one could suggest you hadn’t dressed up for your night out.

The lighting was dim, making the atmosphere feel intimate. It was the kind of place you’d bring a date, if you wanted to show off the way your father tried to buy your love by filling your bank account.

Your friends claimed one of the tables, plush leather seats cushioning your body. A bottle of champagne was bought for the table, starting off your night. You kept relatively quiet, listening to what your friends had been up to, not wanting to admit that you were still pursuing a college education in something not business adjacent. You’d heard every joke under the sun from them when you’d first started. Mostly about how you were going to be a homeless bum by the time you were thirty.

A large group came in somewhere between the third and fourth round of drinks. You kept your head bent, not caring, only concerned for the noise that would come from them. There was a part of you considering going home, not sure you should have said yes to coming out with your friends. You were getting pleasantly buzzed, but you were tired and looking to curl up in bed with your laptop and thoughts of dark eyes and pink nails.

Noticing your drink was empty, you got to your feet, wandering up to the bar. You hoisted yourself into one of the seats, one leg crossing over the other, the hem of your skirt riding up as you lent forward.

“Hello, sweet girl,” a warm voice purred in your ear.

You startled, turning your head to look over your shoulder. Blonde curls resting against her shoulder, lips pulling up into a wicked smile, dark eyes glittering, Billie Dean Howard looked as if she’d stepped right out of your fantasies. You could feel your eyes widening as you watched her take the seat beside you, long fingers tapping on the top of the bar, pink acrylics making a pleasing noise where they connected with wood.

“What are you doing here, sweet girl?” she asked, “I wouldn’t think this was your kind of a place.”

“My friends,” you gestured somewhere behind you, “they uh… this is their kind of place.”

She didn’t even bother glancing at your group. Her eyes had settled on you and you weren’t sure they would be moving any time soon. The barman arrived and she didn’t even bother looking to him, ordering for both you and herself. Your heart fluttered. She oozed confidence, as if there was no doubt in your mind that she was charming you.

She was.

A green cocktail was placed down in front of you, the gin and tonic she’d ordered far simpler than your drink. She waited for you to try it before she sipped from her own drink, humming low in her throat. You shuddered, sweetness bursting on your tongue from the sugar rim on the glass. You licked some away, watching the way her eyes darkened as she watched your tongue drag along the glass.

“Are you enjoying it, sweet girl?” she asked.

You nodded, “thank you. You didn’t have to.”

“Let me spoil you,” she said, hand landing on your leg.

Her thumb brushed the inside of your thigh, your skin almost electrified under her touch. She lent towards you, her nails digging in just enough to feel the sting. Heat coursed through your veins. You found yourself leaning towards her too, not able to stop yourself.

“Would you like to be spoiled, sweet girl?” she asked in almost a whisper.

Your mouth turned dry, knowing you definitely weren’t reading too much into her words now. Her eyes drifted down, lingering on your cleavage, shown to great effect in your dress. Her hand shifted up, just an inch, making you shiver.

“Well?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Yes please,” you breathed.

Any reason to say no was gone from your head. That fact she was friends with your mom didn’t even register. All you could focus on was the heat pooling in your stomach and the brush of her thumb over the vulnerable skin of your inner thigh. Your teeth sunk into your lower lip, her eyes finding it, focusing as she lent forward even closer, breath ghosting over your skin.

“Hey, who’s this?”

An arm was slung around your shoulders, your friend, Rachel, leaning against you. Billie lent back, hand slipping to rest on your knee. You had to press your lips together to keep your whimper inside, not able to live down the thought of your friend hearing you.

“This is Billie, she’s uh… she’s a friend of mom’s,” you replied.

“Wait, shit, I know you. You’re that psychic off the tv,” Rachel said.

“Medium,” she replied, voice much colder than when it had been directed at you.

“You talk to ghosts and shit,” she said, voice loud from right beside your ear.

“I do,” she replied, tilting her chin up, looking down her nose at your friend.

“That’s crazy,” she said, “you actually think you’re talking to ghosts?”

“I am actually talking to ghosts,” she replied, sounding icier than you’d ever heard her.

“Crazy,” she said again, awed by her supposed insanity.

“Well, it was lovely seeing you,” she said to you.

She rose from the stool she’d been sitting in, leaving your heart thumping wildly. She gave you one lingering look before leaving you be with Rachel. Your friend swooped in, stealing her seat, leaning towards you with her forearms resting on the bar.

“Were you trying to go home with her?” she asked.

“What?” you laughed.

“Celebrity fucking. Are you in on it? Because if you are I think Matthew is winning on that front. He got a Kardashian,” she said, “but hey, I get it. You have to start somewhere. Work up to the big guns.”

“What are you talking about?” you asked, indignation beginning to rise.

“Start with some insignificant woman with a show before you move on to the hot ones. She’ll be easy, I bet. Probably a good ego boost to have someone so young pursuing her. I doubt she’s fucked anyone in ages,” she said before clicking to get the barman’s attention.

“I’m gonna…” You didn’t bother finishing your sentence before you walked off, leaving her to order more drinks.

Outside, you found her again, leaning against the wall, cigarette between fingers, smoke curling out of her mouth. You watched her for a moment, letting your eyes linger on the way her lips pursed, the clinging silk blouse, the long fingers brought to her mouth then away again.

“You’re staring,” she said.

“You’re beautiful,” you replied, then immediately worried you’d been too bold.

She turned to look at you, looking less than impressed at your answer. You clasped your hands together behind your back, not wanting her to see you fidgeting. You swallowed past the lump in your throat.

“I’m sorry about her,” you said, “I don’t think you’re crazy.”

“Many do,” she said.

“Billie,” you breathed out, stepping closer to her until the scent of her cigarette wrapped around you, “I don’t. I think there’s plenty out there we can’t explain and who am I to say if ghosts exist. What I do know is that I’ve been thinking about you since we met.”

She softened, turning her body towards you. You reached out, fingers brushing over the back of her hand. She stubbed her cigarette out on the wall, dropping it into the bin just behind you. In one motion, she curled her arm around your waist, pulling you closer until your body brushed against hers.

“And what have you been thinking when you think about me?” she asked.

“About how you taste,” you groaned.

She grasped your chin, acrylics digging in to the skin of your cheeks. She pulled you forward, breath ghosting over your lips. You finally let yourself whimper. Her smile stretched.

“How can I deny you, sweet girl?” she murmured.

Her lips brushed against yours, tantalising, almost teasing, barely there but making your heart pound and your knees grow weak. Your hands slid along her hips, wanting to pull her closer, wanting to feel her body against yours. She drew back, her hand still holding your chin, keeping you from leaning towards her again.

“How was that?” she asked.

You shook your head, trying to dip back in. She held you tight enough to make you whine, refusing to give you what you wanted.

“Use your words, sweet girl,” she said.

“More,” you whined, “I want more.”

The door to the bar opened, the chatter from inside leaking out. She looked over your shoulder at the couple leaving, a blank mask falling over her face. Dragging her eyes back to you, she softened again.

“Let me take you home, sweet girl,” she said, “say I can have you for the rest of the night.”

“Yeah,” you sighed, “you can have me as long as you want.”

“Careful or I might just end up keeping your forever,” she warned.

You were finding it hard to see that as a bad thing.

She called for a car, keeping one hand on your body, thumb stroking over skin until you were a trembling mess. In the back seat of the car, her hand was slow as it slid up your thigh, keeping up a conversation with the driver, practically ignoring you. You were biting down on your lip, trying to keep silent. Her eyes flashed over to you, glittering when she noticed your struggle. Her thumb passed so close to your heat if you’d shifted your hips just an inch, she could have been touching your panty covered core. Even with the material in the way, you were sure she’d be able to feel how wet you were.

The car pulled up outside a nice home, two stories and large enough for a family to live in. Billie held the door open for you to slide out, her hand settling on the small of your back, leading you up the porch. She pushed the door open, waiting for you to step inside.

“Would you like a drink, sweet girl?” she asked, closing the door.

You’d been expecting her to be on you the moment the door was closed, but instead all she did was trail her fingers along your shoulders before leaving you be. You followed behind, disappoint curling in your gut. Your eyes drifted down to her swaying hips, skirt only accentuating her figure.

She flicked on the light in her kitchen, a wide wall of windows staring back. You followed, not sure what else to do. Reaching above her head, she pulled down a wine glass, only one, before turning back towards you. Her eyes swept over you, from head to toe, smile curling up one corner of her lips.

“You didn’t answer,” she said.

“No.” You shook your head, “I think if I have any more you’ll be taking advantage of me.”

“Well, we can’t have that,” she replied.

She poured herself a glass of white wine, pulled straight from her fridge. She took a sip from it, watching you as she did. Her tongue dragged along her lower lip, catching a drop of stray wine. You made a small noise, her smirk only growing.

“Billie,” you whined, your self respect long since gone. All you wanted was her hands on your bare skin, not this waiting game she was forcing you to play.

“Yes, sweet girl?” she asked.

“Please,” you begged, “I need you.”

“Do you?” She raised an eyebrow at you.

“Yes.”

She placed her glass of wine down before taking a step towards you. With strong hands, she lifted you onto the counter, stepped between your parted legs. Her hands were sliding up the skin of your thigh, making you shiver.

“How’s this?” she asked.

“Uh huh,” you replied, beyond words just from her touch.

Her nose skimmed along your jaw, making your breath hitch. Your legs tightened around her, pinning her there as you whimpered. Her lips were soft as they pressed to your skin, head falling back to give her more access. Her tongue flicked out, tasting you with a soft hum. Your fingers clenched around the edge of the marble countertop, breath already ragged.

Her nails scraped along your skin, pushing up underneath your dress. You would have torn it from your body if she asked, uncaring of anything but giving her more access to you. Her teeth scraped along your skin before sinking in just enough for the sting to be pleasurable. Tongue swiping over it, you could feel her smile against your throat at the strangled noise you made. The way she sucked on your pulse point had your head growing fuzzy.

Your hands found their home on her shoulders, fingers curling as you tried to haul her closer. The throbbing between your legs was insistent but ignored by her. You wanted to reel her in, press against her, rub yourself against her like an animal. Her nails were scraping along your skin, drawing patterns on your skin in a way that had you shivering.

“Billie,” you gasped out, “please.”

“Sorry, sweet girl,” she murmured against your skin, “I can’t get enough of your taste.”

Her tongue swirled again, her soft sigh making you burn. Your fingers curled in her hair, tugging until you were leaning towards her, breath ghosting over her skin. She looked up from under eyelashes, coquettish and innocent, undone by the twist of her lips.

You kissed her, no longer just a brush of lips, all innocence gone. You groaned into her mouth, fingers tightening on blonde curls, tongue licking into her mouth. She allowed you, nails digging into your skin as you did your best to taste her, to explore, to delve deeper until you couldn’t remember what it was to not be kissing her. The taste of wine and cigarettes lingered on her tongue, something sweeter and deeper underneath.

You moaned, chasing her taste, wanting to burn it into your brain until nothing else remained. She was forcing your legs further apart, fingers on your inner thighs, stroking closer and closer to your heated core. She chuckled into your mouth when you whined, hips shifting, trying to urge her on.

Desperate lips trailed down your neck again, nipping at skin. Your fingers, still buried in her hair, clenched, pressing her closer, your pleas ignored as she took her time. Her teeth sunk in as her index finger ghosted over your centre. The noise that came from you had your cheeks heating before your embarrassment was washed away by the need for her touch.

Her finger stroked over you again, still over the top of your underwear. She was sucking another bruise onto your skin, her teeth and her tongue only making you desperate for more. Her finger pressed down, finding your clit through your panties. Her name was a strangled noise, back arching towards her.

“You’re so wet, sweet girl,” she said, “god, you’ve soaked right through.”

You whimpered as she continued to circle it, tortuously slow. She pulled back, eyes sweeping over your face, watching you. Her other hand slipped from under your dress, soft as it drifted up your body. You arched into her touch when she found your breast, begging her for more. She ignored you, hand continuing up until fingers rested on your throat, thumb stroking over the point she’d been sucking on before.

“Do you know how pretty you are?” she asked you, those dark eyes smouldering up at you, “you make such lovely noises for me.”

“Billie,” you whimpered, “Billie please.”

“I like when you beg, sweet girl,” she said, “do it again.”

“Please,” you whined.

“Good girl.”

That only made you tremble, heat coursing through you. From her delighted smile, she seemed to realise the effect her words had on you. Her fingers pushed aside your underwear, fingers swiping through your folds. The sound that came from you was high pitched, hips bucking up against her touch.

The hand around your throat tightened, for just a moment, long enough to make fire burn through you. She tugged you forward, kissing you, teeth sinking into your lower lip. You were aching for her, needing her more than you’d needed anyone before.

Fingers were slow to circle your clit, as if testing how far she could push you before she drove you insane. She drew back, watching you as your chest heaved, skin heating, eyes begging her for more. Lips pulled up into a smirk, the older woman slowing her movements until you felt tears prick in your eyes.

“You’re so pretty for me,” she said, “look how responsive you are. Such a good girl.”

“Billie,” you whined.

“I could watch you like this for hours,” she said.

“Please,” you begged, “please, Billie, I need-“

Her thumb ground against your clit, your words breaking off into a strangled moan. Her delight was enough to let you know you would be given no easy release. You tugged on her hair.

“Do you enjoy that, sweet girl?” she asked, so innocent, as if she wasn’t watching you fall apart in front of her.

Her thumb slipped from your clit, leaving you with the slow circling again, tortuous and maddening. You let out a shaky breath, fingers tightening in her blonde curls.

“I bet you taste sweet,” she murmured, “will you let me taste you, sweet girl?”

“Yes,” you babbled, “please. Oh god, please, Billie. I need you.”

Her hand slipped from your throbbing cunt, making you whine in protest. The hand resting around your throat slid down. Both tugged on the hem of your dress, dragging it up your body. You let her pull it from your body, flinging it aside as her eyes roved over your bare skin and lacy lingerie.

“Who did you wear these pretty things for, sweet girl?” she asked, finger running along the lace of your bra, “was there someone you were hoping would see these?”

“No,” you replied, feeling breathless.

“Don’t lie to me, sweet girl,” she warned.

Her dark eyes met yours and you could see it, swimming in her eyes, no matter how she was trying to hide it. The jealousy. The anger. The thought you’d dressed up for anyone but her. A sense of power flooded your body. To have such an effect on her, to make her feel that way, it was mind blowing for you.

“No one but you,” you said, tugging her closer, “I’ve been thinking of no one else since I met you.”

“You say such lovely things,” she said.

Her hands cupped your breasts, thumbs swiping over your nipples. Your breath stuttered and she lent down, lips ghosting along your skin. Her tongue dipped into the divot between your collarbones, stealing both your breath and your sanity. You moaned her name, arching towards her mouth.

Sliding her hands around your ribs, she unhooked your bra. Her lips continued down before wrapping around one nipple. Your mouth fell open around a silent moan. She wasn’t soft, her sharp suck making you tighten your fingers in her hair. Her tongue flicked over it, making you arch into her, asking for more.

Her nails scraped over your skin, down over your ribs, past the dip of your waist, over the curve of your hips. They hooked into your underwear, pulling them off you. Down your legs and flung aside, you did your best to help her, wanting that tongue where your throbbing heat was.

Lips trailed down your body, leaving your nipples behind despite your whimper. She took her time, lingering on every inch of skin she found. Her tongue would smooth over where her teeth scraped, heat following in her wake. You sighed at the first swipe of it through your folds. Your head fell back, fingers tightening in her hair. She hummed, pressing closer, tongue teasing your entrance.

She wrapped her lips around your clit, tongue flicking over it, then again when you moaned her name. It wasn’t going to take much, not from the way she’d been teasing you all night. And not from the way you’d been fantasising about her all week. The reality was much better than you could have imagined.

And in your imagination she’d been spectacular.

You gasped her name when she began to suck on your bundle of nerves, her hands pushing your legs even further apart. Spread out on her kitchen counter, face buried between your legs, feasting on you, it was as if all your dreams were coming true. She moaned, the vibrations rocketing through your body. Her name was a prayer on your lips and felt yourself coming apart. Her dark eyes looked up your body, catching yours and the way she was watching was like you were fulfilling all of her fantasies too.

The flat of her tongue pressed against your clit. You were writhing under her touch, begging her for release. Her fingers tightened on your thighs until you were sure she’d be leaving bruises for you to find the next day. She moaned again and it was enough.

If you were asked about it, you wouldn’t say you screamed her name, fingers tightening in her hair until you were pulling it. But you did. And she looked like the cat that got the cream because of it.

She cleaned you up with her tongue before she lent back, staring up at you, lips smirking. You pulled her up, kissing her with the kind of abandon you hadn’t let yourself have earlier. She chuckled into your mouth until your legs were tightening around her and your hands were sliding down her body and she began to moan.

“I want to touch you,” you murmured into her mouth, “please let me touch you.”

“I really can’t deny you anything,” she replied, pulling back, “perhaps somewhere comfortable though? I don’t bounce back like I once did.”

Her hand slipped into yours, helping you off the counter. Her eyes trailed over your body for a moment, appreciation filling her face as she took her time studying you. You flushed under her gaze, surprised by how much you liked her looking at you. Where usually you didn’t languish in nudity, the way she was staring made you feel powerful, desirable, stupidly sexy.

She led you further into the house, up the stairs, into a plush bedroom. The carpet underfoot was soft and the bed was huge. She sat on the edge of it, pulling you forward until you were stood between her legs. Leaning down, you threaded your fingers through her hair again, tilting her head up and kissing her until you felt her begin to relax.

You climbed onto her lap, knees either side of her hips. She hummed into your mouth, fingers trailing over your skin until the fire within you reignited. You pushed her back, feeling more than hearing the way she laughed against your lips.

“You’re so beautiful,” you whispered, drawing back to look down at her.

Her eyes brightened and there was a faint flush on her cheeks. Your fingers were careful as you began to unbutton her blouse, exposing tantalising inches of skin to your hungry gaze. Your tongue dragged along your bottom lip as you watched the silk slip from her shoulders. She pulled you down into another kiss, hot and insistent.

Your hands were gentle, fingertips trailing along her skin. It was so soft, and it only made you want more of her. With your tongue in her mouth, you reached behind her, unclasping the bra, pulling it from her body. You trailed your lips down, taking your time to worship every inch you came into contact with. Her fingers found their way into your hair, pressing you closer. You slid down her body, needing a better angle if you were to make her moan your name.

Your tongue tasted her skin, swirling over a nipple, smiling when you felt her arch up towards you. She murmured praise, practically a sigh. Your hands reached for her skirt, slow to unzip it and push it over her hips. She kicked it away before your hand ran up the outside of her thigh. You could feel her warmth practically radiating towards you.

“I can’t get enough of you,” you murmured into her skin.

“You feel so good, sweet girl,” she gasped when your lips made contact with her again.

You pushed her panties aside, slow to touch her, wanting to draw it out as long as possible. If you gave in too quickly you’d take too much. You wanted her falling apart, the way you had, until your name was burned on her tongue.

You collected her wetness, running a finger through her folds. Her breathing stuttered, chest heaving against your mouth. You circled her clit, slow as you lent back, watching her face contort in pleasure. Her lips were smiling, eyes fluttering shut. Your hand slipped down again, finger hovering at her entrance. She looked up at you again.

“Can I?” you asked.

“If you don’t, I’ll be sorely disappointed,” she replied, voice husky.

You smiled down at her, spread out beneath you. With strong hand you tore her underwear off, biting down on her pulse point. Your fingers found her entrance again, lingering just a moment before you pushed in, her arousal making it easier than you would have thought. A soft sigh fell through parted lips and her eyelids fluttered shut again.

Slowly pumping in and out of her you waited until her annoyed gaze found you again. You grinned, pressing a second finger in. You curled them and your name was nothing but a filthy moan on her lips.

You stroked her, thumb finding her clit again. She was writing under your touch, hips rocking against your hand, small noises coming from her. Her hands were fisting her comforter and there was a flush over her chest.

You watched her fall apart beneath you. Her internal walls clamped down on your fingers, your name a breathless sigh, fingers tightening, body going still. You eased her through it, drawing it out as long as you could. Her muscles relaxed, looking up at you with a sleepy smile. You removed your hands from between her legs, tongue lapping at your fingers, tasting her on your skin.

Her eyes began to smoulder, looking up at you. With grasping hands she pulled you down, unbalancing you until both your hands landed either side of her head, catching your weight before you crushed her. She drew you down into a kiss, stealing your breath, sending your head reeling all over again.

“You’re a dream, sweet girl,” she murmured against your lips, “I’m never letting you go.”

You kissed her again before rolling off her, sitting on her plush comforter. Her fingers trailed up your bare thigh, making you shiver under her touch.

“Are you tired?” she asked, voice low, like a whisper caressing over your skin.

“No,” you replied.

“Then let me wear you out, sweet girl.”

When you woke in the morning, the bed was empty, still warm under your touch and more comfortable than the twin bed you’d been sleeping in for the last few months. You sat up, stretching your aching body before brushing the sleep from your eyes. The slant of light said it was late morning. Unsurprising, given Billie had kept you up until the early hours of the morning. The scent of coffee was on the air and you smiled, hearing someone moving downside.

You hunted through the room, finding a soft cashmere sweater. Pulling it on, it hit mid thigh, just enough to cover you but not enough to not be tempting to the insatiable woman. On bare feet you padded down the stairs. Rounding the banister, following your nose, you practically skipped into the kitchen.

You stumbled to a halt, finding a familiar face staring back at you, eyes widening in surprise. Billie turned in her seat, lips quirking up into a smile as her eyes swept over your body.

“Mom?”

You felt your face heat up, taking a step back. She was sitting at the kitchen island, the exact island you’d been sitting on, naked, just a few hours before.

“Darling, what are you doing here?” she asked, “did you spend the night here?”

“Uh…” You looked to Billie, not sure how to answer, “yeah I did.”

“I hope you didn’t bother Billie. She was meant to meet me this morning but when she didn’t show up I had to come hunt her down,” she said.

“She was no bother,” Billie replied, smiling at you over the rim of her coffee cup.

“I thought I was interrupting you after a wild night of passion,” your mother laughed, “with all those clothes scattered around your kitchen.”

“I should… go,” you said, not wanting to think about Billie telling your mother about your night with her.

Only your clothes were bundled up on the counter and you had no way of getting them without making it clear Billie’s night of passion had included you.

“You didn’t interrupt them, did you darling?” she asked, a tinkling laugh tacked on to the end.

“Hardly,” Billie replied.

Your mother was smiling at you and you were frozen and Billie was being no help. You stared helplessly back before your mother’s eyes darted to Billie then the pile of clothes then back to you. You held your breath.

“Darling, you didn’t,” she sighed.

“I… It wasn’t…” You didn’t know how to even begin to end those sentences.

“It appears as if we’ve been busted,” Billie said.

She stood from her barstool, sauntering towards you. Looping an arm around your waist, she pulled you into her body, brushing some of your hair behind your ear. It was so tender, nothing like the seduction you’d experienced the night before. Still, you shivered, her touch enough to set you off.

“If you were jealous of me having a friend there were more productive ways of going about getting my attention,” your mother said, interrupting your moment.

“What?” You looked over to her.

“We could have just had a conversation, darling,” she said.

“You think I…” It was hard to wrap your head around, “do you seriously think I slept with Billie to get your attention?”

“What other possible reason could you have?” she asked.

You felt Billie stiffen against you. You curled your arm around her, wanting to shield her from your mother’s accusations. Glaring at her, you hardened.

“Maybe because I wanted to. God, Mom, not everything is about you,” you said.

“Alright, I’ll play along with your little fantasy,” she said, giving you one of those indulgent smiles you remembered from childhood, “but darling, until you choose to grow up and act like an adult, not everyone is going to be so forgiving.”

“I think you should go,” you said, voice hardening.

“Why on earth would I do that, darling?” she asked.

“Because I’m hoping Billie will fuck me over the top of that counter your sitting at and it’ll be a little awkward if you’re still here when she does,” you replied.

Your mother’s face blanched of colour and she was quick to climb to her feet, muttering something about another meeting she had to get to as she hustled out of there. Billie didn’t bother saying anything, only watching her leave as you kept her close to you. The door slammed behind her retreating back.

“You didn’t have to do that for me,” she murmured.

“Do what?” you asked, looking down at her, “I’m free all day and would quite like it if you fucked me on every available surface in this house.”

She kissed you, long and deep, laughing into your mouth. You pulled her closer, your hands finding her hips as you guided her into the kitchen, pressing her against the kitchen island.

“If you do, I’ll return the favour,” you said.

“You don’t have to convince me,” she murmured, “I’d do anything you asked of me, sweet girl.”

And so she did.

[camillelespanayesbtch]

✨Sarah Paulson Masterlist✨

!!!NO MINORS!!! 18+

Diane Sherman: Eyes boring a way through me Paralyze, controlling completely

Diane Sherman: Co-com-comparison is killing me slowly...And I’m so sick of myself, rather be, rather be. Anyone, anyone else

Diane Sherman, Ally Mayfair: We're Making Reasons To Destroy Our Believing. I See You Looking At Me, and Now I Don't Know Who To Believe

Diane Sherman: Pick Your Poison

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Billie Dean Howard: Strangers to Friends, Friends into Lovers, and Strangers Again P1, P2

Billie Dean Howard: Maybe You'll Start Slipping Slowly And Find Me Again

Wilhemina Venable, Billie Dean Howard: I see darkness in you

Billie Dean Howard, Audrey Tindall: Open hand or closed fist would be fine. The blood is red and sweet as cherry wine

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Wilhemina Venable: You stalker, watcher, psychopath (There's only one Wilhemina Fucking Venable)

Wilhemina Venable: Think About Your Hero, When You’re At Ground Zero

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Cordelia Goode: Baby’s Got Trouble. Don’t Know How To Live. Don’t Want To Die

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Sally McKenna: Hate To See Your Heart Break

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Xandra Terrell: There Is Something About The Way You Are That Makes Me (Sigh)

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Audrey Tindall: You're The Next Drew Barry, And I Want More

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Alice Macray: I Pray For Forgiveness You Can't Grant Me.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Mildred Ratched: I Wanna Be Your Bubblegum Bitch

More on my AO3: TindallsGal

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Wilhemina Venable X Cordelia Goode: I brought you daffodils on a pretty string, but they won't flower like they did last spring.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

[stayevildarling]

Easter with the ✨Sarah‘s✨

Cordelia organizes an easter egg hunt in the gardens each year, no matter if there are currently younger witches at the academy or not. She‘d be up first in the morning, hiding some chocolates, treats and eggs. With a beaming smile, she‘d walk into the bedroom to wake Billie, Mina and you.

Billie would groan, wanting to sleep in, Wilhemina simply chuckling at the supremes excitement. Cordelia would insist on the three of you joining everyone for the yearly hunt including an easter brunch afterwards. Billie Dean being Billie, she would have ordered some catering for the brunch.

„I have a little private hunt for us in the bedroom“ Cordelia would quietly announce so only the three of you can hear it. Her lips would be curled into the smallest smirk.

Once the witches are finished, she would take you upstairs with a giddy adorable smile. Again, Billie being Billie she would go over the top. Having bought you three (a little) something containing little chanel purses. Lilac for Mina of course, a nice beige for you and Cordelia. The supreme would of course scold the medium for going over the top like she usually does and Wilhemina would feel bad, only having gotten little eggs and chocolates. However, the redhead has gone soft over the years with you and so the eggs have a little knitted hat on them, that she spent her evenings on lately.

„You didn‘t have to go over the top Howard“ Wilhemina smirks, secretly admiring the bag.

„Says you honey“ Billie winks.

The four of you end up in the living room, cuddled up with each other while you and Billie dive into the chocolates, Cordelia and Wilhemina admiring the two of you silently.

„Happy easter my darlings“ Cordelia says contently.

„Happy easter Delia“ you mumble while snuggling into her chest.

[bdhmediumtostars]

I love my home, do not misunderstand that, but I certainly do hate how people feel so intimidated and threatened by a powerful and steadfast woman.

As my dear friend Ally once said, there is something more dangerous in this world than a humiliated man, a nasty woman.

Do not give up. This is just the beginning. Allow yourself today to grieve, but pick yourself up and fight.

[lotties-ashwagandha]

CURSED (nsfw)

billie dean howard x gn!reader, word count 1.2k

the premiere of the new season of billie's show gets rescheduled last minute, but you have a way to take her mind off the disappointment.

A harsh silence enveloped the two of you. You were sitting at the edge of Billie’s bed, and you watched as she set her phone down on the vanity and began to pace the length of the room. 

The premiere of her show had been rescheduled on short notice. You were meant to fly out with her tomorrow for press meetings, interviews, every opportunity for recognition Billie deserved for her work. Your suitcases were packed and ready at the foot of the bed. 

Billie looked into the mirror of the vanity, sighing as she fixed a non-existent flaw of her eye makeup with the edge of her pale pink acrylics. 

You were at a loss for what to do – you had tried comforting her verbally, but she had barely said a word to you in the minutes after receiving the call. She got like this often when she was upset, silent and uninterested and cynical. 

You stood from the bed. Tentatively you stepped toward her. You placed your hands on her waist when you came up behind her, resting your chin on her shoulder and watching her reflection in the mirror. 

Disappointment swam in her eyes as she stared unfocused into her own reflection. You knew how much she had been looking forward to the premiere. Even if it would take place in a few weeks instead of tomorrow, the two of you had been planning this weekend for months. 

“I’m sorry,” you said softly, “that it was canceled. I know how excited you were.” 

Billie nodded, taking one of your hands in her own. She offered you a halfhearted smile in the reflection of the mirror. “You didn’t cause it, don’t apologize.” 

In response, you pressed a kiss to her neck, the junction where her neck met her shoulder. After a moment you kissed her again, and began to move up her neck, trailing kisses up to her jaw. You felt her relax slightly under your touch, a great sigh leaving her chest. 

Billie turned in your arms. She kissed you, bringing a hand up to rest at your jaw and looping her arms around you. The kiss was almost lazy, natural and reflexive to the two of you. You were overcome by the love evident in her touch. 

She pulled away only for a moment before capturing your lips again. This time, you felt hunger in her embrace – in the way her lips met yours in a way dripping with desperation, in the way she was backing you towards the bed. 

You denied your instinct to let her push you onto the bed – you wanted this, and she did too, but you wanted to give her more. You wanted her to feel the same euphoria she often gave you before herself, especially after the evening’s disappointment. She needed distraction, as was evident in every moment you spent in her arms, and you were always willing to give it. 

You turned her, reversing your positions. A look of surprise came over her features as the backs of her thighs pressed against the bed. 

You hadn’t said anything, but she nodded at the proposed switch in roles, and when you tried to push her down onto the bed, she let you. Billie pulled you down on top of her, slipping her hands under the hem of your shirt and letting them travel up your back. In a moment of impatience she pulled your shirt off and tossed it to the floor. 

You grabbed her wrists, pinning them above her head. “Keep them there,” you warned her with a stern look, and she smiled at you in amusement. You hardly ever took dominance over her, it was foreign to both of you, but you were enjoying it. 

“This is new,” she taunted, unserious, yet you could see the desire clawing at her through the mask of her ego. “You’re learning, and so well.” 

You shook your head, brushing off her comment. You didn’t give her the satisfaction of an answer, pulling off her blouse and attaching your lips to her chest. Her breath caught as you trailed kisses down her sternum, nipping at her chest, leaving marks in your wake as you traveled down her abdomen. 

“You’re so beautiful,” you murmured into her skin, and a slight blush overtook her features. She shifted restlessly – her anticipation was evident, beautiful in the fervor with which she needed you. You understood why she was usually so addicted to you underneath her, you were drunk on the power of having her need nothing in the world but you. 

You moved between her legs, and instinctively her hips bucked toward you. As you pulled the rest of her clothes off she let out another sigh, this time out of pleasure, out of desire. 

With air-light touches you caressed her thighs. Slowly you kissed up the length of them, watching her expression closely. Desperation overtook her features, and her breath was shaky. One of her hands had moved to weave into your hair, a wordless plea for your attention. 

Just as she thought relief would finally come between her thighs, you moved away. With a look of satisfaction you climbed back up her body, straddling her, leaning down to kiss her. 

“What are you doing?” she asked in a whine. No one ever denied Billie anything, especially you. 

You shrugged. You trailed your hand down her abdomen, let it rest at her hip as you watched her squirm. “Beg.” 

She scoffed. She shook her head. “I’m not begging.” 

With a tantalizing smile you moved your hands away. Her only form of contact was the way you were straddling her. “Prove how much you want this. Beg for it, or you get nothing.” 

She sighed, and desire won over her pride, though it was not without a battle of ego. “Please,” she said. “Please, I need this. You know I need this, I need you.” 

You considered her words a victory, one of the scarce victories of dominance you took over her. In reward you slipped back between her legs. Finally relief came to her, your tongue sliding through her wetness. Billie moaned, her hips bucking into you again. You held them down, circling your arms around her tense thighs. 

You focused yourself on her clit, noting every response her body gave to your ministrations. Her moans, her whines let freely go as you slipped two fingers into her. She gasped, her new grip in your hair tightening dramatically as you set a pace that was quickly ruining her. 

Though earlier she had been utterly opposed that you’d made her beg, quiet pleas spilled from her lips as you brought her closer to the edge. Your name on her tongue like a curse, like poison you would drink from the fountain of your devotion. 

“Cum for me,” you murmured when she was close, and her body responded immediately – you coaxed her through her climax, the pace of your tongue and your hand working in sequence to prolong it as much as you could for her. 

When she came down from it, you pulled away. You laid at her side, pulling her into you to press a kiss to her shoulder and then to her lips, the two of you engulfed in the softness of her newfound peace. Billie relaxed into your embrace, letting you hold her as exhaustion overtook her. Peace found you both in inexplicable wonder, anxiety cursed in your devotion.

[blxckchxrrybxby]

FaceTime: No Violets in November [Pt. 1]

summary: Wilhemina despises her birthday. Each year is a reminder of her inadequacies. However, this is the year that she deals with her demons head-on. (The intimate chaos of being in a relationship included).

pairing: Wilhemina Venable x Billie Dean Howard x Cordelia Goode x Reader

warning(s): Cursing, perhaps.

a/n: @abeillesurlalunerose inspired the sweet tea part. Also, reader is she/they. More Mina in the next chapter. This was supposed to be a simple one shot, idk what happened.

wordcount: 3,581

“Ready, Babydoll?” Billie questioned as she sprayed herself in perfume—trying to get rid of the smell of smoke. Her hand delicately grasped yours and held it above your head; guiding you to spin, so the falling fragrance would cover as much of you as possible. You were never the floral type, but you didn’t have much of a choice.

“As ready as I’ll ever be...” You mumbled, trying to focus on not tripping over your own two feet. Billie smirked knowingly, watching your nose scrunch up from the last spritz of perfume. It was clear that you were trying to hold your breath so the overbearing scent wouldn’t choke you.

She let out a chuckle and decided to give your nose a quick peck, “Such a cutie, you are.” Your cheeks burned—causing you to shy away and no longer scrunch your nose. Holding eye contact was by far one of the hardest things to accomplish at the moment. Despite your obvious timidity, Billie absolutely loved when you became flustered. “Babydoll, you have no idea what being shy like this does to me.” She stated in a lower voice, bringing her hand up to caress your warm cheek; instantly igniting a fire in the pit of your belly.

You could feel the warmth radiating from her touch and basked in it. Her thumb grazed across your flushed cheek, gradually moving across textured skin and acne. Naturally, you’d fall insecure, but you knew how much she admired every last bit of you. Her gentle touches no longer frightened you.

“B-Billie…” You whimpered, trying to find your voice.

A wicked grin spread across her plump lips at your demeanor. “My, my... I could just eat you up, kitten. Would you like that?” No matter how much perfume she sprayed, you could still smell a hint of tobacco embedded in her fingertips. Your eyes lifted momentarily; catching the blonde’s gaze as she gently pushed your hips against the nearby wardrobe. Her lips immediately attached themselves to your neck, planting tender kisses along the fragile skin. You let out a whine, trying your best to contain the sounds within you begging for escape. You always figured her favor towards your vulnerability was a power move. Quite similar to Wilhemina’s—

Oh shit. Mina.

You cleared your throat, hoping it would help break you out of the sudden bashful spell. Time was ticking and it did not permit for this—no matter how badly you wanted it. “We should really get going. Delia’s probably waiting.” Billie nodded against your neck in agreeance and took a step back from you, but not before giving you a love bite.

“There. A purple accessory to go with your outfit.”

You rolled your eyes—hiding the fact that you absolutely loved the hickey—before you spoke again, “Oh, wait-” She arched an eyebrow at you as she put the perfume back into her purse. After shuffling through your pockets, you pulled out a pack of gum. Opening it, you slid out a stick and held it out for her, “-here.”

Her expression fell as she stared at you, “Darling, are you trying to tell me my breath stinks?” She frowned, cupping her hand in front of her face to blow into.

You immediately rolled your eyes at her accusation, “No, but if you don’t take it, Mina will.”

“Why would Venny want a stick of gum?” She asked with both eyebrows knitting together.

“Wha- No, Billie, I meant she’ll tell you that your breath stinks!” You giggled, elaborating on your statement.

A soft pink hue graced her cheeks as she caught on. “Ah,” Her manicured nails tapped against the side of her purse as she looked away and hid her face out of embarrassment. The humility made her crave a cigarette, “I suppose that’s more logical.”

Billie knew how much Wilhemina hated the smell of the cancer sticks and didn’t doubt for a second the truth you spoke. The last thing she needed was the redhead scolding her for smelling like a walking pack of Marlboro. With a huff, she took the minty offering from you. The silver-covered stick of gum danced between Billie’s fingers for a moment before she finally unwrapped it and slid the gum into her mouth.

After indulging in a piece yourself, you crumbled the wrapper and held your hand out for Billie’s. She stared at you; absentmindedly folding the wrapper as small as possible before placing it in the palm of your outstretched hand. It was a habit she did with not only gum wrappers, but napkins as well. You always wondered if the tendency to fold was something she had been taught growing up or if it was just one of her silly little quirks.

“Thank you, Kitten.” With a closed-mouth smile, you discarded of the trash and returned back by her side within a minute. She chuckled at your eagerness and walked out of the bedroom, “Come, before we’re late.”

You mentally rolled your eyes, finding it a bit ironic that the woman who was always ‘fashionably late’ to events was rushing you. Nonetheless, you followed her with confusion written all over your face as she led you to Madison’s room.

“Uh, Billie? Why are we in here?” You questioned, walking into the room once she pushed open the door.

Madison walked out of the bathroom and jumped, holding a towel tight against her body, “Fucking knock next time, blondie! What if my tits were out?!”

You smiled apologetically at the witch, “Sorry to barge in like this, Madison. I’m sure Zoe finds them amazing.”

The younger blonde glared as you beamed innocently.

Billie ignored the whole exchange and darted directly to Madison’s bed. “That’s rich.” Placing the palm of her hand on the mattress to aid with kneeling down, she continued, “Besides, Madison, you don’t have much to be worried about if—God forbid—anyone did see.” You held in a laugh and watched as the older woman reached under the bed—admiring the way her ass looked in the lilac dress.

Madison rolled her eyes and watched as you stared at Billie’s ass as if you were in a trance, “Perv.”

You scoffed, now looking at her, “She’s literally my girlfriend.”

She shrugged, grabbing a second towel to dry her hair, “I don’t care. Go be gay somewhere else.”

“I apologize.” You held your hands up in mock defense, “Next time, I’ll be sure to switch the gay off before entering.”

Sliding from under the bed with three presents in her arms, Billie stood up and flipped her hair—handing you one of the presents. “Alright, doll, let’s get going.”

You held the gift and nodded, shuffling out of the room as Billie led.

“You’re welcome!” Madison yelled out as the both of you giggled to yourselves whilst descending the staircase.

-

Approaching the coven’s library, you couldn’t help but ask, “Why were the presents in Madison’s room?”

Billie shrugged, “Delia thought it would be the perfect spot since Venny never goes in there.”

You nodded, “Okay, but why didn’t anyone let me know they were in there?”

She chuckled, “You ask far too many questions.”

“And you don’t answer enough of them.” You stated with a pout.

Billie stepped closer to you, smirking, “Babydoll, we love you, but you couldn’t hold water even if it was frozen.” Noticing the slight furrow of your eyebrows, she figured you didn’t understand what she meant. “Must I elaborate?”

“Hold water?”

“It means to keep a secret.” She paused and snorted, mumbling to herself, “God, am I getting old, or is it a southern thing?”

You shrugged, “I doubt it’s the southern thing. I usually understand about 95% of what you say.”

Her expression went blank, “Did you just call me… old?”

You blinked, taking a moment to process what just happened. Clearing your throat, you smiled innocently, “I think it’s time we go in, but I would like the record to show that I am great at keeping secrets! I haven’t even told anybody that you despise sweet tea-”

“Shh!” Her hand immediately covered your mouth. You ceased talking as she looked around as if someone was listening and whispered, “Don’t you ever say that out loud again.”

You nodded slowly at her dramatics as she removed her hand and adjusted the two gift bags on her arm. Biting your lip nervously, you turned towards the door to the library. Your fingertips fidgeted anxiously with the wrapping paper on the present. Billie winked at you and opened the door; letting you enter first while following close behind. Her right hand found the small of your back, slowly rubbing it to help ground you.

As bookshelf after bookshelf passed, you proceeded to walk toward the fireplace. The closer you got, the more Cordelia came into view. She sat in a chair, tapping away on her laptop.

“Please tell me you’re not still working right now,” Billie stated, unamused by the always-working Supreme.

Cordelia jumped—startled by Billie’s voice—and instantly closed her laptop, “Well, hello to you too.” She displayed a bashful smile, standing up to greet the both of you.

“Has Mina made it yet?” You asked in a hushed tone; in case the other woman was somewhere nearby.

Cordelia chuckled softly, “Not yet.” She removed the gift from your arms and wrapped you into a tight hug, “You look amazing, sweet girl.”

You smiled, feeling your face heat up, “Thank you, Delia.” With your face buried against her neck, you took a moment to bask in the smell of her chamomile shampoo and vanilla perfume before pulling back. “You look stunning by the way.”

She grinned in response—absentmindedly smoothing her hands down the front of her long, flowy skirt. “Really? I was hoping it wouldn’t be too much for Mina.”

Your eyes scanned the entirety of the Supreme, “She will love it. Trust me.”

After setting down the gift bags, Billie greeted Cordelia with a kiss and complimented her on today’s outfit selection, as well. You genuinely found the whole thing funny, considering all three of you were wearing purple. The idea was cute, but the execution was questionable. Honestly, it felt a bit… cultish.

You took a moment to look around; admiring the purple and silver decorations, along with the few drinks and snacks placed on the coffee table beside a bouquet of violets. Cordelia had truly outdone herself. It wasn’t so over the top that it would overwhelm Wilhemina, but it was enough to show effort and that alone would please her.

The only thing missing now, however, was Mina.

“I thought she would be here by now,” Billie muttered, looking at her watch, then at Delia.

“She would have been here if she didn’t request to work today,” Cordelia mumbled, adding her gift to the other three.

You furrowed your eyebrows, moving your gaze to the both of them, “I didn’t know you could request to work on a mandatory day off.”

“You can’t, babydoll.” Billie rolled her eyes while texting on her phone, “Venny is just so stubborn that she thinks she can do whatever she pleases.”

Delia hummed to herself, “And her bosses are a bit too…” She paused, thinking of the right word to use, “…intimidated to tell her otherwise.”

You smirked, “So they’re scared of her? And she’s working for them?”

“It appears so.” Cordelia chuckled.

As if on cue, Delia’s phone began to ring. Billie swiftly picked it up from the coffee table and grinned mischievously, seeing Mina’s picture. She answered it without hesitation.

“Where is she?” Mina growled, rushing through the halls of Kineros, as her cane tapped loudly.

You glanced at Delia with furrowed eyebrows; confused as to why Mina sounded so upset. She shrugged in response with the same expression of concern and confusion.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t our Venny.” Billie stated, not at all phased by the redhead’s unnerved demeanor (and most likely using the camera to fix her curls).

“Billie Dean, I swear if this is one of your pranks-” Mina started, sounding beyond irritated.

“Wilhemina, it’s not ladylike to swear, honey,” Billie said in faux innocence.

“I am not in the mood, Howard.”

“You’re never in the mood, Venable.”

“She’s always in the mood for me.” You mumbled to yourself, picking at your nails.

“Stop it, you three.” Cordelia intruded, rolling her eyes at the bickering and somehow back on her laptop.

A moment of silence went by before Mina responded in a relieved tone, “Hello, little one.”

You bit your lip, looking up at the phone in Billie’s hand. Standing from the chair, you walked over and peeked a glance at your other lover from over Billie’s shoulder, “Hi, Mina. We’ve missed you.”

Delia shook her head, mumbling under her breath, “What am I, chopped liver?”

“At worst, you’re nothing short of a five-star Michelin steak.” Billie chimed in.

“How charming of you, Billie,” Cordelia responded with a chuckle.

“For God’s sake, give Y/N the phone if you’re going to socialize with Cordelia the whole time,” Mina stated in agitation.

“Well, someone needs to show our Supreme how cherished she is since you can’t seem to provide her with a simple hello. Where are your manners-” In the midst of Billie speaking, the call hung up. “Did she just-“

“Still no greeting,” Delia mumbled, typing away. Within a few seconds, a low buzz filled the room. Delia looked down—feeling her thigh vibrate. Seeing your phone light up with Mina’s contact picture, she smirked to herself and answered, “Hello there, Wilhemina.”

A soft chuckle could be heard on the other side of the phone, “Hello, Cordelia.”

“Playing phone tag, I see.”

“Unfortunately. It seems no one has their own phone.”

“Isn’t that a shame?” You chuckled, watching the Supreme pout in faux sorrow, “I assume you’re calling to speak with our sweet girl?”

Wilhemina smirked, “Perhaps it was you I wanted to speak with.”

Cordelia hummed to herself, “You know our communication is better done through action, my love. I’ll pass them the phone, hm?”

“Thank you.”

Billie rolled her eyes as you retrieved your cellular device and walked off to a less chaotic place to hold conversation. Cordelia arched an eyebrow and peered at Billie from above her laptop, “Now, why was she so upset to begin with?”

She shrugged, admiring her nails, “You know how Venny gets-”

“Billie,” Cordelia stated in a warning tone.

The Medium huffed and flipped her hair, “Calm down, Delia. I simply told her that Y/N was missing.”

“What?!”

“It got her attention, didn’t it?”

Cordelia shook her head and went back to typing, “You’ve got a few screws loose, Billie Dean.”

“The better for you to tighten, my dear.”

Cordelia looked at her with furrowed eyebrows, “Excuse me?”

Billie scoffed while grabbing her phone, then mumbled, “Now I know it’s definitely a southern thing.”

-

You sighed softly, leaning against a bookshelf, “So… how’s work?”

Her expression noticeably softened at your words, “I know you’re upset, little one.”

“And why would I be upset?” You asked—knowing full and well that you were seething on the inside from her deciding to go to work and not tell you.

“Are the others-”

“I walked away.”

With a deep inhale, she gathered her excuse, “I apologize, I was needed at work-”

“You were needed at home.” You stated with confidence.

“Y/N-”

“How naïve do you think I am? I expect you home within the next hour, Wilhemina.”

You took a moment to take in her features. Everything about her screamed ‘apathetic business woman’ but all you could see was the child in her. The fearful being that was dreading another year of life and despising the idea of celebrating it even more. You knew this was why she had fled the coven and chose to hide within the confinements of her office. She didn’t need another reminder of her age increasing and health declining. However, last year she had promised you growth, and what better way to bring in her new age, than with the first step of change?

No more running away.

-

“Happy birthday, my love,” Cordelia celebrated softly as she placed a tender kiss against Wilhemina’s cheek; handing her the last present. It was the same present you insisted on covering in violet wrapping paper—much like the others. “Enjoy. This one’s from an anonymous source.”

Wilhemina’s eyebrows furrowed at Delia’s words as her gaze met with the witch’s. What anonymous source could she possibly be referring to? She had already opened a gift from each of her lovers. Delia laid her hand on Mina’s—which happened to be resting on the unopened gift—and gave it a loving squeeze. As if to say, just trust me.

 Every year, Wilhemina made it clear that she preferred to ignore the day the universe cursed her with life—however—with three girlfriends who loved her immensely, it was nearly impossible. Although dreaded by Mina, November 11th was a day worth celebrating.

Cordelia perched herself on the armrest of the La-Z-Boy Billie gifted Mina the year prior and absentmindedly ran her fingers through her lover’s red hair. Wilhemina huffed under her breath and began to unwrap the gift; taking her time with precision.

“One of these years, I’d like to actually receive what I ask for.” The redhead grumbled.

Billie rolled her eyes, “Get over it, Venny. We’re not going a year without celebrating you.” Taking a sip of her cider, she smirked, “Besides, it’s a fun way to torture you.”

Once the gift was uncovered, she placed the paper aside and opened the large, rectangular box; revealing one of the most beautiful canes she had ever seen.

You bit your lip nervously and glanced at Cordelia. You had begged her to give Mina your gift; knowing if she found out her ‘little one’ spent so much money on her, she’d pitch a fit. Cordelia continued to stroke Mina’s hair as her gaze remained fixated on the cane. No words left the woman’s mouth. It was as if she were frozen.

 You knew your bottom lip was bound to become raw from how much you were currently gnawing on it, “Do you like it?”

Your words snapped her out of the flashback she was currently trapped in.

Taking a moment to swallow down the aftertaste of inadequacy with the apple cider Cordelia made, her piercing gaze hesitantly met yours. “Little one. Tell me you didn’t.”

You fidgeted with your blouse anxiously, “What do you mean?”

She sat up the best she could, frowning, “Did you buy-”

“I said it was anonymous, Mina. Leave it at that.” Delia stated as she interrupted. “Now, who wants pie?”

“Me, please.” You stated, ready to change the subject. Glancing over at Mina, her gaze remained fixated on the cane in front of her.

“Leave my slice on the table, won’t you, darling?” Billie asked, standing up, “I need a smoke.”

Delia agreed, but shook her head disapprovingly, “Fine, but you need to ease off the nicotine.”

Looking through her purse for a cigarette, the Medium pointed a finger, “Don’t. Tonight is a good night and we’ve already talked about this.”

Delia frowned, “I know, but I get worried, Billie.” She sat the plates down on the coffee table as Billie walked up to her and pulled her over to the side.

While grasping her waist and pulling her flush against her body, Billie began, “Hey…” She spoke softly, easing a few golden strands behind the Supreme’s ear, “You never have to worry about me.”

“I know, but-”

“But?”

Cordelia took a moment to find her words then replied in a hushed tone, “That’s easier said than done. I practically watch you inhale your fate every time you go out on that balcony.” Billie frowned at her statement, but let her continue, “And don’t think that I don’t know about you sharing those cancer sticks with Y/N.”

Her eyes widened as she bit her bottom lip nervously, “Have you told-”

“No, but if she finds out, you’re dead along with the rest of the coven that knows.”

Billie arched an eyebrow, “Who was it that told you?”

“I’m not telling you that, Billie Dean.”

The Medium peered, adamant about knowing who told her business, “Coco? Queenie?”

“Billie-”

“Madison? Nan?”

Cordelia sighed, “Nan.”

You smiled, walking over to Mina. Kneeling in front of her, you placed both hands atop hers. She jumped slightly, bringing her attention to you. “Are you alright, Mina?”

She inhaled slowly to control her breathing. Something you had noticed she would do if she didn’t want to draw in attention to her emotions, “Of course, Little one.”

You tilted your head, “I know you, Mina. Something is wrong. Do you not like your presents?”

“It’s not that.” Her fingers caressed the palm of your hand to not only ground you, but herself.

“Is it the pie? I thought you detested cake.”

“I do.”

“Then… what’s wrong?”

Her fingers intertwined with yours as a soft smile appeared on her lips. With a gentle squeeze of your hands, she spoke quieter than usual, “Not now.”

You could hear the waver of her voice. A few decibels louder and the dam of emotions would erupt. “I understand.” You accepted her decision and forced a smile. “Would you like some pie?”

Her fingers withdrew from yours and moved through your hair. “I’d much rather prefer you instead.”

[dreamypqulson]

you’re fighting an apocalypse with cordelia when she hears you scream. she tries to remain calm as she searches around for you. that’s when she spots you laying on the ground, covered in blood. she rushes over to you, tugs your body onto her lap and holds you close. you struggle to catch your breath but still manage to speak, “cordelia, kiss me. please kiss me. i cannot die without showing you what you truly mean to me.” she hovers her hand over your bleeding wound and you can feeling her magic course through you. although she was exhausted from fighting, she used all the strength she had left to heal you. “you’re not going to die, my love,” she says, but still, she leans down and kisses your aching lips anyways.

[cabensonsgirly]

Hey everyone! I know ask accounts are dead, but I'm trying to bring them back! There are three that I know of, linked below 😊

Billie Dean Howard

Diane Sherman

Wilhemina Venable

Anne Gillette

Mildred Ratched

[kai-anderson-whore]

His protégé (James Patrick march x fem reader smut) (kinktober fic 3)

Summary: you met James like his other “students” but after years off him taken you under his wing you couldn’t handle the pressures.

Warnings: smut, mentions of killing, becoming a serial killer, p in v sex, slight edging, knife kink, oral (reader receiving), tiny bit of spanking (like one spank), feeling like being watched, fear of abandonment(James not wanting reader to leave like the countess sort of did), James being possessive.

Word count: 3k

•¤❅¤•.•°˚˚°•..•°˚˚°•.•¤❅¤•.•¤❅¤•.•°˚˚°•.

You met him over three years ago, the same way as all his "students". Coincidentally waltzing into the Cortez when the world felt like it could swallow you whole, well at least that's what you felt like you wanted the world to do. To say this was the worst week you ever had was the understatement of the century.

You sat by the bar toying with the glass of alcohol in front of you. 'Was drowning your sorrows even worth it?', 'is getting so wasted that you'd might get kicked out the the hotel even worth it?' You wondered something that became routine over the past few days residing at this hotel. The bar was practically empty considering it was late on in the night.

The bartender who you soon known as liz shooting you a sympathetic smile every now and then. You observed the lavish historical hotel, full of art deco some antiques from the 1920s. You had heard all the rumours and stories of this hotel's history to say that it intrigued you would be the best way to put it. You heard near enough everything about the hotel Cortez and the "ghosts" residents here thanks to billie dean Howard.

You felt preying eyes on you, furrowed brows you turned and saw nothing... weird you thought. Maybe it was your imagination after all your in an infamous "haunted" hotel. But that was impossible ghosts aren't true, right?. Decided on calling it a night you thanked liz and went to your room 64, famous for being the room of two serial killers John Lowe and the former office of the owner james Patrick march coincidentally.

You still like you were being watched but tried to shrug it off 'relax no one is watching me it's in my head' you thought. Oh how you were wrong, several of ghosts who resisted here had their eye on you. Some curious on why you would come here, others wanted you as their next victim but one specific ghost wanted you as their protege, their next successor.

You finally made it to your room, fumbling around in your Jean pocket for your room key, you jammed the key into the door unlocking the door not before looking around to see if someone was near you. You couldn't shake that feeling that somebody was watching you, no matter how much you tried to shake it off.

Locking your room door you let out a breath out didn't know you were holding in. Making your way over to your suitcase you picked out your night attire. You still felt that eerie feeling going into the bathroom to clean your makeup off.

You exited the bathroom now in your pyjamas, the little clock on the nightstand played it's little song like usual "that thing freaks me out" you said out loud. "Don't let that frighten you dear" a voice chimed in making you let out a yelp in fright. Seeing a man sat on the chair a glass of whiskey or bourbon in hand you didn't know.

"Who the fuck are you" you hissed feeling mixed emotions shock, anger, fear of this intruder. "My names James Patrick march I'm the owner of this hotel and I'm afraid I don't like your tone dear" he introduced in a velvety accent getting up from the chair. He was dressed sharp in a pinstripe suit, crisp white shirt with a neck scarf.

"The owner of this hotel died like almost a hundred years ago" you scoffed at the man, which didn't faze him. "Yes that is true but you see in this hotel the dead doesn't exactly die" he stated stepping closer to you as you took steps back. You could see him more clearly now dark hair, pale skin with a pencil moustache that decorated his upper lip and beautiful chocolatey brown eyes that held something sinister in them.

"What do you want from me?" You asked. Even though his eyes held something evil within them you felt drawn to him like he wouldn't hurt you. "I've been watching you my dear, and I couldn't help but see the rage you secure within you" he said. A confused look on your face 'was I that noticeably angry?' You thought. "Right so?" You shrugged not quite catching on to what the ghost was saying.

"I want to help you set that rage free"

...

You didn't really remember what happened after that night all you remember was James teaching you everything there is to know about being a killer. For those three years he had taken you under his wing, taught you his ways, showed you his little contraptions within the hotel. And you were nothing if not willing to go through with it all.

You listened to every word that rolled off his tongue about his little plan. There were only three rules he had when it came to his little hobby 1: don't have a method. 2: don't be sloppy about it. 3: don't get caught.

You had just came back from another kill entering James's room on the 7th floor. "Ah your back dear how was it? Tell me the details" James's voice chimed the old fashioned record player playing an old time song. "It was the same as any other time James quick and easy" you sighed finding an old rag to clean yourself up.

"Quick you say, how so?" He asked confused at your lack of creativity unlike it usually was. "Because James I don't want to get caught I have a funny feeling that I'm going to be caught soon so I'm done" you sighed placing your knife on the little table by the bed. James watched your every move deep in thought. He wondered if your proposal was a good move "your going to stop killing?" He asked removing his blazer placing it on a chair, rolling his sleeves up.

"Yes James I'm sorry, I'm grateful you showed me your ways and I really did enjoy my time with you but it's best if i stop now before the heat on my ass gets me burnt" you held your hands up in defence making your way to the door.

James didn't know if he was sad or angry at the fact you've given up on your little spree or was it because you were essentially leaving him. Just as you turned the handle ready to exit till that sophisticated accent stopped you. "Don't go... please" he begged.

James didn't want to admit it to himself but these three years he spent with you were the best years he had in this hotel after he died. He didn't spend his time chasing after his ex-wife the countess, he spent every moment near enough with you enjoying the sick bond you both formed. He grew very fond of you more than his other students you had potential the same characteristics as himself.

"What?" You didn't quite believe what you were hearing, it wasn't the words it was the tone complete desperation. Only time you heard that tone of voice was around the first time you met him when he was desperately trying to get the countess back.

"Please don't leave me I couldn't bare it" he pleaded once again with a meek voice. The door still ajar, your hand on the handle. "James it's for the best anyway we had fun but it's time to get out before it's too late but I need to leave before I get caught" you stated. "I DONT CARE ABOUT THE KILLING Y/N" James yelled taken you aback. He never raised his voice at you once even when he was frustrated with you for some reason he never ever raised his voice.

James walked closer to you his face now red with anger. He wasn't going to let you leave he let one woman slip away he doesn't intend to let it happen again. You were a little nervous at the sudden shift in the room.

"I will not let you leave this hotel not after everything" his voice was calm but his expression said otherwise. You didn't know what was going to happen "what do you mean not letting me leave this hotel?" You asked. "I've grown rather fond of you my dear, I look forward to our little meetings and I guess I can't let that go" his cold breath fanned against your neck sending shivers down your spine.

You almost crumbled as his cold hands rested on your biceps, your breathing quickening with the small touch. Looking into his dark eyes held anger and lust. "I've never felt this way for anyone since the countess but with you dearest, it doesn't compare to the feelings I have for you" his lips in a smirk, seeing you melt from just his words.

It all made sense to you now, you couldn't lie to yourself and say you didn't grow to have strong feelings for the ghost (because that was far from the truth). The truth was you were infatuated with James Patrick march, you spent every moment with him for the past three years it felt impossible not to. People would call you a stupid girl for it.

"James-" you were cut off by his ice cold lips on yours. The kiss was rough but you responded nonetheless. His tongue swiped along your bottom lip demanding entrance. Parting your lips moaning into his mouth, he showed dominance with just his mouth, giving into him, kicking the door shut with your foot.

James guided you to the bed effortlessly, the backs of your knees meeting the foot of the bed. His tongue explored your mouth before he pulled away. James then unbuttoned his dress shirt, your hands roamed his bare chest biting your lip. Your fingers hooking around his suspenders pulling James close to you crashing your lips back on his.

A delighted hum left him as he pushed your body down on the bed. Your legs parted automatically allowing James to slot himself between them. His lips moved to your neck slightly biting the flesh there making you feel dizzy. His hands roamed your sides feeling, caressing every curve that came in contact with his hand.

You sat up as James began to remove your slip dress leaving you in just your underwear. "Your beauty doesn't compare to anything in this world" James's voice was more deep, thick with lust making you grow wetter by the second. "Your mine now dear, I'll never let you go" James snarls, his fingers hooking into your underwear peeling the fabric off your body.

Now just kneeling on the foot of the bed James got a perfect view of your dripping core. "Your all mine" James hummed against your thigh trailing his rough lips upwards till he met where you needed him the most. He was like a possessive animal and you were loving every moment of it.

James licked a strip between your folds bringing you arousal to your clit. You gasped at the shot of pleasure of his mouth on your clit, sucking, swirling his tongue on the sensitive bundle of nerves. His hands held your thighs apart as wide as he could getting all access to you.

A moan escaped you as he continued his assault on your pussy. Your hand's gripped into the bedsheets underneath you for leverage. It was already too much but you never wanted it to stop. You already felt dangerously close to the edge. James darted his tongue in your entrance, his nose brushing against your clit adding to the pleasure.

"I'm so close" you warned feeling that knot tightening in the pit of your core. James hummed against you devouring you like his last meal. He never stopped his movements bringing his attention back to your clit more rougher than before coaxing you to let go over his tongue.

Your orgasm ripped through you, back arching, toes curling practically screaming his name. "That's it dear let everyone hear who's making you feel this euphoric" he chimed against your glistening heat. He licked up all your juices before pulling away from your heat.

"Oh god" you sighed regaining your breath. Moving your body to sit up by the pillows. James peeled his suspenders off his shoulders, removing his shirt in the process. His hair now disheveled, a beautiful sight to see. You removed your bra leaving yourself fully naked in front of him.

James glanced at the silver knife on the nightstand, he still felt rage for you ready to leave him. He picked the knife up making up gulp, you didn't know his intentions now a look of slight fear yet excitement in your eyes. "I'm not going to hurt you dearest" as if he read your mind with his free hand he undid his slacks and removed his underwear freeing his rock hard cock.

You were drooling at the sight, he was long and thick but not to thick were you'd think he'd slit you in two. His cock slight curved it was probably the most prettiest cock you'd ever seen.

James then got on top of your body slotting himself between your legs. Crashing his lips back on yours, the blade still in hand. Feeling the flat surface of the cold metal on your thigh, sending a shiver through you. He began dragging the metal down your outer thigh, his cock grinding on your inner side.

James pulled away from your lips taking the sharp edge of the knife to your cheek. "You will never leave me dear, I wouldn't allow it" his eyes dark, lustrous and sinister. It all was too addicting, "I'll never leave you James" you whimpered pathetically, the blade dragging from your cheek to under your chin, not to cut you but feel the harshness.

You grew more wetter than you were before. James lined himself up with your entrance before pushing himself into your sopping cunt without warning. You cried out as his thrusts were rough as merciless. Your hands gripped his shoulders, digging your nails into his skin coaxing his thrusts to become more harsher and expeditious.

James dragged the blade to the valley of your breasts. You moaned out feeling the cold metal under your breast. A grunt leaving James's lips "you feel like heaven" he grunted "you will never leave me, you belong to me from now on" he said in between his thrusts. Your walls clenched around him the desire burning like fire.

"Oh fuck" you cried out, chest heaving, eyes rolling to the back of your head. You could barely hear what he was saying. You could see that veins popping out of his neck the blade soon discarded and replaced with his hand on your breast fondling the lump of tissue.

A sigh of pleasure left your lips, feeling close to the edge once again. James didn’t let it go unnoticed, feeling you clenching around him. Much to your dismay James pulled out of you leaving you feeling empty and whimpering. You shot the ghost a confused look “don’t worry dear just turn around for me” James ordered.

Nodding your head you got on your hands and knees, feeling your wetness dripping down your legs in the process. “Your so wet, who for dear?” James cooed in his velvety voice. “You James all for you” your voice was scratchy from the high pitched moans. You felt that blade once again on your lower back.

“Yes dear all for me, no one else” James was possessive over what was his, you were no exception. From his student to now bent over for him as he drags the knife lower over your ass to your core. You moaned in pleasure you didn’t think this would be your type of thing but with James you’d do anything.

A sting on your ass making you jolt forward, James hand colliding with the skin there. You moaned at the sudden feeling, James’s hand soothing the red mark. Lining himself back up with your entrance effortlessly. Your greedy cunt taking him with one thrust.

Your hands gripped the bedsheets once again, your body jolted with each harsh thrust he delivered. All that could be heard in the room was a mixture of you and James’s pleasures, skin slapping off each other and the bed rocking beneath you.

You could have sworn you could feel him in your stomach, one hand on your hip the other toying with the knife along your lower back again. The thrill of what he was going to do next wasn’t like anything before, the anticipation eating you up.

James couldn’t get enough of you, you were like a drug he never wanted rehab for. The way your walls would clench and flutter around him was enough for him to come undone then and there. The way your loud moans filled the room, like music to his ears. You were just perfect to him, his perfect little protégé.

“Who do you belong you?” James grunted thrusting rapidly into your poor little pussy. You tried to get the words out but you couldn’t comprehend amongst all the overwhelming pleasure. Only a strangled moan leaving your lips instead.

Feeling the knife against your neck and an arm pulling you up flush against James’s chest, his cold breath fanning against your ear. “I asked you a question dear, very impolite not to answer” his thrusts harder hitting your cervix granted to make you see stars. You throw your head back to rest in James’s shoulder as you managed to answer.

“I belong to you james, I’m so close” you warned.

James discarded the knife once again, replaced it with his own hand chasing your orgasm. You reached out for his hair tugging on it, your other hand gripped onto his arm around your waist. “Let go for me, darling” he whispered, that was enough for you cumming for a second time. Your grip on his arm tightened releasing all your juices over his cock.

Triggering his own orgasm, James hips snapped upwards spilling his seed deep inside you. A low moan left James as you came with his name on your lips like your only prayer riding out your highs.

Once you both calmed down you leaned onto James skin glistening with sweat, breathing shallow. Gaining the energy to lift yourself off of James you threw yourself onto the pillows feeling knackered. James got off the bed to grab a rag to clean up.

After getting you both clean James threw his undergarments back on climbing into bed beside you. “I won’t leave you James” you said with a weak, tried voice. James wrapped his arm around you, bringing yourself closer to him resting your head on his chest. “I know darling” he hummed deep in thought.

[bitterkarella]

Midnight Pals: Mr Electric

Ray Bradbury: Submitted for the approval of the midnight Society, I call this the tale of the eternal summer, the last vestiges of muggy august giving way to the bluster of autumn, the twinkling lights of town below in the humid night, young lovers stealing kisses in the dark, old men on the porch, jawin and chewin and chuckling at remembrances of romances long past Barker: you’re literally just describing a Thomas Kinkade painting Poe: clive

Stephen King: wow ray you really come up with some evocative imagery! King: whatever inspired you to become a writer anyway? Bradbury: well, it all started when I went to the county fair and met a wizard Koontz: whoa! A real wizard! King: no dean he’s talking about a magician Bradbury: [chuckling] am I? Bradbury: mr electrico was no mere magician! Bradbury: he had the REAL power!!! Bradbury: the power Bradbury: to fire a young boy’s IMAGINATION! Neil Gaiman: [clapping] right, right! Good show! Right on!

Ray Bradbury: and Mr Electrico pointed a flaming electrical sword at me and said Bradbury: “LIVE FOREVER!!” Bradbury: now I cannot be killed Gretchen Felker-Martin: oh yeah, big mood

Bradbury: Mr Electrico said “Live Forever!” Bradbury: Now I cannot be killed Bradbury: and it’s true Bradbury: c’mon try it out Stephen King: no no I couldn’t Bradbury: c’mon Bradbury: c’mon!!! Bradbury: come at me bro!!! Bradbury: I can take it!!

Bradbury: [slapping chest] c’mon, take a swing at me! Stephen King: I really don’t want to fight you Ray Bradbury: do it! Do it! Barker: I’ll do it Poe: clive Barker: I’m just giving him what he wants! Poe: clive Poe: clive he’s like 100 years old

Mary Shelley: sup fuckers Bradbury: mary!!! Come at me! Mary Shelley: okie dokie [immediately shivs Bradbury, blade snaps] Mary Shelley: what the fuck Bradbury: ha! this isn’t even a tenth of my power!!! Bradbury: what did I tell you?! Bradbury: not a single one of you could defeat you!! Mary Shelley: oh yeah? Mary Shelley: guess we’ll have to gang up on you!! Get ‘im boys! [Ann Radcliffe and Monk Lewis approach with chain and billy club respectively] [Bradbury effortlessly blocks roundhouse kick by Wrath James White] Bradbury: ha! Laughable! [Bradbury effortlessly sidesteps kung fu chop by Alan Baxter] Bradbury: ha! Pathetic!

Bradbury: come on! Come at me! Robert E Howard: you sure about this pardna? Howard: this ain’t no pea shooter hombre Bradbury: [slapping chest] what’s the matter, ya pussy? Bradbury: Fuckin do it!! Howard: hold on thar pardna Howard: I think ya might wanna calm down Bradbury: [grabbing gun and pulling Robert E Howard closer] Bradbury: DO Bradbury: IT Howard: [aiming gun] okay pilgrim you asked fer it Poe: bob Poe: bob this is getting ridiculous Poe: bob don’t Howard: [cocking gun] sorry pardna Howard: I gotta Howard: it’s the law of the west

Ray Bradbury: [flexing] Behold!!! The power of Mr. Electrico!!! The electric man!!! Barker: so ray Barker: I hear this magician’s fake Poe: clive Bradbury: he’s a real magician Barker: is he now Barker: then why hasn’t anyone ever heard of him Bradbury: he Bradbury: he lives in Canada

[briaroftheroses]

Request Rules

I’m finally getting around to writing out my request rules! If you would like to request a fic, hc set, drabble, etc. please read over these rules before submitting. Please also check this post regularly as I will add things as I go.

Things I Will Write For

Fem/GN reader, smut, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, dark themes/fics, praise, degradation, use of strap ons, p in v, creampies, throat fucking, both m and f receiving oral, multiple characters in one fic, choking, impact play, dacryphilia, pain play, bondage (nothing with legs specifically being restrained though), blood play (mostly only for AHS fics), d/s dynamics, BDSM, dub-con/non-con, piss, boot play/worship - feel free to ask about kinks not listed here because there is no way i named them all

Things I Will Not Write For

Male reader, character x character with no reader, beastiality, pedophilia, scat, underage characters (except platonically), gore and non-canon character death (except for in the case of things like murder house and hotel in which they would become a ghost), real-life people (such as actors), even though I might write for dom reader please do not request it.

If there’s anything not mentioned here, feel free to ask before making a request.

Specify the general length of the fic you want.

Please keep in mind that requests can take a while and I may switch between writing them and my own personal projects.

Keep in mind that if you’re vague with the description then I am less likely to write what you imagine and it will take me longer.

When asking about unlisted characters, please include the type of fic you would like to request with them.

Characters I Write For

Evan Peters

Tate Langdon, Kit Walker, Kyle Spencer, Jimmy Darling, James Patrick March, Kai Anderson, Austin Sommers (please no spoilers in the requests for any characters after Hotel), Peter Maximoff, Warren Lipka, Luke Cooper - feel free to ask about any others that aren’t here

AHS

Vivien Harmon, Violet Harmon (platonically), Billie Dean Howard, Alma Walker, Lana Winters, Sister Mary Eunice McKee, Zoe Benson, Marie Laveau, Madison Montgomery (depending on the request), Cordelia Foxx/Goode, Misty Day, Fiona Goode, young!Fiona Goode, Amazon Eve, Desiree Dupree, Edward Mordrake, Dandy Mott, The Countess, Sally McKenna, Ramona Royale, Winter Anderson (please no spoilers in the requests for any characters after Hotel) - feel free to ask about any others that aren’t here

Matthew Gray Gubler

Spencer Reid, Chip Taylor, Thorn (King Knight), Raymond (Suburban Gothic), Wes (Dollface), Paul ((500) Days of Summer) - feel free to ask about any others that aren’t here

Criminal Minds

Emily Prentiss, Aaron Hotchner, Penelope Garcia, Jennifer Jareau, Elle Greenaway, Cat Adams, Megan Kane - feel free to ask about any others that aren’t here

WWE

Rhea Ripley, Dominik Mysterio, TJD (only if including Rhea), Liv Morgan, Becky Lynch

this list will be updated regularly as i watch more shows/movies/seasons of ahs, so feel free to check regularly :) also feel free to ask about characters not listed, but there is no guarantee i will write for them.

[stayevildarling]

Billie Dean after not eating all day: ,,I'm going to commit murder and you can't fucking stop me''

Cordelia: *Feeds her*

Billie:

Billie: ,,Okay *hair flip*, turns out you can. well played''

Wilhemina watches from a distance, shaking her head in a playful matter.

prompt by: @littlewhispersofsolitude

[bdhmediumtostars]

Hello Ms. Howard! I don't mean to make you uncomfortable, but hypothetically... how would you feel about being called "Mommy"?

Hello there, sugar.

Why talk in hypotheticals, sugar? You scared mommy's gonna bite you? Don't worry your pretty little head about it, I don't bite unless you ask.

[lotties-ashwagandha]

Billie Dean Howard wishes you could be part of her show just so she could fuck you behind the scenes.

She imagines it more often than she will ever admit, locking the door of her trailer behind you on set and fucking you against the hair and makeup vanity. She knows she would have to make you finish quickly before people start knocking on the door for her ready to film — but she could make that happen. Billie would bring her strap with her just in case, fucking you would be the easiest way to wake up on set for early morning shoots and the most rewarding way to relieve the stress of filming late into the night.

On particularly stressful days — when she’s contemplating killing the whole crew and letting them join the spirits of whatever haunted location you’re visiting — Billie would have you on your knees on set after everyone else has gone home for the night. She would have you sucking her clit in front of the camera, and part of her would hope the cameraperson forgot to turn it off. The whole set would know you are hers anyway if you worked for her, it would be obvious in the hickeys that appear on you throughout the day — staining your skin with evidence of her possession. It would be part of the fun, that if you worked for Billie you would work beneath her, and you’re usually beneath her anyway.

For now Billie will be content with the system you do have. She will keep buying you beautiful things to wear to the red carpet premieres of every new season of her show, and lingerie to wear under it that she can rip off of you back at the hotel. Every social outlet will see you put together perfectly at her side, images will go viral of Billie parading you through Hollywood, your hair and makeup exquisite. What they won’t see is how gorgeous you look when her strap is buried in you — or how your makeup runs when she pulls so many orgasms out of you that it feels so good you’re in tears.

[cupofsapphics]

masterlist

american horror story

grumpy reader with coven (short drabble)

cordelia goode

to all the times i’ve loved you | pt 2 who ate it? greenhouse girlfriends sick of you

billie dean howard

introductions flustered

lana winters

shared love

dead to me

interrupted plans (short drabble)

wednesday (2022)

larissa weems

comfort crowd “quick, kiss me” (short drabble) “it’s hard to sit here and be close to you and not kiss you.” (short drabble)

marvel

peter assigned to distract you from returning to avengers tower so the others can prepare (short drabble)

agatha harkness

who are you? not the real you pain double trouble neglect first ‘i love you’ hc

carol danvers

parties and jealousy movie day not enough trust

darcy lewis

home sweet home

natasha romanoff

kitten

peggy carter

welcome to LA my savior with a sword you are beautiful

wanda maximoff

sweater stealing hc

once upon a time

regina mills

a new chapter

encanto

what pepa and julieta madrigal would do when you come home tired and stressed hc

school for good and evil

leonora lesso

unexpected

dovesso

dovesso hcs

misc

mary poppins

imagine: mary poppins meeting you as the banks’ closest friend

tammy (ocean’s 8)

confidence

lady tremaine

love is a hard thing why even try?

florence zimmerman

tea and a warm blanket swimsuits and ice lemonade

melissa schemmenti

the coffee shop

———

ao3: simpforw0men

[blxckchxrrybxby]

Unresolved Light

summary: Reader needs to vent.

pairing: Wilhemina Venable x Cordelia Goode x Billie Dean Howard x Reader

warning(s): mentions religion, blood, self harm

a/n: I’m beginning to think there’s no cure for the agony of living & there’s no love for those who need it most.

“Sometimes, I believe the purpose of life is to realize it is a form of hell in itself…” your fists unclenched, wiping away sweaty palms against the ragged denim beneath them, “And everyone shoves the idea of a greater, gentler being in your mind. They tell you He’s love and He’s what the world is not,” your eyebrows furrowed—voice breaking, “but what kind of merciful God would hurl His creations into a dying world and expect them to be the light when all influence leads to darkness?” The silver cross embedded with cubic zirconia sparkled against your neck; dangling daintily as you hunched over in despair. “How sadistic of Him to push me into nothingness, hoping I’d grasp at His glory just to catch a breath while drowning.” A scoff pushed past trembling lips. Pulsating veins spread through your forehead, making their presence noticeable. Your fists clenched once more, pounding at the ground. Tears fell and bodies moved closer to you.

They were not fond of fragile things shattering. They preferred to think of you as strong. And how could you blame them? It would be more convenient for them to believe that, than to witness your world fall apart, and your mind follow suit.

No one wants to pick up your pieces.

Yet, your fists kept slamming, and slamming, and slamming, and slamming—Oh, and now she was crying for you to stop… but how could you when this blood on the floor was the most color you’d seen lately?

Cordelia pulled you into her chest—where your fists continued to beat. Her heart would not suffice when you craved a rhythm of your own. Her eyes fell shut; chin laying atop your frazzled mind.

And your fists kept slamming.

Her white blouse was now painted red. Your weary heart shadowing Franko in Mendieta form. This was a cleanse.

And now your forehead found a home against her collarbones. Billie’s delicate fingertips traced at your spine; grounding you. Forcing you to accept anything but brutality. There was nothing worse than losing all faith in faith itself.

No matter their beliefs, this was yours. And upon an unforgiving life, it was now lost to you—the hope for something greater was foolish. As your fists settled—now aching—your gaze readjusted. From the left of her dirty blouse, you could make out Mina.

Eyes dark and heavy against the many flames. You were sure her tears could extinguish them.

“Come, little one.”

You listened, pushing away from the witch and medium. Crawling across the floor and past surrounding candles, you lay on her lap—staring at the red handprints smeared and left behind.

Her fingers moved down to play with the necklace; twirling the cross gently.

“No sense in running towards destruction when we can take our time.”