#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.

[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.”

[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.

[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]

Movie Night

Request: Eve with prompts 1 and 2

Ship: Eve Fletcher x Reader

Word Count: 288

Disclaimer: 18+ ONLY, minors dni

Warnings: fluff, allusion to smut

“Eve…”

Your eyes dart around her living room, suddenly uncertain and shy as the hand that had been creeping up your leg stills.

“Yes, sweetheart?” She asks, glancing at you from the corner of her eye before she refocuses on the movie.

“I- I’ve never done this before…”

The older woman gently squeezes at your thigh.

“Well, neither have I.”

You blink, surprised.

“You haven't?”

Eve shakes her head, still focused on the movie.

“The one time I had sex with another woman..." Eve trails off before shaking her head again. "Practically everything we do together is new for me as well, hon.”

You bite your lip.

“That's… Not as reassuring as I think it should be.” You whisper.

Eve finally turns to look at you, and her light blue eyes are earnest.

“We'll take it slow.”

You still feel nervous.

“Promise?”

Eve’s small, gentle smile causes her face to light up, as her smiles always do, and you can feel your breath catch.

“I promise.”

She leans in for a kiss, and you lean back, pulling her atop of you and making her chase your lips as you maneuver your legs, tangling them with hers.

Soft lips finally meet yours, and you moan into her mouth as Eve kisses you deeply, and your hips try to buck against her as a knee slots itself between your thighs.

“Tell me if you need to stop, or if I should slow down.” She pulls away from the kiss to whisper, and you nod.

“I want you, Eve.” Your lips brush against hers. “I want to feel you.”

Her smile fills you with warmth.

"Be good for me then." She softly says, before crashing her lips against yours once more.

[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 !

[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

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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

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[our-blood-is-our-ink]

Anons are still off, but for those of you feel comfortable <3

weird asks that say a lot

in

1. coffee mugs, teacups, wine glasses, water bottles, or soda cans?

2. chocolate bars or lollipops?

3. bubblegum or cotton candy?

4. how did your elementary school teachers describe you?

5. do you prefer to drink soda from soda cans, soda bottles, plastic cups or glass cups?

6. pastel, boho, tomboy, preppy, goth, grunge, formal or sportswear?

7. earbuds or headphones?

8. movies or tv shows?

9. favorite smell in the summer?

10. game you were best at in p.e.?

11. what you have for breakfast on an average day?

12. name of your favorite playlist?

13. lanyard or key ring?

14. favorite non-chocolate candy?

15. favorite book you read as a school assignment?

16. most comfortable position to sit in?

17. most frequently worn pair of shoes?

18. ideal weather?

19. sleeping position?

20. preferred place to write (i.e., in a note book, on your laptop, sketchpad, post-it notes, etc.)?

21. obsession from childhood?

22. role model?

23. strange habits?

24. favorite crystal?

25. first song you remember hearing?

26. favorite activity to do in warm weather?

27. favorite activity to do in cold weather?

28. five songs to describe you?

29. best way to bond with you?

30. places that you find sacred?

31. what outfit do you wear to kick ass and take names?

32. top five favorite vines?

33. most used phrase in your phone?

34. advertisements you have stuck in your head?

35. average time you fall asleep?

36. what is the first meme you remember ever seeing?

37. suitcase or duffel bag?

38. lemonade or tea?

39. lemon cake or lemon meringue pie?

40. weirdest thing to ever happen at your school?

41. last person you texted?

42. jacket pockets or pants pockets?

43. hoodie, leather jacket, cardigan, jean jacket or bomber jacket?

44. favorite scent for soap?

45. which genre: sci-fi, fantasy or superhero?

46. most comfortable outfit to sleep in?

47. favorite type of cheese?

48. if you were a fruit, what kind would you be?

49. what saying or quote do you live by?

50. what made you laugh the hardest you ever have?

51. current stresses?

52. favorite font?

53. what is the current state of your hands?

54. what did you learn from your first job?

55. favorite fairy tale?

56. favorite tradition?

57. the three biggest struggles you’ve overcome?

58. four talents you’re proud of having?

59. if you were a video game character, what would your catchphrase be?

60. if you were a character in an anime, what kind of anime would you want it to be?

61. favorite line you heard from a book/movie/tv show/etc.?

62. seven characters you relate to?

63. five songs that would play in your club?

64. favorite website from your childhood?

65. any permanent scars?

66. favorite flower(s)?

67. good luck charms?

68. worst flavor of any food or drink you’ve ever tried?

69. a fun fact that you don’t know how you learned?

70. left or right handed?

71. least favorite pattern?

72. worst subject?

73. favorite weird flavor combo?

74. at what pain level out of ten (1 through 10) do you have to be at before you take an advil or ibuprofen?

75. when did you lose your first tooth?

76. what’s your favorite potato food (i.e. tater tots, baked potatoes, fries, chips, etc.)?

77. best plant to grow on a windowsill?

78. coffee from a gas station or sushi from a grocery store?

79. which looks better, your school id photo or your driver’s license photo?

80. earth tones or jewel tones?

81. fireflies or lightning bugs?

82. pc or console?

83. writing or drawing?

84. podcasts or talk radio?

84. barbie or polly pocket?

85. fairy tales or mythology?

86. cookies or cupcakes?

87. your greatest fear?

88. your greatest wish?

89. who would you put before everyone else?

90. luckiest mistake?

91. boxes or bags?

92. lamps, overhead lights, sunlight or fairy lights?

93. nicknames?

94. favorite season?

95. favorite app on your phone?

96. desktop background?

97. how many phone numbers do you have memorized?

98. favorite historical era?

[miguelhugger2099]

Here, Kitty Kitty

Summary: Miguel O'Hara is your world's Black Cat. A/N: me when there's no fanfic of miguel as black cat: fine, ill do it myself Art: Marbipa on twt

Miguel x Reader, No warnings, a little suggestive but that's it, Word Count: 2,535

Swinging on your webs, you hopped from building to building and made sure to to keep an eye out for any more crime during your patrol. You hoped that tonight would be a breeze but unfortunately, the life of a superhero will never rest. You landed by one of the police antennas and heard a call coming through their radios. Tilting your head, you focused on the frequencies to get a better signal. "All units be advised. We've got a call for a robbery in Lower Manhattan. Heading there now, requesting backup." You glanced up at the sky seeing the moon illuminate brightly. "I guess I could help the boys in blue." You shrug and thwip your web shooters, the silk spinning and sticking to another building before jumping off to gain momentum. You hauled yourself up after swinging, diving down between apartments and just barely slipping through a couple fire exits. You thought about who it might be this time. Maybe it was the Shocker again. Oh, he was always so easy to make fun of. No, that wasn't possible: you put him in prison. You just hoped it wasn't another one of Tombstone's men--they were always a little too cocky. Maybe just a couple of randoms trying to make extra cash the wrong way–a boring way to end the night but at least it'd be easy. You swung faster after hearing the sirens of police cars echoing throughout the night of New York. You saw a few police cars behind you and you giggled to yourself, playing a one sided game of who would get there faster. Always the competitive one you were, you stuck your webs onto two poles and pulled back so hard that they bent slightly. Your forearms burned until you let go, slingshotting yourself in the sky and allowing yourself to glide above the city. You wished to take off your mask and feel the breeze properly but you settled for the ripples flapping on your suit. "Robbery, robbery, robbery..." You murmured, swiveling your head around to see where the robbery could've been. You blinked as you spotted the familiar colors of blue and red flashing in the distance. "Robbery!" You grinned.

Zipping through the wind, you landed above what you now see is a jewelry store. You crawl into the shadows, making sure none of the policemen could see you. "Hm. I guess they win this time." You mutter to yourself about your little game. Perching on the ledge, you listened in on their conversation. "Any security footage?" One policewoman asks. "We're checking them now but so far after entering the perimeter, all cameras have been damaged." "Did you see what was stolen?" "A few rings and bracelets. But the owner is more concerned with a diamond necklace. Says it was going to be auctioned off later this weekend." You tilt your head in thought. And they got away? Definitely not some regular citizens. You began to feel a headache creep on you. You couldn't handle another big bad to fight this weekend. You stepped down from the ledge carefully and walked around the top of the building to find a vent. Once you did, you ripped it open and crawled inside, your body sticking to the ceiling. You looked around and saw various cases filled with glittering jewels, ranging in size and colors. You crawled through another room and hopped off the ceiling with a small thud. Looking behind you, you made sure no one had seen you and you began rummaging through the room to find any evidence lying around to catch the perpetrator.

You found yourself in front of the glowing case in the middle. You circled around it, the eyes of your mask squinting at the empty sloth that would've fit a giant diamond necklace inside. The glass was perfectly intact instead of ruthlessly shattered. This was no common thief. No fingerprints, everything was spotless and clean. You took a closer look. "Looking for this, arañita?" You hear a smooth voice behind you. You spin around, shooting your webs to trap the wrist of the stranger behind you to the wall. The familiar tall man you've had a complicated relationship with, Miguel O'Hara a.k.a. Black Cat. His skin tight black suit hugged his built body, white fur fluffed at his forearms and around his shoulders. His suit was opened at his chest, a long slit that gave everyone a nice view of his tanned skin littered with little black and graying hairs. His dark brown eyes were decorated with a thin diamond shaped mask that did little to hide his ‘secret identity’. His dark brown hair was in its usual slick back, gray strands curling in his locks and a pretty black collar around his neck. He tilted his head at you and lifted his other hand to cut your webs off him with an extracted claw. “Eso es como se trata un amigo? I thought your whole thing was being friendly, arañita.” Miguel says light-heartedly, unphased at the way your mask narrowed at him. You noticed that the hand you had webbed up was holding onto a pouch. Miguel slips open the pouch by its strings, lifting out the diamond necklace. He clips it around his neck and it shines in the moonlight that seeps through the ceiling window. He admires his reflection in the cases, his gloved hand caresses the jewels, his nail being gentle with grazing over it. “Isn’t she just a beauty? She’s not my style, personally, but I can appreciate her.” His eyes meet yours and he grins. “I think you would make it look even more beautiful.” You ignore his blatant flirting, your hands itching at your sides, wanting to snatch the pouch from him and return it to the police so the owner could have a good night’s rest–so you could have a good night’s rest. Now knowing the one behind this was Black Cat, your headache had gotten worse and you knew it’d be a long night. Miguel stalks up to you after taking the necklace off and placing it back in his pouch.

“What’s wrong, arañita? Cat got your tongue?” He smirked, his claw grazing under your chin and making you look up at him. You bit down on your tongue. This cat always had a way of pissing you off. “I thought we agreed you’d put this behind you. You’re rich. What more could you possibly want?” You grab his wrist and take his hand off from your chin. “Would you believe me if I said I just wanted your attention?” His lips curl up, showing off his fangs. “No.” “Ouch. I’m hurt. I thought we had something.” His smile doesn't falter. “Give back the jewels, Miguel.” ‘Hmm. No. These could go for a lot of money. Way more than whatever that auction it is they’re doing.”

“Miguel, you promised me you would be good.”

His eyes soften for a split second. The memory of your last encounter months ago where you two had spent the night together in the city up on the Empire State building. Your relationship was a confusing one. There had been nights where you were on opposite sides and other nights where he answered your call for help.

Miguel began to trust you. Despite his tendencies to slip between your fingers, you always spoke to him kindly when he wasn’t pushing your buttons–even then he knew you never harbored any actual hatred for him. So after a long night, he confided in you that this was his new life and it wouldn’t change–he’d always come back to a life of crime, it’s who he was. You believed he was better than that.

That night before he disappeared for months, he pulled up your mask just enough to see your lips and he kissed you, leaving with a promise to do better. But cats were known to do whatever they wanted. “You know I’m not good like you, arañita.” His smile turns melancholy. “But you could be.” You insisted. “Give me the pouch.” “I can’t do that, amor.” 

You huffed through your nose, jaw clenching, and you tried to snatch the bag from his hand as quickly as you could. Miguel was faster, his clawed hand grabbing you and forcing you to bend over the glass display of jewelry with your arm behind your back.

You grunted when your cheek met the hard glass and attempted to worm your way out of his hold. You feel Miguel lean over your body, his warm breath whispering next to your ear.

“I've thought about you like this. Maybe with a little less clothing.” He teases and chuckles when you stiffen. 

“Miguel.” You warn lowly. 

“It's been nice seeing you again, arañita, but I've got to run.” You hear a dull clanking sound along with a small whizz.

You felt rope like strings wrap around your body and arms and suction themselves to the glass he slammed you on, trapping you.

Shit.

You crane your head as much as you could to see Miguel take a step back away from you. Just for shits and giggles, he plucks a pair of earrings from a stand and places it inside his bag before raising his hand up at the ceiling window. 

Miguel gives you a wink and a charming smile and his grappling hook zips out from his wrist, denting itself in the wall. It pulls him up and he pops the window open, successfully escaping without leaving a trace.

You groan and knock your forehead on the cold glass. With your strength, you pop the rope off you, stretching your arm and wrist out.

Police began to enter inside the building, their commotion and their comms going off and getting closer to you.

Collecting the ropes, you webbed yourself out through the same window Miguel used and closed it behind you. You tossed the ropes away and began swinging around, trying to sense any trace of Miguel.

“Dammit, kitty.” You mutter under your breath. You ignored the way your heart pounded as you scanned every nearby corner. The sight of him after so long sent flutters in your stomach. You ignored the lingering hot touch of his fingers around you, the weight of his body towering over yours. His hips that gently bucked up against–

You tumbled on the roof of a brick building. This was not how you wanted your night to go. You let out deep breaths, your arms and legs spread out as you lay on your back. 

After a couple of minutes, you sat up. You ripped your mask off and rubbed the sleep out of your eyes. You felt a turmoil of emotions. 

When Miguel had kissed you that night, it broke your heart. He felt so sure of himself to give you affection but at the cost of his disappearance right after. It hurt but you thought if he could turn his life around for the better, it'd be worth all the heartbreak and what ifs.

You stood up and placed your mask back on your head, your arm raising up to shoot a web when your spider senses alerted you of someone. 

You turn around to see Miguel, half of his body in the shadows.

“I don't have the pouch so don't shoot.” He raises his hands in a mock surrender.

“Didn't you say you needed to run?” Your voice spits and Miguel nods.

“I also said it was nice to see you again.” He walks up to you, his hands gently placing themselves on your hips. You stand tall, not wanting him to know his effect on you. “So forgive me, I'm a little selfish. I wanted to see you one more time.”

“Why are you back?” You mumble. Why are you back in New York?

“I'm sorry, corazón. You know me. It's what I do.”

“So you lied to me.”

Miguel winces. “No. No, I didn't. I tried, believe me.” His hands squeeze your hips. “I tried for you but…it's not for me. This,” He gestures to himself, clad in black spandex and white fur. “This is who I am now. It's how I have to live.”

He cups your cheek, his thumb caressing your mask-covered face. He wonders what you looked like underneath. Were you as beautiful as your body? Your heart? He dreamed so. He knew so.

“I still don't believe that.” You whisper, leaning into his touch, hands slowly going around the back of his neck and he takes it as an invite to bring you closer.

“You're still so naive.” He murmurs.

“You said you liked that about me.” You quipped. Miguel chuckles.

“I did say that.” 

You feel a smile creep up on your face, your heart feeling lighter at the sound of his laugh.

“Hopefully we'll cross paths more often now that I'm back in New York.” Miguel grins. “Te extrañe.”

“I missed you too.” You whisper. With your chest pressed up against his, you could faintly feel the rumble of him purring. Miguel's claws run under your throat, flicking up the fabric of your mask to expose just a bit of your neck as if wanting to lift it off. “But you know I have to turn you in for robbing.” You add.

“Hm. A shame.” He mumbles dismissively. He continues to ride up your mask and you let him. He stops at your nose and leaves it there, eyes focused on the way your lips parted. “Kiss for good luck?” He asks. His eyes glint when you licks your lips subconsciously.

“You’re pushing it, kitty.” You mumble back but your arms tighten around him. Miguel purrs at the pet name.

“Just one kiss.” He insists, leaning down to brush his lips against your mask where your forehead was. You tilt his head further down with your hand at the back of his head and he follows. With your guidance, his lips find yours and your heart skips a beat. Miguel tugs you closer by the waist, pressing your chest and hips together. His hands crawl up your spine while he tilts his head to deepen the kiss. You match his pace with your eyes closed while you feel his soft lump lips caressing yours. You didn’t know how long the kiss lasted–not when his hands roamed your body, squeezing you and devouring as much of your tiny moans as he could. Your hands curled up at the base of his neck while he swiped his tongue across your bottom lip. Gasping, you allowed him access but he pulled away. “I’ll see you next time, arañita.” Miguel whispers against your lips,the fangs of his teeth gently nibble on your top lip before he pulls away. He squeezes your waist, his touch lingering and aching to keep you near but he lets go. He takes a step back from you and jumps back into the night, the sound of his grappling hook zipping through the air faintly. You sigh, trying to slow down your heartbeat with a hand over your chest when suddenly you pause. “Dammit…” You huff and kick a pebble away from you.

a/n: black cat miguel o'hara if you can hear me, please save me, save me black cat miguel o'hara

[morverenmaybewrites]

The Pizza Delivery Girl's Survival Guide to Gotham City Update

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Newest chapter

AO3 Link

Summary:

People who lived outside of Gotham City would most often think of it in terms of its heroes and villains. About Batman and Robin, Joker and Harley Quinn.

People who actually live in Gotham City would only think of one thing: surviving.

Who cares about the people in costumes when your house has been bombed for the fifth time, or your wife has been taken hostage just because she worked in a bank?

Or, in your case, when you have to make regular deliveries to places where even Batman feared to tread?

Because let's face it. In a world full of superheroes and costumed villains, the real heroes are the ones who make sure that people get their pizzas in forty-five minutes or less.

Chapter Preview:

You paused on the bridge that hung high above the Burrow, and for the first time in your life, you felt a terror was so great that it made your throat close.

Gotham City had never looked so beautiful. From such a height, the burning neon lights looked like stars. 

But above your head, the sky looked pitch black. It made you think of the bodies that would sometimes wash up on Gotham Bay’s shores, black and bloated with rot. It made you think of  the shadows of inmates in the asylum, their voices like the skittering of insects, rising and falling as you passed them by.

It made you think of the night Timothy Young died, and you wondered that if, back then, there had been light enough that he saw the shadow of a monster fall over him. 

You wondered if he had time to understand what was happening, before he started against the concrete below. And then decided decided that it didn’t matter: you would understand If Francine Langstrom came for you, you would know. 

You would understand what was happening to you before you hit the ground. 

Your skull splitting open, the pink-grey ropes of your brain scattering on the concrete. And the thousand pictures that follow. Your death turned into a spectacle and a profit.

Just like Tim Young’s.

The thought made you freeze. You were standing in front of one of the many wooden bridges that connected the rooftops of abandoned buildings. The Burrow’s infamous floating night market. Set up by dusk and torn down by dawn, only to rise up again the next night, the floating night market was one of the Burrow’s main attractions. A bustling collection of kiosks made out of cheap plywood and tarpaulin, it was said that you could find anything there, so long as you didn’t ask too many questions: cheap phones, likely stolen from someone off the street, fake licenses, a sample of Bane’s Venom for impatient bodybuilders. It was set high up in the air, amidst the rooftops of many abandoned buildings, connected by a series of rickety wooden bridges.

But now the rooftops were empty. The bridges were falling apart, its wooden planks dangling precariously from their ropes. The empty kiosks had been left to rot in the constant rain. You could even see some of the abandoned merchandise, left behind  in people’s haste to pack up: an old, broken phone, children’s toys hanging forlornly on strings, obviously meant to be prizes in a game, now swelling with rainwater. Mold grew on their cotton bodies like new fur. 

Timothy Young’s death had transformed the Burrows’ floating night market into a ghost town. The thought made you feel a little lonely, picking through the bones of a dead market, looking to find a monster. 

Francine, The voice in your head sounded like Professor Langstrom’s. Her name is Francine Langstrom. 

The buzz of static cut through your thoughts as cleanly as a falling blade. And then Jason’s voice was in your ear.

“Last chance to back out of this.” 

His voice was rough, even taking into account the poor connection and the voice modulators he used. Maybe he was scared, too. The thought eased you somewhat, to know that you were not alone. 

Even through the poor connection, you could hear the strain in his voice. You cast a glance at the direction where he was supposed to be, tried to look for even a hint of him: the faint glow of his helmet, the hulking figure of his silhouette. But you found no sign of him. Still, knowing that he was there made you feel better. 

You raised a hand and hoped that he would not see the way your fingers trembled.  

And waved. 

Read more on AO3

[slytherinshua]

CHOCOLATE CAKE

genre. fluff. slight hurt/comfort. warnings. exams/exam stress mentioned. crying. brief mention of drinking/partying. light profanity. food (cake hehe). mentioned that reader wears makeup. intak cheers you up!! pairing. intak x fem!reader. wc. 1.4k. request. no. a/n. for my kyo @blue-jisungs <33 ilysm and i'm so proud of you, ik you've worked so so hard <33

By the time your bus was almost to your stop to get off, the tears had dried on your cheeks. You felt absolutely exhausted, and there was nothing you wanted more than to get home and just sleep. Exam season was always stressful, but the past month had been a living hell.

You didn’t exactly do great on your midterms, despite studying almost every second you were awake. It frustrated you. No matter how hard you tried, you just couldn’t seem to get the high marks that you strived so hard for. Your friends seemed to pass so easily, some of them not even bothering to study in advance. While they had all gone out drinking or partying now that it was the last exam day, you were prepared to study more tomorrow in order to retake exams next week.

You had cried all day— after one of your more stressful exams, after getting a bad mark back on an earlier exam, at lunch when your friends asked you how you had done. It was both embarrassing and exhausting. You were so, so tired.

You felt numb and mindless as you grabbed your bag and got off the bus. The air was cold and sharp, but the breeze was welcome. Even the shiver that ran up your spine as you stepped onto the pavement wasn’t a bother. It allowed you to breathe. The dark cloudy sky seemed to be mirroring your mood, and you found a small comfort in that. 

You didn’t bother to knock or announce your presence at all when you reached your apartment. You didn’t have the energy to talk; your entire body feeling sluggish and slow as you dropped your bag on the chair and shuffled out of your boots.

“Fuck- Did I not set the timer?! No, no, it’s okay, it’s okay.”

The voice of your boyfriend startled you at first before you registered the familiar tone and relaxed, a whisper of a smile even playing on your lips. He hadn’t said anything about stopping by today, but given his love for surprising you, you should have expected it. You weren’t quite ready to show yourself to him, though, so you made your way quietly to the bathroom, still able to hear him talking to himself in the kitchen.

“Chocolate, chocolate… melt for… 30 second intervals? She likes chocolate- so 2 packets? Yeah.” 

You wiped off any makeup that had survived your many crying sessions and washed your face of the tear stains and exhaustion of the day. Once you changed into pyjama pants and one of Intak’s stolen hoodies, you finally felt at ease. The weight of exams and the thought of retakes still looming over your head wasn’t something you could ignore, but just for tonight you willed your brain to not focus on it. Just for tonight, you deserved to rest.

You shuffled to the doorway of the kitchen, still trying to be as quiet as possible. Intak had his back turned to you, and didn’t notice your presence at all as he worked near the stovetop. The smell of chocolate cake and cherries reached your nose, and your chest felt warm. Intak always knew your favourite comfort foods and the best ways to cheer you up after a long day. 

You didn’t realize until now just how much you had missed him. As you watched him scurry around the kitchen, completely oblivious to your figure in the doorway, you couldn’t help the smile that grew on your face. You missed his hugs and his kisses. You missed your late night talks and when you would game together where he would let you win on purpose. You missed telling him how much you loved him and watching his eyes brighten. 

Given how busy you were studying and preparing for exams, you barely had time to see him in the past 2 weeks. He would send you encouraging text messages in the morning, and you would text him during your breaks, but most of the time you had to keep your phone far away from you and on Do Not Disturb to keep your focus. 

You missed him so much that it was almost hard for you to keep watching him silently when you knew that he would hug you as soon as he was aware you were there. But he soon turned around to transfer a bowl to the sink, and his eyes quickly met yours and froze. You watched as his mouth formed an ‘o’ shape before turning up into a big grin a second later.

“You’re back!” He chucked the dishes into the sink and practically ran over to you, capturing you in his arms and lifting you slightly off the floor. “I thought the exams would swallow you whole, I missed you so much.” He mumbled in your ear, prompting a smile to form on your face.

“Me too.” You sighed in content. The feeling of Intak’s arms around you was one of your favourites in the entire world. From how close you were, you could smell his woody cologne as well as his gentle natural scent peaking through. He hugged you tightly, swaying softly from side to side until you made moves to escape his embrace.

“One sec!” He rushed to the other room, coming back with a bouquet of pink and white flowers. “For my academic weapon of a girlfriend.” 

You were going to protest about the academic weapon part, but with his cheesy grin plastered on his face as he held out the flowers to you, you didn’t have the heart to. You knew he wouldn’t accept any objection from you anyway. In his eyes, you were nothing less than perfect.

You ranted about the past week to him while he finished decorating a chocolate cake, discouraged by the fact that you would have to retake some exams. But Intak would only say how proud he was of you for making it through the stressful month.

“You worked really really hard, and I’m so proud of you, baby. The scores don’t reflect your self worth, okay?” He reassured you, pressing a kiss to your forehead after you had told him everything.

You wouldn’t have believed the words coming from anyone else, but he was your boyfriend and you knew he wasn’t even capable of lying to you (after all, he had tried in the past, and you had caught him every time).

Seeing Intak’s smile and hearing his words of encouragement gave you back energy for almost an hour, but you felt a crash of tiredness again once you settled on the couch with him to eat cake and snuggle.

“Don’t fall asleep on me yet. I’ll have to carry you to bed.” Intak joked, watching you sleepily blink with love in his eyes. Despite being worried about how hard you had pushed yourself, he knew the best thing he could do was just cheer you on and let you recharge with hugs. He wouldn’t care even if you fell asleep on his arm and it was sore for hours the next day.

“You’re comfortable.” You argue in a mumble, only melting into his arms more. You were practically a puddle on top of him— letting your entire body relax and trusting that Intak would let you sleep.

“My girl is that tired, hm? Are you sure you don’t want to go to bed?” He spoke softly, brushing your hair out of your face and making sure the blanket covered your shoulders.

“You’re more comfortable than my bed.” You whispered, already teetering on the edge of consciousness. You heard Intak scoff, and though your eyes were closed, you could picture his adoring smile perfectly. You were half asleep by the time his response fell on your ears, and entirely too tired at that point to comprehend his words. You smiled when you felt him press a kiss to your temple, and finally allowed yourself to slip away to your dreams after the long day.

With Intak by your side, the stress of your life seemed to lessen, and your mind stopped racing as much. You let yourself relax and just enjoy being with him, as if nothing else in the world mattered.

↳ p1h taglist: @eternalgyu,, @kangtaehyunzzz,, @amara-mars,, @nyukyujs

[sheerfreesia007]

Pool Games

Pairing: Changbin x Reader

Word count: 2,096

Content warnings: Fluff

Summary: It’s all fun and games at the pool with the boys and you but when there’s betting involved Changbin is such a sucker for you. What happens when you come to collect your reward?

The sun is streaming down from the bright clear sky heating the tiled pool deck as Changbin and the rest of the guys all gather around the lounge chairs while talking animatedly and excitedly. Chan had organized a pool day for the group of them to try and cool down in this sweltering heat that they were dealing with. Changbin grinned as he watched Hyunjin ruffle Jeongin’s hair harshly as the younger boy cried out exasperatedly before shoving Hyunjin away from him. Growing impatient with the boys not getting in the pool, Changbin leans down and grabs the football from the large tote bag that Chan had packed for all of them. He stands up straight and looks over at Seungmin who eagerly watches him waiting for him to throw the ball, Changbin nods his head towards the pool and Seungmin takes off doing a cannonball into the pool with Jeongin and Felix following him quickly as they cheer loudly. Just as Changbin was winding back his arm to throw the football to the waiting boys he heard the locker room door open and he frowned softly as his head turned to Chan with slight irritation coursing through him.

“Yah! I thought you said it was a closed pool?” Changbin asked Chan with an annoyed frown on his face. Chan grinned as he looked over to the locker rooms and nodded his head at Changbin.

“It is but I invited someone to join us.” Chan explained and Changbin frowned some more before whipping his head to the person who had entered the pool deck. He watched as you walked out along the tiles while excitedly shedding your extra large baggy t-shirt that looked like one of his old ones that he had been missing for a few months now, when his eyes darted down to your bright neon pink bikini he instantly felt light headed and as if he couldn’t catch his breath.

Your body was beautiful to him as he slowly grazed his eyes up and down it as he watched you move quickly towards them all. Your face was lit up with happiness and excitement to see them all as your shoulders and upper chest were bare to them as your pretty bikini had straps criss crossing across your skin. The top looked almost like one of those sports bras he had seen you wear at the gym when you would join him and it fit your sporty style easily which made him grin. But the bikini bottoms are what caught and held his attention, they molded to your body like a second skin and while they covered everything from his wandering eyes but they made your ass look perkier than your workout pants he’s seen you in. That fact alone made his breath stutter out of his chest in pants as you moved closer to them.

“Changbin Hyung! Ball!” shouted Seungmin momentarily distracting him as he launched the ball into the water without looking at him.

“C’mon Seungminnie, you know you can’t overwhelm Changbin Hyung when he’s focused on something. He malfunctions when he’s given too many things to focus on.” Han teased loudly, causing the boys to laugh.

“More like focused on someone.” Chan agreed with Han and Changbin snapped his eyes to his Hyung who smirked at him before nodding his head at you. Changbin knew that the boys all knew about his crush on you and would often tease him about it but you were always so clueless thankfully and he’d managed to keep his crush under wraps from you. But now with you joining them for their pool day he had a feeling that he’d be fielding more teasing remarks from the guys, he’d be fighting for his life.

“Binnie!” you called out in your sweet happy voice effectively dragging Changbin’s sole focus to you as you waved at him. Growing nervous and desperate to keep you away from the boys, Changbin moved without thought as he watched you drop your t-shirt or rather his stolen shirt onto the closest lounge chair. He dropped his shoulder and effortlessly wrapped his arms around your torso as he tackled you into the open pool as you squealed and cried out in surprise at his move.

Changbin kept his arms around you and your body close to his as you both fell into the water with a large splash. You break through the surface a few moments before Changbin does and you’re waiting for him when he finally does as you splash him aggressively and he laughs loudly at your attempts before he wraps his arms around from behind and pins your arms to your sides.

“Give up Yeobo, I’m too strong for you to fight me.” he teases you as you struggle in his arms.

“What gives Changbin?” you cry out exasperatedly as you turn to look at him over your shoulder. He grins widely at you before the football flies through the air and lands in the water splashing the both of you with water.

“Noona! Be on our team!” calls Han as he, Chan, Hyunjin and Lee Know get into the pool while the younger guys are all swimming quickly over to you and Changbin.

“No way, she’s on my team.” Changbin calls out before slowly releasing his hold on you. You move away from him and Seungmin quickly grabs your hand and drags you over to his side as Han and Chan easily crowded you with smirks on their faces as they stared at Changbin.

“She’s on our team. She’s our only defense against you.” Chan says proudly and you chuckle at his words before giving Seungmin a high five as he laughs at Changbin’s disgruntled look.

“Fine, fine. But I’m coming straight for her.” Changbin says menacingly as he points at you. You grin at him before widening your eyes and raising your hand to your mouth in mock horror while Chan laughs and Changbin rolls his eyes at you.

The game is quickly underway after that and soon Changbin is focusing all of his attention on you as you move through the water to get into a good spot to catch the football from Han. Changbin moves effortlessly through the water while you struggle slightly from being shorter in height, when Han throws the football Changbin easily swats it out of the air away from you causing you to splash him water as you pout at him. His answering smirk earns him another splash making him laugh at your antics.

The next game you’re able to get past Changbin and manage to catch the football from Chan but Changbin grabs you around your middle when you move to swim into his team’s endzone. He lifts you high above his head as you squeal loudly while still holding onto the football. Changbin then begins to lower your body back down into the water but you’re flush against him and as he feels your body slide down his own he can feel his face beginning to heat with desire and embarrassment of having you so close to him. You smirk up at him seeing how flustered he’s become before you toss the football to Han who scores a point for your team. YOur happy cheer at your team’s victory pulls Changbin from his dazed headspace and he smiles softly as he watches you and Han do a wild victory dance.

Another round comes up and Changbin figures out too late in the game that you’re the one designated to score this time as Chan and Han block him from getting to you as you dodge and weave around a confused Hyunjin and an unenthused Lee Know to score a point. You whooped loudly with pride as you jumped in place while Seungmin wrapped his arms around your shoulders in a hug at your score. Changbin frowned as he watched Seungmin hug you tightly before he heard Chan chuckle softly.

“Yah! You wouldn’t have scored that point if Chan and Han hadn’t stopped me from tackling you!” he shouted at you and you grinned at him wickedly as your eyes still sparkled with your win. Changbin feels a prickling in the back of his head at your knowing look as you make your way over to him, Chan and Han, he feels as if he’s suddenly prey to your predatory look and he can’t help but internally shrink away from you.

“Alright Binnie, let’s make a bet.” you challenge him and he scoffs at your bravado. “If I can score another point then you owe a reward.”

“You’ll never score another point on me Yeobo.” he taunts you and you smirk wickedly at him before holding your hand out to him.

“Any reward that I want if I score another point on you.” you challenge and Changbin feels as if he’ll be making a deal with the devil if he shakes your hand but he does so anyway. Your answering grin is blinding to him as you look up at him with eager excited eyes. You then gather your team over to you and begin talking strategy with them and Changbin quickly turns to his team who all stare at him with varying degrees of enthusiasm causing him to sigh softly.

As the last game starts Changbin is slightly nervous, your whole team has looks of determination written across their faces and he knows he’s only half a shot of winning this game since half of his team are interested in playing. He holds himself back and watches as Chan keeps the ball as you, Seungmin and Han all rush Changbin’s team. Jeongin matches up with Seungmin trying to keep him back but Seungmin manages to push Jeongin back just barely while Han faces off with Felix who tries to grab onto Han like a clingy koala to keep him tied up which causes Han to begin laughing manically at Felix’s attempt. And then that leaves you who tries rushing through the water on your legs but when Changbin smirks and tries to grab onto you you dodge him and dip under the water to begin swimming away from him towards the end zone.

When you come up for air he’s waiting for you but you manage to be just a few feet ahead of him and Chan launches the ball into the air. Changbin lunges for you but you’re already jumping into the air catching the ball squarely in your arms before cradling the ball to your chest with a loud war cry that makes Chan, Seungmin and Han all cry out loudly. Changbin grumbles as he watches you do another victory dance but then begins laughing as you horribly try to mimic their dance choreography for Thunderous before you spike the ball into the water and throw your hands up.

You suddenly whirl in your spot and Changbin feels the air in his lungs punch out at the wild happy look in your eyes when you spot him. Swimming up to him you slowly stand to your full height and slide your arms up and around his neck causing him to wrap his hands around your waist to hold you up.

”So you owe me a reward.” You say softly to him and he watches as your eyes crinkle slightly at the edges with delight.

”What reward do you want Yeobo?” He asks just as softly. His mouth drops open in shock as you pucker your lips and point to them, he can feel his whole face flush with desire before he begins to giggle loudly at your action. Leaning forward he moves to peck a quick kiss to your lips but when he goes to pull back your hands are threaded through his hair and hold the sides of his head to keep him still as you tilt your head and deepen the kiss. He grunts surprised but eagerly kisses you back while sliding his arms tightly around your back and holding you close to him. When he feels your legs wrap around his hips he feels as if he’s ten feet tall and as if he could lift a bus right now. You pull away slightly and smile dreamily at him when his mouth moves to chase yours before he speaks up. “That’s a good reward. I think you deserve more of those.” 

Suddenly there’s loud cheers and cooing heard all around you as Seungmin gags loudly causing you to laugh at all of their reactions before Changbin moves in for another long deep kiss.

[bangaveragewhitewine]

seventeen again

Eddie Munson x Reader 

At a Hawkins house party, you find yourself stolen away from the throng with the theatre nerd who played the bad boy part oh so well. You always found yourselves together back then, drawn together by the universe. You look up at the perfect night sky and sigh. Yeah, you prefer it now, like this.

word count: 1.4k

contents: Eddie and Reader are in their late twenties/thirty in this. All very mild and sweet. Some kissing, some yearning (past). I’m (as always) in my feelings. GN!Reader. Reader sits on Eddie’s lap. If you so choose, you can read this as Eddie and Reader being parents if that’s your thing (it’s implied that some of The Party are parents).

note: Well, it’s been a while! I’ve wanted to write something for so long and I just couldn’t. This came from nowhere, a blank page that filled itself. I hope you enjoy it, even a little bit! Thank you @specialagentmonkey for reading over this! Dividers by @saradika-graphics

1995

A light breeze cuts through the muggy night air, not quite cool enough to make you shiver but you’re glad for the worn denim wrapped around you. You are grateful too for the body behind you, keeping you warm as you pass a joint and a beer back and forth. 

You feel seventeen again; a Hawkins house party, stolen away from the throng with the theatre nerd who played the bad boy part oh so well. You always found yourselves together back then, drawn together by the universe; paired up for a project or pulled together from the peripheries at parties and hangs to shoot the shit, trading gossip and blowing smoke rings. Just friends. Just friends until neither of you could keep pretending that it was enough.  The ‘will we, won’t we’, ‘should we, we shouldn’t, god I want to’ fear of ruining a blossoming friendship has long been put to bed and locked in with a ring on your finger, a home together. A life together. You look up at the perfect night sky and sigh. Yeah, you prefer it now, like this.

Ever the drama club kid, never missing his cue, Eddie drops a sweet kiss onto your shoulder and lets his chin rest there for a moment. 

The sounds of the party going on without you bleed through the open kitchen windows, reaching you on the shady back patio sharing a lawn chair. The music and Dustin Henderson’s pitchy delighted laugh, loud voices and Robin’s cackling joy. It is everything you missed.

“What’re you thinkin’ about?” Eddie asks, breath tickling your neck.

You rest your head back, tilted to look up at him. “You. Us.”

A syrup-slow smile spreads across his face, making his dimples deeper behind his dark stubble and crinkling the lines around his eyes. Your bodies are both softer and stronger now; you know every wrinkle and tattoo, every stretch mark, scar and freckle. You both know the ticklish spots and where the stress and tension settle and twinge. Behind the smile lines and the extra ink, Eddie is unmistakably the same boy you fell in love years ago.

“Yeah? Sap. You’re sitting there smiling to yourself, thinkin’ about me? Me? You like me or somethin’?”

Pleasantly cross-faded, his teasing makes you feel warm and giggly which makes his smile wider and more fond. 

“Mmm, yeah. You’re kinda cute…”

Eddie’s arms tighten around you and he dips his head to press your lips together, both smiling and lovesick. It’s hard to keep up the charade when you look so pretty under the porch light. 

Heads together, you both settle into the content silence that comes with being together for over a decade. Eddie makes a small noise of thanks as you pass him the bottle of beer you have been sharing. It’s wet with condensation, and the beer is not as cold as you wish it was. You will grab two more from the fridge when rejoin the party. Not yet, but soon. This is enough for now. Your friends have not come to drag you back inside yet but you both know the clock is ticking. There is still plenty of cake to eat and drinking games to play. There are a few shots left on the disposable cameras lying around the kitchen counters and side tables, they will not go to waste.

Despite how much Eddie likes attention, basking in the spotlight and the thrill of applause, something about his thirtieth birthday party caused a few more ‘where’s the birthday boy gone?’ moments than expected when he slipped away for quiet moments alone or with one of the assembled Party.

Dustin had basked in that pocket of quality time with Eddie sitting together on the front porch, promising another Hellfire Weekend soon before this one had even ended. There’s a one-shot planned for tomorrow which will be fueled by caffeine and breakfast sandwiches and so much Advil. Nancy let herself be tempted away with a single celebratory cigarette and after that, Max needed her own break from the men reverting to their boyhood squabbling. She steered Eddie out to walk around the garden, sharing an edible and getting a little bit sappy about how far they had come from neighbouring trailers in Forest Hills - though neither of them would ever admit it. (Well, Eddie would but Max would punch him in the arm about it). 

Gladly and graciously, you took your turn at last. Eddie’s hand found yours in the melee and you let yourself be stolen away for a moment to check in and indulge in some nostalgia, and make out just a little bit in the shadowy backyard of El and Mike’s house. You had never been brave enough back then, on nights a little like this, to dream that Eddie would actually ever kiss you like you wanted him to, let alone make a move to break the tension that sparked between you like that dud lighter you used to carry. Eddie had borrowed and burned himself on that neon pink Bic more times than you could even remember, cursing like a sailor every time. When you were doubled over laughing at his expense, he used to feel dizzy with how bad he wanted you, how making you laugh and smile made him sick with the swirling butterflies in his gut. 

It all started with a warm shared beer and joint on someone’s pool deck. Once you had that first kiss, it was hard to stop. He was there to kiss you after you walked across the stage without him at graduation. He was ready for the inevitable parting of ways, all too aware of how ready you were to leave Hawkins, but you stayed and waited for him through everything. You stayed and you were there next to Wayne to cheer and holler when he thrust that diploma into the air a year later, and you kissed him with tears on your face when he came to find you in the crowd.

Eddie squeezes you a little tighter, his own thoughts about the past and the present, your future, turning around in his head too. 

The sky above you twinkles endlessly. This might be one of the things you miss the most. You’re far from the light pollution in the city and it’s nice to stargaze for a while as you sit together on a sun chair built for one. You’re staying with Wayne for the next few days before you head back to reality, back to the fixer-upper house in the suburbs of a city a couple of hundred miles away; his backyard is perfect for stargazing and it was worth the trip just for that. 

“Are you having a good time?” you ask, toying with the springy coil of a curl that lies against his neck.

Eddie nods, looking up at you. You are prettier than any star he could gaze at.

“Mmhm, the best,” he says, his voice quiet but laden with sincerity.  

Eddie used to think that once he got out of Hawkins he would never ever come back. He thought he would sail out of there with two fingers up to the town he grew up in, eyes on the road ahead. Wayne would have understood why, but he was glad that his boy changed his mind. Neither of you thought that you would be back here for a party with your variety pack of friends, all of whom had scattered across the country to begin and build their own lives. No one had flaked or faltered to say ‘yes!’ to the invitation to Eddie’s birthday, booking plane tickets and wrangling partners and spouses and kids for a trip home to Hawkins to celebrate their DM, their bandmate, their friend. 

Said friends have missed him too much to let him skip out on the party a moment longer. You can hear the commotion and in a moment the backdoor will swing open and Mike and Lucas will wolf whistle and tease and insist you both rejoin the party. But your eyes stay fixed on Eddie.

You can see a shred of lingering bewilderment in his eyes; everything turned out okay, better than okay. Your lips press against his for a moment before you wrap yourself around him, nose against his neck into that heady blend of spicy cologne and sweat and smoke.

“Happy Birthday, Eddie.” 

Thank you for reading! Reblogs, comments and likes are cherished and adored 💜

[lxndonorris]

sharing is caring - Lance Stroll

Y/N x Lance Stroll Theme: Fluff (light touching, not explicit) Lance is very good at finding snacks during race weekends, and he always shares them with you x word count: 1600+ taglist: @game-set-canet @cloud-55 open for requests! :)

The high-octane buzz of the paddock swirls around you, but your heart is calm, steady as you stand just outside the Aston Martin garage. 

You lean against a sleek, dark green wall, a comforting anchor amidst the whirlwind of mechanics, engineers, and media personalities scurrying back and forth.

The Saturday sun hangs low in the sky, casting a golden glow over the circuit. There are still 90 minutes until qualifying begins, and you are waiting for him.

Lance is in a meeting—probably being briefed on tire strategies, telemetry, or maybe just having the usual driver's talk with his engineer. You agreed to meet here after the meeting, right in front of the garage.

Your eyes scan the bustling pit lane, taking in the bright colors of the rival teams, but it is all background noise. You aren't focused on any of it because you know he would be with you soon.

The scent of rubber and gasoline fills the air, blending with the faint waft of coffee from the team hospitality areas nearby. As much as you are used to being here, the anticipation never faded.

The atmosphere at a Grand Prix weekend is addictive. But it is more than just the racing. It is the stolen moments—the brief yet intimate times between the flurry of team meetings and on-track action—that make the weekend truly special.

A sudden, light touch grazes your back, followed by fingers that trace their way up around your shoulder. Your breath hitches, and before you even turn, you know who it is. You spin around, a smile already forming on your lips, and there he is.

Lance stands before you, his eyes sparkling with that familiar mischief. His racing suit is half-on, the top half casually hanging down around his waist, revealing his form-fitting white nomex shirt underneath. His cap is turned backward, a few strands of his tousled dark hair sticking out beneath it, a faint stubble framing his face. He looks effortlessly beautiful. 

You always thought he did.

You don't get a chance to say anything before his hand cups your face, and he kisses you, soft and sweet, like it always is between you. His lips are warm, the briefest escape from the intensity of the race weekend, and you can't help but sigh contentedly into the kiss.

"Hey," he whispers, his voice low and just for you. "The meeting was fine, but honestly, I couldn't wait to get out of there and see you." His eyes search yours, his hand still resting on your shoulder.

You smile back, feeling warmth spread through you. 

"You should've texted me; I would've come earlier," you tease.

He chuckles, his grin widening, and that's when you notice the chocolate donut in his hand.

Lance has a notorious sweet tooth, always finding something to snack on during race weekends.

"Where'd you get that?" You ask, tilting your head toward the donut, which looks perfectly glazed and delicious.

Lance's eyes dart to the side as if he were trying to recall.

"Uh, somewhere," he says, flashing you that boyish smile. "I honestly don't remember. I just sort of found it."

You playfully pout. 

"It looks so good."

Without a word, Lance breaks the donut in half and hands you the slightly bigger piece.

"Here," he says, holding it out to you. "You can have a piece if you want."

You take a bite, the rich chocolate coating melting on your tongue. It tastes ridiculously good—soft, sweet, and decadent.

"Okay," you say, after savoring the flavor. "I'm convinced. You have a real talent for finding the best snacks."

He laughs softly, brushing a finger over his lips as if contemplating your words.

"It's a gift," he says, smirking. "Years of practice."

Just then, Lance's eyes soften, his gaze falling to your lips.

"You've got chocolate right here," he murmurs, leaning in. Before you can react, he kisses you again, this time slower, with a playful edge, his lips brushing against yours until the chocolate is gone.

When he pulls back, there is that same spark in his eyes that never fails to make your heart flutter.

You giggle and playfully pat his tummy through his shirt, feeling the firm muscles beneath.

"You're always finding ways to steal kisses, aren't you?"

Lance just grins, his hands casually slipping around your waist, pulling you in closer.

"What can I say? I like any excuse." He drops his voice, teasing. "Plus, I'm sure Fernando got a donut too if you want another one."

You burst into laughter, resting your head briefly against his chest. "I'm fine, I promise," you say, smiling. "But thanks for the offer."

Lance's arms stay comfortably around you, his fingers tracing light patterns along your back. You stand there for a moment, just enjoying each other's presence amidst the noise and movement of the paddock.

Then, however, you notice a small speck of chocolate clinging to his crisp white Nomex shirt. Your eyes narrow in playful suspicion.

"Lance," you say, drawing out his name teasingly. "You've got a little something right there..."

His brows furrow in confusion for a second, until you swipe your finger lightly across his chest, brushing the rogue piece of donut off. As the crumb fell away, a tiny, faint chocolate stain remains, just above his heart.

You smirk, glancing up at him. "A chocolate stain, Mr. Stroll? Really?"

He follows your gaze down to the stain and immediately pouts. "Aw, no way..."

Lance tries to brush it off himself, but it only smears a little more, his fingers grazing the fabric ineffectively. 

"It won't come off!"

You chuckle softly, watching him struggle for a second. 

"Don't worry about it," you say, your voice light as you lean in closer, fingers brushing over the spot again. "Once you zip your suit up, no one will see it."

Lance's lips quirk into a sheepish smile as he looks at you, his eyes shining with that mischievous glint you adore.

"True, but I know it's there," he teases, still pouting playfully.

You shake your head, amused by how dramatic he is being over such a small thing.

"Oh, the tragedy," you murmur, your fingers trailing gently over the stain once more, pretending to inspect it.

As your fingers graze his chest, you hear him giggle—a quiet, boyish sound that makes your heart flutter. The light touch of your fingertips on his shirt tickled him, and you can't help but laugh along with him.

"Stop it," he says between giggles, his hands moving to grab yours, still grinning. "You're making it worse!"

You smirk, giving his chest a playful pat.

"Okay, okay, I'll leave it alone. But seriously, it's barely noticeable."

He pulls you closer, resting his chin on top of your head for a brief moment, his laugh fading into a contented sigh.

"I guess I'm just going to have to live with it. But only because you say it's fine," he adds dramatically, his lips twitching into a smile.

You look up at him, still smiling, your heart full.

"Good. Now go make sure you've got no more surprises before qualifying starts, right?"

Lance tilts his head back, pretending to think deeply.

"Yeah, I think I'm good," he says, the hint of a smile still on his face. Then, with a wink, he adds, "Unless you want to check again."

You roll your eyes, laughing softly. "You're impossible."

"And you love it," he whispers, his arms pulling you into another hug.

With a soft kiss to your forehead, he releases you, that boyish grin still on his lips as he turns back to the garage.

"Are you nervous about qualifying?" You ask softly, running your hand along his arm, feeling the tension of race weekend start to seep into your moment.

"Not really," Lance replies, his voice casual, though you sense the focus beneath his words. "I mean, it's always a bit nerve-wracking, but I feel good today."

He looks at you, his expression growing a little more serious. "Having you here helps."

His words, simple and sincere, make your heart swell. Even though you have been together for a while now, it never gets old hearing him say things like that.

"I'm always here for you, you know that," you say, leaning up to press a soft kiss to his cheek.

He gives you a crooked smile, the kind that is both confident and humble, and you can tell he appreciates the support.

"I'll try my best to make you proud," he says, his thumb brushing against your hip.

"You always do," you whisper, squeezing his hand.

Suddenly, over the distant hum of engines and chatter, a voice crackled over the team radio. Lance's engineer is calling him back to the garage, reminding him they have to start prepping for qualifying.

Lance sighs, glancing toward the garage, where a few crew members are already looking his way, waiting for him.

"I've gotta go," he says, his tone regretful. "But I'll see you after quali, okay?"

You nod, giving him one last hug before letting him go. "Good luck. I'll be cheering for you."

He grins—that charming, almost boyish look that always makes your heart skip a beat.

As he turns to head back into the garage, he glances over his shoulder and winks. "I'll make sure, to bring you another donut."

You laugh, shaking your head as you watch him disappear into the garage, surrounded by his team, ready to do what he does best.

And even with the faint stain on his shirt, he looks effortlessly perfect—just Lance, the man that you love.

[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.

[coeurify]

𝐈𝐟 𝐖𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐬 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐤

pairing & wc : ellie williams x fem!reader. wc: 6.8k

description: a new girl sets her eyes on you, and ellie has no patience for it. you both pay the price for her attitude.. but oh if walls could fucking talk.

warnings: listen to if walls could talk by 5sos. harsh language, drinking, jealous!ellie. name calling, spit, oral!r receiving, fingering!e receiving. the nickname pup is used, dom/sub dynamics.

The air in Jackson was sweet tonight. You can taste the spring wind on the tip of your tongue as you laugh— the early may breeze filling your lungs with something crisp enough to freshen you. Something that settles on your skin with the same dewiness as the petals of flowers that bloom near the doors lining the main street.

Dirt from the gravel road kicks up into the settling sky as Jesse makes a move with his boot, pulling another chuckle from your lips. Your cheeks are as pink as the evening sky already, caused by the laughter that spills between your friend group. Four noisy twenty-somethings clambering toward the Tipsy Bison, spitting jokes between yourselves.

You find your focus setting on the pink and orange hues in the sky, looking much more painting-like than anything of reality. Your eyes follow each brush stroke with curiosity, the pre-game sips of liquor stolen from a house’s cabinet sitting low in your belly.

Dina appears next to you and pushes her shoulder into yours, bare skin pressed against each other. It was finally warm enough to rid yourself of the scratchy long sleeves tucked in your closet, and you were taking full advantage. A low-cut and thin short sleeve tucked against your body, which gained you whistles when you showed Dina earlier. The slam forces your head to tilt down from its place in the clouds. “There's a new group Maria let in,” your friend says, pulling your interest directly into her brown eyes. Those brown eyes shift to the girl walking beside you, who stares between the two of you with a smile. “You hear about them El? All I know is some of them are around our age.”

Ellie’s shoulders shrug, green eyes flicking from you and then back to where Jesse was now knocking through the door of the Tipsy Bison as he owned it. “Heard Tommy says it's about 6 of them, two around our ages, the others older. Seems like they caught wind of us and fought to get here.”

Dina nods along as Ellie speaks, bumping into you slightly as all three press through the wooden doors of the establishment. Jesse has already made his way to the bar up front, waving all of you over with one short movement that points to the empty stools beside him.

“Maybe we’ll make some new friends?” You suggest. You watch as Dina and Ellie both take seats on either side of Jesse, yourself sliding into the stool next to the auburn-haired girl.

The soft glow of fading lights above your heads paints everyone in a sweet orange tinge, flushed cheeks set on four faces from the quick walk across town. A soft song plays that you can’t quite make out, just a hum against the decoration-covered walls as the group begins chattering again.

“New friends?” Jesse asks, hand already wrapped around a drink he must have ordered the second he sat down.

“You would know what we were talking about if you didn’t run off in front of us,” Ellie muttered, nodding her head toward the familiar face behind the bar as he asked what she wanted.

“You know how Jesse gets, El. No mind on that one,” Dina smiles, hand coming up to mess his hair from its place. “There's a new group in town, some our age,” she explains to the man, who nods and makes an ooo noise.

“We don’t need more friends. Plus Jesse’s already frustrating enough to deal with,” Ellie cut into the conversation again, lips fighting back a grin.

“Why are you so on my ass tonight, Williams?” Jesse asked, a hand reaching to his chest in faux hurt.

“You just get that out of me,” Ellie shrugs.

“C’mon, you just don't wanna share your girlfriend with anyone else,” Dina motions to you, earning a very obvious eye roll from the girl beside you. “You barely let us get time with her.”

“Yea,” you nod, “Ellie’s just obsessed with me, aren’t you?”

“I am not,” Ellie mumbles into the glass that had just been pushed in front of her. Your eyes linger on her a little too long after her comment. They then fall back into their position staring at the bottles behind the bar, choosing between what you want. It doesn’t last long, your usual drink coming to mind.

Jesse and Dina bicker to your side, over something as ridiculous as the color of the sky outside, as usual. You don't pay it much mind, your head falling to rest on Ellie’s shoulder, glancing up at her as she takes a sip of what you assume to be whiskey.

“Order me a drink,” you hum, batting your pretty eyelashes at your girlfriend. She shifts a bit in her seat, looking down at you.

“Can I get a please?” She requests, eyes swiping away from your own as the words come from her lips. You make a face, eyebrows pinching together. “No?”

Ellie treats you to another eye roll, pretty emerald flashes that make you lift your head away from her shoulder, knowing you won. Ellie motions the bartender over, muttering the drink order she knew by heart.

You grin, placing a few loud kisses on her cheek. The act scrunches up her nose and brings the bickering couple’s attention back to you, embarrassing Ellie further. Jesse purses his lips together to make obnoxious smooching noises, rewarding him with a harsh shove from Ellie.

The drink is placed in front of you as Ellie and Jesse delve into another low-stakes argument, which you pay no mind to. You raise the glass for a sip, which is cut short by the door pushing open, gaining your interest.

Two young-looking people walk in, followed by Maria. She says something to the man and woman that you can’t make out. The man seems roughed up, and your mind seems to tug a string between him and the earlier conversation with Dina and Ellie. The girl beside him looks a little less nervous and less fucked up. Her eyes search the bar curiously, feet bouncing.

Maria sends them off with a short pat on the back, likely after some spiel about interacting with the residents. Dina seems to be watching the same show, already having hopped out of her seat to skip to you, grabbing your arm.

“That’s them,” Dina says, ignoring your partners who are still acting like children, now demanding the other can’t drink as much.

You nod, taking another long sip from your glass before slipping from the barstool to follow her. There isn’t even a whisper of apprehension on her features as she walks toward the two, but your feet drag slightly behind.

“Hi! You’re the new ones right?” She greets both, through her eyes fall on the bruised cheek of the man first. “Shit, you already get fucked up?”

Beside her your throat clears, warning Dina to not push too far. She doesn’t seem to get the hint, still reaching out to shake his hand. The man accepts, shrugging gently as his eyes shift around.

“Ran into a group right before we made it here, one of your patrol groups found em’ and us. They shot both of us till we told them what we were here for.”

Dina nods, “Well, guess you got a warm Jackson welcome,” she grins like she’s the funniest person in the world as she says it, quickly introducing both herself and you.

“Will,” the man says in response, grinning. You can see Will relaxing slightly at the seemingly easy welcome he was receiving in the closely-knit town. You didn’t have the heart to tell him Dina was just like that, so you flash a smile back at him before your eyes follow the new voice. It was the girl, her eyes dead set on your face.

“Pretty name,” she comments, her blonde hair flipping behind her shoulder as her head tilts lightly. You glance away, hoping it was directed instead to Dina. Though the gaze that doesn’t break from your face seems to challenge that.

“I’m Jess,” the blonde adds quickly after, saving you from any embarrassment as Dina quickly jumps in.

“Oh! My boyfriend’s name is Jesse, how funny. Come on you have to meet them,” Dina nods her head toward the bar, where you can feel two sets of eyes burning into the side of your face. It seems Jesse and Ellie noticed your disappearance, chins tilted up in confusion as they watched the conversation unfold. For a moment you meet Ellie’s eyes, hoping she hadn’t heard Jess’s ballsy remark. But the way her jaw clicked told you she was already in a mood about the girl next to you either way.

Your shoes press into the wood floor, dreading the attitude you knew was about to come from your girlfriend regarding the two new bodies that followed you back to the seats. Ellie was always unsure of new faces and never bit back remarks that conjured up due to this. A tough face thrown on top of a slightly anxious body, Ellie believed the spitting words were just protection. It was a disastrous mix, one that often ended in arguments.

More familiar faces flood into the bar as the sun sets outside, the open space becoming slightly louder as people settle in. You hope it brings a sense of attitude suppressant to the auburn-haired girl you sit next to. A larger crowd usually shut her down. Some of this hope shrivels into a ball in your throat as Jess picks to sit on the other side of you. If you could tell the new girl she just sat on a fucking match you would have, but Ellie beats you to it.

Her arm stretches out behind you, the inked-on leaves now on display, sleeves bunched to her elbow. Her eyes meet Jess’s, but you know who the gaze is really directed at. Her arm purposefully presses into your back as she introduces herself, looking for a handshake. You can feel the fake confidence melting off of the skin that touches you.

“I’m Ellie, and she is my-” your girlfriend begins, nodding her head toward you.

In a move that stuns you both, Jess stares Ellie right back, cutting her words off. “I’m Jess. And she already introduced herself.”

It almost amuses you, the way Jess doesn’t shy under Ellie’s obvious glare and doesn’t bother picking up her hand to shake Ellie’s. Most people waltzing into a brand new haven wouldn’t exactly be keen on having such an attitude with the residents, but Jess was. The smug look on her face pisses you off just as much, glancing at the mouthy newcomer with furrowed eyebrows. She doesn’t pay any mind to it.

It takes a moment for those pretty green eyes next to you to look a little less eager to fight, leaning forward again and dropping her hand back to her side in defeat.

You let the small act go, eyeing Ellie once in a sign only you two understood. Her lips busy themself on the almost empty glass before her. “Nice to meet you, Jess.”

You can see Dina biting her lip, fighting back that laugh you are sure bubbles in her throat at the all-too-loud interaction next to them. Jesse pretends he didn’t see it, and you nearly thank the stars above when he speaks.

“Hey, let me order you guys drinks,” He offers as Will settles next to his friend.

Both nod, eager to get something other than water in their throats. You find yourself tuning out the conversation that follows, finishing off your drink with a few more gulps. Ellie beside you also falls silent, though that is a little more expected following what just happened. You trail along the various pictures and signs on the walls as you welcome the warmth in your belly brought on by the drinks.

You resort to nods and hums in response for the next while, only paying full attention when Jesse brings up Ellie’s name. “Most of us do patrols, I’m sure one of you will get put with Ellie or Dina on the first few, to show you the way.”

“Ah, you guys been on a lot?” Will questions, leaning in more to see all the different faces

Ellie nods, trying her best to be less bitter to Will, who hadn't done anything to create the redness on her face. “Yea, kinda all we do,” she answers with a slight shrug. A piece of her hair falls to her cheek and you bite back the urge to move forward and brush it away, twirling your finger around the strand like you would in private. Ellie was already embarrassed enough though, so your fingernails make patterns in the wood top of the bar instead.

Dina calls your name next, eyes falling onto you, “She works with the farm though, all the animals and crops.”

“Oh,” Jess budges in, tilting her head toward you. “Maria mentioned that being an option, do you like it?”

“Yea,” you shrug, finger following the rim of your now empty cup. “It’s fine, boring sometimes.”

The slightest bit of attention you had given the blonde had an immediate effect on Ellie next to you, who sighs loud enough for only you to hear. The next moment you feel a hand on your back, fingers dancing over where the shirt you wear meets your pants. They grip around your side like a child looking for attention, squeezing gently to tug your stool impossibly closer. Quickly you swat the hand away, denying eye contact with the girl beside you.

Ellie doesn’t take the defeat, placing the shooed-away hand on your thigh next, burning with what you can only assume is possessiveness. You can hear her gulp another drink down next to you in another plea for your attention. You let this hand stay, finding comfort in the small circles that Ellie’s thumb draws over your jeans, but refuse to meet her eyes. You can feel annoyance chipping away at your chest, its nasty claws digging over the softer wanted feeling that appeared from your girlfriend’s acts.

Jess seems to notice the show, glancing away for a moment to regain a sense of comfort as Ellie finally pulls away. Her elbows make their appearance on the bartop as she leans her chin into her palms. “Hm.. can’t be too boring with people you know around… I’ll have to tell Maria I’m interested.”

There’s a slight tilt to her voice, one you can’t decipher between friendliness and .. more. It sends your head spinning in confusion. She saw Ellie’s hand on you, heard Jesse clear his throat at the words, and still smiled gently at you. Dina interrupted quickly with some bullshit about stables— but it was already too late. The tension drips from the air and right into your empty cup, filling it with a stronger burn than alcohol.

The bluntest edge of Ellie’s nails digs into your pants, drawing a small noise from your mouth as your head snaps her way. Neither of you looks away for a long second, the game ending when her hand finally falls back to her lap.

Soon Ellie’s leaning in, trying you again as she becomes touchy. The usual unnerved energy that pulses in the girl when trying to give you affection in public is gone, lips pressing to your cheek and jaw in a showy way that brings Jess’s eyes on and off of you two. You can feel your cheeks redden at the act, biting back any urge to turn and slap her lips away. You hope ignoring it is enough of a sign, but Ellie only ends when she can see the flush on your face herself.

The next few minutes go too fast for you to make much sense of. Ellie has fallen completely silent, whether from anger or embarrassment, you aren’t sure. Jesse and Dina have started a much more lightweight conversation about Will and Jess’s travels here, which Will happily chats about over his drink.

There's a loud hum to the bar, mixing voices from all angles of the small building swirling in an annoying sort of way that have you tapping the empty cup. “Do you want another drink? I can order you one when I ask for my own,” a voice asks.

It’s not Ellie’s, instead, brown eyes meet your own. It was Jess, a small yet all too confident smile on her face as her fingers brush against yours that rest on the cup. It’s soft enough to be passed as friendly, as were all her words on the outside— but it doesn’t matter. You all knew.

Hell breaks loose the moment Ellie’s eyes see the touch. You can feel the flames licking your cheek as the much more familiar tone of Ellie filters into your ears. “Are you serious?”

“Ellie-“ you warn, ignoring the blonde’s words to find the flushed and freckled face of your girlfriend. Ellie is too far gone in her little ball of anger to listen.

“Are you stupid or really just that fucking ballsy?”

“Excuse me?” Jess blinks innocently, “Was just bein nice?”

The question sends the whole group silent, five sets of eyes falling on Ellie. A shocked sort of laugh bubbles from Jesse’s mouth, who is quickly elbowed by Dina. You take the comment as your cue to go, stumbling off your stool as you grip Ellie’s arm, forcing her off her own as she continues grumbling insults about Jess’s apparent flirting.

“She doesn’t even fucking like blondes by the way, she-” and then your hand is slapping over Ellie’s mouth before she can get loud enough for more patrons to hear, nails digging nastily into the fat of her cheek.

She pushes the handoff, grabbing your arm, “Mine, you got it? She’s mine. I'm the one taking her home to--” Ellie starts again, cut off by a yelp as you slap her arm hard enough to cause the quick death of that sentence.

“I'm gonna take her home,” you explain with an apologetic grin as you step. Then your face dims a little as you look at Jess, shooting her one of your confused glares before twisting away. With your arms wrapping around Ellie, you pull her through the crowd. Dina’s muffled voice saying something along the lines of, “Don't try it again,” is the last thing you hear.

Ellie continues to speak into your hand, mumbling nonsense of repeated, “mine,” “fucking fuck,” and other jealous blabbering as you step out into the now dark street.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

The walk home was eerily quiet, both of you having untangled yourselves from the position you pushed out of the Tipsy Bison in to instead walk alone. You mull over your next choices for the night as lightning bugs play their part in distracting Ellie. You can still feel the anger radiating off of her as she harshly slams the door of her garage home open, flooding you both with the dim lights that hang from her walls.

“You are so fucking lucky I didn’t do something in public,” a voice seethes, walking the opposite body back against the now-shut door.

But it’s not Ellie leading the movements, nor saying the words. She is the one backing against the shut door as your mouth falls open to continue the rant.

“Acting like that in front of everyone? Grabbing at me and talking like you own me?” You scoff, a familiar feeling inking into your skin as Ellie shys under you just slightly. The power trip was already building inside of you, making you feel ten feet taller as you stare at the girl under the golden lighting.

“That .. that fucking girl was flirting with you!” Ellie argues, arms crossing over her chest in a way that made your eyes fall on the deliciously flexed muscles there.

“And so you treat me like a piece of meat to stake your claim over?”

Ellie blinks a few times, shaking her head to try and answer your biting remark, “That isn’t-“

You step even closer, breath fanning against Ellie’s nose and lips as you speak. You like how the small act has Ellie shivering beside you, pretty soft skin gaining a pink tint. “You have no idea how badly I want to parade around what happens behind closed doors Ellie. Because god, do you like to act like you’re the one with any control.”

Ellie doesn’t dare reply as you continue speaking, instead trying to look anywhere but your face. “Palming at my thigh.. kissing me like you’re some needy bitch, declaring mine in front of our whole friend group? And then implying you were gonna take me home and fuck me? All because some girl couldn’t take a hint?”

Ellie, still against the door— shakes her head. You watch as her throat moves in a gulping motion. “She was all over you, you can’t be mad I got upset,” she says after a moment of building confidence, making a move you both knew would end badly by pushing through your body to pace around the small space. One of her hands comes to play with a finger on her opposite palm, comforting herself.

“I’m not mad at you for getting upset, Ellie. I’m mad you act like you have any ownership over me. I’m mad you had the nerve to say that shit knowing perfectly fucking well who does what when the door closes.”

Ellie won’t look at you, unsurprisingly so as she moves to a more bratty-sounding tone. “Oh, Jesus Christ how awful someone may think you bottom, babe. You’ll survive. Maybe you should try it.”

For a moment you say nothing, toeing the incredibly thin line the two of you are walking on. You know Ellie well enough to see through the game she’s beginning to play, searching for reassurance and attention with chipped remarks and arguments. You also know Ellie’s ego was sore from tonight’s events, creating an even brattier version of herself. The last comment is an open invitation to make her regret the words.. regret her touchy attitude tonight.

Of course, you take it. Of course, you bite on the bait Ellie had set before you with sharp teeth, licking your lips.

“And you’ll survive not touching me tonight,” you shrug, kicking off your shoes as you walk to the bed you spend nearly every night in. You plant yourself directly on the edge, following the sound of Ellie’s shoes dragging. There's a slight sweat building on the nape of your neck as you recount the events from earlier, perfectly clear images of your needy girlfriend coming to the forefront of your mind as you continue your half-hearted anger.

“What?” Ellie mutters, finally meeting your eyes.

“You did plenty of fucking touching with the show you put on tonight, think you met your limit,” you answer with a sigh, peeling the jeans from your legs in a slow movement, knowing it will catch the attention of green eyes. There is no ignoring the immediate hitch in her breath that follows. Ellie was easy to get worked up, no matter how much she would deny that if you ever told her so. You already knew tonight was going to be so much fun.

“C’mon that’s not fair,” Ellie mumbles, emphasizing each word in an attempt to stump any building whines.

“I'm tired Ellie,” you answer with a small fake-sounding yawn. “I don't want to argue, come lay down,” you pat the spot next to you on the bed, innocently enough that Ellie actually trudges over and sits next to you.

“I didn’t do anything you wouldn’t have. Imagine a girl flirting with me, how would you react?” Ellie muttered, knowing full well she would not get an answer she liked.

“Not act like a jealous bitch in front of everyone, woulda just left,” you criticize softly, though there isn’t too much bite, you both know you were just as jealous as her. “Would’ve taken you home..” you sigh, fingers finding the buttons of her shirt, “remind you who you belong to..”

Your hands move to her front, unbuttoning the flannel that she wears, pulling a shiver from her after your words. It's a simple act you two had fallen into the routine of ages ago. Undressing each other before bed, grabbing pajamas, pressing kisses to sore spots after a day of work, massaging muscles. A small sign of affection that was often done over comforting silence. Today’s silence however was a little more charged.

Of course, you had already pulled your pants off in a sign to Ellie that you were not joking about the no-touching statement, not allowing her any whisper of her fingers against your own. The flannel pools down her arms, letting you toss it into the small hamper near the window. The outside air commands it warm enough to also tug Ellie’s undershirt off, and she hums in approval when your fingers linger on the bare skin over her ribs, leaving only the fitted sports bra left. Next is her jeans, purposefully pressing your hands a little harshly into her hips, hoping to catch a small hint of Ellie squirming from it. She does, of course. The motion presses a heat in between your thighs, one that had been growing since Ellie and you had gotten home.

“Go grab stuff to sleep in?” You ask, though Ellie knows it isn’t a question. She stands, rummaging through the unorganized dresser near her bed to pull out a pair of sweatpants for herself and a larger shirt she wore often for you. Your shirt is quickly discarded, gaining the attention of Ellie’s wandering eyes as she holds the clothes close to her chest. The way she bites the inside of her cheek is enough of a sign that she’s frustrated you did it yourself, but no words follow the action.

El tosses you the shirt, one that smells like her in all the right ways as you tug it over your head, watching it bunch up at your hips. The second part of the plan building in your mind dictated no sleep shorts would follow, but Ellie seemed to not have grabbed you any pants, likely for her own pleasure of looking at your bare thighs. You press back into the bed, head finding the cold pillow at the tip of it as Ellie pulls on her sweatpants. The sight of her fingers curling around the fabric alone is enough to tighten your lower stomach again, slightly regretting your no-touching decision. Soon she follows your lead, climbing under the blankets to your left, small breaths of air leaving her lips as she looks over at you. “Can I at least lay against you?”

You shake your head in answer, watching Ellie shift uncomfortably next to you. “Baby-” she tries again, finding your eyes in the soft light. Your lips pull into a straight line with another sign of no, leading to groans from your girlfriend as a flash of auburn hair pushed back into the pillow dramatically.

The room falls into quiet again, the only noise that of shuffling sheets and the crickets that lay in the growing grass outside. When Ellie’s breath calms into a more tired sounding pull, you glance up to the ceiling. You let your mind fall into the building plan laid out in the dark ceiling above you. Your eyes press closed, cloudy paintings of Ellie leaning against you, Ellie grabbing at your thigh in the bar, kissing you, her angry little breaths that built as Jess spoke more— they all flood into your mind. You could act mad all you want, and maybe you were a bit angry at how Ellie liked to put out this image of her holding the power, but really the jealousy had you feeling warm all over.

Your palm presses against your chest, the pads of your fingers denting into the cotton of the shirt you wore, dragging down in a way that had you squirm just slightly. You would much rather it was Ellie’s hand that found your panties next, looking up at you from her knees as she waited for the next command. But it wasn’t, and you were much too stubborn.

Your fingers dipped under the elastic of the lace, shimmying them down slightly. Ellie stirred just a bit beside you but didn’t seem to notice what was happening yet. “Are we really just gonna lay here in silence?” she asks. Too focused on the pad of your fingers running along the slightly wet slit, all you do is hum in response. The wetness that dashes your finger is used as a helper as you rub circles on your clit.

The almost silent response seems to finally draw Ellie’s eyes to you, though the only light of the strings near her wall leaves little to be seen. What Ellie does notice, dim lights or not, is your eyes squeezing close. She noticed the motion of your arm, following it down to where your fingers are moving between your thighs. It sends her sitting straight up, which you can feel in the dip of the old mattress.

“What are you doing?” Ellie begins, cut off but the shush that you respond with. “Makin’ myself feel good,” you grumbled, as if it was annoying you that she watched. In reality, it just made the tightness in your stomach further, a tightly knotted rope that tugged in all the right ways when you felt green eyes searching over your body.

Ellie doesn’t answer for a few more moments, transfixed by the motion of your fingers, unable to put an end to the whine that finally sounds, reaching your ear right as you press a particularly hard swirl to your bud. “Let me,” Ellie croaks, moving to settle toward the end of the bed. From this angle you are sure she can see everything, even more so when you press your thighs open more, your glistening center on full display for your squirming girlfriend. The plan was working just as you assumed it would, her bratty mouth quieted by the sight.

“No,” you deny her, a small gasp following the words as you look at her. The sight is enough to bring another pool of wetness to your slit, which your fingers dip down into, pushing one digit into yourself. Ellie whines even louder than you at the sight, “Please, I’ll be good,” she tried again, a sweeter twinge to her voice that you knew was all an act. One you wouldn’t buy into despite how you imagined it was her fingers as you added another.

Your mind struggles to find the right words, but Ellie waits patiently. “Good?” you criticized, “Were you good when you acted like a brat out tonight? Were you good when you argued with me?”

The words are as stern as you can make them, urging your gaze to stay on her instead of falling back against the pillow. “Told you no touching, that’s the end of it,” you mumble. The wet noises of your fingers moving in and out of your center have Ellie salivating, licking her lips quickly as she eyes you. You can see the way her pupils dilate, you watch as her body goes a little less stiff. The earlier anger and insecurity that has been building against her freckled cheeks and sore muscles dissolving just like you wanted them to. You needed her to forget about the annoying girl earlier, and focus instead on you. on you two. You needed to carve away the brattiness in the only way you knew how making her beg for you.

You let a few moans pass your lips, hips bucking gently. You can feel the fire building in your core, knowing soon you will reach your peak.

“Please, I'm- sorry, I'm sorry baby please let me touch you. need to touch you,” Ellie rattled on.

You let her continue for a moment, her babbles filling the now thick air of her garage, pounding against your mind as it slipped away. When you finally feel yourself reaching the wave of pleasure in your lower belly, you stop, effectively edging yourself away from an orgasm.

“You wanna help me feel good?” You question, fighting the urge to squeeze your thighs closed to ease the ache as you stare at Ellie. She nods quickly, strands of hair following messily in the movement’s wake. “Still don’t-“ you breathe out, “Still can't touch me, but you can use your mouth. Hands to yourself baby,” you begin, but before you can even finish the sentence Ellie is laying between your thighs, hands balled together against the blanket, her hot mouth pressing into you before you can even process the action.

It draws a surprised noise from you, your head pressing back against the pillowcase, teeth digging into your bottom lip. Ellie listened, of course, she did, her hands staying put against the fabric of the sheets. Her mouth dug into your pussy like she was starving, nose bumping into your clit messily, licking up all of the slick that had drooled from you from your own fingers, now gushing out more and more regularly from her ministrations.

“Fuck,” you moan, flushing as your lip quivers. “You were fucking born for this Ellie, such a good mouth, so much— much better using it to do this than bein’ a brat,” you spit, fingers finding the short strands of her hair, pressing her face even closer into your folds as you searched for your release. Ellie whined against you, and you watched as her knuckles flexed, obviously fighting against grabbing at the flesh of your thighs.

“Put them.. put them behind your back,” you grit through your teeth, allowing no wavering to your words. Ellie knew what you meant immediately, green eyes looking up at you as she did as she was told, wrists grasping each other behind her back.

It’s a little mean, the way she has to shimmy around with no arms. The way you can see her blunt nails fig unto her skin to keep it from trying to find your skin like her body was begging to have you. Your own body was gasping for something similar, over-sensitive from your previous work on your clit.

“Such a good girl, Els” you breathe out, hips bucking into her face. “Gonna come, you’re taking it so well, pup.”

The pet name seems to render her almost useless, freezing up against you as you grind down into her mouth. She comes back a moment later, tripling her efforts as her lips come to wrap around your clit, sucking harshly.

You let a loud, messy sounding moan out, not caring who may hear outside. Not caring if it gave away too much of how you felt. With a girl as pretty as Ellie between your thighs, who would care?

She doesn’t allow herself more than a few panicked breaths, solely focused on making more noises empty your lips. She suckles against you particularly hard after you shift, and that’s the feeling that sends you toppling over the edge. A choked noise rips past your mouth before you can stop it, slick spilling all over Ellie as she desperately tries to collect it all. Your still moving hips leave that difficult, getting her lips and cheeks glossy as well. Your nails don't leave her scalp, scratching gently in a repeated motion. It has her pulling back from your core, blinking slowly, dazed as she stares at you.

“You’re being so good for me, baby,” you gush, riding out the leftover feelings from your orgasm. Your wall is breaking, craving your pretty girlfriend’s hands on you too much to keep up with the punishment for much longer. “Could never want anyone but you, y’know that right?” You huff, hand grasping her hair in a sign for her to lift up. She does so easily, hands on either side of the bed as she hovers above you, her lips ghosting over your own.

“No one could compare to my needy girl,” you coo, brushing your lips against hers. The words drive home a point you hadn’t yet made clear. Jess had no chance, no one did. No one could ever be Ellie. Your Ellie.

There’s nothing else around you now. No light, no sounds. The world is silent and dark, Ellie being the only source of light in your eyesight, in your ears, and your mind. Nothing deviated away from her as her lip trembled. The look of her has you quickly flipping your positions, settling nicely straddling over her, and finally blessing her with your hands against her as you lean over her. Your fingers find her jaw, pressing her mouth open in a soft motion. She wastes no time parting her lips further, tongue lolling out for you like she knew what was coming. When a string of spit falls from your lips and onto her waiting tongue, she accepts it gladly. “so good,” you uttered, shivering as she swallows.

“What do you want, baby?” You ask next, deeming she has listened nice enough to be rewarded.

“Let me kiss you,” Ellie whispers, sniffling gently as she adds a soft, “please.” You grant her wish, leaning to press a kiss to her waiting lips, the sound of approval she gives reverberating against your connected mouths.

“Such a perfect girl,” you blabber, stomach swirling as you watch her slip into that delicious space you always brought her to, whiney and wordless— looking at you like you were the only person in the whole damn world. Your words die off with another kiss, hand finding her boxers, dipping into the fabric. It greets you with a large wet spot, the dripping core of your girlfriend the obvious culprit. Ellie whimpers against your lips, and you swallow it like it's the most delicious thing you’ve ever been given, kissing her harshly, biting at the bottom lip.

When one finger sinks easily into her folds, you hum against her, lips dragging to her ear to mumble against it. “This is what you wanted the whole time, hm?” You ask, another finger dipping into the mix as you feel her walls grip around you. Like it was made for you. “Wanted me to get mad at you for acting like a needy whore.. wanted me to take you home and fuck you, let you know you’re the only one I want?” You accuse, nipping at her ear lobe as your digits curl, pulling another whine from your girlfriend.

The words are as true as they can be, and Ellie knows that. She acknowledges this with a nod of her head, and you don’t push much further. “Fit perfectly around my fingers, pup. Fuckin made for me,” your voice calls against her neck as you bite into the skin, a yelp from above you following it. She grinds into your fingers, and you allow it, following the rolls of her hips as you hit that spot that left her gasping.

“No one could ever get me like this, even as bratty as you are,” you promise, twisting your hand in a way that has her thighs moving without much permission from her mind, thrusting up into you. “Want you to soak my fingers, baby,” you nip at the nape of her neck, hot breath wetting the skin as you pull back. The quickening pace of your fingers has her delirious, mouth dropping open to pant.

You swear it may be the prettiest sight, and you pull back to get a full view. Your hair falls from its place, sticking to your sticky forehead, eyes focused sharply on Ellie as her cheeks became a deep cherry red, freckles disappearing into the red flesh. You want to reach forward, want to feel her gasp against your lips as you continue to hit her sweet spot over and over, but the way she pushes out sweet little moans is a much more gorgeous sight.

“What would our friends think?” You ask lowly, pressing into her harshly. “If they knew you were the whining whore under me hm?” Ellie cries out in response, shaking her head gently.

“Think it’d be funny. Them knowing that tough little Ellie is really just a bratty little bitch,” you croon, tone sickly sweet.

“Baby,” she cries, nose wrinkling as she pulls her eyes shut, “Please let me come, ‘m so close.”

The air around you is sticky, collecting on the skin of your arms and back as your wrist burns, quickening your movements with twists and scissoring movements. Ellie becomes too loud for her own good, teeth sinking into her lip to quiet it at least a little before she wakes the animals or people outside of these walls. Part of you wants them to hear, wants them to find the little pathetic sounding noises that pour from Ellie. Want someone to know it you who gets Ellie like this. Gets her squirming against you, begging for, “more,” and “harder.”

Who were you to deny such a handsome girl after all? With another thrust of your fingers, you feel her clench around you, her chest pausing as the feeling overwhelms her. The wetness spills over your fingers soon thereafter, leaving them even slicker as you continue. You were far from done with Ellie.

Ellie lifts her head, staring down at your fingers that disappear in and out of her clenching pussy, “please, no more.”

“You were actin needy all night,” you push, words partnered with another thrust into the wet center. The sound it makes is filthy, a devilish grin finding a place on your lips. “So you can take as much as I want to give you.”

The may night covers around any sounds that spill from the small garage, walls acting as protectors for what really happens behind them.

perm taglist: @rxllingstones @hrtsellie @elliewlums @callmekittenandyourmajesty @gr1mreaperbarbie @imyour-favouritegirl @haiixo @dankpunks @machetegirl109

tags for this fic: @anchoeritic @dyk3ification @prrimordiais @totheblood @shesluxurious @jakesullyslongshlong