#recycling glass jars

[yaelbolender]

DIY: Paper COLLAGE On Glass & Plastic Part 2, The Day When Everything Went Wrong

Here is the video which almost never happened, between the hurricane, the rain non stop putting us in the dark and destroying trees, and then, my work, and then, my stomach bug, and then, my camera which didn't want to cooperate, and then, me changing my mind every five seconds about what I like and don't like, and finally my never ending editing, even my cat was in the mix, he had a stomach bug too, poor cute little (big) cat, he is very good now. So here it is in all its glory. https://youtu.be/iApIyPL4dds?si=QhyGSNCme9HQ51yd

[teddy-bear-naps-and-random-snaps]

[ninevehsage]

Hoooo from my work desk! 🦉

Today has been an active day, more than usually. I guess the talking yesterday (with professional mental helper and my supervisor of rehabilitative work) really helped! At least I've been feeling much better today and yesterday was good too.

So I just made this nest for my one-legged glass owl 😄 I had saved the lichens, conifers and one red "flower" from the christmas flower pot decorations, that our neighbour had made and brought to us last year. I decided to put them in this glass jar, that I got from work (for free) and voila! The idea just came on itself.

When I had put all the things inside, I wanted to find someone to live in the nest. The glass owl that I also got from work (for free), because its leg was broken, was a perfect fit! Then I needed a lid for the jar, since it didn't have one. Found a perfect lid almost straight away from another smaller glass jar.

Fun way to reuse natural decors instead of throwing them to trash. 🥰🥰🥰

~N~

[bsaka7]

tetrapod vs packing the kitchen....

[beautyandhealthtips123]

Variety of Spices in Glass Dispensers

When your values are clear to you, making decisions becomes easier. See more...

[blackamite]

Random thought, but I think it’d be so cool if there was a standardized system for jars. Like if you think of it, peanut butter jars, jam jars, pickle jars... they’re all roughly the same shape and the sizes they come in are quite similar.

If we had a standard model for all the jars, even if just half of the relevant brands participated, the jars could be collected and reused really easily. You could turn the jar in for money at the store, and once there’s enough in circulation it wouldn’t cost the companies much at all. Plus, you could keep it as a nice mason jar. 

The one problem I can think of is that it wouldn’t look as flashy if all jarred products looked the same, but that’s what you have labels for tbh. (Also possible remaining smell, but if it’s glass I’m sure there’s a way to clean it effectively.)

[fashion-styles-posts]

Bottled Up Designs Handmade Vintage Lace Leverback Earrings, Recycled Vintage Mason Jar Glass, Sterling Silver, Eco Friendly, Made in USA, Birthday Gifts, Mothers Day, Women, Anniversary

https://ebusiness.click/

[glasspackagingsupplier]

Smart Glass Packaging: The Rise of Interactive and Functional Packaging

The packaging industry is undergoing a revolutionary transformation in an age dominated by digital technology.

Smart glass packaging has emerged as a cutting-edge solution that seamlessly blends interactivity, functionality, and sustainability, aligning with the evolving needs of modern consumers and brands alike.

Smart Glass Packaging is a perfect answer to the growing trend of conscious consumerism and informed purchases as it helps brands deliver on both aspects effectively.

Let’s delve into the profound impact of smart glass packaging solutions on the packaging industry.

[yaelbolender]

DIY: Paper COLLAGE On Glass & My Thoughts about the Harry & Meghan Car Chase

[lady-guts]

Cleaning is very fucking tiring, but i'm going to get my deposit back no matter what

[teddy-bear-naps-and-random-snaps]

[meguwumibear]

my town doesnt recycle cardboard but i refuse to trash recyclable material but the amount of boxes piling up is getting out of hand

[sporkfan14]

I like to think that, given the number of jars of store-brand pizza sauce I have bought and recycled over the years and that glass is more or less endlessly recyclable, when I buy a new jar there is a tiny piece of it that was once another jar that I have used.

"Goodbye, friend," I say as I wash the jar and put it in the recycling, "thank you for being a vessel for my food. May you go and be made useful again and again."

"Hello, old friend," I say as I open the new jar. "It is good to see you again. What adventures have you been on and what friends have you made since you last brought me adequately priced tomato paste?"

[beautyandhealthtips123]

Clear Glass Jars on White Wooden Shelf

For every complex problem there is an answer that is clear, simple, and wrong. See more...

[thatgiraffefromtlou]

The Aurora Project

(part 1)

paring: ellie williams x fem!reader(ish?)

summary: as a result of a malfunction, you and ellie awaken from cryosleep aboard a spaceship with no memory. will you find evidence that you’re more than just shipmates? something to give reason to your nagging familiarity to the stranger you wake up next to?

warnings: eventual explicit language, potential for smut in later chapters (depending), close description of the start of a panic attack? maybe? idk that’s what mine feels like. uh cringy teasing idk- lmk if there’s more this is pretty tame-

A/N: ellie loves space, we love ellie, why now combine the two? i’m really gonna try my best to finish this one. because it’s not in the tlou universe i don’t have to match naughtydogs pacing in the games (like i do with my other DYHMN) and can make up my own so it won’t be such a long story! still long and definitely slow burn tho!

work count: 2.6K

– Chapter one –

The hiss of escaping air pierced the silence, a sharp and startling sound that jolted you from your dreamless slumber. Your eyes snapped open, your vision blurry and unfocused, struggling to adjust to the dim light that surrounded you. The metallic taste of cryosleep lingered on your tongue, a bitter reminder of your long suspension. You gasped, drawing in your first conscious breath in what felt like an eternity, the cool air burning your lungs as if you'd forgotten how to breathe.

Disoriented, you fumbled with the release mechanism of your pod, your fingers clumsy and uncooperative. The smooth, cold surface of the controls felt alien under your touch. As the glass canopy finally slid open with a soft whoosh, the chill of the ship's recycled air kissed your skin, causing goosebumps to ripple across your body in its wake. The sensation was both uncomfortable and oddly invigorating, a stark contrast to the numbness of your suspended state.

Your muscles protested vehemently as you pushed yourself up with a groan, your movements sluggish and uncoordinated. Every fiber of your being ached, as if you'd run a marathon in your sleep. "Where... where am I?" you mumbled to yourself, your voice barely above a whisper, hoarse and dry from disuse. The words felt strange in your mouth, your tongue thick and unresponsive.

The low emergency lights cast an eerie red glow across the vast expanse of the cryobay, creating long, ominous shadows that danced along the walls as they flashed. Your gaze, still adjusting to consciousness, slowly scanned the room, taking in the surreal scene before you. Lines of pods, seemingly endless in number, filled the space, each containing a silent, motionless figure. The dim white light emanating from within the pods created a strange, almost ethereal contrast to the blinking of the red emergency lights, giving the entire bay an otherworldly atmosphere.

As your mind gradually cleared, you slowly started to realize the gravity of your situation. You'd woken from your cryosleep, but why? A small panic began to creep through your chest, its icy tallons wrapping around your heart. Your head swam, an almost floaty feeling overtaking you as you grappled with your new reality. The disconnect between your last conscious memory and your current situation was jarring, leaving you feeling untethered and lost.

You forced yourself to take a few deep breaths, trying to calm your racing heart and clear the fog from your mind. With great effort, you struggled to slide out of your pod, every muscle in your body aching and pleading you to stop. The simple act of movement felt like an insurmountable task, your limbs heavy and uncooperative. You had no idea how long it had been since you'd last used your muscles, but from the way they felt - weak, stiff, and painfully sore - and the way your throat was begging for water, parched and raw, you'd say it had been a pretty significant amount of time. Months? Years? The uncertainty only added to your growing anxiety.

With trembling legs, you finally managed to get on your feet, immediately reaching out to hold onto the edge of your pod for support. The cool metal under your fingers provided only a small measure of comfort. "Hello?" you called out, your voice cracking, barely louder than before. Your heart raced, pounding so hard you could feel it in your throat. The sound of your own voice echoing in the vast, silent chamber only intensified your feeling of isolation.

There was no response to your call; all you were met with was the low, persistent hum of the machines around you, the sound of your own panicked breathing, loud in the oppressive silence, and the whoosh of your heart beat in your ears. The lack of any human presence or activity only heightened your sense of unease. Slowly, carefully, you turned your head, your gaze falling upon the pod next to yours. To your surprise and relief, its occupant was stirring, showing signs of life amidst the previous stillness.

A woman with dark auburn hair struggled with the release mechanism of her pod, mirroring your own recent experience. Her movements were just as sluggish and uncoordinated as yours had been. You turned your body, every movement still an effort, and slowly walked around to stand at the foot of her pod. Your progress was painfully slow, each step deliberate as you used the edges of the pods for support, your legs still unsteady beneath you.

As you watched, the glass canopy of her pod slid open with a soft hiss, a type of misty fog slowly spilling out, curling and dissipating in the air. The woman inside sat up, her movements jerky and uncertain. As she looked around, her expression mirrored the confusion you felt, a mix of disorientation and growing alarm evident in her features.

"Are you alright?" you asked, your voice still rough but gaining strength. The woman turned at the sound, your words seeming to bring her down from her disoriented state. Her green eyes, bright and alert despite the lingering effects of cryosleep, met yours. As your gazes locked, a flicker of recognition flooded your brain, quick and elusive. It was gone almost as soon as it appeared, quickly replaced by uncertainty and a nagging sense that you should know this person, even though you couldn't place how or why.

"I... I think so," the woman replied, her brow furrowed in concentration. Her voice was as dry and raspy as yours had been, another testament to the long period of disuse. She cleared her throat, the sound harsh in the quiet of the cryobay, before she spoke again. "I'm Dr. Williams. At least, that's what my pod says." She motioned to the foot of her pod, where a nameplate was clearly visible. Her eyes, however, held a mix of confusion and frustration as she continued, "But I can't... I can't remember anything else." She shook her head in defeat, her dark hair falling around her face, adding to her disheveled appearance.

The admission sent a chill down your spine. It wasn't just you, then. The realization that you weren't alone in your confusion was both comforting and alarming.

Your breath caught in your throat as the implications of her words sank in. "I'm…" you began, then paused, suddenly unsure. You looked over to your nameplate at the foot of your pod, reading the name etched there. You gave the woman your name, but your tone was questioning, uncertain, as if you were trying the sound of it for the first time. Your eyes found hers again as you spoke, searching for any sign of recognition or familiarity. "But I don't remember much either," you admitted, the words leaving a bitter taste in your mouth.

There was a heavy pause as you both looked around the cryo bank, taking in the rows upon rows of occupied pods, the blinking lights, and the humming silence. A deeper sense of panic began to fill your chest, more intense than before. The enormity of the situation was starting to sink in - you were awake, with no memory, on what appeared to be a massive ship, with potentially hundreds or thousands of others still in cryosleep. "Are we the only ones… awake…?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking the words too loudly might make the situation more real, more terrifying.

The woman looked back at you, her expression a mixture of hesitation and uncertainty. "I'm not sure... I think so..." she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. There was a prolonged pause as you both continued to search the room with your eyes, desperately seeking any clue that might shed light on your situation. "But why...?" she finally asked, voicing the question that had been echoing in your own mind. Why? And not just why, but how? How did you end up here, in this unfamiliar place, with gaps in your memory?

You strain to recall your last clear memory, the one that stood out the most was only a fleeting image. A brief flash of signing a document. The paper, you remembered, was meant to secure you the very pod from which you had just awakened. But the reasons behind your signature and your intended destination remained frustratingly elusive. Along with most of your past experiences, these crucial details seemed to have vanished from your mind.

It was as if your brain had undergone a selective wipe, retaining only the information necessary for basic survival. Perhaps even the lessons your experiences had taught you remained, but the experiences themselves had faded away like morning mist. You couldn't help but wonder: Was this a common side effect of cryo sleep? Had the people who placed you in this state warned you about potential memory loss? If so, those warnings were now lost to you as well. How long would this amnesia last? Would your memories ever fully return?

These questions swirled in your mind, each one giving birth to a dozen more, creating a dizzying spiral of uncertainty and confusion. You felt yourself being pulled deeper into this mental whirlpool, losing touch with your immediate surroundings.

Suddenly, the woman called out your name, her voice cutting through your spiraling thoughts like a knife. Your head snapped back to face her, the motion so quick it left you slightly disoriented. As your eyes met hers, you experienced a flooding sensation of familiarity again, a feeling that dissipated as quickly as it had come. The constant ebb and flow of recognition was both frustrating and deeply unsettling. In an attempt to regain your composure, you shook your head, as if trying to physically dislodge the confusion. "Sorry, yeah... I don't know..." you managed to stammer out, your voice sounding foreign to your own ears.

For what felt like an eternity, the two of you stood there, locked in a mutual gaze. Neither of you seemed capable of finding the right words to break the heavy silence that had settled between you. The atmosphere was thick with tension, your nerves on edge as you both continued to search each other's faces for any sign of recognition or understanding. Finally, the woman spoke, her voice tinged with a hint of vulnerability. "Help me out of this thing?" she asked, gesturing to her cryo pod.

You nodded silently, moving to assist her. However, as you reached out, you quickly realized that you weren't in much better shape yourself. Your muscles, still sluggish from the prolonged period of inactivity, protested against even this simple movement. Despite your best efforts, you found yourself offering little more than moral support as she struggled to extricate herself from the pod.

As she finally managed to step out, her hand inadvertently brushed against yours. The brief contact sent an unexpected jolt through your body, an inexplicable warmth spreading from the point of contact and radiating through your chest. Instinctively, your eyes snapped up to meet hers, half-expecting to see a face you'd known your entire life. Instead, you were met with the same mix of confusion and intrigue that you felt mirrored in your own expression. The familiarity of the sensation contrasted sharply with the stranger's face before you, adding another layer to the frustration of your situation.

"We need to figure out what's going on," the woman declared after a moment, her voice carrying a forced confidence that barely masked her underlying uncertainty. You found yourself nodding in agreement once more, still reeling from the unexpected warmth that her simple touch had evoked. It was as if your body remembered something your mind had forgotten, a connection that transcended your current state of confusion.

Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you took a step back and began to survey your surroundings more thoroughly. Your eyes scanned the room, searching for any sign of an exit. The woman seemed to have the same idea, her gaze darting from one corner of the room to another. Without exchanging words, you both began to move away from your pods, heading in the same direction down a long corridor lined with other cryo units. You could only hope that this path would lead you to some answers, or at the very least, a way out of this situation.

As you walked side by side, a thought suddenly surfaced in your mind. "Dr. Williams?" you ventured, turning to look at the woman. She responded with a soft hum, indicating that she was listening. You hesitated for a moment, your eyes dropping to your feet before meeting hers again. "What's your first name? If you can remember, I mean. Might be easier than Dr. Williams..." You trailed off, feeling somewhat awkward about the question.

To your surprise, she let out a soft chuckle. The sound was strangely familiar, sending a small rush of heat to your cheeks. Why was everything about this woman so familiar, so intimately known to you, yet simultaneously foreign? Like smelling something outside in the wind and feeling the emotions attached to that smell, only to not be able to put your finger on what and why. The feeling was tantalizingly close, hovering just at the edge of recognition, like a word on the tip of your tongue. And only sometimes were you blessed with the epiphany of what that smell was, days or even weeks later, that would strike without warning, bringing with it a flood of understanding and the satisfying click of pieces falling into place. "Ellie," she replied, a smile playing on her lips as she watched for your reaction. Your brow furrowed slightly as you processed this information. "You remember that, or was it on the pod?" you asked, unable to keep a hint of teasing disbelief from your voice. After all, you had awakened first, yet she seemed to be recovering her memories more quickly.

Ellie's smile widened, taking on a slightly sheepish quality. "It was on the pod," she admitted, "but it feels right now that I've said it out loud." You nodded, understanding the sentiment. "Ellie..." you repeated, testing the name on your tongue. It yet again felt familiar, comfortable, as if you had said it countless times before.

As the two of you continued your search for an exit from the bay, you couldn't shake the persistent feeling that there was more to your relationship than simply being shipmates or colleagues. The ease of your interactions, the inexplicable warmth you felt in her presence, and the nagging sense of familiarity – it all pointed to a deeper connection. These sensations were too intense, too immediate to be explained by a chance meeting between strangers.

Your eyes drifted to the viewports lining the corridor, taking in the vast expanse of space beyond. The cosmos stretched out infinitely, a silent witness to the mysteries of your past and the uncertainties of your future. As you gazed at the star-studded blackness, you couldn't help but wonder what other secrets it held. What events had led you to this moment? What purpose had brought you to this ship, drifting through the endless void? And most intriguingly, what role did Ellie play in your forgotten past?

The questions multiplied with each step you took, but answers remained frustratingly out of reach. You glanced at Ellie, noticing that she too seemed lost in thought, her brow furrowed in concentration. Perhaps together, you could unravel the enigma of your shared circumstances. For now, all you could do was press forward, hoping that somewhere in this vast ship, you would find the key to unlocking your memories and understanding her true purpose in your life.

chapter 2

A/N: lmk if so if u wanna be in the tag list!

[familiarbythyside]

you take care of me (and i take care of you)

agatha’s hit a wall in her case, you’re there to remind her it’s okay to take breaks.

apart of the same ‘verse as this fic though it can be read as a stand alone. word count ~ 2.7k | nsfw (minors dni)

warnings: gn!reader though there are no pronouns used. use of the words pet/pup/puppy, mommy kink, praise, oral sex (agatha receiving) fingering (also agatha receiving)

—

“Why don’t you take a break?”

“Are you kidding me?”

“You’ve thrown all the pens in that jar and you’re going to need another notepad for work, you’ve ripped out so many pages. Or do you not see the balled up paper everywhere?”

Agatha narrows her eyes at you and you just stare, not shying away from it like you once would’ve, in fact, you pressing her in any sort of way is a new endeavor. This isn’t the first time in the three weeks since she’s started this case that you’ve asked the same question; why don’t you take a break? Today however is the first time you haven’t let it go after her rhetorical questions that all really only imply one thing: get off my back.

“Clean it up if it’s an issue for you, pet.”

Your eyebrow twitches and defiance shines through your unwavering gaze for the quickest of flashes,”No. You can clean it up yourself.”

“You’re telling me no?”

“I’m telling you no,” your tone is firm, your arms crossing over your middle,”because it’s your mess.” Then your crossing the space of the living room, stopping on the other side of the coffee table and proceeding to shut her laptop, before starting to push all the papers in one of her files neatly into place before shutting it. “You’re taking a break. Sorry that it sounded like an option.”

“Someone’s feeling brave,” Agatha scoffs, her hand stilling your own on top of the second file you’ve just closed. “What sort of game are you playing at, pet?”

“The one where you take care of me and I take care of you.”

She rolls her eyes and rises from the couch to start picking up her mess, unwilling to spare you a glance, because it worked. Because deep down she’s wanted the break, her determination to solve the case just rang louder, deafened that notion until she forgot it entirely and instead replaced it with frustration and short fused irritation at her own inability to just figure the damn thing out.

“I’ve cut some apples up for you,” you say from behind her, having evidently followed her into the kitchen. She turns away from the recycle bin and finds you approaching the built-in island attatched to her counter, a bowl and a glass of ice water sitting atop it. Something she’s done for you many times when you’ve been around and she’s noticed you’ve not eaten anything. “Want to have them outside?”

“Sure,” Agatha shrugs, arms crossing over each other. She starts to walk toward the island to grab her snack but you beat her to it with a soft smile.

“I’ve got it.”

Of course you do, she thinks.

“Good job cleaning up,” you let out as she walks past you to get to the sliding glass door that leads to her back porch. She feels heat rise beneath her cheeks though she knows it’s not enough to be visible. You’re saying things and doing things she does when it comes to you. You’re making her feel cared for, just as you always do, but it’s different because you’re adopting her role and she’s letting you. She’s letting you be the caretaker. Because she wants it, maybe even needs it, and somehow you’ve come to know her enough to know that.

To know that buried within her is the desire to be looked after how she looks after you. To have that returned from time to time. She just doesn’t voice it. Can’t voice it. And you’ve figured that out too.

She settles onto a chair at her quaint outdoor table and watches as you do the same, settling her snack and water down in front of her, a bright glint in your eyes. She looks away to the grass as she takes a drink of water then sets the glass down to pick up an apple slice. The two of you sit in silence that she finds herself appreciating, her mind becoming more removed from her work with each moment that passes by. Once she’s finished both the apples and the water, she lets her eyes find you, your own gaze trained on the blue jay currently perched on the fence.

“Pup.”

“Hm?” You loose, turning your head to look at her, before you take in the empty dishes between the two of you. “All gone then, I see.” Your hand reaches out across the table and Agatha braces herself to feel the contact, your fingertips just barely ghosting over her cheek as you give her a gentle smile. “Do you want anymore or is my Mommy done?”

My Mommy.

Like she says, my puppy.

It makes her throat feel a little dry. A little tight. The honorific hasn’t ever made her feel submissive until now. With you looking at her like that. All warm and open and safe. It almost hurts to look at you.

“I’m done.”

“Alright. I’ll get these cleaned up. You can go to your room and wait for me there.”

She listens, follows you back inside the house, soon finds herself staring up at her bedroom ceiling. She’s unable to figure out if you’ll want a fuck or to simply cuddle her for a bit. Unable to decide which of those options she wants more, at the moment, given that with each second she lays here, she seems to grow more tired. She’s not had a decent nights sleep in a hot minute now. Has ignored that it’s most certainly had to do with neither one of you being able to stay overnight recently and that she only truly feels as though she gets rest when you’re in bed beside her.

“Sleepy?”

“A little bit,” Agatha props herself up on her elbows, watching as you shut the door behind you. “Are you?”

You just shrug as you approach the bed, coming to a stop beside her, the knuckle of your index finger stroking along the line of her jaw. “Which one do you want first; a nap or for me to go down on you?”

“You don’t want to pick for me?” She raises a brow, your eyes searching over her face, subtle uncertainty making itself known within them. “You’re taking care of me, aren’t you, baby?” You nod shallowly, a light pink kissing your cheeks. “Yeah. That’s right, you are,” her hand finds yours, her thumb caressing at your skin,”which means you get to make decisions for me, if that’s what you feel like doing. If that’s what you think is best.” She takes a beat, her next words getting stuck in her throat, and when she swallows it’s a tad painful, but she knows she needs to say them. She knows you need to hear them. “I … trust you, to do right by me, sweetheart. If I didn’t, do you think I’d be in this bed right now?”

That does the trick. You let out a long exhale, eyes a touch glassy, though your smile soft. “I really want to fuck you,” there’s a touch of shyness there, the words both endearing and arousal inducing.

“Then fuck me,” Agatha grins, tugging at your hand, wanting to feel you on top of her. You straddle her thighs moments later, your hands resting on top of your own, she can see the slight tremble to them. “You don’t have to ask to touch me, you can just do it. You’re allowed to look at my body. I want you to do anything you feel like doing. Understand?”

Your response is a kiss, firm and full of longing, your hand pushing on her abdomen until she’s lying down once more. You lick at her bottom lip as your hands find her own and proceed to bring them up above her head, fingertips pressing into her skin as your kisses get deeper, hips shifting microscopically forward, though she feels it all the same. Normally, she’d move them down to your ass, give it attention to elicit more of that reaction. Now, however, you’ve got her hands out of the picture, which leaves her to work wonders with her tongue, deciding to shift the kissing toward sloppy, toward messy, the kind that always gets the most rise out of you because it makes you feel the delicious kind of dirty. The mewls you gasp out when she allows you to breathe are precious as ever, your hips in a steady rythym, filling her up with pride and such molten desire.

“Fuck,” you moan out, all breathy, ghosting across her own mouth before your grinding stops and your lips start kissing at her jaw. There is an instinct to reprimand, to smack at your thigh, though she does neither of those things. Simply just tilts her neck to the side to grant you further access, a quiet moan releasing from her mouth at the feather light suck you give her skin. She feels you smile in response to hearing it, the quick press of teeth against her flesh sending a thrill down her spine. “Sit up, Mommy.”

Agatha does, you freeing her hands in order for her to do so, and also so that you can push up her long sleeve shirt. God, does she want to sing you praises for just fucking going for it, unable to take her eyes off you, the fabric hitting the floor moments later. Your pupils are wide, your irises dark, and you drink in the sight of her plain black bra with such open want that it immediately triggers the urge to bite. She sits herself up further, catches your bottom lip with her teeth, careful as she tugs on it as far as she can, not wanting to cause any actual pain, merely just having to have some part of her teeth on you immediately. Agatha releases it with a slow chuckle and a grin, before resting back on her elbows.

“Might as well take the bra off too, while you’re at it.”

“And if I don’t?” You question, tilting your head down at her, which, alright, puppy; not cool. Agatha just lets out a gentle huff, watching as a smirk slowly takes over your lips. “I could just ignore them. Your tits.” As if she didn’t already know.

“That’ll be more disappointing to you then me, sweet puppy. Besides, we both know you’re incapable of missing any opportunity to see them.”

“No we don’t.”

“Don’t we?”

You roll your eyes before getting off of her lap. You walk down to the ottoman at the foot of the bed and kneel atop it, tugging at the cuff of Agatha’s sweat joggers. “Lift your hips, Mommy. I want these off.”

“Are you seriously not going to take my bra off?”

“Very seriously,” you nod, giving her cuff a firmer tug. She finds herself mortified at the fact that she’s currently fighting off a fucking pout. Agatha Harkness is no pouter nor no beggar. Not even you are going to change that. She lifts her hips up, hands shoving her pants down to speed the process along. You get them off her ankles and drop them on the floor, your palms rubbing at her shins, all soft and warm. “You’re so pretty, Mommy.”

“You’re so pretty, baby.” She gives you a smile, feeling the ridiculous type of smitten, especially with how your nose scrunches from the force of your closed mouth grin,”Look at that cute puppy face.”

“Shush,” It’s a touch whiny, your hips doing the lightest of wiggles, the shade of your face approaching red. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you trying to get me all flustered.”

“Can you blame me? It’s so easy.”

That earns her a glare that does nothing but make affection burst inside her, a silent explosion that leaves her utterly wrecked in the best, yet most daunting of ways. “Only because you’re so hot,” you grumble, Agatha parting her legs for you as your knees find the comforter. “Are you trying to prove my point?”

“How else are you supposed to fit between my legs?”

You roll your eyes and Agatha just laughs on the inside, your fingertips making contact with her outer thighs, rising goose flesh in their wake. You do that for awhile, your eyes all over her, each second that ticks by only upping her arousal. Then, at the same time as you lean in to kiss her, you brush your knuckles along her sex, start to stroke them up and down, teasing her through the fabric as you steal the air from her lungs. She brings her left hand up to your hair, her right resting against her own abdomen, moaning softly into your mouth as you nip at her bottom lip. The very first upward motion of her hips halts your movements, both of you panting out shallow breaths as you crook your fingertips into her panties and start to tug.

You kiss at her stomach as you do so, her fingertips petting at your hair for encouragement, feeling only light irritation when you don’t get straight to it, your mouth latching onto the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. You’ll mark her there where nobody can see, she can tell by the force of your mouth, the pleasant sting of it eliciting a quiet noise from her lips.

“Who’s Mommy are you?”

“Yours,” the reply comes easy, breathlessly, still not fully recovered from your kissing.

“Mm,” you kiss at her skin, nip at it gently,”that’s right. And who’s your puppy?”

Agatha smooths your hair back, seemingly unable to stop messing with it. “You are, sweetheart.”

“Good girl,” your smile is tooth achingly sweet. Agatha’s body barely registering the praise before your tongue strokes along her pussy lips, fingers capturing your hair in a fist as she moans out in response to it. Your hands grip firmly at her hips, hooked under her thighs, the gentle bite of them sending such white hot want through her.

It doesn’t take her long to figure out you’re being a tease, getting close but not making any contact with her clit, nor dipping inside of her. “Puppy,” her tone is as stern as the hold she now has on your head in order to pull your face away. You blink at her in a daze, slick on your chin, around your mouth, the tip of your nose, eyes all glazed over. “You don’t get to tease me. Don’t think that rule has changed.”

“I was just havin’ a little fun,” you mumble out, as she guides your head back down, unable to help the light smirk her mouth slips into.

“Oh,” she looses, at the feeling of your tongue finally making contact with her clit. You suction it softly between your lips, your fingertips scratching down the side of her thigh, making her moan. You part from her and her hips jerk up, barely able to brush against your nose. Then you’re thrusting your middle finger inside of her, stealing her breath with it, and with your mouth, as it finds her clit once more, your tongue flat and broad with its circles, bursts of pleasure making her thighs tremble.

You add your ring finger and Agatha feels the way she gushes against your touch, pussy squeezing your fingers when they curl against that spot inside of her, her peak becoming imminent with every caress of your tongue. She knows she’s a goner when you speed up the pace of your thrusts but keep the rhythm with your mouth, stomach feeling wound tight tight tight, feeling like all the blood in her body has found her clit with the way it throbs. She knows you can feel it. Knows you can feel the way it’s getting difficult to keep fucking into her, her pussy unable to help squeezing your fingers.

“Puppy—“ It’s all the warning she’s able to give, her orgasm hitting her as soon as the word has left her mouth, her entire lower body trembling from the force of it. Holy fuck, if her limbs don’t feel like Jello.

“All good, Mommy?” You question, your head resting on her still trembling thigh.

Agatha blinks her eyes open, releasing the hold she has on your hair in order to go back to stroking at it. “Mommy’s great, baby.” Then, hoping you understand what it really means — “Thank you.”

You grin, all shy and scrunchy (despite literally being between her fucking legs), the way you hide your blush in her skin as you murmur out,”Any time,” lets her know that you do, in fact, understand.