#sky's stolen ask games

[our-blood-is-our-ink]

if your still doing the prompt thing how about 17, 23, 25, 29 with power!bottom claire being stressed and intern!reader offering to help but don't have any sexual experience so claire teaches them

Thank you so much for sending this in! I'm so sorry it took so long to complete, life got very hectic, but I have it for you now! I hope I've done this request justice <3

Afterhours

Ship: Claire Debella x Reader

Summary: When you, an intern working at the governor's office, offer to stay with the governor while she works late into the night, you find yourself in a situation you have only ever fantasized of.

Word Count: 5.8k

Disclaimer: 18+ ONLY, minors dni

Warnings: smut, hints at dark!Claire, pet-names, praise kink, degradation kink, fingering, oral, first time, virgin reader, legal age gap, power imbalance, mommy kink, begging, implied subspace

It's an open secret at the office that Governor Debella is paranoid.

If the extreme vetting process to just simply become an intern is anything to go by, the woman could use some relaxation time.

After all, a single intern hardly would have the ability to take down the political powerhouse that Governor Debella is.

Or, that's what you think anyhow.

You knew you had been lucky to land the job, the experience and credentials that will pad up your resume and qualifications that will come from working here, but some days, all you can think about is how stressed the top boss constantly is.

Being a people pleaser, being a people fixer, you started to stay late, wanting to get as much work done as possible.

Sure, you're only a low level entry personnel, but what you do helps free up time for those above you to focus on more important things.

After a few weeks of being the last one in the office, Governor Debella notices.

“Don't you have someone to get home to? A boyfriend, or a pet, or something?”

You nearly topple back in your seat, startled by your boss’s boss’s boss’s boss (seriously there's a chain of command here, and you're merely a bottom feeder) not having heard her approach from behind.

“Governor!” You gasp, trying to recover. “Uh- I don't- I live with a few roommates, but they never care if I'm there or not. We're all very busy.”

Governor Debella frowns, and crosses her arms.

“There's no reason for you to be staying so late. You're an intern. You don't get paid overtime.”

You shrug.

“I don't have much else to do. Call it volunteer hours.”

(And god, doesn't that sound pathetic, especially because it's true.)

Her frown deepens.

“It's illegal for you to stay and work without pay.”

“Are you telling me I need to start going home at quitting time?”

The words spill from your mouth before you can think them through.

There's a moment of silence, and for a second you could swear it's hesitation on Governor Debella’s face.

“No.” She says, after a beat too long.

There's another, much longer silence.

You hate the quiet, and you find yourself breaking it.

“Then, er, what do you want me to do?”

Governor Debella blinks, and it draws your attention to the dark bags underneath her tired silvery-blue eyes, her makeup must having had rubbed off enough for it to begin to show.

You suddenly realize that perhaps it's just as exhausting for her as it is for everyone else to deal with her stress and paranoia.

“Would you like some company while you work?” You offer, a gentleness in your tone that you hadn't made the decision to speak with. “I could clock out and then just… Sit in your office with you if you'd like. I know how empty the building feels when everyone has left.”

This time, you know you haven't imagined her hesitation.

“I'm under contract, anyhow, Governor. If there's an additional paper you need me to sign, for security reasons, well.” You shrug. “What's one more?”

Again, there's silence, and then…

“Call me Claire, if you're really willing to sit and do nothing for hours besides for staring at my office walls.”

You're a bit shocked she's accepted your offer, and you stumble over your response.

“I- oh. Uh… Okay, um. Claire.”

The governor’s lips twitch, as if she's hiding a smile.

“But not tonight. I was just about to head out, which means you definitely should too. Security won't stick around once I leave, and the night shift…” Claire scowls. “I need to remember to get them replaced.”

It's the most you've ever heard her talk without snapping at someone to do something, let alone to you.

“Isn't that what your assistant is for? To remind you or to arrange that on your behalf?”

“That's only if I remember to tell him.” Claire mutters, before shaking her head. “Shut your computer down, you're not staying if I'm not in the building.”

She waits, hovering over your shoulder as you listen, and she walks with you out to the front of the building.

“You didn't park in the lot?” She asks, when you start to head towards home.

You can feel your face flush.

“I uh… I don't exactly get paid enough to own a car.” You refuse to look at the older woman. “Usually I just walk back.”

“It's two in the morning.” Claire sounds incredulous.

“I have pepper spray.”

“No. You're not walking home anymore.”

Claire has her arms crossed again, and an all too familiar glare is being leveled at you.

Before now, you always thought it was an angry expression.

You're beginning to wonder if maybe it's a stubborn one instead.

You sigh.

“Well short of driving me home yoursel-”

“That's exactly what I'm going to do.”

You barely manage to keep your jaw from dropping as Claire turns, clearly expecting you to follow her.

You suppose if you don't, you won't get too far before she can find you walking.

Or if not, possibly fire you over it tomorrow.

You push down your anxiety.

Don't worse case scenario. You scold yourself.

Claire drives a nondescript silver minivan.

“I have custody every other month.” She explains your unanswered question.

Ah, right.

Sometimes you forget that Claire just recently went through divorce, that she has two little ones to care for.

You remember how the media had dug it all up, how they aired her very private life for the public.

For a minivan, it's pretty nice.

When Claire turns on the car, a few loud notes play, before she quickly slams her palm against the knob that turns the car music on and off.

You raise an eyebrow, but don't say anything about it.

Instead you ask, “how are they?”

“My kids?”

She sounds mildly surprised as she reaches for her seatbelt.

“Yeah.”

You click yours in as she replies.

“They're… They're okay, all things considered.”

She puts the car in reverse, and you rattle off your address so she knows where she's headed.

Her nose wrinkles, and you're willing to bet it's because you don't live in a particularly nice area.

“You had to hire shadows- uh, bodyguards for them, right?”

Claire's hands clench the wheel, turning her knuckles white.

“I don't know of any other governor who's had their children's lives threatened.” She practically growls. “It scares them, but they won't say anything.”

“I'm sorry.” You murmur.

Claire glances at your pale face, and she takes a breath, forcing her body to relax.

“It's not your fault.” She shakes her head. “They're my kids. I'm their mother. I'm bound to be a bit overprotective.”

You choke back an unamused laugh.

“You would hope.”

Claire gives you a quick look, before returning her full attention to the road.

“What makes you say that?”

Oh crap, you didn't mean to invite Claire to dig into your life.

“Er… My parents… They weren't the best.” You mumble.

Claire frowns, eyes still looking forward.

“How old are you again?”

“Twenty-three.”

Claire hums.

“And how much are we paying you again?”

You rattle off the salary.

Claire hums again, and then there's silence for the rest of the short drive.

When she pulls up in front of your apartment, you say, “this is it.”

You undo your seatbelt and open the door, moving to leave.

“I'll have the paperwork ready for you on your desk by lunch.” Claire says.

At your confused look she huffs.

“For your extended night hours.”

Oh!

“Right, thank you. And thank you for the lift.”

Claire nods.

“If you don't have those papers past lunch break, hound my assistant. Don't take no for an answer, I might not remember to let Brian know to expect you to be a bother.”

The word bother echoes around your head, and you swallow down sudden anxiety.

“Sure thing. Good night, Governor-er- Claire.”

“Good night.” The other woman says, and you shut the passenger door firmly behind you as you sprint into your building.

—»•«—

You do have to bother her assistant the next day, and the stack of papers Claire presents you with is frankly ridiculous, but you pull out a notepad, read them through, and write bullet points of what you're agreeing to.

You sign, and initial, and date.

And then you binder clip it all together and drop it with a fairly solid thud onto Brian’s desk.

“Governor Debella will want these to be scanned and filed.” You say, even as an intern knowing the procedure for important documentation.

The man frowns at you.

“You're not done.” Brain says, and then seemingly out of nowhere, produces another stack of papers.

You groan, but your impatience quickly disappears as you stare at the sheet of paper, towards the end of the stack, that says how much of a raise you're receiving for signing on to be Claire’s personal intern.

Claire's personal intern.

$47,000

That was $15k more than what you had been making.

What the fuck.

You sign the papers, and don't say a word.

Slowly, as the day progresses, people trickle out, until you're the last one in the main office.

Brain looks at you as he leaves, and nearly walks into a wall trying to maintain his stare.

You head towards Claire's office and knock on her door.

“Come in.”

She sounds frazzled, and you realize you haven't seen her flying around the office today as you normally do.

“Everything alright?” You ask, taking note of Claire's disheveled state.

“No.” Is the simple answer you get, and you don't push as Claire continues to frantically scribble something out.

You glance around, familiarizing yourself with the private office you so rarely see the inside of, and take notice of a little seating area, with two arm chairs and a very comfortable looking couch.

In addition, there's what appears to be a bar cart, but it's filled with bottled water and sports drinks instead of alcohol, as well as a giant TV screen and what looks like a game console hooked up to it.

Somehow, you can't quite picture Claire playing video games while at work, and you have to wonder if perhaps she has ever been forced to watch one or both of her kids while working.

You don't want to become an annoyance, so instead of pacing the space, you choose to settle into one of the armchairs, curling up with one knee to your chest, the other dangling off the side of the chair.

You stare at the ceiling and let your mind wander as you examine the embedded ceiling lights.

“This is fucking bullshit.” Claire suddenly growls, and the sound of a pen clattering against the plastic wood of her desk sounds through the room.

“What is?” You ask.

Claire’s head jerks up, and for a moment, she looks surprised.

“You're so quiet.” She says. “I forgot you were here.”

You shrug, and don't say I’m good at that, I've had a lot of practice growing up.

You do say, “I didn't want to be a distraction.”

Claire hums.

She does that a lot, you realize.

“Well, maybe instead I can bounce this off of you.”

She gestures for you to come around to her side of the desk, and you quickly skim over what appears to be a proposal for a bill.

“Is it even legal for me to be doing this?” You ask.

Out of the corner of your eye you see Claire shrugging.

“You work for the government office this will be coming out from. It's not illegal, just out of the norm.”

You make a noise of understanding, going over the contents of it, frowning.

“What’s the problem with this?” You ask once you're finished giving the proposal a once-over.

Claire viciously stabs a single digit at some handwritten notes laying next to her keyboard.

“This section, this sentence, this paragraph, this fucking word is wrong, but the thesaurus is being useless-”

“Whoa, whoa.” You slow down what was sure to be Claire spiraling into more stress. “What's the most important thing to fix here?”

Claire blinks, pauses, frowns, then flips through her notes.

“Here.” She finally decides. “This entire section needs to be completely rewritten.”

You scroll to the right place on the computer screen and read it over more carefully.

“I'm pretty sure we can bullshit what you want to say here.” You murmur half to yourself. “It shouldn't be too difficult, most of the framework is here, it's just about closing the loopholes and rewording things to be less polarizing.”

“You make it sound so simple.” Claire grumps, leaning back in her chair and frowning as she crosses her arms.

You shrug.

“I bullshitted my fair share of essays, the difficult part to it is having a decent outline, which you already have.”

The other woman grumbles something under her breath before sitting up, shooing you away with a flick of her hand.

“Alright, well if it's that easy.” Her tone is disgruntled, but her fingers are already clacking against the keyboard, and you take that as your signal to return to the armchair you had been lazing about in.

At the end of the night, she drives you home again.

It becomes a routine.

For the next few months, Claire uses you as a sound board during the late hours, and you've taken to bringing either a book to read or an adult coloring book to do while you sit with her.

And then something big must have happened in her private life, because Claire is an absolute menace even to you one Monday, tearing through the office morale like a hot knife to butter.

You don't dare say a thing, even when she snaps at you later that night for being incompetent, and you just sit and take it.

She doesn't mean it personally.

You know that.

But by the time Thursday rolls around, her attitude hasn't changed, and you've found yourself retreating, becoming as small and invisible as possible in an attempt to spare yourself from Claire’s wrath.

You hear shuffling from where you're curled up on the couch, and you look up, and find Claire downing a shot, a bottle of amber liquid sitting on her desk.

“I know I've been an ass.” She says when she catches your eye.

“You've been stressed.” You excuse.

Claire shakes her head.

“There are better ways of releasing steam.”

“Well what do you usually do?”

You think this must be the first conversation all week that Claire is having civilly.

“Get high. Or have sex.”

Your mouth drops open at her blasé answer.

“And I haven't been able to do either.” She complains.

“Well, er. I could- I could help. If you wanted. To- um. To destress, I- I mean.”

You don't know why those words left your mouth, and the moment they do, you can feel your face heat up.

Sure, you've begun to have the occasional fantasy or wet dream about your boss, but that wasn't the same thing as implying you'd have sex with her.

HR is going to have a field day with you.

You're going to be fired.

You bury your face into your hands, and when Claire gently brushes her fingers against your back, you jump.

You hadn't heard her move.

“Look at me.” She softly says, and you shiver at how low her voice is pitched.

“There's a good girl.” She smiles as you listen, and the pulse of heat that shoots down your spine makes you feel dizzy.

Her hand comes up to cup your face, angling it upwards and forcing you to meet her eyes.

“Do you mean it, baby?” She asks, and you shiver at the pet-name, biting your lip as you grow more aroused. “You'll help mommy destress?”

Your eyes widen at the title Claire has bestowed upon herself, and you flush with embarrassment as the whine you've been fighting to keep down slips out through your mouth and escapes.

Your boss chuckles.

“Such a sweet thing. You had no idea what you were getting yourself into, offering to stay so late with me, did you?”

You frown, confused, despite your ever growing arousal.

“Wh-what do you mean?”

Claire smiles, but it's a sharp thing that causes gooseflesh to erupt along your arms.

“Please, doll. I've seen the way you look at me. And we both know how aware you are of how… Lonely, I have been.”

Her hand reaches out, and she brushes her knuckles gently against your cheek.

“Say yes.”

Her voice is pitched low, and it makes you shiver.

“Say yes to mommy, and I promise, you'll never have to worry about a thing again.”

Perhaps it should be your sign to leave right now, the possessiveness that practically drips from the governor's tone, but all it does is empty your head of thought.

“Yes.” You breathlessly say. “Yes, I'll help mommy destress.”

“Good girl.” She purrs, and when your lips part to allow a moan to tumble out, Claire gently presses against your tongue with two fingers.

When you stay still, frozen and unsure of what the older woman wants you to do, she furrows her brow and withdraws her fingers.

“Have you ever had sex before, honey?”

Immediately you can feel heat rise to your cheeks as you shake your head, shame rising in your throat.

“I- I'm a virgin.” You whisper, tripping over your words. “This is my first time…”

You trail off, embarrassed.

“Oh, sweetheart.” Claire coos, her eyes sparking with something that makes you feel a bit like her prey. “Budge over.” She says.

Mindlessly, you obey, scooting all the way down, and Claire settles back against the arm of the couch, and she lazily smiles at you as she slowly, tantalizingly spreads her legs.

You had no idea a suit skirt could stretch so much.

You had no idea how well it could hide the fact that Claire wasn't wearing any underwear either.

“Teach me how to make you feel good.” You're flooded by a sudden need to please this woman spread out before you, a sudden desire to watch her come undone because of you. “Show me how to touch you.” You beg. “Please.”

Claire chuckles deeply.

“You're going to be so perfect for me, baby.” She husks out, and you can feel how your pussy pulses, leaking wetness against the material of your underwear.

Unlike Claire, you're wearing a pair.

A niggling feeling of regret bothers you.

You wish you were easily accessible for your boss.

You want her to ruin you.

“Come here, honey.” Claire beckons you with a single finger, and you're obedient, crawling until you hover over her.

She reaches her hands up, and oh so gently cups your face with her hands, guiding your head downwards until your lips are just millimeters apart.

One of her thumbs softly brushes over your cheek, moving back and forth in a soothing sweeping motion, and her silvery-blue eyes gaze deep into your own.

The moment stretches, and you grow impatient of waiting, and despite your heart hammering against your ribcage, you close the miniscule gap between your lips and hers.

They're so fucking soft.

Claire isn't your first kiss by any means, but you deeply wish it were.

You're moaning into her mouth like you're a slut, and when Claire enters your own with her tongue, it's all you can do to keep yourself from falling atop of her as your limbs go weak.

Languidly, you make out with your boss, and as you do so, one of her knees makes its way between the apex of your thighs.

When you instinctively buck into the touch, Claire pulls away, and breathlessly laughs at you.

“Remember, doll. This is about mommy, not about you.”

Your head is spinning from the lack of oxygen.

You whimper, and bite your lip.

Her expression softens, and she reaches up to tuck an errant strand of hair behind your ear.

“Didn't mommy say that as long as you're with me, I'll see to all your needs? Make me feel good, and I promise, you'll get a reward, sweet thing.”

You drop your head against her shoulder, and the whine that escapes you causes Claire to reach up and stroke at your hair.

“Let me show you how to touch mommy, baby. Let me show you how she likes to be pleasured.”

It's not fair, you think. No one woman should have the right to say things like that in such a husky sounding voice.

Your pussy throbs.

You lift your head up, and shift your weight, settling back so that you're straddling Claire.

“Please mommy, teach me.” You beg, and the older woman groans at the plain desperation that drips from your tone. “Teach me how to make you scream for your baby.”

At the word ‘scream’, Claire's eyes light up, something that simultaneously sends a shiver of fear through your body, but also a shiver of anticipation.

“You want to make mommy scream, doll? Get off, and I'll show you how.”

Gracelessly you tumble off of Claire and onto the floor, and she shakes her head as she laughs.

“You’re adorable, sweetheart.”

She stands, and as she walks back to her desk, she strips, carelessly leaving her clothes crumbled on the floor.

As she settles back into her leather seat, she spreads her legs wide in a clear order.

Her gaze feels intense as she watches you wobble over to her, before you collapse, dropping to your knees, your legs unable to continue to support your weight.

Your head spins as the scent of Claire’s arousal overwhelms you, and you look up at your boss with wide, pleading eyes.

She chuckles, and her hand comes down to pet your hair, before they tangle and tug at you.

“M-mommy!” You protest. “I still don't know what to do!”

Claire groans, but she doesn't stop guiding you forward.

“You're smart, doll. I'm sure you can figure it out.”

You whimper, but don't protest further, and then the older woman's cunt is directly in your face, and you're powerless as you stick your tongue out hesitantly.

You give her a taste test.

The wetness that is slowly dripping from Claire is a bit salty, but mostly, it just tastes musky.

It isn't bad.

It's just… New.

You give Claire’s pussy a few more tiny little licks, trying to acclimate to her taste, and she tightens her hold on your hair.

“I thought you wanted to make mommy scream.” She bites out, yanking you flush against her pulsing center. “So do it. Mommy needs to relax, and you're going to help.”

Helplessly, you do as Claire commands, and you start lapping at her earnestly.

When she lets out an unrestrained moan above you, you can't help but moan in return, and Claire gasps.

She yanks your head back, her chest heaving slightly, pupils blown wide.

“I never thought you could make such sweet noises, baby.” She breathlessly says.

You feel heat rushing to your face, and Claire's free hand grips your chin when you try to look away.

“Neither did I.” You whisper, ashamed.

Claire tsks.

“None of that now, honey, mommy wants to hear you again. Moan for me.”

Your mouth drops open, and your mind goes blank as you try to process your boss’s demand.

Her grip tightens.

“I said moan for me, bitch.”

It tumbles involuntarily from your mouth, loud and uncontrolled, and Claire's grip on your chin turns painfully.

“Does that turn you on? For mommy to degrade you like the little fucking slut you are?”

The noise you make in response causes Claire’s eyes to glint as she smirks.

“Who knew beneath all that innocence was a whore.” She coos, before jerking your head forward in a clear demand.

You eat her out for what feels like ages, the taste of Claire filling your senses, and you grow progressively lightheaded.

You find your thoughts slipping away as you become utterly focused on not letting one drop of your boss’s wetness to escape your tongue, and you find your hands keeping her legs spread apart as you become more eager in your ministrations.

You feel drunk as Claire begins to make higher and higher pitched noises until finally, she goes so high, it's a shrill thing that your ears can barely withstand, and there's a wetness soaking your face that isn't from how vigorously you had been pleasuring her.

She hasn't told you to stop, though, and you find yourself not wanting to regardless, so you continue to lap at her until she harshly jerks your head away.

“Enough.” She pants, eyes closed, chest heaving. “Enough.”

Your head spins, and you feel dizzy as you stare, memorized by the woman above you.

You open your mouth, aware there's something you want to ask, but you can't seem to conjure enough words in your mind to even speak them aloud.

Silvery-blue eyes open, and the most self satisfied smirk you have ever seen curls at the edges of Claire’s lips.

“How precious.” She murmurs, before sticking her heeled foot out.

You hadn't noticed that despite shedding her clothes, the older woman had kept her shoewear on.

“Why don't you make yourself feel good, and put on a pretty show for mommy, hm?”

You slowly close your mouth, becoming aware it's been hanging open, and give your boss a confused look.

Claire sighs.

“That's right, you really don't have any experience. Could have fooled me, with how well you've made me cum, doll.”

You flush, uncertain if it's from the praise or from the degradation.

You watch as Claire carefully stands, and you're startled when she hisses, her left leg buckling from how loose and relaxed her muscles have become.

“Strip.” Claire orders, her knuckles white from how hard she's clutching at her desk. “And then lay back on the couch.”

You scramble, tugging your shirt off as you simultaneously attempt to undo the button of your pants, and you wind up tripping, falling to the floor.

Claire's laughter causes your face to heat up.

“Looks like my baby needs my help, hm?” She giggles, toeing off her heels so that she can walk properly.

You whine, and can feel tears pricking at the corners of your eyes with embarrassment.

“Aw, sweetheart.” Claire pouts. “Mommy thinks you're cute for being so eager. No need to be so sad over it.”

You whine again, but slowly force yourself to sit up.

“Mommy.” You whimper. “Jus’ wanted to feel good.”

The older woman’s amused expression visibly softens, and warm hands reach for you.

You stand with Claire's help, and she almost reverently helps you undress, gently kissing each newly revealed piece of skin.

“Look at this beautiful body, honey. Just so perfect for me.”

Unable to bear the compliment, you choose instead to bury your head against the upper part of Claire's chest.

She coos, and runs her fingers through your hair.

“Oh, sweet thing. Is my baby feeling shy?”

You nod against her, noticing the soft smell of vanilla.

You've never noticed it before.

You had thought it was maybe the air refresher in Claire's office, but no.

It's her.

Your head spins.

And you're so wet.

Claire's laugh rumbles against you, and she easily guides you towards the couch.

You only grow steadily redder as she pulls your legs apart, kissing her way up from one ankle, and then kisses her way back down the other, over and over until you're squirming with your need.

“Mommy, please!” You cry.

Claire groans, eyes fluttering shut for a few moments, before she pulls you close, hooking your legs over her shoulders.

When she noses at your clit, your hands find her hair, and she tsks.

“No, doll. I won't reward you if you pull at my hair.”

Reluctantly, you release your grip, and bury your fingers against the cushion of the couch instead.

“Good girl.” Claire praises, and you moan softly in response.

When her tongue presses against you, you shudder at the new sensation.

It's wet and warm and slightly rough, and–

“Oh, fuck!” You cry out. “Fuck, mommy!”

Claire's hands harshly grip at the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, making you whimper, but she continues to lavish her tongue over your clit, and you begin to squirm in earnest.

You've masterbated plenty of times, and have a few toys in your bedside drawer, but that is nothing compared to the older woman’s touch.

Within a few minutes, you're already near orgasm, and you chase the release, fighting the urge to bring your hands back up to tangle into Claire's hair.

And then right when you're about to reach that high, the moment before the waves of pleasure can overwhelm you, she pulls away, and you loudly sob.

“No, please.” You gasp.

Claire smirks, and you whimper at how lustful her gaze is, at how your wetness glistens on the bottom half of her face.

“You want to cum, baby?” She mocks you, pouting. “You want mommy to let you feel good? Then beg for it. I need to hear my cute little doll ask for permission first.”

You whimper.

“Please, mommy.” You can feel tears start to gather with how badly you want this. “Please let your baby cum, I wanna cum for you, I wanna feel good, please, please, please!”

“Hm…” Claire hums.

“Please.” The tears start to roll down your cheeks. “I wanna to cum, mommy. I want you to make me cum, please.”

You let out a sob of desperation when a single digit finds your swollen clit, and lightly begins to circle it.

“Please.” You whisper, your voice getting caught in your throat.

For a moment, you think your boss is going to deny you, and you open your mouth to continue to beg, when instead you gasp, two of Claire’s fingers suddenly stretching you open.

You let out a high pitch noise when she curls the digits, pleasure burning through you, and you buck your hips.

“Mommy, mommy, mommy!” You chant, unable to form any other thought, let alone words.

“Cum for me, princess.” Claire softly orders, and as if your body was designed to obey her every desire, you convulse, a scream tearing it's way from your throat as she continues to finger fuck you, the gushing wetness weeping from your pussy causing a squelching noise, and you writhe as you ride the high.

“Fuck, baby.” Claire groans. “I want you to come for me again.”

You squirm desperately, the aftershocks still pulsing through you, but Claire is stronger than your now limp body, and she thumbs at your clit, sending electric waves up your spine, causing your back to arch painfully.

“FUCK!” You cry out, unable to control your volume, and you can barely hear Claire's responding moan over the static in your ears as a new wave of ecstasy crashes over you.

You're gasping for air with how it steals your breath away, and when Claire collapses on top of you, you gladly welcome it, despite how it further suffocates your lungs of oxygen.

She smells so good. You think as you start to come back to your senses.

The scent of vanilla is still prominent, but it's now mixed with the smell of Claire’s sweat.

Somehow, it's more appealing.

The smell of sex still hangs heavy in the air, and you throb as your body unfairly grows more aroused again.

“Mommy.” You whisper.

Claire groans, burying her head further against your neck.

“You smell so good, princess.” She says. “And you look so beautiful when I fuck your brains out.”

A whimper catches in the back of your throat.

Claire finally moves, shifting until she's sitting upright, and you don't think she's ever looked as enthralling as does now.

Her cheeks are flushed, and you can clearly see faint freckles that are usually hidden under a layer of makeup that Claire must have sweated off, and her hair has gone from stick straight to gentle waves, a halo of frizz framing her face.

You lose yourself in her eyes, at how she smiles so tenderly as she helps you up and to the private attached bathroom in her office.

“Let's get cleaned up, doll.” She says, and you grin goofily at her.

Your head is still spinning.

She giggles, a light sound that makes you join in once a light snort causes her to double over.

“You're so cute.” She smiles, and you obediently spread your legs when she taps your thigh.

She gently runs the wash cloth in her hand over the sticky residue of your arousal, and you flinch every time she passes over your clit.

“You’re still so sensitive.” She breathes out. “Did mommy not satisfy you, doll? Do you want mommy to keep going until it hurts for me to?”

“I- ah!” You cry out when Claire firmly swipes the cloth over your swollen bud. “I just want to be good.”

Claire peers up at you, and you hold your breath as she weighs your words.

“Next time then, maybe.” She decides, and you aren't sure if your shoulders slump with relief or disappointment.

She finishes cleaning you up, before moving on to herself, telling you to wait as she does so.

You watch as her back muscles move with her motions, and you can't resist the urge to kiss them, to nip at them.

Who knew the governor would have such fairly well defined muscles?

“Baby.” Claire warns.

“Mmm… Mommy.” You reply, before darting the tip of your tongue out against her warm skin.

“Baby, if you want to go home, you'll stop.”

“But you're so pretty. I can't help it.”

Claire turns around, shaking her head.

“You're adorable, honey. Come on, let's get dressed so we can head home.”

Claire has to help you into your shirt and pants, and you don't notice when she pockets your underwear instead of giving it back to you when she spots it under the couch.

Before you leave, your boss insists on watching you drink a glass of water, predicting you'll be too tired to do so once she drops you off at home, expressing how important it is to her that you take care of yourself.

By the time you get to her car, you're stumbling with exhaustion, beginning to crash as the endorphin high wears off.

You can't keep your eyes open once she starts driving, and when you let out a huge yawn, Claire glances at you.

“Go to sleep, baby.” She soothingly says. “I'll wake you up when we get home.”

You're used to listening when she asks you of something, and so you don't think twice as you finally allow your eyes to stay close, and you drift off, Claire's warm hand on your thigh.

[skys-haunted]

im sorry if this strange to ask but what designs were ripped off last season? i dont mean this as a i dont believe you thing, i genuinely dont know and am a little curious ;;

the artist would like to no longer be associated/bothered so i wont explain or detail much but. A fan season was posted many months (closer to a year, i believe?) before remembrance w the same name and cosmetics for their spirit oc's (cosmetics like the flower basket, newsboy hat, headscarf and apron) and then a few seasons later everything designed on that one piece of fanart for that fanseason was used in-game along with the name of said fanseason, which is completely too specific to be coincidental. something similar happened for the ults in shattering ect.

[tsukiflwr]

❝ I MIGHT LET YOU MAKE ME JUNO… ❞

𝓹airing ∿ hyung line! enha x f!reader ᰔ 𝓱eadcanons ; slightly suggestive, fluff?, humor? 𝔀: slightly suggestive, skinship, kissing 𐙚 𝔀c 1485 ᝰ.ᐟ 𝓻oro's note. this idea came to me out of know where ﹒ ꒰ 𝓵ibrary ꒱

𝓢. enhypen hyung line reacting to you singing along to ‘juno’

LEE HEESEUNG

“wanna try out my fuzzy pink handcuffs?” you quietly sang along to the song as you scrolled through your pinterest feed, saving all the cute pictures in the proper section. your feet kicked in the air, matching the tempo of the song. you were laying on your stomach in your boyfriend's bed while he was at his computer, his attention on the game he was playing – or at least you thought it was. you had stolen his attention from his game as soon as he heard you sing something about his dads genetics. 

he quietly slipped off his headphones – not like you could have heard it anyway if he didnt, you had your own headphones on – and he got up from his chair, a small smirk adoring his lips at how cute you looked in his shirt. you didn't flinch at the sudden touch of his hands on your ankles, softly pushing your elevated legs down on the bed so he could straddle your thighs. “seungie?” you hummed in confusion as you felt him press his chest against your back, taking your headphones off for you. 

heeseung chuckled and placed a few kisses on your shoulder, up your neck and to your ear as he whispered huskily “the answer is yes” you giggled at the feeling of his breath on your neck, and you felt chills go down your spine at your boyfriends tone. ”to what question?” you sassily asked as you turned your head to the side, your breath hitching from how close he was to you. he couldn't help but smirk at your reaction, his eyes dropped to your lips before slowly looking back into your eyes, his tone teasing “I'd loveee to try out your fuzzy pink handcuffs” 

PARK JAY 

jay knew what you were doing before you even played the song; you had been dropping subtle hints – if you could even call them that – for days. sending him cute videos of baby’s while he was off at work, he noticed quickly that the parents were all on the younger side. he had noticed the change in you, ever since your new neighbors moved in next door and your eyes fell on that adorable baby – you had been wanting one of your own. 

“one of me is cute, but two though?” you sang along to the song that was playing through the car speakers, the song of your choosing of course. you fiddled with your fingers in your lap as you tilted your head to look out the window, looking at all the buildings that lit up the dark sky. the corner of jay’s lip twitched up into a small smirk as he listened to you sing along. he quickly glanced at you before looking back at the road. he shook his head as he let out a small chuckle, his eyes on the road as he moved his right hand to rest it on your thigh, gripping the plush of your thigh as he said smoothly “you know all you had to do was ask” 

“hmm?” you hummed in confusion as you tilted your head to look at him, your breath hitching as you took in the sight. from his perfectly slicked back hair and that single strand of hair that was draped over his black framed glasses, to his perfect side profile and down to his adam's apple, and the top of his chest that was exposed from the first few buttons of his black button down being unbuttoned – something he did on purpose because he knew it would drive you crazy to look at from across the restaurant table. 

you bit your lip as he squeezed your thigh harder, his touch leaving a chill in his wake. you felt like you were in a daze as you watched him lick his lips quickly, before that mischievous smirk is adoring his face once again as he repeated his words “all you had to do was use your words and ask me to put a baby in you” your mouth drops in slight shock at how calm and smoothly he said that, he chuckles and slips his hand high up your thigh and under your dress “but you have to be a good girl and say please” 

SIM JAKE

jake bit his lip to hold in his groan as he quietly walked into the kitchen. he had just woken up from a nap when he heard you singing from the kitchen. his eyes immediately went to you and his jaw went slack as he took in the sight of you. there you stood at the counter whisking something in a bowl, clad in one of his shirts and from where he stood it looked like that was all you were wearing, his eyes lingering on your swaying hips to the beat of the song. you smiled and paused your whisking when you felt him hug you from behind. you opened your mouth to greet him, but you were cut off by the loud groan leaving his lips “you are driving me fucking crazy” 

“what did I do now?” you couldn't stop the giggle from leaving your lips at the slight hint of grumpiness in his tone. jake moved his hands that were holding your hips to wrap his arms around your waist, pulling you back flush against his chest, a small groan slipping past his lips at the feeling of you pressed against him. he pouted as he mumbled into your neck “you singing those lyrics, god i can't concentrate on anything” you smiled innocently and resumed mixing your cookie dough “oh…oops”

“Oh, that's all you got to say princess hmm?” jake teased with a playful huff, slipping one of his hands under your shirt to softly caress your stomach, resting his chin on your shoulder. he eyes your pretty side profile before dropping down to watch as you start to put perfect sized circles of cookie dough on the cookie pan. there was something so domestic about seeing you wear his shirt, baking in your shared kitchen, singing lyrics about wanting a baby. god he wanted nothing more than to have a family with you. 

jake let out a loud groan as his imagination started to run wild, he moved his chin off your shoulder and gently dropped his forehead to rest on the middle of your back, his hold on your waist tightening. he closed his eyes as he whined out needily “fuckkk now all i can think about is putting a baby in you” you bit your lip to hold in your chuckle at how whiney your boyfriend sounded, you tilted your head to the side so he could hear you clearly as you tease “if you let me finish these maybe you can”

PARK SUNGHOON

sunghoon watched you with a small smirk as he leaned against the doorway of your bathroom, watching as you leaned over the bathroom sink to look into the mirror as you did your eyeshadow. he pushed himself off the doorway and moved to stand behind you, finally alerting you of his presence as he rested his hands on your hips. he softly caressed your sides as he asked “who’s juno?” 

you pulled the eyeshadow brush away from your eyes as you pulled back from the mirror a little, gaping at your boyfriend through the mirror is disbelief “you're kidding – you've never seen juno?” you watched as he shrugged, shaking his head no with a cute smile. you roll your eyes playfully in false disappointment as you stand up straight, giving him a teasing smile “remind me why I'm dating you?” 

sunghoon chuckled and moved one of his arms up, flexing his muscles in the mirror. smirking at you as he answered in a flirty tone “oh my muscles definitely” you giggled as you turned around to face him leaning back against the counter as you looked up at him. your boyfriend caresses your side before resting his hands on the counter, trapping you in his arms; enjoying how you looked up at him with your pretty eyes. he leaned closer to you, whispering huskily with a smirk “so are we?” 

you rest one of your hands on his hip, fidgeting with his sweatpants before leaning forward to place a few soft kisses on his bare shoulder, smiling at the chills that spread across his skin. “hmm?” you raised your eyebrow as you let out a hum of confusion. sunghoon let out a groan at the feeling of your lips on his now warm skin and the feeling of your fingers teasingly slipping under the band of his sweatpants. he moved one of his hands from the counter to cup your jaw, making you look up at him as he whispered with an innocent smile; his dimples out “gonna try out some freaky positions?” 

𝓻oro's note. hi my lovely people !! I’m so sorry that it’s taken me forever to get another post out, I’ve been superrr busy. I hope you guys enjoyed this , pls let me know what members part you liked the most !! I will not be making a maknae line ver !! ꒰ 𝓷av ꒱

likes, reblogs, comments and feedback are heavily encouraged !

[itsnesss]

𝐚 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐧 | minho (xo,kitty) × fem!reader

OO1. OO2. OO3.

summary | during a weekend getaway, unspoken tension between you and minho comes to a head despite his relationship. a stolen kiss leaves you conflicted, torn between your feelings and doing what’s right

warnings | fluff, infidelity, tension, kisses, emotional conflict

word count | 1.6 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩

The invitation arrived unexpectedly at night. You were about to finish your tasks when your phone buzzed with a message in the group chat you shared with your friends.

Min Ho: "Hey, losers. This weekend, I’m inviting you to my dad’s cabin. Before you start making pathetic plans, confirm who’s coming. It’s going to be epic."

You stared at the message, surprised. Min Ho didn’t usually organize things like this… or at least, he didn’t invite everyone. Yuri was the first to reply.

Yuri: "Of course, we’re coming! Although I can’t believe you’re being generous. Is this a joke?"

Juliana: "I’m in! I wouldn’t miss it!"

Q: "Count me in."

Then, a message from Stella, his girlfriend, appeared.

Stella: "It’ll be fun. 💕"

For a moment, you hesitated. There was something about the idea of spending a weekend with Min Ho that made you feel… nervous. For months, there had been this strange tension between you two: glances that lasted longer than they should, little jokes only you understood, and an electricity you tried to ignore. But he had a girlfriend. And you weren’t that kind of person.

Still, you finally typed: "I’m in."

Min Ho: "Good choice. See you Friday at 5 PM. Don’t be late.

The weekend came quickly. Everyone gathered in the KISS parking lot, where Min Ho waited with his cars. Stella took the passenger seat, and you ended up in the back, squeezed between Yuri and Juliana. During the ride, Min Ho drove with a confidence that was as infuriating as it was attractive, throwing sarcastic comments that seemed aimed directly at you.

"Ready for the best weekend of your life?" he asked, briefly glancing back at you with a smug grin.

"I don’t know, Min Ho. You’ll have to try really hard to impress me," you replied, crossing your arms.

The "cabin" turned out to be a luxury villa in the middle of the forest, with huge windows, modern furniture, and a lake view straight out of a postcard. "Welcome to paradise," Min Ho said, spreading his arms wide.

The afternoon passed with board games, walks by the lake, and laughter. Stella was more interested in her phone than the group, leaving Min Ho free to talk to you more than he should have. His comments seemed harmless, but there was something in his tone and the way he looked at you that made your heart beat faster than usual.

When night fell, Yuri suggested using the outdoor jacuzzi. "It’s the perfect way to end the day!"

"I hope you all brought decent swimsuits," Min Ho said, throwing you a teasing look.

"I hope you talk less," you shot back, meeting his gaze.

The jacuzzi was surrounded by warm lights that gave the garden a tranquil atmosphere. Everyone got in, laughing, and for a while, you managed to relax. Min Ho, as always, dominated the conversation with exaggerated stories, but his eyes kept finding yours. That invisible connection you’d both been ignoring was there, growing stronger by the minute.

One by one, your friends began to leave the jacuzzi. Yuri and Juliana were the first, saying they were cold. Then Q, who yawned dramatically before saying goodnight. Finally, Stella said, "I’m going to bed, love. Don’t stay too long," planting a kiss on Min Ho’s cheek before disappearing into the villa.

Now, you were alone with him. You tried to focus on the starry sky, but the silence between you was too heavy. Finally, Min Ho broke the ice.

"Why do you always do that?"

You turned to him, confused. "Do what?"

"Pretend like nothing matters to you," he said, leaning against the edge of the jacuzzi as he stared at you.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about, Min Ho," you replied, crossing your arms.

"Yes, you do," he insisted, with that infuriating smile that made your heart race and drove you crazy at the same time.

"If you’re looking for a fight, find someone else," you retorted, turning your gaze back to the water.

But he didn’t back down. "I’m not looking for a fight. I just want to understand why you act like you don’t feel the same way I do."

Your heart skipped a beat. "Min Ho, you have a girlfriend."

"That doesn’t answer my question," he said, leaning a little closer to you.

You looked him straight in the eye, trying to stay calm. "Because it doesn’t make sense, Min Ho. We’re different. You’re… you. And I don’t want complications."

"Complications?" he repeated, as if he couldn’t believe it. "Is that what you think I am?"

"No," you admitted softly. "But all of this would be. I don’t want to be the reason someone gets hurt."

For a moment, Min Ho didn’t say anything. He just looked at you, a mix of frustration and something else in his eyes. Finally, he spoke. "Do you know what your problem is? You always try to do the right thing, even when it’s not what you want."

"And that’s a bad thing, according to you?" you replied, raising an eyebrow.

"No, but…" he began, then stopped. He sighed, as if he was about to confess something important. "I’ve been trying to ignore this for months. But every time I’m near you, it’s like nothing else exists."

His words left you breathless. You wanted to say something, but the words didn’t come. And then, before you could think about what you were doing, his lips were on yours.

The kiss was slow, intense, and full of everything you both had been holding back. His hands gently cupped your face, while the world around you seemed to disappear. But just as you were starting to lose yourself in the moment, reality hit you like a bucket of cold water.

You pulled away abruptly, your heart pounding. "This shouldn’t have happened," you said, moving away from him.

Min Ho looked at you, confused. "Why not?"

"Because you have a girlfriend, Min Ho. Stella trusts you. I can’t be that person."

"And what about what I feel? Or what you feel?" he asked, his voice softer this time.

"That doesn’t matter. It can’t matter," you whispered, your eyes filled with a sadness you couldn’t hide.

You quickly got up, wrapping the towel around your body. "I’m sorry, but this isn’t right."

Without waiting for a response, you walked back to the villa, leaving Min Ho alone. His words, and the warmth of his kiss, echoed in your mind as you walked away. This shouldn’t have happened. It couldn’t happen. And yet, a part of you wished things were different.

[our-blood-is-our-ink]

I will... Briefly turn anons back on for this, but reserve the right to cap this at... Three. Three anons for this.

Send me a word and a character/series/pairing and I will write a drabble:

Cheiloproclitic - Being attracted to someones lips. Quidnunc - One who always has to know what is going on. Ultracrepidarian - Of one who speaks or offers opinions on matters beyond their knowledge. Apodyopis - The act of mentally undressing someone. Gymnophoria - The sensation that someone is mentally undressing you. Tarantism - The urge to overcome melancholy by dancing. Autolatry - The worship of one’s self. Cagamosis - An unhappy marriage. Gargalesthesia - The sensation caused my tickling. Capernoited - Slightly intoxicated or tipsy. Lalochezia - The use of abusive language to relieve stress or ease pain. Cataglottism - Kissing with tongue. Basorexia - An overwhelming desire to kiss. Brontide - The low rumbling of distant thunder. Grapholagnia - The urge to stare at obscene pictures. Agelast - A person who never laughs. Wanweird - An unhappy fate. Dystopia - Am imaginary place of total misery. A metaphor for hell. Petrichor - The smell of dry rain on the ground. Anagapesis - The feeling when one no longer loves someone they once did. Malapert - Clever in manners of speech. Duende - Unusual power to attract or charm. Concilliabule - A secret meeting of people who are hatching a plot. Strikhedonia - The pleasure of being able to say “to hell with it”. Lygerastia - The condition of one who is only amorous when the lights are out.
 Ayurnamat - The philosophy that there is no point in worrying about events that cannot be changed. Sphallolalia - Flirtatious talk that leads no where. Baisemain - A kiss on the hand. Druxy - Something which looks good on the outside, but is actually rotten inside. Mamihlapinatapei - The look between two people in which each loves the other but is too afraid to make the first move.

[our-blood-is-our-ink]

12 &13 with eve?

Desire

Ship: Agatha Harkness/Eve Fletcher

Summary: Agatha drops by for a surprise visit, and Eve finally caves to both their desires.

Word Count: 3.3k

Disclaimer: 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI

Warnings: smut, (minor) character death, accidental murder, slight mistress kink, multiple orgasms, magical strap use, oral (Eve receiving), fingering, spanking, degradation, praise, breeding kink, Agatha's heavy use of pet names

A/N: I am. So so sorry this took me so long! But here it is, finally!

Eve enjoys her little cottage out in the middle of nowhere.

It's quiet, save for birdsong and the rustling of the trees in the distance from the wind.

It's cozy, with a fireplace in the living room, one that isn't needed even in winter when the oven is on.

The cottage is small.

Eve doesn't mind. There's only one of her out here anyhow.

Eve enjoys her little cottage out in the middle of nowhere, she muses as she sips her chamomile and lemongrass tea on the front porch.

She's a little lonely but…

She won't think about that.

Lonely is okay, Eve has long decided. As long she's a safe distance from everyone.

She tries to source all her needs from right here, out front, with her garden.

Her trips to the nearest town are infrequent and rare, always wearing a hoodie or a hat that covers her face when she wears sunglasses paired with it.

She doesn't want to be recognized.

Even though-

No.

Eve stands and brings her now empty mug inside to wash it in the sink.

“Hey, toots.”

Eve screams.

“Jesus!” She puts a hand over her heart, trembling. “Stop doing this to me.”

Agatha Harkness chuckles, and Eve’s heart seems to speed up, not slow down.

The dark witch has made it a habit to pop by whenever she feels like it, often scaring Eve with her sudden presence, as she did now.

“How's my favorite unwilling witch doing?”

Eve scowls.

“I'm not a witch, Agatha.”

She turns her back to the raven haired woman, and aggressively turns on the sink.

“Sure, hon. Been up to anything exciting since I've been gone?”

Eve shakes her head, scrubbing viciously at the inside of the mug as the water warms.

“You know I haven't.”

“Did you read the books I left with you?” Agatha asks.

Eve shrugs.

“They didn't have anything useful.”

“That's because you aren't applying yourself.”

There's clear derision in Agatha's voice.

“Just because you think I'm a witch, doesn't mean I am.” Eve replies, a hint of bitterness in her voice.

She turns the tap off, shaking the mug free of a few droplets of water before placing it on the drying rack.

“Are you here to stay for a while?”

“Maybe.” Agatha evasively answers.

“Well, if you are, you know where I keep the linens.”

“Now why would I bother with that when you have a perfectly big enough bed to share?”

Eve can't help the shiver that overtakes her at the sudden husky tone Agatha's voice has adopted.

Despite the dark witch’s frustration with her, she has frequently made multiple attempts to bed Eve.

Eve can admit Agatha is attractive.

But she doesn't trust herself.

Not after–

“Like I said, you know where the linens are.” Eve firmly replies, headed to the fridge.

It's nearing lunchtime.

Agatha blocks her way, pouting.

“How long are we going to play this game, buttercup?” She asks.

The nickname sets Eve’s face aflame, and Agatha's touch burns as she cups one of Eve’s cheeks in her hand.

“How long are you going to let the fear of your own magic control you?”

Eve jerks out of Agatha's touch.

“It isn't fear that's controlling me.” She snaps. “It's the fact that it- that I–”

Just as suddenly as it had come rushing to the surface, Eve’s anger dissipates.

The last time she had gotten truly angry she had–

Gentle fingers swipe away at her tears.

“Oh, angel.” Agatha sighs sadly. “Magic doesn't have to be violent, it just often reveals itself in times of great distress. It's not your fault that you hadn't known what blood runs through your veins, or that it reacted to a situation it deemed dangerous to you.”

“But I- I killed him, Agatha. I–”

Soft lips press themselves against her forehead.

“Come, sweetheart.” The dark witch whispers, guiding Eve to the living room couch, pulling her into her lap.

Eve would normally protest at being treated as if she were a child, but the hole in her chest has grown too great for her to do anything other than listen to the one person she talks to anymore.

Soothing circles are rubbed against her back, and Agatha somehow senses Eve needs quiet.

She silently cries, and after a while, feels all dried up.

“I hadn't meant to.” She roughly whispers, breaking the silence. “I hadn't meant to hurt him. To- to kill him. But when I found him in our bed, with another woman- I had asked him over and over if he was upset with me that we were struggling to have a baby. And he lied to me. He- I–”

A dry sob wracks Eve’s body, causing her to shudder.

“I don't know why I keep doing things wrong.”

“You haven't been.” Agatha's voice is soft, but firm. “You can't control other people, superstar. Unless you use a spell, but even then. Your husband made his choices of his own free will. A better spouse wouldn't have treated you so awfully.”

I wouldn't have treated you so awfully.

It's almost as if Eve can hear Agatha speak the words, though her mouth has ceased moving.

Heartbreak and loneliness yawn in the chasam that rests inside of Eve’s chest.

Her stomach rumbles.

“How about lunch, hm, toots?” Agatha laughs, and the sound soothes a little bit of the darkness swirling within Eve.

“That sounds nice.” Eve mumbles, and reluctantly gets off of Agatha's surprisingly comfortable lap.

Agatha won't let Eve help prepare the food, and there's something about watching the witch whirling around the kitchen, making what looks like soup and some sort of small pizza squares that's entirely captivating to Eve.

Agatha presents the meal with a flourish, and though Eve’s smile is muted, she grins wildly in response.

“Talk to me.” Eve quietly asks. “Ramble about your latest project.”

Agatha can sense the request laying underneath.

Speak so I don't have to think.

She happily complies and quickly dives into her favorite subject.

Magic.

Agatha becomes increasingly animated as she talks, and Eve’s attention is easily swept away by the witch.

She continues to listen as Agatha does the dishes while she dries, and when Agatha shuts off the tap, she pauses, briefly.

In the sudden silence, Eve unthinkingly rises to her tippy toes.

Her hand has found warm skin, and it curves naturally around it.

Agatha allows her head to be guided downward.

Her lips are slightly chapped, but Eve doesn't mind.

She doesn't have any thoughts to mind at all, her entire being focused on kissing Agatha.

Her other hand has found soft curls, and Agatha's own are at her waist, pulling Eve closer to her.

It's the sort of connection Eve hasn't allowed herself to entertain for a few years now.

Her knees feel weak.

Her head is spinning.

Oh, air. She needs air.

Gently, haltingly, she parts her lips from Agatha's, breathing heavily.

One of Agatha's hands travels from Eve’s waist to cup her face, and she gently brushes her thumb in a back and forth motion across her cheek, and her eyes search Eve’s.

Eve can't bear how those blue brights seem to pierce her through to her very soul, and so she closes the gap between her lips and Agatha's once more.

This time, Agatha's touch is hungry, and her tongue licks into Eve’s mouth, causing her to groan.

She finds herself being pushed up against the kitchen counter, her wrists pinned by Agatha's strong hands.

Eve’s neck aches with the strain of the angle it finds itself being tilted at, but she pays it little mind as Agatha kisses her so thoroughly she can barely think.

“Are you sure you want this, superstar?” Agatha husks out as she tenderly parts from Eve.

Eve feels dizzy.

Eve feels good.

Agatha makes her feel good.

Eve nods.

“I'm- I'm sure.” She pants out, still attempting to catch her breath.

It's a useless cause, because Agatha kisses her again, hard and eager, and Eve's breath becomes Agatha's, as Agatha's becomes hers.

The older woman's hands guide her as they make out, having Eve settle onto the counter, before they begin the task of undressing her.

As each piece of clothing is discarded, Eve’s thoughts seem to follow, and she's barely aware of the whimpering, moaning mess she's become.

Agatha's touch burns cold, her hands wandering, groping and trailing and teasing as she continues to kiss Eve.

The need for air becomes too great, however, and Eve is forced to push weakly against Agatha in an attempt to pull away.

The witch chuckles deeply in her throat.

“Too much, sweet pet?”

The world spins into unreality, and Eve feels fuzzy. Floating. Untethered.

Agatha chuckles again, and Eve whines when her long, nimble fingers pinch at her nipples.

“Is this why you fought so hard, angel?” Agatha's voice has turned husky.

It's insanely attractive.

“You didn't want me finding out what a cute little whore you are?”

Eve somehow flushes an even deeper shade of red than she already was.

“A-Agatha!” She moans.

The other woman’s lips curve into a smirk as they brush up against the side of Eve’s neck.

“Say my name again.” She orders.

“Agatha.” Eve breathlessly obeys. “Agatha.”

“Oh, good girl.” The witch purrs, and Eve’s need becomes white hot.

A soft whine is pulled from her as Agatha attaches her lips to the soft flesh of Eve’s neck, sucking gently at first before biting down, causing Eve to mewl with want.

A rough tongue gently lavishes its attention to the bite, and Eve tips her head back, making herself more easily accessible.

The soft sting of Agatha's magic that she somehow knows from the handful of times the other woman has used it around her brushes against Eve, and there's the sudden feeling of Agatha’s cool skin against her own overheated flesh.

“Agatha, please.” Eve whimpers.

Blue bright eyes darkened by arousal and need and lust meet Eve’s own sky blues, lips reddened and plush dangerously curved in a wicked smile allowing a chuckle to pass from between them.

“Of course, darling.” Agatha husks out, her hands coming up to cup Eve’s face. “How could I resist when you beg so prettily?”

Eve’s hands encircle Agatha's wrists, and she feels a thrill of excitement, but also a thrill of trepidation.

“Just go slow?” She asks. “I've never… I've only been with men.”

Agatha's eyes suddenly look somewhere between pitiful and eager.

“Oh you poor thing.”

Eve closes her eyes and turns her head away, unable to bear the pity.

“They weren't all… Bad.” She mumbles.

“Tell me, did any of them make you finish without you having to help them build yourself up to it?” Agatha demands, her hands slipping from Eve’s face.

Eve stays silent.

Agatha's hand firmly takes hold of her chin, and gently guides Eve to make eye contact with her once more.

“I can't believe you're this innocent, buttercup.” Agatha says. “You've never known what true pleasure feels like… It makes me want to wreck you."

A whimper gets stuck halfway out of Eve's throat as Agatha slides her hands down Eve’s body, lowering herself to her knees.

Agatha tugs at Eve’s legs, bringing her to the edge of the counter, and Eve’s certain that's not the only edge Agatha will be bringing her to as the witch begins to use her mouth to tease at Eve’s inner thighs, purposefully ignoring her soaking wet center.

Soft curls once more find their way around Eve’s fingers, and Agatha laughs softly.

“Eager now, aren't we, toots?”

“Please, Agatha.” Eve begs. “I need you.”

Agatha's response is to press a kiss in between Eve’s legs, causing her to tremble with anticipation.

“Please.” She breathes out, wide eyed.

A long moan tumbles out of her as her nerves turn to fire when Agatha's warm tongue begins to lick at her, swirling around her clit, shallowly delving into her sopping cunt before licking through her folds again.

Something crashes into the sink as Eve begins to writhe on the countertop, her mind heedy and clouded by bright pleasure, but neither she nor Agatha pay any mind as the older woman sucks Eve’s little bundle of nerves into her mouth.

“Oh, fuck!” Eve cries out. “Fuck! Agatha!”

It's embarrassingly quick, how swiftly Eve’s first orgasm comes crashing over her, and she screams her lover's name.

Agatha pulls away to cackle, and for some godforsaken reason, Eve finds it to be the sexist thing she's ever heard.

“I'm not through with you yet, superstar.” Agatha laughs, and with only that as her warning, two fingers slip into Eve, stretching her out.

“O-oh!” She gasps. “Shit!”

“There we go, toots. Take my fingers, like the good fucking slut I know you are.”

Eve groans as she thrashes.

“M-more! Please!”

“What a greedy little thing you are.” Agatha husks out darkly, withdrawing her fingers to deliver a mind melding slap directly to Eve’s exposed pussy.

“Ah!” She cries, and can feel wetness gush from her dripping hole.

“Did the dumb whore like that?” Agatha cruelly asks. “Does the little princess want her dumb cunt to be spanked?”

A wanton moan slips out from Eve, and she isn't sure when Agatha stood back from her knees, but she's suddenly towering over her, despite the fact that Eve is up on the counter.

“Oh, someone likes the idea of that.” Agatha punctures her words with another slap to Eve’s bare pussy.

“W-what happened t-to slow?” Eve stutters out, pleasure nearly overwhelming her.

Agatha only raises a brow.

“Is that what you still want?” She asks. “For me to take things slow?”

A single long, blackened digit begins to lightly circle Eve’s clit agonizingly slowly, and when she tries to squirm, Agatha's magic pins her down, causing Eve to throw her head back with ecstasy.

Agatha's magic has never felt so… Orgasmic against her skin like this before.

“Oh dear.” Agatha laughs. “I don't think you do want to still take things slow.”

Suddenly, the finger on her clit becomes two, and the pace it's rubbing against her is much faster.

“A-A-A–!” Eve tries to scream Agatha's name, but she can't make it past the first syllable.

“That's it, angel.” Agatha encourages, her eyes focused wholly on how Eve leaks against her. “Come for me. Come for mistress.”

It's the title that does it, it's the title that causes the coil inside of Eve to snap, burning with pleasure.

She comes hard, unable to breathe from the intensity, her body going rigid.

“Oh, Eve.” Agatha breaths out, her voice full of awe.

Eve falls back as her peak drops, panting heavily, eyes closed as her head feels like it's in the stratosphere.

“Baby, have you ever done that before? Or am I the first?”

Eve groans in complaint. She doesn't have any idea what Agatha's saying.

“Eve.” Agatha's voice is firm. “Look at me, dear.”

Reluctantly, Eve scraps together her will power, and peels her eyes open.

Agatha's gaze is intense, burning ice blue fire.

“Has anyone else ever made you squirt before?”

Eve gapes at Agatha.

She must be misunderstanding.

Her head is still spinning, and she's still panting heavily.

She must be misunderstan–

Agatha's rough kiss interrupts her thought, and she thinks she can taste herself on the other woman’s tongue.

“I can't believe what a gift you've given me, darling.”

Oh.

Eve looks up at Agatha, mouth slightly parted, eyes wide.

“I'm never letting you go.”

The statement should scare Eve.

Instead, she finds herself grasping at Agatha's shoulders, bringing her closer.

“Prove it.” She orders. “Show me.”

This time, Agatha's kiss is slow and sweet, and has Eve melting under touch.

“You're mine, superstar.” Agatha says as she pulls away.

Eve bites her lip.

“I'll prove it to you.” Agatha vows.

She begins to pepper kisses all over Eve’s skin, praising every inch of her.

“You're beautiful, doll.” Agatha says. “You're absolutely perfect.”

When she reaches the apex of Eve’s thighs, she reverently kisses her clit.

“I'm going to make you feel so good.” She promises, like she hasn't already.

“Please, Agatha. Please make me come.”

Agatha groans, and takes Eve into her mouth, causing Eve to arch her back.

She rapidly builds up to a blinding orgasm, and this time she can feel it when she squirts again, silently screaming from how the ecstasy rips through her.

And then there's something suddenly prodding at her entrance, and when Agatha slides into her with one smooth motion, Eve nearly blacks out.

Never before has Eve ever had a partner in bed who made her feel so good from the simple act of penetration.

Agatha groans.

“Your cunt is so tight around my strap, angel. Just perfect for me.”

Eve whimpers. Could Agatha feel her?

She gets her answer soon enough, as Agatha picks up a steady paste, and it isn't just Eve who's making noises of pleasure.

“Gonna cum in you, gonna make you take all of me.” Agatha growls. “Gonna get you fucking pregnant when no one else could.”

Coming from anyone else, Eve would have felt too bad at that last statement to not be in an instant turn off.

Agatha, it appears, has somehow become an impulsive exception.

“Want you!” Eve gasps out. “Breed me, breed me!”

The strap doesn't twitch, being made of the silicone it is, but as Agatha's eyes roll back inside her head, Eve senses it would have.

And then something is being released inside of her from Agatha, the sensation of being stuffed full of cum causing Eve's own eyes to roll around her skull as she follows Agatha over the edge.

“Fuck.” Agatha hisses, her pace not having stopped for a moment. “Gonna keep fucking this fucking greedy hole of yours, gonna give you all my come, gonna make you milk me dry.”

When Agatha roughly starts circling her clit, Eve begins to thrash about, overstimulated.

And then Agatha comes again.

And again.

And again.

On and on and on, until all Eve can do is just lay there and take it.

A gentle kiss pressed against her nose causes her eyes to flutter open.

The bed underneath her is soft.

The… Bed?

“Wha..?” Eve slurs.

Agatha softly laughs.

“Welcome back, dear.”

Her head feels stuffed full of cotton.

“Wha- where did I go?” Eve's mouth also feels stuffed full of cotton.

Agatha laughs again.

“Don't worry about that right now, sweet thing. Can you sit up for me?”

Eve groans, but Agatha's steady hands help her up, and when her wet hair moves against her still bare skin, her stomach flips.

“You used your magic on me.” Eve accuses.

Agatha clicks her tongue.

“Nothing so paranormal, toots. You just experienced a deep subspace.”

Subspace..?

The word seems… Familiar, somehow.

Agatha sighs.

“I told you, dear, don't worry about that now.” She makes a gesture with her hands. “Turn around, hon, I'm going to braid your hair for you.”

Eve lethargically shuffles around, and as Agatha's long, gentle fingers comb through her hair, parting it, she finds her eyes slipping shut once more.

“Don't fall asleep on me until I've finished, pet.” Agatha's amusedly says.

“Mmm…” Eve sleepily hums as Agatha begins plaiting.

The witch’s hands are skilled, and it doesn't take much longer than a couple of minutes before Eve’s hair has been braided back.

“Come, now you can sleep, superstar.” Agatha whispers in her ear, pulling Eve down to the pillows.

Except… The pillow her cheek is resting on is oddly war– oh!

“You're cozy.” Eve mumbles out.

Agatha's chuckle rumbles.

“I'm glad, my dear.”

“You'll stay?”

There's a brief pause, and for a moment, fear nearly awakens Eve properly, before Agatha's arms squeeze around her.

“I'll stay.”

Eve relaxes again.

“‘Kay, good.”

Agatha laughs, clear and loud, startled.

Eve thinks it's the most musical sound she's heard.

“Yeah, good.” Agatha agrees, and a soft kiss is pressed against Eve’s temple. “Now go to sleep, darling. I'll be here when you wake up.”

“Promise?” Eve anxiously asks.

“I promise, Eve.”

Eve smiles, and cuddles closer to Agatha, finally allowing herself to rest.

“Thank you.” She sleepily slurs.

“Of course, angel. Of course.”

[slutzforbueckers]

dear april- p.b x f!reader

pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader

warnings: angst?

synopsis: what happens when two people— two very different people— meet and fall in love?

a/n: i hope yall like this im not good at angst 😭also i listened to dear april by frank ocean while writing this so its lowk based off that song.

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

you never wanted the attention to be on you, you never liked the feeling of all eyes being on you. sometimes you felt like a shadow in your own life. moving through the world unnoticed, quiet, an afterthought in every room you stepped into. you never cared for the attention, never fought for the spotlight, never asked to be more than what you were. you never wanted that, at least not until you met paige.

paige buckers, the golden girl, the prodigy, the name whispered on every sports analyst's lips. paige was the type of person who made you believe in fate, in destiny. she shone so brightly that sometimes you wondered if you'd burn just by standing too close.

you met her on a rainy afternoon, the kind where the sky wept for hours, soaking the streets and forcing people to rush from place to place with their heads down. you had just left the library and you were waiting for your uber to take you to your job.

you had been sitting on a bench outside the library, watching the rain fall, your sketchbook balanced on your knees. you had been lost in a drawing, charcoal smudged across your fingertips, when you felt a presence beside you.

"what are you drawing?" a voice had asked, clear despite the heavy downpour of rain.

you looked up to find paige standing in front of you, drenched from the rain, her backpack slung over one shoulder. she was wearing her team hoodie, the fabric clinging to her like a second skin. you recognized her instantly, but you pretended you hadn't.

"nothing special." you turned your attention back to your drawing, not wanting to stare for too long. you silently hoped she'd go away, you couldn't figure out why someone like her would bother to stop and talk to you. she didn't go away, instead she took a seat next to you, peering over your shoulder at the sketchbook in your hands.

"can i see?" her voice came out smooth, unlike yours which had a slight shake to it. you hesitated for a moment, then slowly passed it to her. paige looked at you for a second before turning her attention to the paper. it was a sketch of the library in front of you. she ghosted her fingertips over the details, careful not to smudge anything. "that's really good, you must see the world differently."

she handed you the sketchbook back, her eyes meeting yours. you shrugged, your fingers picking at the rips in your jeans. "maybe. i appreciate the beauty in things around me."

paige went quiet for a second before she spoke again, her voice softer and a little less confident. "i like that."

you fell together slowly, then all at once. paige, who spent her life surrounded by noise, found something quiet and steady in you. and you, who had always felt like you were watching life from the sidelines, were suddenly in the game. late night drives, secret kisses in empty gyms, stolen moments before and after paiges practices—it was yours. no one else mattered in those moments, just you and her.

you could remember the first time paige had let her guard down. it was the middle of the night, and you had driven out to the lake just outside of town. paige had been quiet the entire drive, her hands gripping the steering wheel tightly.

“talk to me,” you whispered when she finally parked the car. you reached over and ran your fingertips over her clenched jaw, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. paige exhaled slowly, staring out at the reflection of the moon on the water.

“sometimes,” she opened her mouth but shut it, not being able to gather her thoughts enough to speak. you waited patiently, staring at the side of her face until she spoke again. “sometimes i feel like i don’t even belong to myself. like i’m just…existing for other people. coaches, my teammates, my fans. everyone has a version of me that they want me to be— sometimes i forget who i am when i try to be me.”

you reached for her hand, squeezing it gently. “and who are you when you’re just you?”

“i don’t know,” paige went silent, her chest closing with vulnerability. she took a deep breath and turned to you. “but when i’m with you, i feel like i can breathe.”

but the world wasn’t kind to love like yours. paige’s career was on the rise, she had cameras in her face, expectations weighing on her shoulders, and a future that didn’t leave room for any hesitation. and you? you were just you. no flashing lights, no one screaming your name, no crowds waiting for you, no bright future carved out in headlines. that didn’t stop you though. you tried— god, you tried.

paige whispered promises into your skin, holding you tight like she could keep you both frozen in time. “you’re the only thing that feels real,” she admitted one night, her voice raw, forehead pressed against yours.

you remembered all the amazing moments you had, moments where everything felt perfect, like you had carved out a piece of the universe just for the two of you.

you had snuck into the school’s basketball court, it was nearly 3 in the morning but neither of you could manage to fall asleep. so you sat on the bleachers, a smile on your face while you watched paige dribble a ball lazily.

“i’ll teach you how to shoot,” she said suddenly, jogging over and tugging you onto your feet. you laughed out a squeal and shook your head.

“i have terrible aim, p.” you caught the ball she bounced at you, rolling it around in your hands.

paige rolled her eyes with a smile on her face. “that’s why i said ill teach you.”

“here,” she stood behind you, arms wrapped around your waist, guiding your hands into the right position. “i got you.”

in that moment you believed her but reality was cruel. paige couldn’t keep hiding, she couldnt keep her love for you a secret when the world expected you to be someone else. rumors started, people whispered, and paige—paige hesitated. she let go, just for a second. a second was just enough to make you feel like maybe you had imagined it all.

and in the end, that was all it took. just a second.

it had been months since you last saw her. you hadn’t planned on going to the game, you told yourself you wouldn’t. but something pulled you there anyway, the same way the ocean calls back the tide. you sat near the back of the stadium, expecting to be far enough away that you went unnoticed. the noise of the crowd faded into a dull hum as you watched paige move across the court, fluid and effortless, like she was meant to be there.

you thought you could handle it— just watching, just being one of the hundreds of faces in the stands. but then it happened. paige looked up, just for a second, her gaze sweeping the crowd, and her eyes met yours.

you felt your breath catch in your throat. paige froze for just a fraction of a second, barely enough for anyone else to notice, but you did. you saw the paused in her step, the look of familiarity in her eyes, the way her fingers tightened around the ball before she forced herself to move.

for a moment, it felt like the whole work had stilled. like there were no cameras, no roaring fans, no expectations. just the two of you, locking in a moment of memories neither of you had been ready for.

maybe she would find you after the game, maybe she wouldn’t. maybe you had become strangers again, orbiting around each other but never colliding.

or maybe, in another life, in another version of your story, paige wouldn’t have hesitated.

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

[cabinetofquriosities]

An Injury on the Road

Request: Agatha x Reader

Everyone waited in the silence following their song for something to happen. You sighed, not knowing why you came in the first place. Or, rather, you tried to convince yourself that the reason was anything other than your former flame.

The two of you had been intertwined your entire lives. You grew up in the same village. You were hated by her mother and rejected from joining a coven at all. Because of this, you bonded with the equally ostracized Agatha.

Your friendship progressed into something more. You moved on from childish games to sharing longing gazes and afternoons of lounging in fields of wildflowers with her. Every time you were close to becoming closer, even just leaning in for a first kiss, her mother was magically there, tearing a heartbroken Agatha away. You actually began to wonder if that woman set some sort of hex or spell on her to alert her if Agatha began to feel a little too happy. Or maybe just to prevent the two of you from being together. Then, that horrible night happened.

Agatha had told you that she had stolen a few spellbooks to finally learn more about her power. Before she could properly train herself, the coven dragged her out and tied her up for execution.

You had looked out at the sky that night, seeing flashes of light blue in the distance. You had a sharp feeling of panic that filled your chest. You knew something was happening to her.

Your feet carried you as quickly as possible, but you showed up too late. The circle of witches, as well as Agatha’s own mother, were using their full power to murder one of their own. You felt your own fire magic beginning to ignite at your fingertips with the full intent of burning them all from the feet up. Then, something changed.

The beams of magic turned into a familiar purple. Agatha had used it sparingly around you due to accidentally pulling some of your magic from you when you were practicing spells on one another. She shot a bit of energy at you for practice at blocking. When you did the same back and hit her with a small sting of magic, something else took hold of her. She was suddenly drinking in your power, no longer the girl you knew. It was as if she were in a trance. It began to rain as you felt your body grow weak. Agatha was shocked out of her trance by the surprise storm.

She looked horrified at what she had done. She crawled through the tall grass to see if you were okay. Agatha frantically apologized and said she never meant to hurt you. You believed the raw emotion and regret on her face. She held you close, terrified that she was about to lose you. Then, your energy seeped through the embrace and rejuvenated you. Her body instinctively pushed your power back to save you.

Her magic was strong, but nothing close to this. It was likely the pure emotion and fear that inflamed Agatha’s natural power. The traitorous witches shriveled and fell to the ground as the target of their ire’s power grew. Agatha, regardless of the power she now possessed, still begged her mother for mercy, for love. You knew before her mother even moved that she would never allow her daughter to feel the warmth of her mercy.

Her mother then signed her own death warrant by using her magic against the younger witch. You held your breath as you watched to see who would win out. A blinding flash of purple sealed her fate.

Your best friend simply stood there in the aftermath, thrumming with energy but looking utterly empty and alone. You ran forward, breathlessly asking if she was okay while untying her. Once she was free, Agatha turned towards you and considered your worried face. She realized in that moment that there was no one left to stop her from following her desire. She wordlessly reached over, brushing your long hair back and clutching it in her hands. She pulled you close into a kiss, your first. You melted into her, finally feeling completed in a way you had never been allowed to be.

In the centuries that passed, you ran together, hand in hand as you both sowed chaos until the 1930’s when you had a falling out over the Darkhold. It was taking over the woman you loved, blackening her fingers more every passing day. She was no longer a partner. She barely noticed you anymore. So, you left. You cast an aversion spell to hide from her, needing time away.

What you didn’t expect was for your spell to fall away while entering a hex casted by the Scarlet Witch. You were suddenly in a 1950’s dress, your new reality devoid of all color. Instead of the cafe you were originally in, you were in a diner with no explanation. You had felt a nexus of power and followed it here, worried that Agatha was the source.

However, the source was another formidable witch. The Scarlet Witch. She was feared by the magical community solely because of her lack of control while using Chaos magic. That amount of power mixed with that much inexperience was like a nuclear bomb waiting to explode.

Once she lost her husband, witches began to make protection spells and safety plans for their covens for the witch’s inevitable breakdown. The preamble to her ultimate self destruction was what occurred in Westfield.

At the sensation of an unfamiliar form of magic, you immediately grew uneasy. This wasn’t Agatha’s work, so what did you just get yourself into?

Just as you were beginning to think, the thoughts of another wormed their way in. They directed her actions and shook her with traumatic memories of a life that was not her own. Wanda’s life. Wanda’s nightmares.

After being forced to be a secretary for a day, being puppeted by a mad witch, you saw the one person who pierced through your stupor. Agatha. Or, “Agnes”. She was outside, flirting with the mailman at the gate of her white picket fence. You wanted to run to her, but the woman controlling your actions wouldn’t allow you to. You lost hope until Agatha locked eyes with her.

The recognition was evident. She excused herself and walked across the street. She smiled politely, saying, “Hiya, hot stuff! Wouldya like a drink with your new neighbor?”

Your heart dropped at the fear of her being trapped in another character. It wasn’t until she walked you to her house that she pulled you inside. In an instant, she dropped the act.

“Do you recognize me?” she asked, concerned at the way your eyes were a bit glazed over like the others.

“I’m sorry, I’m not sure I know what you mean- Agnes, was it?” you said, inwardly wanting to scream for help.

“Are you in there?” she whispered.

“Of course I am, silly!” You said with a pleasant smile.

Agatha took your hands in hers, whispering an incantation under her breath. Her magic flowed through your veins, untangling you from Wanda’s control. You gradually felt the force that was mentally strangling you loosen and fall away. You looked up into her eyes and whispered, “Agatha?”

She hugged you in a moment of pure relief. You held her back and breathed her in. Regardless of the hex, her scent stayed the same.

Agatha played on Wanda’s ignorance of her own hex to introduce her to her “new wife”. You lived with her, falling into a rhythm with her like your falling out never happened. The only time you felt that familiar ache of neglect was when she was pouring over the Darkhold. However, you agreed with her use of it in this case. A more experienced witch absorbing Wanda’s powers would neutralize a threat to the world. Hopefully, Agatha would wield that power in a way that was less unpredictable and explosive.

You could at least be there to guide her. Even at the worst of your relationship years ago, Agatha always pulled back on any major atrocities in your presence. Your own thirst for blood and chaos had settled down a bit. You hoped her love for you would help her hold back on mass destruction.

Time passed, decades of sitcoms in a single week. You played along with Agatha, completely undetected by Wanda even as she became aware of her own hex. She looked after Tommy and Billy when Agatha kidnapped them, keeping them calm as their powers were temporarily bound. Agatha had grown fond of the boys to the point where she truly didn’t want to harm them.

Agatha got into a battle with Wanda. You wanted nothing more than to fight by her side, but Agatha had made you promise that you would keep your cover. You nearly broke the promise as Wanda clearly won and approached your love. Her magic washed over Agatha, cursing her to stay Agnes.

For three years, you cared for “Agnes”, keeping her rested and fed while playing along with her delusions. First, she would be in sitcoms. Then, dramas. For a confusing week, a telenovela. You tried everything to break her out. Potions, incantations, charms. None of them brought her back to herself.

Once Wanda died, the curse seemed frayed around the edges. You picked gently at the edges of it, delicately working to reach Agatha. During her detective phase, she finally snapped her out of it during a conversation in an imagined morgue. Agatha stripped down through her previous ruses before finally becoming herself again. She was furious at the time and power stolen from her. She returned to the obsessive, power hungry attitude that pushed you away decades before. She thanked you, but was more focused on regaining her power. She dragged you from witch to witch, convincing them to join her on the road.

Now, you were standing in a circle with an obsessed Agatha and a coven who hated her.

Agatha taunted the coven as they waited for a door to appear. While everyone else was focused on her, you heard what she did. The hissing voices of the Salem Seven.

Suddenly, you saw a glowing outline of a door.

“Agatha!” you yelled.

“WHAT?” she snapped before looking down.

Her smile flashed, swinging the doors open with the help of Jen and Alice. They all ran down as the demonic, feral witches broke into the basement. The beings were the babies and children of their old village who had lost their mothers that fateful night. Agatha let everyone run down the stairs before you all but pushed her ahead of you in your instinct to protect her.

You felt the shot of magic burn into your side. Another one nearly took off your arm. You closed the doors with your power before stumbling down the stairs. Agatha was in a panic as she looked for you before you appeared at the bottom of the steps, bloody and pale. You fell to the ground. Agatha sprinted over to you, cradling you, looking as terrified as she had been that day in the field centuries ago. Feeling the guilt of causing harm to the woman she loved.

She screamed at her new coven for help. Jen leapt into action. Though she never liked Agatha, she couldn’t help but be sympathetic to a sobbing woman cradling her lover, begging her not to die.

“Please don’t leave me,” Agatha whispered, her tears wetting your cheeks as they fell, “I need you. Please, I love you, you can’t leave…”

Jen pulled up your shirt, sending a searing pain that pierced through your shock, ripping a scream from your throat. She poured a cool water over your wounds, causing them to start healing. The wounds were deep enough that they would take a few nights to heal, but they would heal.

The last thing you saw before passing out was a teary eyed Agatha wearing a relieved, shaking smile.

You woke lying on a bed of leaves, covered by a makeshift shelter. She would recognize this handiwork anywhere. Agatha had built it.

You groaned, starting to look around. You hissed in pain as arms guided you back down.

“Shh, don’t sit up. You’re still healing,” Agatha said softly. She put your head in her lap and combed her fingers through your hair the way she had when you were girls. It was as if you had hopped back in time, just two girls in love in the woods. Agatha looked at you the way she did before the Darkhold. She gazed at you like nothing else mattered.

“Agatha?”

“You were wounded when protecting me from the Seven. You shouldn’t have done that. You should have been down the stairs before me. I-“ she babbled, her voice cracking.

“I would do it again in a second,” you said simply.

Her face was soft and clear of any of her masks. She leaned down, kissing you softly.

“I love you so much,” she whispered.

“I love you too.”

“I’m so sorry,” she said.

“Agatha, I already told you I don’t regret-“

“No, not just for that. I’m sorry for letting you go when I had the Darkhold. You were always more important, but I let everything else cloud my judgment. I won’t let that happen ever again.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. I don’t want the Darkhold. I miss my magic, but I care more about you.”

“You would stay powerless for me?” you asked.

“Yes,” she answered immediately.

“I would never ask that, but I’m glad that you would offer that.”

“I’m serious. I don’t care about anything but helping you survive the road.”

“Well, I care about you feeling whole again. I want to help you regain your magic. Not the Darkhold, but your natural magic.”

“I don’t need-“

“I know. But I want it for you. I’ll heal up and then we will beat these trials. Then, we’ll make a home again.”

She had a grateful smile on her face as she leaned down again, pressing her lips to yours. That night, she held you as your body healed, your heartbeat a more exquisite feeling than anything the Darkhold could provide.

Remember to reblog if you liked the story ♥️

[our-blood-is-our-ink]

I think I have most Hahnverse pairings + a few random AUs floating around if y'all wanna ask!

(you can also send in a random letter between A and L and I'll answer the question to the corresponding fic in the drafts)

Unwritten/Unpublished fics asks!

For the fics you haven't started writing on yet, but you're planning on it! Or: fics you HAVE started on writing but haven't published (yet). Send a number and a fic!

1. What are you most excited about when you start to write it/publish it?

2. How did you get the idea to write this?

3. If unwritten, when do you think you will start writing it?

4. Is there anything in the fic you're unsure about including?

5. Is there any scene you're excited about writing?

6. Is there any specific ship you're planning to include?

7. What are your plans for -character-?

8. Which character is gonna have the biggest storyline?

9. Is there anything in the fic you're not so excited about writing?

10. If unpublished, can you show a sneak peek of what you've written?

11. Is there any scene you can't wait for people to react to when reading? Why?

12. How far have you planned ahead?

13. Is there any unwritten/unpublished fics you haven't mentioned you're gonna do?

14. Is there any unwritten/unpublished fics you planned on doing, but now you're feeling like you're gonna scrap those ideas?

15. Do you have any unwritten scene that you think about a lot?

16. Is there any written scene that you think about a lot?

17. When publishing it, will you have a posting schedule or will you just update whenever?

18. How many chapters do you plan to write ahead before publishing?

19. Is there any scene that you feel is really planned out/going to be really planned out?

20. Give a vague description of something that will happen without revealing too much

21. Is there any unwritten fic that you don't know if you ever will write?

22. Will this fic include more angst or more fluff?

[mayasaurusss]

could we pretty please get something about being in a flirty rivalry with Shauna shipman? thanks if you do :3

That's kinky, Shipman

Contains: afab Shauna, afab reader, angry sex, use of swear words, enemies to more. A/N: after I saw the end of episode two, I just couldn't let this ask sit in my inbox any longer😂, Enjoy, Shauna simps!

You don't like Shauna Shipman. You never liked her, not once since you met her. There was something dark about her, something that scared you, but you couldn't place your finger on it.

It certainly didn't help when she started to nitpick you for being a newbie in the team.

"You have to get the ball in the net, okay? In the net" she told you with those dark eyes of her burning holes in your head. You tried and tried, but no matter what you did, it was never enough for Shauna.

It wasn't long enough that you started to reciprocate her behavior.

Did she miss a goal or fell on her ass during practice? Oh you would for sure let her know.

At every chance you get, you'll tease the shit out of her, watching as her eyes become dangerously dark.

It's the same routine today. Monday afternoon, the sky is dark, the rain cold, but you still commit your mind and body to the bit.

You are on the opposite team, facing Lottie, Natalie, Taissa and Shauna. A loud whistle marks the beginning of the game, giving everyone the sign to start.

You're up first, face to face with Shauna.

She passess the ball to Mari, but she fails and lets it slip right into your grasp, earning exasperated insults from her teammates. You kick the ball with your right foot, trying to send it to Laura Lee, but it's swiftly stolen by the brunette, who now aims for the net. Just as she's about to score a goal, she slips in the mud, falling face first into it and losing the opportunity to score one point for her team. You, who ran after her, stop right at her feet, already savouring the words in your mouth.

"You're supposed to get the ball in the net, okay? In the net" and oh it feels so good to say that. But Shauna has a different opinion.

"You- fucker!" she's about to raise her fist and land it square on your face, but before she can do that, she's stopped by Taissa.

Now it's Gen's turn. She runs across the field, dodging the others, until she passes the ball to you. Fate wanted you to suffer Shauna's own fate. Just as you are about to score, you're yanked backwards by the back of your shirt, its edge pressing terribly hard on your neck and exposing your lower back to the cold winter's air, then, to the wet grass below.

Shauna, that little bitch, is the culprit, smiling that fucking stupidly cruel smile of her as you writhe under her weight. She decided to sit directly on top of your hips, flashing her victory right on your face.

You couldn't stand her. But if that's the case, why everytime she stalks you during a game, falls on top of you and gives you that shit eating grin of hers, your heart skips a beat?

"What the fuck is your problem?!" you scream at her, watching as her face turns into a snarl. Did she really expect you to thank her for almost making you break your spine?

"You are the one who fucking fell on top of me first!" it's not long that you two both scream at each other that Coach Scott comes, sending you on the sidelines until the game's over, forcing you to do five laps around the entire field.

You stop when six pm hits, standing in the locker room wet and cold like a stray puppy.

You try so hard not to give that crazy bitch next you any kind of attention, but she beats you to it.

"You are so full of shit" she says, evidently not able to stop her mouth from spewing hate at you.

"Excuse me? You are the one who started it!" a vein pops in your head, ready to pump blood in your heart and making you aggressive.

"Yeah, because you fucking suck at soccer. Have you ever thought of doing something more your league? Like, I don't know, cheerleading? You'd be good at that"; Shauna doesn't grasp how that sounds until the last word spills from her lips.

"Why, because I'm hot or because you'd like to see me in a skirt?" for a moment, her brain entertains the idea, picturing you in a skimpy cheerleader dress, cheering for her...

What the fuck are you thinking?

"You'd look good..." she never meant for it to slip from her lips, already regretting it as you turn to her with a snarky look on your face. God, she wishes she could erase it, wishes she could force you to your knees and relish in your pain. Or pleasure. She's not really sure.

"What was that?", Shauna makes the effort to not meet your gaze as she speaks, fearing that if she locks her eyes with yours, she won't be able to resist you.

"No, I wouldn't; because all you could ever hope to become in this life is a bimbo. You are as dumb as them. I'm sure you'd like to get fucked like one too".

Fucked like one? That's kinky, Shipman.

"I'd say bimbos deserve more respect: they sure have more of it than you" she shuts close her locker, the force of the impact sending droplets of water everywhere. She stomps over just in time for you to turn, slamming her hand on your throath and sending your head on the locker.

"That's it. I'm fucking tired of you and your bullshit".

"And what are you gonna do about it, Shipman? Trample over me next practice? Fuck me in this locker room?"; oh you so deserved this.

Shauna doesn't even register her lips on yours until she hears your moan. She has you trapped between her and the locker, her hands bruising your hips with the sheer strength behind her touch.

The ghost of her teeth on your lips is harsh, biting and snarling like she's a wolf savouring its delicious prey. She's pressed so tightly against you that breathing proves difficult, your brain barely registering the lack of oxygen until she draws away, wiping a trail of spit with the back of her band, before assaulting your lips again.

She parts your legs with her knee, making space to slip her hand beneath your shorts. You’re wet enough for her to hook her pointer finger over the hood of your clit, but not enough to enter you just yet. Shauna kisses and licks at the neck of your skin, makes out with you like a starved woman, like your lips will be the last ones she will feel on hers. And when her fingers slide between your folds with ease, she pushes them in, gasping at how tightly you're gripping her.

"There it is. Look, you could be good at something, if you were a slut" those dark eyes of hers look into you, her lips curling in a cruel smirk. She's really taking pleasure in hurting you, isn't she?

You don't want to let her words affect you, but you guess you don't know any better.

"Fuck off Shipman" you say between gritted teeth, anger stronger than pleasure is. But when she straightens her fingers inside, touching a spot that makes you see stars, you gasp loudly, earning a sick laugh from your rival.

You don't last long, pleasure taking a hold of your brain. White flashes beneath your eyelids, so close to the edge that you can practically feel it. But you're moving too much for Shauna's liking: she presses against you by the height of her crotch, effectively trapping you more into her space. You come under her touches, finally losing yourself in pleasure, staining your and her jersey probably forever.

You are far too tired, limbs so weak that you slide right down on the ground.

Just when you think she's gonna be soft, that she will hold you and ask you if you are okay, Shauna walks towards the locker room's exit, a barely disguised warm gaze in her eyes. "Clean yourself up" she says, leaving you alone.

It's still raining when Shauna sits at the bus stop. She kicks away pebbles with her foot, replaying what she did to you tonight over and over again. Almost instinctively, she looks at the hand that made you ride your high, only to find faint traces of you on them.

The blush that spreads through her face could rival the reddest of tomatoes, and she quickly fishes for a napkin and the remnants of water in her bottle, cleaning herself at the best she could.

Shit. That was... Wow.

If Shauna really hates you, then why does she wants to see that fucked out look on your face again? And why does her heart skip a beat thinking about you?

Ah!

"Fuck".

[imreidswifey]

𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞

A Spencer Reid x Reader Fanfiction

Summary: While on vacation, you and Spencer Reid take turns photographing each other, capturing stolen moments of laughter, longing gazes, and pure happiness. Little do you know, he’s been secretly keeping a scrapbook of your adventures—a quiet love letter in images.

Warnings: Fluff & romance, Mild angst (Spencer’s insecurities), Soft emotional tension, Lots of mutual pining, A very sweet kiss.

———•———•———•———•———•———•———•——–

The first photograph Spencer took of you on this trip was entirely by accident.

You had been leaning against the railing of a scenic overlook, the late afternoon sun spilling gold across your face. The wind played with your hair, lifting it gently, and your expression was serene—lost in the vastness of the landscape before you.

Click.

The quiet shutter sound made you turn. Spencer was holding the camera slightly lower than before, caught red-handed, his lips parted as if he had been doing something forbidden.

“You took a picture of me?” you asked, amusement laced in your voice.

He hesitated, his fingers tightening around the camera strap. “Yes. The lighting was good,” he explained, as if that alone justified it. “The contrast between the sky and your silhouette was… interesting.”

You narrowed your eyes playfully. “You could’ve just said I looked pretty.”

Spencer let out a breathy laugh, ducking his head. “That too,” he admitted, and there was something in the way he said it—soft, unguarded—that made your chest tighten.

Stepping forward, you plucked the camera from his hands. “Your turn,” you declared, lifting it to your eye.

“What? No, I don’t—”

“Spence, let me capture you the way you just captured me,” you said, voice gentle but firm.

He sighed, but the corners of his lips twitched.

And so, it began.

The vacation had been your idea—a chance to breathe, to step away from the weight of work and the world. Spencer, ever hesitant to leave the familiar, had been reluctant at first. But once you promised bookstores, museums, and quiet mornings where he could read uninterrupted, he agreed.

Each day had become a collection of small, treasured moments.

The two of you made a game out of the photographs, taking turns behind the lens, capturing each other in stolen glimpses.

It started playfully—him catching you mid-laugh when you tripped over a loose stone, you sneaking a shot of him frowning in deep concentration as he read a historical marker. But as the days stretched on, the pictures shifted into something more.

A private gallery of love, written in light and shadow.

Spencer, eyes half-lidded and bathed in golden hour, lost in thought as he absentmindedly turned the pages of a book he had just bought.

You, wrapped in a borrowed sweater, curled up in a café with a mug of tea, staring out the window as rain traced delicate patterns on the glass.

Him, staring at you with something unspoken in his gaze when he thought you wouldn’t notice.

You, looking at him the same way.

One afternoon, the two of you stumbled upon a small bookstore tucked into the side of a quiet street. The kind with creaky wooden floors, mismatched shelves, and the warm scent of old pages.

Spencer was in his element, fingers trailing reverently over spines, eyes scanning titles like he was memorizing them all.

Click.

He looked up at the sound, blinking.

“That one’s for me,” you said with a grin, lowering the camera. “I want to remember you like this.”

Something flickered across his face—surprise, then something deeper.

He hesitated before speaking. “What if I don’t want to be remembered like this?” he asked, his voice quieter now. “What if there’s a better way you could remember me?”

You frowned slightly, stepping closer. “Spence, I want to remember you exactly as you are,” you murmured. “Here, now, in this moment.”

His lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to say something, but no words came. Instead, he just smiled, small and genuine, and returned to his books.

You took another picture.

On your second-to-last evening, after a day spent wandering along the cliffs and watching the ocean crash against the rocks below, you found Spencer sitting on the balcony of your hotel room.

A small book rested in his lap, his fingers absently tracing the edges of a photograph. His brows were furrowed in thought, lips slightly parted as if lost in something deep within himself.

“Spence?” you called softly, stepping toward him.

He startled slightly, looking up. Then, after a beat, he held out the book.

You took it, puzzled, and opened it.

The breath left your lungs.

It was a scrapbook.

Not just any scrapbook, but a carefully curated collection of your time together.

Photographs from the very beginning of the trip, arranged meticulously, each one telling a story.

The first picture at the overlook. The candid shots from the café, the bookstore, the beach at sunset. Your laughter frozen in time.

Every page was a love letter in images.

“You—” Your voice caught, overwhelmed. “You’ve been keeping this?”

Spencer swallowed, nodding. “I wanted to remember, too,” he admitted.

Emotion swelled in your chest, thick and unshakable.

“You could have just told me,” you whispered.

His lips curled into a small, self-conscious smile. “I guess… I was afraid that if I said it out loud, it would break the spell.”

Your breath caught.

“Spencer,” you murmured, setting the book down and stepping closer. He watched you, eyes searching. “Nothing could break this.”

Before he could overthink, before he could doubt, you leaned in and kissed him.

It was soft and slow, tasting of salt air and unspoken promises. His hands found your waist, pulling you closer, and you felt the tension in his body melt away.

When you finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, exhaling shakily.

“You know,” you said, voice teasing, “this means I’ll have to start my own scrapbook now.”

Spencer chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

And with that, the two of you stayed on the balcony, wrapped in each other’s warmth, as the city lights flickered below—capturing, in that moment, something that didn’t need a photograph to be remembered.

[talesofesther]

𝔈𝔠𝔥𝔬𝔢𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔞 𝔉𝔩𝔞𝔪𝔢

↳ 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞

Aemond Targaryen x Reader/fem!OC

Series Summary: You made a promise to Aemond once, when you were young and naive, and the only friend he'd ever known; yet you abandoned him before you could fulfill it. Between broken bonds, a betrothal, and flames that still burn deep within you; this is the story of how you fell apart and found each other again.

A/N: My newest series is finally here, and it's one that I am incredibly excited about. I'm not going to say this is fully a reader-insert, because there will be a few minor characterizations for the main girl, I even considered writing this in third person but at the end of the day second person is the style I'm much more used to and comfortable with. However, I believe it is still "vague" enough that it can be considered a reader-insert too. All in all, I sincerely hope you can enjoy this story, I promise it'll be a good one. <3

Word count: 2k

Masterlist

"Tell me again."

From one of the highest points in the Red Keep, you could see the immensity of King's Landing and the waves of Blackwater Bay crashing to shore.

"Tell you what?"

The wind was cold yet gentle, dusk settled on the horizon; painting the skies and clouds in deep golden.

"The story of how you found your dragon."

You smiled, easy and knowing. Aemond has heard this story a dozen times already, yet you never refused to tell him just one more time, whenever he asked. From the glint in the young prince's eyes, you knew that it gave him hope that one day he would find a dragon of his own.

"My father, Laena, my sisters, and I were traveling again, we had stopped by a small town to let the dragons rest. And there, they told us they had spotted a rogue dragon. As wild as a lioness. She'd come out to hunt at night, during heavy rain and lightning storms." You motioned theatrically with your hands, an excited grin on your lips as you recounted the fateful night you'd met your dragon.

Aemond listened closely, as he always did, leaning his elbows on the balcony's balustrade and keeping his gaze attentively on you.

"One night, when we were staying at a house at the edge of town, I walked out while everyone was asleep. Do you know why?" You bit at the inside of your cheek, playing the usual game.

"You heard her," Aemond answered with the same spark of youthful joy.

"I did," you whispered as if it was a well-guarded secret, leaning closer to the boy. "I could hear her outside, the sound of her wings, her heavy steps on the ground. It was raining, and dark, but I felt as if... as if she was calling to me." You placed a hand over your heart.

"I think Caraxes heard when I got out, I think I ended up waking him," both you and Aemond chuckled. "But he kept quiet when he saw it was me. I walked for a while during that night, until..." You paused dramatically, and Aemond grinned. "Until I saw her, feasting on a stolen lamb."

Aemond's eyes were sparkling, he was drinking in every word.

"She was so pretty," you recalled with a soft smile, looking out to the horizon and the darkening sky. "I could see the dark blue of her scales, and then the brighter blue of her wings. Her horns were long and pointy, and she had this patch of fur in between them and on the back of her neck that I'd never seen before."

"She didn't attack you," Aemond mumbled, more a statement than a question; he knew the answer.

You shook your head; "No, she just looked at me with those beautiful eyes, they looked like they were glowing. And then she came closer, baring her teeth, but I asked her to stay calm. Told her I was a friend." You picked at your nails, a fondly nostalgic look in your eyes. "She followed me back home after that. I think she liked that I wasn't afraid of her. Father was furious for what I had done, but I think he was even more curious about my new dragon." You shrugged, with a cheeky grin, "The next morning, I chose to ride her for the first time, and she let me. We don't know if she ever had a rider before me, but we share a deep bond now."

"You are so lucky," Aemond told you, his voice low and eyes downcast; not because of your story, but because the boy wished to have the same luck you did.

Turning your head to try and catch his gaze, you spoke with conviction, "You're going to find your dragon soon, Aemond, I know you will. And when you do, we're going to fly together over all of King's Landing, I promise you."

Despite the solemn look in his eyes, the young Aemond smiled.

You extended a hand to him then, "Come on, your mother will be mad if we're late to supper… again." Wiggling your fingers for him, you held back a grin.

Aemond rolled his eyes halfheartedly, taking your hand anyway.

You walked together through the hallways of the castle, blissfully innocent and unaware of the amused whispers between the maids about how you two would still marry someday.

─── ⋄✧⋄ ───

Two nights later, Aemond did find his dragon. However, it came at a cost.

The day had been one filled with grief. Laena had passed away after trying to give birth to her third child. While she was not your birth mother, you had spent enough years by her side to consider her something similar to it; as she was, after all, the closest thing to a mother that you knew. She had always been kind to you, treating you no different than how she treated your two half-sisters.

You mourned her loss, the salty air of the sea mixing with the salt of your tears as you watched the ceremony unfold.

As soon as she had learned of her third pregnancy, Laena wanted to return home. Your father eventually agreed to halt the travelers life for her sake, and once King Viserys got word of your return he offered all of you a home in King's Landing again. Laena had been happy with the agreement since her brother lived there too.

And so that's how you came to meet Aemond. That was several months ago, yet it sometimes feels like it was just yesterday.

Tonight, you had gone to bed with red and puffy eyes, but it didn't take long for the distant sound of fast-paced steps and arguing to pull you from your sleep. You got up, rubbed your still tired eyes, and tiptoed towards the commotion, bare feet padding over the cold stone floor of Driftmark.

After turning corners and almost getting lost in the infinite hallways, you found your family. Everyone stood around the lit fire of the throne room fireplace while the Maester tended to someone you couldn't yet see as the back of the chair they were sitting on blocked your view.

Alicent was shouting, Rhaenyra and her sons were shouting, everyone was shouting; you heard the sharp words yet couldn't make much sense of them.

You spotted your father leaning against a pillar, a couple of feet away from everyone, and ran up to him, immediately clinging to the fabric of his vest and looking up at him with questioning eyes. He didn't speak, simply lay a hand on your back and then on your head, in the best comforting manner he could muster.

The shouting match continued until Viserys had to raise his own voice, everyone in the spacious room stayed quiet for a moment then. You could hear your shaky breath, feeling it in your bones that something was wrong. You gripped tighter onto your father, leaning your head against him.

Breaking the silence, Viserys demanded answers from Aemond, and your heartbeat sped up at the sound of your friend's name. And then his mother was speaking about the injustice of him being maimed. And when Rhaenyra mercilessly demanded that he be questioned, Aemond finally looked in her direction, and consequently, yours.

You saw it then. Deep red blood glinting in the low light of the fire, painful stitches stretching skin while also holding it together, his eye sewn shut. You couldn't hold back a gasp at the sight of him, the whole left side of his face now forever marked with an angry, deep cut that went from his forehead, over his eye, and down to the middle of his cheek. Seeing your friend like this twisted your stomach in all the wrong ways and made you feel like puking out your dinner, you were almost poking holes in your father's vest with how tight you were gripping it, already feeling your eyes burn with unshed tears.

Aemond met your gaze from afar, he looked almost as stunned and lost as you; but he was also quick to look away and hide behind the back of his chair again.

You didn't hear much of the rest of the fight then, all turning into muffled noise to your ears as your father took hold of your hand to pull you forward with him and into the commotion when Alicent picked up a dagger, dashing towards Rhaenyra. The sight of Aemond's bruised and slashed face forever burnt into the back of your mind.

The only voice you clearly heard again, was his; "Do not mourn me, mother. It was a fair exchange. I may have lost an eye, but I gained a dragon."

─── ⋄✧⋄ ───

You were only able to meet Aemond again on the next day, minutes before both of you had to leave Driftmark.

You found him in a secluded hallway, he looked out at sea through the large windows, watching as they readied his ship for departure, the left side of his face carefully bandaged to keep the cut clean. Holding onto the sides of your dress so as not to step on it, you ran to him.

He heard you, of course he did, you were hardly the sneakiest of people. Part of him wanted to turn away and leave, deeply ashamed of the fresh scar marking his skin; perhaps even afraid that it might scare you off. But you were his friend. His only friend.

"Aemond..." you spoke softly when you reached him, biting at the inside of your cheek and nervously gripping onto the cotton fabric of your lilac dress. You were only kids; you didn't know what to say to someone who'd just lost a part of himself, and Aemond cowered under your gaze, making himself smaller as shame and timidness filled his gut.

"Does it... hurt?" You chose to ask, voice hesitant.

The young prince took his time, pursing his lips as he looked down at his feet and then out the window again. "Yes," he admitted, "but less than it did last night."

"I'm sorry," you said without a second thought.

Aemond glanced in your direction with the corner of his good eye, refusing to turn toward you completely. "Are you not upset that I claimed your step-mother's dragon?"

The corners of your lips turned up into a small smile, it held sorrow and affection in equal measures. "I'm not." You stepped closer to him and turned to look out the window as well, watching as gentle waves washed to shore. You bumped your shoulder onto his. "I'm glad it's you."

For several moments you stood in silence, simply enjoying the easeness that came with each other's company.

Alicent's voice was the one to eventually break the quiet. "Aemond," she called.

Both you and him turned in the direction of her voice, finding her looking at you with a fond smile on her lips. "It's time to go, my dear." She gestured outside, to where their ship awaited, now ready to set sail. Aemond nodded at her words and she turned around, making her way to the docks.

The prince, however, made no effort to leave, he kept his gaze focused outside, following a flock of birds that overflown the ocean.

You followed it too, the sight bringing an idea to your mind. You had a tentative smile on your lips before you even started speaking; "You should go," despite not looking at you directly, you noticed Aemond's attention shifting to you. "I'll meet you again once we reach King's Landing, and... now that you have a dragon, perhaps we'll soon be able to fly over it together, right?" Your voice held a hopeful tone as you spoke.

For the first time since he had lost his eye, Aemond smiled; a real smile that stretched the fresh stitches on his cheek and gave a prickling feeling to the sensitive skin around them, but he didn't mind. He finally turned to look at you fully, all hopeful excitement and pink cheeks.

"We will," he affirmed without losing his grin. He held your gaze for a moment longer, lips parting as if he wanted to say something more, but didn't.

From the same window, you watched, now alone, as Aemond's ship sailed away; the colossal figure of Vhagar flying close to it, as if to protect her new rider.

Later this same day, your father married Rhaenyra, taking both you and your sisters to live in Dragonstone without ceremony.

You never said goodbye to Aemond. You would have, if you knew you would not be seeing him again for many years to come.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Next chapter

Aemond's taglist is open, let me know if you'd like to be added. Or you can follow @talesofesther-library and turn notifications on to know when I’ve posted a new story/chapter.

Thank you for reading this chapter. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment. <3

You do not have permission to repost, copy, or translate my works on any platforms (even with credit), please respect.

[our-blood-is-our-ink]

Will be doing these for the blorbos if y'all wanna send in 🫶🏼

Nsfw/Smut Emoji Prompts

Thank you to my baby @flightlessangelwings for bouncing ideas for this list. Feel free to reblog and use!

💦 cum headcanon

🥺 first time headcanon

✊ masturbation headcanon

👅 oral headcanon

⛓️ kinky headcanon

🔪 dangerous headcanon

🛏️ soft sex headcanon

🎁 birthday sexy headcanon

❤️ making love headcanon

🎶 music they have sex to

🌹 romantic sex headcanon

⏰ fave time of day to have sex

😺 how they eat the pussy

🍆 how they give blowjobs

🙈 something they’re shy about asking for

📱 phone sex headcanon

📸 naughty pictures

🛁 shower/bath sex headcanon

😴 falling asleep after sex

🚗 car sex headcanon

🎤 how loud they are

🍌 sex toy headcanon

🍪 an after sex snack

🍷 tipsy sex headcanon

🤪 silly sex headcanon

🚨 sex that sent me to the ER headcanon

🏖️ sex on the beach headcanon

🎇 orgasm headcanon

🌄 morning sex headcanon

🎥 filming or making a sexy movie

🎉 celebration sex headcanon

💌 sending/receiving nudes headcanon

👄 making out headcanon

[violetseaslug]

carnival date with se-mi !!

synopsis: fem!reader and se-mi go on a date to the carnival!! reader has an obsession with candy floss, semi is her enabler. OH and shes afraid of rides

a/n: i accidentally already posted this but i forgot to add the paragraph i had written in my notes :o

also the only reason i wrote this was so i didn't fall asleep waiting for my dearest wife mei to wake up, but i still have to wait sm more hours </3 mei, when ur reading this, MWAAHHH (˶ ˘ ³˘)ˆᵕ ˆ˶)

also also: kind of proofread idrk...oops

₊˚⊹⁠♡————— ⁠♡ —————♡⊹⁠˚₊

You had been counting down the days. Sure, you saw Se-mi all the time, and this wasn’t even your first date, but something about this one felt different. Maybe it was the carnival itself—the one held every year in the heart of the city to commemorate its history. Or maybe it was the way Se-mi had smiled at you earlier that day, teasing you about how giddy you were. Whatever it was, you couldn’t shake the anticipation buzzing in your chest.

As you arrived, the carnival came into view, many different kinds of lights dancing against the night sky. The air was filled with the hum of cheerful chatter, bursts of laughter, and the distant screams of people riding the roller coasters. The bright neon signs advertising games, rides, and snacks caught your eye immediately. You turned to Se-mi, excitement evident in your voice as you opened your mouth to ask—

“Yes, baby, we can go,” she said before you could even get the words out. A knowing smile played on her lips, and you couldn’t help but grin in return, your heart soaring.

Without another word, you grabbed her hand and started making your way through the crowd, laughing as you both tried to navigate the maze of people and colorful signs. It took longer than expected to find the ticket stand, but neither of you cared. Between Se-mi’s quick stolen kisses and your playful attempts to “map out” the carnival using only the scent of popcorn as a guide, you were too busy enjoying each other to notice how much time had passed.

finally, tickets in hand, you stepped into the carnival. The sounds of the night surrounded you - cheerful music coming from the carousel, and the occasional excited squeal of children running past. Your smile somehow grew even brighter.

Spotting the food vans lined up ahead, you tugged at Se-mi’s hand, practically dragging her toward the smell of fried foods and sugary treats. Her nose wrinkled slightly as the thought of greasy carnival snacks made her shiver, but she quickly brushed it off, her focus entirely on you.

“What do you want?” she asked, her voice soft yet teasing as she watched your eyes dart between the options.

Moments later, she was handing you a stick of candy floss shaped like a kitty cat, its ears and whiskers carefully sculpted from the fluffy pink sugar. She watched your face light up as you took it, and without realizing it, she started smiling too.

As you hurriedly took a bite, savoring the sugary flavour, she kept watching you, her gaze warm and fond.

“What?” you asked, pausing mid-bite, your cheeks puffed slightly with candy floss. A frown formed on your face as you caught her staring.

“You’re really cute. I wanna kiss you,” she said casually, smirking.

“Well, you can’t,” you replied firmly, though the grin on your face betrayed you. “This candy floss is really good, and I’m busy eating.” To prove your point, you leaned in and bit off the kitty cat’s ear.

Se-mi chuckled, shaking her head as she continued to admire you. Time passed in a blur of laughter, teasing, and stolen glances. Finally, as you tore off the last piece of the candy floss, you stared at the empty stick with devestation.

“Oh,” you murmured, disappointment evident in your voice.

“I’ll get you more before we leave, you candy floss fanatic,” Se-mi said, her tone playful.

“Where would I be without you, baby?” you sighed dramatically before leaning over to kiss her cheek.

The rest of the night unfolded in a series of magical moments. You went on ride after ride, your laughter echoing above the carnival noise. Of course, getting Se-mi to join you wasn’t easy—she’d groan about being “too old for rides” or claim they weren’t her thing. But you weren’t fooled. You knew her well enough to know she hated heights and wasn’t a fan of fast rides either.

Still, for you, she put aside her fears. She held your hand tightly on the Ferris wheel, and as she looked down at the view, your grip was firm but comforting. She let you drag her to the spinning teacups, her body stiff, but her smile never fell. Every time she glanced at you and saw how happy you were, it was worth it.

By the end of the night, your legs ached, your voice was hoarse from screaming on rides, and you were clutching yet another stick of candy floss in your hands. You knew you’d probably regret eating so much sugar in the morning, but for now, everything was perfect. And if you ended up complaining about a stomachache tomorrow, you already knew who you’d blame—with a teasing grin.

₊˚⊹⁠♡————— ⁠♡ —————♡⊹⁠˚₊

my reqs r open!! and everyone should try a kitty cat shaped candy floss at least once in their lives. trust me they're rlly yummy. i hope u enjoyed, have a good day/night :P

[starksweasley]

Lake Day // Rhysand

Summary: In which you have a peaceful lake day with Rhysand and the Inner Circle (fluff)

Word Count: 1104

The sun was warm against your skin, the golden rays casting a glittering sheen over the lake. Laughter and screaming rang out from the water where Mor had just shoved Cassian off Azriel’s shoulders, sending a spectacular splash over anyone too close to the fray. Feyre, lounging on the shore with a smirk, passed you a berry from the basket she’d stolen earlier, her paint-streaked fingers brushing yours.

“Think you’re next,” she murmured, nodding toward Rhysand, who was currently wading toward you with a grin that spelled trouble. The water clung to his body, shimmering like liquid silver over the hard planes of his chest, making it impossible not to stare. His midnight eyes glimmered like the stars, locked on you in a way that made the rest of the world fade into static. You pretended not to notice, but the green bikini you’d worn was suddenly the only thing on your mind.

“You look like a water nymph,” he murmured when he reached you, his voice low enough that only you could hear. His fingers trailed over the bare skin of your waist, featherlight and reverent, his touch igniting little sparks that danced up your spine.

You rolled your eyes, even as heat crept up your neck. “Flattery won’t save you in the next round.”

“Sweetheart,” he murmured, leaning closer, his lips brushing your ear. “You’d need both Az and Cassian to take me down.”

Before you could retaliate, Cassian’s voice boomed across the lake. “Chicken rematch! Rhys, you and your girl better not chicken out again—pun intended.”

Rhys sighed dramatically, pulling you toward the deeper water as you complained. Ignoring your protests entirely, he bent slightly, grabbing you by the waist and hauling you up with ease. You squealed, your legs kicking reflexively as he tossed you over his shoulder like a sack of flour, striding into the lake with a laugh that matched the mischievous glint in his eyes. “Guess we’ll have to show them,” he said with mock resignation, but his smirk betrayed him. When he hoisted you onto his shoulders, his hands gripping your thighs with ease, you caught his subtle wink.

“You better not drop me,” you warned, trying to sound serious as Mor grinned from across the water.

“Never,” he said, his voice like velvet, warm and sure.

The game devolved into chaos, as expected, with Cassian attempting to topple you both with an enthusiasm that could only be described as barbaric. Water flew in every direction as shrieks of laughter filled the air, your hands gripping Rhys’s hair in a desperate attempt to steady yourself. “Hold still, you’re going to make me fall!” you cried, half-laughing, half-panicked, as Rhys steadied you with a firm grip on your thighs, his smirk unshakable.

“You think I’d let that brute win?” Rhys teased, dodging a wave sent your way by Cassian’s flailing arms. “Not a chance.”

When Cassian finally lunged with all his might, the inevitable splash came, pulling you both under in a whirlwind of bubbles. You surfaced with a gasp, water streaming down your face, only to find yourself in Rhys’s arms. He was grinning down at you, his hair dripping, his chest rising and falling with breathless laughter. “You okay, sweetheart?” he asked, brushing a strand of wet hair from your face.

“Barely,” you replied, laughing as he pressed a lingering kiss to your temple, his thumb stroking your cheek. The warmth of his touch and the sparkle in his eyes made it impossible not to smile.

By the time the sun began to sink toward the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, the group had settled on the shore. Amren, perched regally on a rock with a drink in hand, pretended not to watch as Azriel offered Mor a rare, teasing smile. Mor, of course, was quick to retaliate with a cheeky quip about his brooding demeanor, causing even Azriel’s lips to twitch in amusement. Cassian was already halfway through a pile of snacks, crumbs on his chest as he loudly accused Rhys of cheating in the earlier game, his dramatic gesticulations sending Feyre’s basket of berries rolling. Feyre scowled at him, reaching out to rescue the fruit, though her expression softened when he gave her an exaggerated pout.

“You’re like a child,” she said, shaking her head, though her voice held a note of fondness.

“A very charming child,” Cassian shot back, popping another berry into his mouth before winking at Amren. “You agree, don’t you?”

Amren rolled her eyes, muttering something about “idiots” as she took a sip of her drink, though the corner of her mouth twitched in what might have been a smile.

Rhysand was lying on his back, stretched out languidly on the soft blanket spread over the shore, with you curled into his side. Your head rested on his chest, rising and falling with the steady rhythm of his breath, and one of his arms draped around your waist, holding you close as though you might slip away. His fingers traced lazy patterns on your arm, the light touch sending shivers down your skin, while his other hand tangled in your damp hair, twisting and smoothing the strands idly. Every so often, his thumb would graze over your shoulder, lingering just long enough to make your heart flutter. The warmth of his body beneath you and the subtle, grounding pressure of his touch made you feel impossibly safe.

“You wore that just to distract me, didn’t you?” he murmured, tilting his head to catch your eyes. His voice was rich, filled with a teasing warmth that matched the sunlight filtering through the trees.

You smirked, pressing a finger to his chest. “You’re awfully distracted for someone who’s supposedly all-powerful.”

“Only around you.” His lips brushed yours softly, the kiss lingering just long enough to leave your heart stuttering. When he pulled back, his gaze softened, his free hand cupping your cheek as though he couldn’t bear to stop touching you.

“You know,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “I think I’ll have to find a green bikini for you in every shade imaginable. You’ve officially ruined me.”

You laughed, swatting at his chest as he chuckled, the sound low and endlessly affectionate. “Ruined you? Hardly. You’re still incorrigible.”

“And madly in love,” he added, his fingers sliding back up to toy with the ends of your hair. He pressed another kiss to your forehead before pulling you closer, the quiet hum of your friends’ chatter mingling with the steady rhythm of his breathing. If this wasn’t perfect, you weren’t sure what was.

[jhyoos]

Of Roses and Steel

chapter seven : my castle

knight sevika x queen reader

mentions : sevika v ambessa, violence, mentions of blood, bad ass reader, caitvi, major character death, romance

notes: mixed emotions this chapter

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The snowfall thickened as you and your army pressed forward, each flake swirling violently in the harsh winter wind. The castle loomed ahead, an ominous silhouette against the storm-darkened sky. The usual sounds of distant life—guards pacing the walls, soldiers calling to one another—were absent. It was too quiet. The kind of quiet that meant nothing but trouble.

Your grip tightened around your reins as your horse trudged through the thickening snow. The cold bit at your exposed skin, but you barely noticed. Your mind was elsewhere—on the battle ahead, on the blood that would soon stain the ground, and on the weight of everything that had led you to this moment.

Eros had left after Mel’s death, disappearing back into the forest without hesitation. You had known he would go eventually; he was a wild creature, not meant to stay by your side forever. But saying goodbye still felt like losing a part of yourself. He had outgrown the life you could give him, needing space to hunt, to roam free. It was selfish to ask him to stay, even if every part of you wanted to. As he vanished into the trees, you whispered a silent promise to yourself—no matter how far he roamed, he would always be your best friend.

Jinx had worked tirelessly, gathering the materials she needed to craft her explosives. The stolen Noxian bombs from the camp had been a gift from the gods, cutting down her work significantly. By the time you reached the castle, every cart and satchel was packed with carefully assembled explosives, ready to tear through stone and steel. She had been ecstatic, humming to herself as she secured the last of them, her fingers twitching with excitement. But beneath the energy, you could see the tension in her shoulders—the understanding that this wasn’t just another game.

As you rode on, Sevika kept glancing back at you. She never spoke a word, but her eyes said enough. She was waiting for you to change your mind, to turn back before it was too late. The unspoken question lingered in the air between you: Are you sure about this?

But you had already made your choice.

There was no turning back now. Not when you were this close. Not when Ambessa’s reign of terror had already taken so much.

The finish line was within reach, and you would see this through to the end—no matter the cost.

The wind howled as you urged your horse forward, your army pressing on behind you. The castle’s towering walls loomed closer, their stone surfaces slick with ice, dark banners bearing Ambessa’s crest barely visible through the thick snowfall. The silence was suffocating. There were no watchmen shouting from the battlements, no soldiers patrolling the gates—only the eerie stillness of a battlefield waiting to be claimed.

Sevika pulled her horse alongside yours, her brows furrowed in suspicion. “This doesn’t sit right,” she muttered, scanning the area. “Where are the guards?”

Your fingers twitched against your sword’s hilt. “Maybe they know we’re coming,” you murmured. “Maybe they want us to walk right in.”

Jinx snorted from behind you. “Oh, that’d be a dream come true,” she said, patting the satchel of explosives slung over her shoulder. “Wouldn’t mind blowing up a welcome party.”

But the lack of resistance only made the tension worse. The castle was a fortress—there should have been some kind of defense, some sign that Ambessa’s forces were still inside. But instead, the gates stood eerily open, the path leading inward dark and foreboding.

Your army halted at the castle’s entrance. The soldiers murmured amongst themselves, shifting uneasily in their saddles. You turned to them, your voice firm. “We don’t know what we’re walking into. Stay together, stay alert. If this is a trap, we’ll spring it on them first.”

Sevika nodded in approval before dismounting, her hand on the hilt of her sword as she took the first step forward. You followed, leading your forces through the towering gates and into the castle’s courtyard.

The air was thick with the scent of burning wood and steel. There were signs of a struggle—blood smeared across the stone, shattered weapons left abandoned—but no bodies.

“Where the hell is everyone?” one of the soldiers muttered.

Jinx scanned the area, her eyes sharp. “They were here not long ago.” She knelt down, dragging her fingers through the fresh blood pooled along the cracks in the stone. “Somebody cleaned up, but not well enough.”

You exchanged a glance with Sevika, your unease growing. This wasn’t just an empty castle. This was bait.

A sudden gust of wind slammed the main doors shut behind you.

Then, the first arrow came flying.

It struck one of your soldiers in the throat before he could even react, his body crumpling to the ground.

“AMBUSH!” Sevika roared, drawing her sword as Noxian soldiers emerged from the shadows—hidden behind pillars, archways, and the castle’s high walls. They had been waiting for you.

You barely had time to draw your own weapon before the battlefield exploded into chaos. The clash of steel rang through the air as your soldiers met the enemy head-on. Jinx had already disappeared into the fray, likely working her way toward a vantage point.

A Noxian warrior lunged at you, his blade slicing through the air. You dodged, countering with a swift strike that cut through his armor, sending him stumbling backward. Another came from your left, but before he could reach you, Sevika drove her sword through his chest, shoving him aside like dead weight.

“Stick to the plan!” you shouted over the chaos. “Jinx—get those bombs in place!”

Jinx’s laughter echoed from above. “Already on it, sweetheart!”

Explosions rocked the castle’s walls, flames licking up the stone as the first of Jinx’s bombs went off. The Noxians faltered, momentarily thrown off by the sudden blasts.

You took the opening, cutting through another soldier before pushing forward. You needed to get inside—to find Ambessa and end this once and for all.

Sevika was already at your side, fighting off enemies as you carved a path toward the castle’s main hall. The entrance loomed ahead, firelight flickering behind its iron doors.

And then, through the chaos, you saw her.

Ambessa stood at the top of the stairs, watching the battle unfold with a calculating gaze. She didn’t flinch at the carnage, didn’t even seem surprised that you had made it this far.

She smirked.

“I was beginning to think you wouldn’t make it,” she called out.

Rage boiled in your chest.

This was it.

The final battle had begun.

You tightened your grip on your sword, your breath coming in sharp bursts as the battlefield raged around you. Ambessa stood at the top of the stairs like a queen surveying her domain, clad in thick Noxian armor that gleamed even through the thick snowfall. Her smirk was infuriating, her confidence unshaken despite the chaos unfolding beneath her feet.

Sevika took a step closer to you, her blade dripping with fresh blood. “She’s waiting for us,” she muttered, voice low but edged with urgency. “She wants us to come to her.”

“She’ll get what she wants,” you said through clenched teeth.

Jinx’s explosions continued to erupt around the courtyard, throwing Noxian soldiers off balance and creating openings for your forces. The tide of battle swayed back and forth like a deadly dance, but you didn’t care about the rest of it now. The only thing that mattered was the woman standing above you.

You moved first.

Breaking into a sprint, you carved through the battlefield, cutting down anyone foolish enough to stand in your way. Sevika was right behind you, taking out soldiers with heavy, brutal swings. Jinx’s laughter echoed somewhere in the background, but it was drowned out by the roar of the battle and the pounding of your heartbeat.

Ambessa waited patiently, her hands resting on the hilt of her massive sword, her expression almost amused. It wasn’t until you were nearly at the steps that she finally moved.

With a single step forward, she drew her blade, its enormous size making your own weapon seem almost insignificant. “Come then,” she said, her voice carrying over the battlefield. “Let’s see if you’ve earned the right to stand against me.”

You didn’t hesitate.

The clash of metal rang through the courtyard as your sword met hers. The sheer force of her strike nearly sent you to your knees, but you held firm, pushing back with everything you had. Sparks flew as you struggled against her strength, her smirk never faltering.

She shoved you back with terrifying ease. “You’re just as beautiful as your mother,” she mused, rolling her shoulders as if this was nothing more than a warm-up. “Let’s see if you die like her.”

You barely had time to regain your footing before she lunged again. This time, you dodged, barely avoiding the downward arc of her blade as it slammed into the stone, cracking it beneath her sheer power.

Sevika took her chance, attacking from the side with a heavy swing. Ambessa turned, deflecting the blow with ease, her movements precise and controlled. She pivoted, driving her elbow into Sevika’s ribs before kicking her away with a brutal force that sent her sprawling.

You gritted your teeth, slashing at her exposed side, but she twisted at the last second, your blade only grazing her armor.

Ambessa’s counterattack came fast. She swung at you with devastating strength, and though you managed to block, the impact sent shockwaves through your arms.

She was toying with you.

Your anger flared, and you surged forward again, feinting left before striking at her right. This time, your blade found its mark, slicing into the exposed flesh of her upper arm. Blood stained the snow, and for the first time, Ambessa’s smirk faded.

But instead of anger, there was something else in her eyes.

Amusement.

“Good,” she said, rolling her shoulder. “Very good.”

Then she struck harder.

Her next blow knocked you off your feet, your sword flying from your grasp. You hit the ground hard, your breath torn from your lungs. Above you, Ambessa raised her blade, prepared to end it in one clean stroke.

“NO!”

A blur of movement. Jinx.

The explosion came a second later.

Ambessa barely had time to react before the bomb detonated at her feet, sending her staggering backward in a cloud of fire and smoke. The blast rocked the ground, and for a moment, everything was disoriented—the ringing in your ears drowning out the battle, the thick smoke clouding your vision.

A hand grabbed your wrist, pulling you up.

“Come on, we’re not done yet!” Jinx shouted, eyes wild with adrenaline.

You shook off the daze, your gaze snapping back to Ambessa as she emerged from the smoke. She was injured now, her armor scorched, blood dripping from a fresh wound on her temple. But she was still standing.

Still smiling.

“Is that all you have?” she taunted, wiping blood from her face.

Your fingers curled around your sword as you picked it back up.

This wasn’t over.

Not yet.

You looked over at Jinx, who was still gripping your wrist tightly, her fingers digging into your skin as if she could physically hold you back. Her wide blue eyes were filled with something rare—concern.

“Check on Sevika. I got this,” you said, voice firm despite the exhaustion weighing down your limbs.

Jinx, for once, didn’t listen. She shook her head, her grip tightening. “No. You don’t,” she insisted, her voice unusually serious.

“I said go get Sevika, Jinx!” you barked, yanking your wrist free from her grasp. Jinx flinched, her jaw tightening as she stared at you for a moment longer. Then, with a frustrated scoff, she turned and sprinted toward where Sevika had fallen.

With Jinx gone, your attention snapped back to Ambessa. She was watching you, that ever-present smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. But you wanted to wipe it off her face.

"You just keep coming back…" you said, taking a step forward. "Just like your daughter."

The smirk twitched.

“I made sure she died,” you continued, voice dripping with venom. “I have her head as proof.”

For the first time since the fight began, something shifted in Ambessa. The arrogance, the amusement—it all drained from her face in an instant, replaced by something darker.

Rage.

Her eyes burned as her fingers clenched around the hilt of her sword. Then, without hesitation, she let out a roar and charged.

You barely had time to react before she was upon you, her massive blade swinging down with deadly precision. You threw yourself to the side, the steel missing you by inches as it slammed into the ground, carving deep into the frozen earth.

Ambessa didn’t let up. She ripped her sword free, pivoting on her heel and coming at you again with terrifying speed. You ducked just in time, feeling the blade whistle past your head. Snow kicked up around you as you rolled out of the way, scrambling to your feet.

But she was relentless.

She swung again, this time aiming for your midsection. You barely managed to parry, but the sheer force of her attack sent you skidding backward. The impact rattled through your arms, nearly numbing your hands.

"You should have stayed dead," Ambessa growled, her voice thick with fury.

You spat onto the bloodstained snow, tightening your grip on your weapon.

"I’ll never die," you shot back.

Ambessa let out another furious roar and lunged again.

This time, you were ready.

Another explosion rocked the battlefield, this one more violent than the last. The force of it sent shockwaves through the ground, shaking the very foundation beneath your feet. The platform you stood on cracked with a sickening snap before it completely gave way.

You barely had time to react before you were plummeting, the world tilting as you fell. The impact was brutal. You hit the frozen ground with bone-rattling force, the breath ripped from your lungs as sharp pain erupted through your side. You knew instantly—something was broken. A few ribs, at least.

Gritting your teeth, you forced yourself to move, but before you could even try to stand, a heavy boot came crashing down onto your chest, pinning you in place. A sharp, searing pain shot through your ribs, and you let out a hiss, glaring up at the towering figure above you.

Ambessa.

She loomed over you, her expression carved from stone, but her eyes burned with pure, unfiltered rage. Her breathing was heavy, controlled, but you could see the storm raging beneath. You had hit a nerve.

“Don’t take it too harshly,” you wheezed, forcing a smirk despite the pain clawing at your body. “It was an eye for an eye.”

Ambessa’s jaw tightened. Her grip on her sword flexed as she gazed down at you. “That mouth of yours is what caused this death.”

With that, she lifted her blade, aiming to bring it down in one swift, final strike.

Before the sword could fall, a blur of movement slammed into her, knocking her clean off of you. The force sent her stumbling backward, her weapon clattering to the ground.

Vander.

He tackled her with all his strength, his broad form colliding with hers like a wrecking ball. They hit the ground hard, rolling through the snow in a brutal tangle of limbs and fists. Vander wasted no time. His fists crashed against Ambessa’s face, his knuckles stained red as he fought with raw, unyielding fury.

You coughed, each breath stabbing through your ribs like a blade, but you forced yourself to move. Your hands trembled as you pushed yourself up, your vision swimming as you clutched your aching side. You needed to act—now.

With a groan of pain, you reached for your bow, wincing as the movement sent fresh waves of agony through your body. Every second felt like an eternity as you fumbled to pull an arrow from your bag. Your fingers wrapped around the shaft, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you forced yourself to focus.

Ambessa had managed to shove Vander off, her strength unmatched even as blood dripped from her split lip. She was reaching for her sword.

You couldn’t let that happen.

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, you raised your bow, the strain in your ribs nearly unbearable. You pulled back the string, your arms shaking as you lined up your shot. The pain blurred your vision, but you ignored it.

And then, you let go.

The arrow sliced through the air with deadly precision, striking Ambessa’s arm just as she reached for her blade. She let out a sharp grunt, the force of the impact making her stagger. Blood bloomed against the fabric of her sleeve as she snarled, turning to glare at you with murderous fury.

Ambessa’s growl of pain was low and guttural, her eyes locking onto you with a murderous glare. The arrow had buried itself deep into her upper arm, making her momentarily falter, but she was far from finished. Even wounded, she was still a force to be reckoned with.

Vander took the opening without hesitation. He drove his fist into her jaw with a thunderous crack, sending her reeling backward. But Ambessa was quick—too quick. She twisted with the blow, using its momentum to bring her elbow crashing into Vander’s ribs. He grunted in pain, staggering, but he didn’t go down.

You exhaled sharply, gripping your side as you forced yourself to move. Every step was agony, but you ignored it, notching another arrow despite your shaking hands.

Ambessa snarled, ripping the arrow from her arm with nothing but sheer brute force. Blood dripped from the wound, staining the snow beneath her, but she barely acknowledged it.

“You think this is over?” she spat, her voice rough but unwavering. She flicked the broken arrow to the ground, eyes blazing as she turned back toward you.

You didn’t flinch.

“It ends tonight,” you said, your voice strained but steady.

Ambessa let out a low, humorless chuckle. “Then come, child,” she taunted, raising her fists. “Let’s finish what we started.”

But before you could make a move, another explosion detonated in the distance, shaking the battlefield once more. The sky lit up in a fiery glow as Jinx’s bombs tore through the outer walls of the castle. The shockwave sent ice and debris flying through the air, forcing everyone to brace themselves.

Vander cursed under his breath, shielding his face from the blast, while you instinctively staggered back.

Ambessa, however, didn’t retreat. She charged.

You barely had time to react before she was on you.

Her hand closed around your throat, her grip like iron as she slammed you into the nearest pile of rubble. Pain flared through your back, your vision momentarily blacking out from the impact. You clawed at her wrist, gasping for air as she pressed down harder.

“Your arrogance will be your downfall,” she growled, eyes filled with fury. “Just like your father’s.”

The mention of him sent a fresh surge of rage through you. Gritting your teeth, you reached down, fumbling for the dagger strapped to your hip.

Ambessa saw it too late.

With a desperate lunge, you drove the blade into her side.

She let out a sharp hiss, her grip loosening just enough for you to break free. Gasping, you staggered forward, coughing as you sucked in a painful breath.

Ambessa clutched the wound, but she didn’t fall. If anything, she looked more enraged than before.

Vander stepped between you both, his stance firm. “Enough,” he barked.

But Ambessa wasn’t listening.

She pulled the dagger from her side and tossed it away, cracking her neck as she advanced once more.

You tightened your grip on your bow.

Ambessa lunged.

You barely had time to react as she swung her fist at you, her raw strength forcing you back. Your ribs screamed in protest, but you swallowed the pain, dodging just as her second strike came crashing down. The force of her blows cracked the frozen ground beneath you.

Vander tried to intercept her again, but Ambessa shoved him aside with brutal efficiency, her focus locked solely on you. Ambessa’s shove sent Vander sprawling to the side, his body hitting the ground with a harsh thud. He groaned but didn’t get back up. It was just you and her now.

You barely had time to breathe before she was on you again. Ambessa moved with terrifying speed for someone of her size, her fists swinging with enough force to break bone. You dodged the first hit by a hair’s breadth, the air whistling as it cut past your face, but the second punch slammed into your ribs.

A sickening crack echoed through the battlefield.

You choked on your own breath, pain splintering through your body. Your knees buckled, and you staggered back, clutching your side. Ambessa didn’t give you a moment to recover.

A powerful kick slammed into your stomach, sending you flying backward. You hit the frozen ground hard, skidding across the ice and snow. Blood filled your mouth as you gasped for air, your vision blurring. You tried to push yourself up, but Ambessa was already looming over you, her expression dark and merciless.

“You’ve lost,” she said, her voice like steel.

She raised her foot and stomped down on your chest. Agony erupted through you as you let out a strangled cry. You could feel something shifting painfully inside—another broken rib, maybe more.

Ambessa leaned down, her weight pressing harder on you, making it nearly impossible to breathe. “You thought you could stand against me? You are nothing compared to real warriors. Compared to me.”

Your vision was tunneling. Black spots danced across your sight, and your limbs felt like they were filled with lead.

This was it. You were going to die.

But something inside you refused.

Gritting your teeth, you ignored the searing pain and moved.

With all the strength you had left, you reached down to your belt, fingers wrapping around the handle of a dagger. Before Ambessa could react, you slashed at her calf, cutting deep.

She roared in pain, stumbling back just enough for her foot to lift off your chest. You sucked in a desperate breath and rolled away, pushing yourself to your feet despite the agony wracking your body.

Ambessa’s glare was murderous. She lunged at you again, her arms outstretched to grab you, but you used your smaller size to your advantage. You ducked under her grasp, spinning around her as you grabbed another dagger from your belt.

She turned, swinging wildly, and her fist connected with your cheek.

Stars exploded behind your eyes, and you crashed onto the snow, dazed. The cold seeped into your bones, but you forced yourself to move, to keep fighting.

Ambessa grabbed you by the collar, hauling you up with ease. “Stay down!” she snarled, throwing you against a broken pillar. The impact rattled every part of you, and for a moment, all you could do was cough up blood.

You were losing.

As the pain coursed through your battered body, your vision blurred, and for a brief moment, the battlefield faded away. You weren’t in the middle of a war anymore. You were back in the underground hideout, years ago, standing across from Silco in the dimly lit training room.

He circled you, a wooden sword in hand, his mismatched eyes locked onto yours with that calculating sharpness he always had. You were younger then—still reckless, still learning. And frustrated.

“I can’t do this,” you had muttered, gripping your training blade so tightly your knuckles turned white. Your muscles ached from endless hours of sparring, and your body was covered in bruises from every time he knocked you down. “I’ll never be strong enough.”

Your father had merely tilted his head, unimpressed. “Oh?” He strode forward, swinging his blade, and you barely managed to block it. The force sent you stumbling back, your feet barely steadying in time to avoid falling. “If you believe that, then you’ve already lost.”

You huffed, sweat dripping from your brow. “You’re twice my size.”

He chuckled, amused. “Then stop fighting like you are my size.” Silco lowered his sword slightly and stepped closer, his gaze piercing. “Strength is more than muscle. It’s your mind, your will, your ability to find an opening when all seems lost.” He tapped the side of his head. “The moment you let despair win, you die.”

You swallowed hard, looking away.

But Silco wasn’t finished. He placed a firm hand on your shoulder, making you meet his gaze again. For once, there was no condescension—just certainty. “You are not weak, my rose,” he said, voice low, steady. “You’ve survived things that would have broken most people. You have a fire inside you—one that refuses to die, no matter how many times you fall.” His fingers tightened slightly. “Get up. And fight.”

The memory crashed into you like a wave, and suddenly, you were back in the present. Back in the freezing snow, your body screaming in pain, Ambessa Medarda standing over you, her sword raised for the final strike.

But Your father’s voice still echoed in your head.

"Get up. And fight."

Something inside you snapped.

A sharp, desperate breath filled your lungs, and with the last of your strength, you moved.

And that was all you needed.

Ambessa stalked toward you, her broad shoulders casting a shadow over your broken body. You could barely keep yourself upright, but you tightened your grip on your daggers.

She reached for you—

And you struck.

With a burst of final, desperate strength, you lunged forward, driving one dagger deep into her throat.

Ambessa’s eyes widened.

Her hands shot up to grab you, but you were faster. With a guttural cry, you twisted the blade and plunged the second dagger into the other side of her throat, cutting through muscle and windpipe.

She gasped—a wet, choking sound—as blood gushed from the wounds.

You grabbed the front of her armor, forcing her to look at you as she struggled for breath.

“Look at me as you die, Medarda,” you snarled, your voice shaking with rage and exhaustion.

Ambessa trembled, her hands gripping at the daggers, but it was already over. The strength left her body, and she fell to her knees before finally collapsing into the snow.

Dead.

You swayed on your feet, every part of you screaming in agony. Your hands were covered in her blood. Your chest burned with every breath. But you were still standing.

Barely.

Your legs gave out, and you sank to the ground, panting heavily as the world around you blurred. The battle was still raging in the distance, but for this moment, all you could do was stare at Ambessa’s lifeless body.

You had won.

But at what cost?

The battlefield was eerily silent as you stepped forward, the cold wind biting at your skin as the weight of what had just transpired settled on your shoulders. The once-deafening sounds of clashing steel, war cries, and dying screams had faded into a tense quiet. Snow, now mixed with blood, blanketed the ground beneath your boots as you moved with purpose, your breathing ragged but steady.

Vander groaned as you helped him up, his weight heavy against you. His face was bloodied, his body battered, but he was alive. You guided him toward a piece of rubble and eased him down, making sure he could sit upright. “You good?” you asked, voice hoarse. Vander huffed a breath, wincing but nodding. “I’ll live,” he muttered, offering you a half-smirk despite the pain.

You gave a small nod before turning away, your eyes locking onto the lifeless body of Ambessa Medarda. The once-mighty warlord lay in a pool of crimson, her formidable presence reduced to nothing but a corpse. Her armor was cracked, her sword lay discarded, and the fight that had once burned in her eyes was extinguished.

Stepping over her, you reached down and grasped the heavy metal faceplate that had adorned her helmet. It was dented from battle, smeared with blood—both hers and your own. You gripped it tightly, feeling the weight of it in your palm as you turned toward the castle.

The battle still raged on near the entrance, Noxian soldiers and Zaunites locked in combat. But you didn’t hesitate. With every painful step, you moved forward, fueled by something far greater than pain.

Then, you shouted.

“Your leader is dead!”

Your voice rang out, cutting through the chaos like a blade. It echoed through the battlefield, and slowly—one by one—the fighting ceased. Swords were lowered. Guns were stilled. Breathless soldiers turned to look at you, their eyes wide as the realization set in.

With a final motion, you lifted Ambessa’s armor piece high for all to see—before throwing it down into the middle of the rubble. It landed with a dull clang, a single, undeniable symbol of victory.

The Noxians stared at it. At her crest. At the blood that stained it. Some exchanged uneasy glances. Others stood frozen in disbelief.

And then, one by one, their weapons dropped to the ground.

The war was over.

Your body swayed, unsteady, as the weight of your injuries bore down on you. Every inch of you ached, your ribs screaming in agony with each shallow breath. The world around you blurred, the sounds of victory fading into a distant hum. Your vision darkened at the edges, your legs giving out beneath you.

Just as you were about to collapse, strong arms caught you, preventing you from hitting the bloodstained ground. A familiar grip held you firm, keeping you upright even as your knees buckled. You blinked through the haze, your gaze struggling to focus on the person holding you.

Vi.

Her face was tight with worry, her hands gripping you securely. “I got you,” she murmured, her voice unusually soft.

Caitlyn appeared beside her, quickly slipping an arm around you as well, helping Vi support your weight. Her brows were furrowed, eyes scanning your battered form with concern. “You’re barely standing,” she noted, glancing at Vi before focusing back on you.

Despite the searing pain, you forced yourself to speak. “Is… everyone okay?” Your voice was weak, barely above a whisper.

Vi huffed, shaking her head. “Yeah, but let’s worry about you, okay?” Her tone was light, but you could hear the tension underneath it, the unspoken fear.

You tried to answer, to reassure them, but exhaustion crashed over you like a tidal wave. Your body refused to fight anymore. The world around you tilted, the light dimming as your eyelids grew impossibly heavy.

The last thing you heard was Vi calling your name, Caitlyn tightening her grip.

Then, everything went black.

When you woke up, the scent of fresh linen and burning firewood filled your senses, a stark contrast to the battlefield’s blood and smoke. The air was warm, wrapping around you like a thick blanket, and for the first time in weeks, you felt comfort—not the rough terrain beneath your body, not the cold steel of armor digging into your ribs, but actual comfort. The mattress was plush, the sheets smooth against your skin, and as you shifted slightly, you felt the dull, persistent ache of your broken ribs and the throbbing sting in your head.

Your eyes wandered, taking in the unfamiliar yet elegant surroundings. The room was spacious, finely decorated with heavy curtains, golden candle sconces, and an ornate mirror built into the wall beside you. It was only when you caught your own reflection that reality hit you.

You looked awful.

Scratches marred your skin, a deep gash slit through your eyebrow, and your bottom lip was swollen and split. The bruises painted across your body told stories of the battle you had fought—of every punch, every fall, every blade that had nearly ended you. You sighed, looking away just as the door creaked open.

Jinx strolled in first, her signature smirk in place, followed by Vi, who stood with her arms crossed. Jinx plopped down at the edge of the bed dramatically, kicking her feet up.

“Your majesty,” she teased, grinning.

You exhaled a small laugh, shaking your head. “Where are we?”

Vi leaned against the wall, her expression softer than usual. “A noble offered us this mansion to recover in. It’s yours to use as a temporary home while your castle is being rebuilt.”

Your castle. The weight of it settled on you. Your home—destroyed, burned, reduced to rubble in the war you had just fought. It was a victory, but at what cost?

Your thoughts were interrupted by a sudden realization. “Where’s Sevika?” you demanded, sitting up too quickly, pain flaring through your ribs.

Jinx hesitated, rubbing the back of her neck. “When I threw that bomb… she took a big hit. Honestly, the only thing that kept her from being completely torn apart was her mechanical arm. It blocked most of the impact. She’s pretty messed up, but she’s alive. No limbs missing, if that helps.”

Your heart clenched, but you nodded. “It’s okay. She’s alive. That’s all that matters.” You met Jinx’s gaze, sincerity in your tone. “And you were just trying to protect me. I don’t blame you.”

Jinx gave a small smile, though she still seemed tense.

“Help me up,” you said, gripping the blanket as you prepared yourself for the pain of moving.

Vi immediately stepped forward, her strong hands wrapping around your arms, lifting you gently. You winced as you stood, your ribs protesting every movement, but you forced yourself forward.

The hallways were filled with people—soldiers, townspeople—some familiar, some strangers, but all of them weary from battle. They whispered as you passed, nodding respectfully, their faces a mixture of relief and exhaustion.

Jinx led the way to a quiet room at the end of the hall, pushing open the door to reveal Sevika lying motionless on the bed.

A maid was tending to her, wiping down her face and arms with a damp cloth. Her mechanical arm rested beside her, slightly dented from the explosion. Despite the bruises and bandages covering her body, her breathing was steady, her chest rising and falling in a peaceful rhythm.

Vi helped you into a chair beside the bed before glancing at the others. “Let’s give them some time.” She signaled to Jinx and the maid, and without argument, they stepped out, closing the door behind them.

Silence settled over the room as you stared at Sevika.

She looked different like this—vulnerable, quiet, no scowl or sharp glare on her face. Just stillness. You reached out, hesitating for a moment before running your fingers through her dark, tangled hair.

“My love,” you whispered.

You leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead before resting yours against hers. The warmth of her skin grounded you, reminded you that she was still here, still breathing, still fighting.

“Wake up soon,” you murmured, your fingers brushing through her hair. “I need you.”

You closed your eyes, letting yourself get lost in the moment, in the sound of her soft breaths, in the quiet reassurance that despite everything—you both survived.

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