#do not fuck with clarke griffin

[neyantkomskaikru]

Did we ever get a full explanation for this scene? Like, did Lexa know the extenuating circumstances of Clarke taking the flame? Or did she assume that Clarke took over being leader and was just like “Yas, das muh gurl”? She’s so happy to see Clarke, and so proud of her too. Even if she doesn’t quite understand the full situation, she’s telling Clarke that she chose her. That even with all her beloved novitiates, that she chose Clarke (even though we know that’s not really how that works). Just fuck me three ways to Thursday because I can’t handle this anymore 😩

JRat made the biggest mistake of his life by killing off Lexa. He deserves all the vitriol he gets thrown.

#why do I do this to myself #the 100 #clarke x lexa #clexa fandom #clexa #lexa kom trikru #the flame #clarke griffin #City of Light #this episode broke me #but left me with so many questions too #when I first watched it #and still even now #fuck jrat

[hamletteprinceofdenmark]

Y’all ever think about how Bob Morley added the “please” when Bellamy asks Clarke to come inside?

#the 100 #bob morley #Bellamy Blake #Clarke griffin #Bellarke #fuck man #he UNDERSTOOD #IT WASNT IN THE SCRIPT #HE ASKED HER PLEASE BECAUSE HE KNEW #HE KNEW BELLAMY WOULD NEVER ORDER CLARKE TO DO SOMETHING LIKE THAT

[puthyflapps]

Reading Clexa fanfiction where Clarke doesn't understand why she feels a certain way about Lexa like

#reading 20k words describing how Clarke feels so drawn to Lexa for some unexplained reason like baby you wanna fuck her #you’re gay honey bun 🫶🏻 #clexa #sometimes I forget that this ep of what would you do exist and then I remember and it makes me wanna die it’s so cringey #clarke griffin #commander lexa #lexa woods

[peggysousfan]

Why do Writers Ruin Good TV Endings?! JUST WHY!?!?!

I have no idea what ending was worse GOT or The 100! Both final seasons were rushed, Several characters were wronged, their arcs destroyed!! KILLED BY THE ONES THEY LOVED AND FOR WHAT!?!?! 😭 

Bellarke deserves so much fucking better for so many reason. The final season was utter garbage, rushed, and made no sense. Same for GOT. And while I personally thought Jon Snow and Daenerys Targaryen were strange after discovering their blood ties, they still did not deserve that ending!!

It made no sense to have her kill the innocence of Kings Landing, it literally went back on everything she fought for. I understand she lost so much but damn this season made no fucking sense. 

And the way Drogon was so upset he melted the fucking throne! Like he KNEW what was to blame for his mother’s fate and he MELTED THE IRON FUCKING THRONE! Then he flew away with her and I- 😭 😭 

I DID NOT NEED THIS TODAY!!

#im so done with bs endings #even though the GOT ending was spoiled before hand seeing it is compltly different #its so fucking stupid #the 100 #GOT #bellarke #jon snow #daenerys targaryen #clarke griffin #bellamy blake #wtf #seriously what the actual fuck #Drogons reaction KILLED ME! #this will haunt me and i am not here for it #it hurt clarke to do what she did #and it hurt Jon to do the same thing #the parallels of shitty endings for tv will forever be unacceptable #bran being king was a good choice #and Sanse rulking the north #but still there was so much wrong in the last few episodes it made no sense #rant

[twirlywhirlywriting]

Consequences of Being a Brat

Eddie Munson Fic Incoming!

NSFW 18+, Minors DNI! Okay so this one is… whoo. A lot more intense than my previous fics. I know I said my next fic would be with Clarke Griffin from The 100 but I got smacked in the face with inspiration for this so, here you go. This fic is purely self indulgent and I pretty much made it just for my own desire BUT I am sure all you dom!Eddie lovers out there will enjoy it too. I honestly have no clue if The Magic Wand existed in the 80’s but for the sake of this fic, it absolutely did. The ending is super fluffy so please stick around for it too! Please like, comment, and reblog if you enjoyed this, it would mean the whole entire world to me!

Word Count: 9,016

Warnings:NSFW 18+, Angst (very slight), Smut, Fluff, AFAB Reader, Aftercare, BratTamer!Eddie, Brat!Reader, Breath Play (one time near the end), Bondage, Biting, Potential CNC? (honestly I’m not sure if it is or not. Reader doesn’t want to accept punishment but it’s all a part of their brat/tamer dynamic and consensual, but as always, read at your own risk), Choking, Crying During Aftercare, Dom!Eddie, Degradation, Dacryphilia, Eventual Submission, Extreme Sensitivity, Face Slapping (Only a couple of times and it is not extreme), Forced Orgasms, Fingering, Humiliation, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Oral Sex (f and m receiving), Orgasm Control and Denial, Punishment, P-in-V (unprotected, wrap it up irl folks), Rough Sex, Sub!Reader, Spanking, Swearing, Squirting, Subspace (mentions of, it’s not super deep), Vibrators

Idk I feel like I overdo it with warnings sometimes but I want you to be able to read at your own risk and avoid your own triggers, I do not want my writing to cause harm! Only horniness and happy feelings! Anywho, here is my newest fic and I really hope you all love it!

Consequences of Being a Brat

The stage lights focused, the crowd hushed, and the electric hum of anticipation filled the air. Eddie Munson, with his shaggy brown hair cascading over his shoulders, stood center stage. His fingers started strumming his electric guitar as Corroded Coffin launched into their first song. In the sea of people, Eddie scanned the crowd, looking for one face in particular–yours. You never missed a single concert, and tonight shouldn’t have been any different. But tonight, no matter how hard he searched, you were nowhere to be found. 

Where the hell is she? He thought to himself. As the concert reached its crescendo, Eddie’s mind wandered, his performance slightly faltering. Once the last note echoed through the quarry, Eddie rushed offstage. His heart pounded with a mix of post-performance adrenaline and concern for where you could be. 

Back at home, I was absolutely fine. My coworker at the bakery asked me to pick up their shift, so I was working overtime and honestly forgot about the concert tonight. I was laying on the couch, lounging in Eddie’s Hellfire club shirt and black cotton panties while watching some cheesy horror flick. I was just about to get up from the couch to call in for a pizza delivery, when Eddie crashed through the door. 

He looks absolutely frantic, making me feel instantly guilty. I totally forgot to tell him that I wouldn’t be able to make the concert tonight. Fuck. “Eddie, I’m so sorry! I had to cover Emily’s shift tonight and I completely forgot to let you know I wasn’t going to make it. I feel terrible.”  I stand up to give him a hug, he looks like he needs it.

Eddie’s frustration softens, but is still very present. “You just forgot to tell me? I was worried sick, baby. I thought you were hurt.” He hugs me back tightly, before sighing and letting me go.

“I know, I know, Eddie. I’m sorry,” I say, stepping back as he runs a hand through his hair in exasperation. One of the rings on his fingers gets stuck in his hair and as he is figuring out how to get it un-stuck, I can’t help but giggle.

His head immediately snaps to look at me, questioning, “What’s so funny?” 

I try not to, but I can’t hold back another giggle. “I can’t help it, you looked so worried.. It was kind of cute.” I know this conversation will get me nowhere but trouble, but my heart feels so inflated with how much he cares about me, I don’t even care right now.

His eyes close for a moment as he processes what just came out of my mouth, his tongue jutting into the side of his cheek. When he opens his eyes again, they seem much darker than they were before and I knew that my words had started something. His tone itself could cut through ice. “Excuse me? Would you like to repeat that? I’m just not sure that’s what you were really trying to say, sweetheart.” 

His words shoot a shiver through my body and directly down to my core. He doesn’t call me that unless I’m really starting to push my limits. It’s a fucked up nickname because it’s way too gentle for whatever he’s planning to do to me.

For some stupid reason, the desire to provoke him becomes unbearable. “That is actually exactly what I was trying to say. You were so worried about me that you ran home and almost tore the front door off its hinges. It was absolutely adorable.” I put extra emphasis on the last word, a smirk playing on my lips. 

His eyebrow raises at me as his arms cross over his chest, his fingers tapping his arm in an attempt to control his desire to put me over his knee right that second. “Oh yeah? Wanna make that hole you’re in a little deeper?” He takes a step closer to me until it feels like he’s towering over me, his face only inches from mine, and whispers, “Go on, say something else. I dare you.” 

Those fucking words. Maybe on any other day, I would have just apologized and took a spanking or two. But daring me? Oh boy, today was not the day. I just got done with two fucking shifts at work in a row and okay, yeah, I can see why you’d be worried about me and now you’re mad that I’m mouthing off, but seriously? Fuck you, Eddie! I thought to myself. 

Surprise registers on his face as his mouth opens slightly, eyes widening. Oh god. Did I just say that out loud? I look up at him and laugh nervously. “Is it too late already to say I’m sorry?” My voice is much more quiet than I mean it to be, but it’s too difficult to speak up when his eyes are on fire and it’s directed right at me.

He just stares at me, his eyes going from that teddy-bear brown to straight up black. He starts unbuckling his belt, pulling it from the loops slowly. My mouth dries out and for a moment, I’m frozen in place before the realization of what he’s about to do hits and I fucking bolt towards the bathroom so I can lock myself in there for a while until he calms down. 

His hand quickly reaches out and grabs me by the wrist before flipping me around to face him. He grabs my chin and forces me to look up at him while his other hand continues pulling his belt from the loops at an agonizing pace. “And just where do you think you’re going? You really think you get to say that shit to me and then run off to avoid my belt? Really?” He can’t help but laugh at my escape attempt, but his laugh sounds empty. 

I try to pull my face away from his grip, but it’s impossible. My nerves turn into anger and I suddenly swat his hand away from my face, my voice raising to a yell. “You can’t get me in trouble for this! I was just messing around, Eddie, can’t you take a fucking joke?” 

The growl that escapes his lips is feral. He grabs me by the back of the neck and pushes me forward, forcing me down the hallway towards the bedroom as he bites back, “Eddie? I don’t know who the fuck you think you’re talking to, sweetheart, but that is incorrect.” 

I’m practically stumbling over my own feet, he’s pushing me so hard and walking too fast for me to find a good rhythm in my steps. I get shoved down onto the mattress face first, but quickly flip myself around and sit up, scrambling backwards to the opposite side of the bed. “Stop it! Eddie I said I was sorry, I was joking! Don’t do this, seriously.” My voice is definitely mixed with panic and anger… arousal is in there somewhere too, judging by the wet spot I know is coming through my panties right now. 

He grabs me by my ankles and drags me back towards him, before flipping me over, scolding me as he yanks off my panties and giving my ass a few hard spanks with his hand to warm me up. “Let me get this straight. You are acting like a fucking brat, and now you refuse to take your punishment for it? Not only that, you know how you’re supposed to address me right now, yet you keep acting like you’re just my sweet little girlfriend and calling me by my name. But you’re not my sweet little girlfriend right now, are you?” 

He doesn’t even give me a chance to respond to his questions, he just grabs his belt and uses every harsh spank with it to emphasize his next words. “You. Are. My. Bratty. Fucking. Slut.” I wince and whine at every smack, and then my hands fly back to cover my now-bright red ass for protection. He has no patience with me anymore, I can tell. He grabs my hands to pin them behind my back, which makes me groan out in frustration and panic, and without even thinking about it, I’ve kicked my feet at him and hit him right in the thigh. Thankfully it wasn’t a direct kick to the balls, but it was close. And now I’m fucked.

I look back at him as best as I can, and the look on his face sends another round of chills down my spine. I can feel myself getting wetter by the second though, fuck my life. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it!” I scream at him, squirming as hard as I could to try to get away, “I wouldn’t have done that if you had just let me go!” 

He tuts at me from behind, sighing in disappointment. “You really need a lesson in obedience today, don’t you? I tried to just give you a few spankings with the belt. Just a few, and you just can’t stop making things worse for yourself.” He grabs me by the hair and yanks me up to sit, making me yelp. My shirt is torn off of me before a quick, double-handed shove sends me crashing back down. It’s not gentle, and I let out an “oof” when I hit the bed. He grabs me by my hips and flips me over again before getting onto the bed and straddling me so I can’t squirm away. 

He leans over and grabs a piece of rope in the bedside table drawer before grabbing my wrists harshly. As he is tying my wrists together, he talks to me rather calmly, as if he’s explaining how two plus two equals four. “If you had just taken your punishment like a good girl, I wouldn’t be having to do this, sweetheart. But you just couldn’t shut your mouth, could you? And then you kick me? You actually kick me? Well, when this all gets too intense for you, just remember that you brought this on yourself. I tried to let you off easy, I really did. But now it’s time to face the consequences, sweetheart.” He sighs as he pulls my arms up to tie the other end of the rope against the headboard, acting like my squirming is literally nothing to him.  The entire time he’s talking I’ve been doing my best to squirm, to look at him with pleading eyes, to whimper at him submissively like I know he likes, but none of it was doing a single thing to change his mind. 

I suddenly notice just how naked I am, and just how clothed he is. It makes my thighs squeeze together as I try to hide just how fucking turned on I am by all of this. Am I terrified? Yes. Have I ever gotten in this much trouble before? No. Am I wetter than I’ve ever been before in my life? God, yes. When he is done with the ties, he looks down at me with his arms crossed against his chest again and his eyebrow raised, waiting for… something?

I look up at him for a few seconds, getting a little bit irritated by the way he’s sitting there and staring at me expectantly but not doing or saying anything. “What?” Oops. That came out harsher than I meant it to.

“Well? Are you going to apologize?” He demands. Why the fuck is my only urge when he looks like that to make him even more agitated? I know punishment is coming. I know he’s at his limit with my disobedience and attitude. And yet it’s just too entertaining to witness all of his reactions when I refuse to give up.

“No. You don’t own me, you can’t make me do shit.” I glare at him, shutting my eyes and pulling at the restraints slightly as I prepare for a slap. It doesn’t come. 

I slowly peek one eye open and he leans forward, grabbing my chin in his hand so hard it hurts until I fully look at him, and then whispers, “Oh, but I do. And you’re going to learn that the hard way.” I can’t help but swallow hard, and my mouth dries out again. I have no clever response to that. 

He crawls off of me and grabs the underside of my knees, yanking them open despite me trying to keep them closed. I knew I was a mess down there and I didn’t want him to have the satisfaction of knowing that too. When he sees how wet I am, he lets out a whistle. “Damn, baby. You are such a dirty girl.” His fingers go right to my core, spreading my lips apart with two fingers, causing me to whimper and turn my face away from him because the way he’s looking at my pussy right now has my stomach doing flips. 

He slides two his two fingers up and down my slit to wet them before shoving them both inside me, giving me absolutely no time to adjust before he starts pumping them in and out at a much faster pace than he normally warms me up with. I moan out as his fingers are sliding in and out easily. I can already hear how wet I am on his fingers, and it makes my cheeks flush at the sound. I can’t even help it at this point and I squirm at the sensation, my legs closing around his hand. Which, obviously doesn’t do fucking anything to stop him or even slow him down. He curls his fingers up once he feels my g-spot start to swell from stimulation, not only making a “come here” motion but also still bringing his fingers in and out of me at a vicious pace. I squeeze my legs tighter and my moans straight up sound like I’m in a porno movie or something. 

“You are so fucking wet. I don’t even need to warm you up like this, do I? No, I don’t think I do.” He rips his hands away and leaves me whining at the empty feeling, but it is quickly replaced by the tip of his cock teasing my entrance. I don’t even remember seeing him take off his pants. He slides it along my slit and barely touches my clit with it, which makes me flinch. He slowly pushes himself inside of me as he grabs my hips so hard, I swear they’ll bruise. He leans his head back and groans at the feeling, but just a moment later he is pounding into me at an unforgiving pace. I look at him as my mouth hangs open, keeping eye contact as I’m unable to hold back my moans yet again. The speed of his thrusts mixed with just how turned on I am causes me to get closer to an orgasm much faster than I’d like to. 

I absentmindedly try to wrap my arms around him for something to hold on to but the ropes promptly remind me that I can’t. As he feels my pussy starting to twitch and throb the closer I get to an orgasm, he grabs onto the back of my thighs and pushes my legs up and to the side of me, giving him a much better angle to hit my g-spot with every thrust. When he hears the sweet sounds I’m making at this angle, he starts pushing himself deeper and thrusting his hips even harder, practically slamming into my cervix every few thrusts. If it weren’t for how ruthlessly he was fucking me, I would be extremely distracted by the heavenly groans that were freely flowing from his lips right now. 

I’m heading towards an orgasm so quickly, I barely have time to say “I’m gonna” before he pulls his cock out of me faster than I can realize what was happening. Right as I’m about to open my mouth to argue or whine at him for rudely stopping my impending orgasm, he brings his hand down to slap my pussy. The wet sound it makes mixed with the sting on my sensitive lips makes me arch my back and groan. He chuckles darkly and slaps my pussy again just to hear me make that sound again. 

Then he gets right in my face, and his voice sounds like it’s practically an entire octave lower than usual. “Do you want me to make you cum? Hm? Is that what you want?” I know where this is heading, and it is not in my favor. I nod my head quickly at him, making my voice sound as submissive as I can manage right now, hoping it will work.

“Yes! Yes please, please make me cum! Please Ed-Sir! Please make me cum Sir!” When I almost called him Eddie, he looked like he was about to fucking lose it, so I corrected myself. There have been times before when he’s edged me for days without letting me cum, and I absolutely cannot take that kind of punishment right now. 

He places his hand around my throat, squeezing tight enough so that I can’t easily speak and then slams himself inside of me again without warning. No sound comes out when I try to cry out from the sudden force. He speeds up and slows down in a repeating pattern until I’m quivering under him and he can feel just how close I am. He loosens his grip on my throat and has a devilish smirk while he says, “Say it again. Beg me. Say ‘Please Sir, please make me cum like the little slut I am.” 

I balk at his words; my voice is caught in my throat and I even stop moaning for a second. I’m so fucking close to cumming though, my legs are shaking uncontrollably. He slaps both of my tits, hard, to jump-start my brain into saying something. “Fuck! Don’t make me say that, God, please just let me cum!” 

A chuckle escapes his lips and he tuts his tongue at me in disappointment. He slaps me in the face suddenly. “God isn’t here, sweetheart. It’s just me. You just don’t want to listen, do you?” He says this casually, as if he didn’t just hit me. He pulls his cock out of me again, and I whine as my impending orgasm fizzles out again. He leans over and grabs more rope, silently tying my calf to my thigh and then tying the other side of the rope to the headboard. He does the same thing to my other leg, so that both of my legs are tied up and out of his way. I give the ropes a test squirm and become increasingly nervous as I realize just how little wiggle room I have. I can barely even move my hips an inch. Not good.

I want so badly to complain, to whine, to beg, to argue my way out of this. But as soon as my mouth opens, no words come out. Which is good, because the way he’s looking at me is telling me that now my punishment is going to really begin, and I am too nervous to make it any worse than it’s about to be. He reaches his hand out towards me and grips my cheeks in between his thumb and fingers, digging in. “You have been such a brat today, you don’t deserve an ounce of mercy, sweetheart.” 

He lets my cheeks go with a bit of force, before aligning himself up against my entrance and slamming inside me again. I’m hitting the edge so fast, I can’t even help myself from begging, despite what he literally just told me about not deserving mercy. “Please! Please just let me cum. Don’t edge me again, please! Two times is enough, Sir. Please, two times is enough!” My voice sounds whorish, even I can hear it. The force that he’s slamming into me makes every other syllable sound strained through my moans. 

“Oh, you think two times is enough?” He scoffs at me before pulling all the way out until just the tip is at my entrance, before slamming into me all the way and growling, “You think two times is all you deserve? You’re pathetic, baby. You don’t even realize how much you need me to break you, to put you in your place.” 

He pulls out and slams into me again, his hands reaching up and pinching my nipples hard enough to make me yelp. He continues at this pace, keeping me right on the edge with his incredibly slow, forceful thrusts. “Now beg me for it. Tell me you want me to make you cum. Say ‘Please Sir, please make me cum like the little slut I am.’” He spits out the word “slut” with venom, his eyes don’t leave mine for a second. I’m so close, so needy, so fucking close that I don’t dare look away from him either.

I cry out in frustration, a “no!” escaping my lips before I can even stop it. I look at him desperately, about to apologize for defying him yet again and beg him to just let me cum, but he smacks my tits again and uses both of his hands to grip my throat. He squeezes just enough that I can still breathe, if I really focus, but there’s no way I can talk. 

“No?” he repeats, an evil grin spreading across his face as he pulls out of me all the way again, and I think for a second he’s going to stop completely. “Well then, I guess we’re just going to have to keep going, aren’t we?” He leans in and bites the inside of my tit right next to my nipple so hard that I pull against the restraints and my eyes squeeze shut. He pushes himself back into me again, his pace so fast the bed sounds like it’s going to fucking break. I’m so close, so so close, and he knows it. He can feel it. “Don’t you dare fucking cum, babygirl.” 

As tears start to spring to my eyes, he lets my throat go and places his hands on each side of my head instead. The second I can, I’m begging as best as I can, “Please! Please pleasepleaseplease let me cum, Sir I can’t take it, please!” My words are barely even words, they’re all mushed together and tangled in between moans. My entire body is shaking from being so close as I try my best to hold it back. 

The grin on his face is sinister. “That’s more like it! Keep fucking begging, sweetheart. Say those magic words for me and I’ll let you cum.” His pace is unrelenting, giving me no option other than to hold back my orgasm, which he knows I can’t do for long.. Bastard, he isn’t giving me a choice anymore. 

My breathing becomes ragged as I fight desperately not to cum, but I can’t do it anymore. My eyes fly open wide and just as I’m about to lose control, he pulls out of me all the way. I never thought I’d be so relieved to feel the sensation of my orgasm fading away. I immediately pout at him, my voice barely above a whisper, “I can’t say it, Sir.. It’s too embarrassing. Please, please just let me cum.” 

“Oh, is it embarrassing for you?” He asks, a hint of a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. He wraps a hand in my hair, pulling my head up just a bit and putting his face very close to mine. “You think it’s embarrassing to beg for my cock? To admit that you’re mine and you’ll do anything for me to let you cum?” He slides his fingers inside of me, curling his fingers up towards my g-spot and fingering me violently, putting his entire arm into it, causing my hips to jiggle with the pure force of his movements. “Well, you’re gonna have to get over that embarrassment and beg me the right way, because I’m not stopping until you do, slut.” 

Tears form in my eyes at his words and the fact that he’s yet again working me so quickly towards an orgasm. It’s making my brain start to go fuzzy from all of the edges, slaps, and harsh words. My mouth opens and I can tell that the moans and gasps coming from me are just entertainment for Eddie at this point, because he mockingly moans right back at me, then growls. “Yeah? That feel good baby?” 

I can’t handle it anymore, all of my nerves feel like they’re being set on fire with how much I need to cum right now. I let out a single whimper in defeat, and my eyes drift away from him despite the fact that he’s holding my head up and forcing his face in mine. “Please Sir! Please make me cum…” the second half of my sentence is barely above a whisper, but I know he can hear it. “Like the l-little sl-slut I am.” My cheeks are on fire and I’m sure I am the color of a tomato after I finally say it. 

He sighs with satisfaction, his smirk turning into a huge grin and he finally lets my hair go. Just as I think he’s finally about to let me cum, he pulls his hand out of me yet again. I squirm against the ropes and a single tear falls onto my cheek with pure frustration, looking at him with horror as if he just committed a crime. 

“You’re not getting off that easy. Say it like you mean it, baby. Say it like you’re proud to be my slut.” He slides his cock back into me, both of us emitting a low, guttural groan at the same time. He barely gives me a second to hesitate before slapping me on my cheek again, his voice as sharp as a knife. “Fucking. Say. It.” 

I gasp as he slaps my cheek again before letting out a mix between a moan and a whine in frustration from how torturously slow he’s going. His goal right now is just to keep me teetering on the knife’s edge of an orgasm. I finally give up and cry out, “Please! Please Sir, make me cum like the little slut I am, please! I can’t take it anymore!” 

The smirk that crept back on his face was pure evil. “Good fucking girl!” he groans as he finally picks up the pace, pumping into me deep and hard and fast, slamming into my g-spot with every thrust. As my orgasm finally crashes into me, I practically scream. My back arches as much as it is allowed and I can still hear the sloppy wet sounds of him slamming into me over and over, despite how loud I am. My breath is stolen away from me with how intense it all is, all of those edges making this one orgasm almost unbearable. My limbs keep shaking and fighting against the rope even as my orgasm slows down because my pussy immediately feels overstimulated. My eyes look glossy as tears are filling them again and I can’t stop squirming. “Please stop, please stop, it’s too much! I came, I’m done cumming! Sir I came, now please give me a break!” 

He chuckles at my predicament, leaning down and brushing his lips against my ear as he whispers, “You are mine to use however I want. I’m not going to stop until you’re a sobbing, blubbering mess.” The sound I make at this is in between a cry and a moan, since he is fucking me so hard and fast that I’m immediately being dragged toward another orgasm. The sound I make causes him to groan and add, “And even then, I might not stop. Not until I’m good and ready to stop watching you cum. You have been such a naughty fucking girl today, and I am going to teach you a fucking lesson.” 

I cry out at his words in protest, hopelessly squirming against the restraints as he fucks me closer and closer to my next orgasm. The closer I get, the more uneven my breathing becomes. I look up at him, pleading with him desperately. “Sir, please don’t do this to me! I’ve learned my lesson, I promise!” I can’t help but squeeze my eyes shut, fighting hard to hold back my next orgasm threatening to hit me like a brick wall.

“I don’t believe you,” Eddie growls, thrusting harder as he feels me tensing up beneath him. He looks down at me heartlessly. “You’re going to cum for me. Right now.”

As soon as he tells me, no, fucking commands me to cum, I’m seeing stars. I can feel his eyes locked on my face, committing the look of pleasured agony on my face to memory. My moans are stuck in my throat with the intensity and my entire body is shaking and twitching and squirming. The sounds coming from his cock slamming into my pussy is fucking filthy. As my orgasm slows down, my limbs go limp and I am panting hard, trying like hell to catch my breath. 

He finally pulls out of me, leaving me twitching and whimpering from how hard I just came. My eyes flutter open at him, thanking him wordlessly for finally giving me a break. As I lay there with my chest heaving, believing he’s going to actually have some mercy on me, he lets his eyes trail down my body and fall onto my pussy. More specifically, my swollen and twitching clit. 

The sight makes him look at me like he was just given a new favorite toy. “Oh look, your poor little clit is just begging for my attention. I’ve been so mean to neglect it!” He slowly glides his fingers down my thigh, looking into my eyes and chuckling, “I hope you didn’t think I was done with you, sweetheart.” He quickly removes his own shirt before ever so gently sliding his fingers up and down my folds, before landing on my clit and gently circling it, but not quite touching yet. He leans down and kisses my chest, working his lips all the way down to my pussy, ignoring every one of my whimpers. He places a single, very gentle kiss directly on my clit as a warning for what’s to come, making me jerk and squeal. 

“Please Sir, my I’m way too sensitive for this!” I beg, a full pout on my lips. “I’m too sensitive..” 

Eddie laughs in amusement at my protest. His tongue darts out to flick at my clit, making me gasp and jerk my hips again. “Oh baby,” he breathes, “You’re always too sensitive for me.” He smirks and flattens his tongue, slowly licking from the very bottom of my entrance to the top of my clit, making me squirm and whine, unable to peel my eyes off of him. He suddenly pulls back, bringing his hand down to slap me 5 sharp times on my pussy, which makes me throw my head back with a long groan and flinch with every hit. “I don’t remember asking for your fucking opinion, though, slut.” He leans back down, placing his lips directly over my clit and sucking just barely, before rolling his tongue slowly. He only gives me about 2 seconds of soft touches before starting his assault. He violently lashes his tongue against my clit, then starts sucking hard, rolling his tongue with force. 

I squeak and jerk, before ungodly sounds start falling from my mouth. My arms and legs pull against their restraints and I do my very best to buck my hips away from his ministrations. I’m babbling nonsense and moaning lewdly, already fully overstimulated and he’s barely even started eating me out.

He groans at the sight of me squirming, sending vibrations through my clit. He’s unable to stop himself from groaning out some more as he hears every one of my incoherent babbles for mercy. He keeps going at a steady pace, pushing me close to another orgasm. He could spend days down there, the sound and sight of me right now just too sweet for him to not enjoy every single second of it.

I’m internally panicking as I near the edge of another orgasm. My breathing is fast and shallow and I can barely get a single word of my begging to actually sound like a real word. “Please, please no this is too intense! I can’t!” I pant out, praying he can understand me between my moaning and panting and how much I’m stuttering through my words. 

Eddie chuckles darkly at my pleas, happy that he’s got me exactly where he wants me. He pulls back just enough to lick a long strip up my entire pussy again and looks up at me with a smirk. When I look back at him, I gasp slightly. His eyes are fucking black, his pupils are so huge that all the pretty brown in his eyes have disappeared. There wasn’t a single ounce of leniency in his features. “You can’t handle it, huh?” he taunts, laughing. “It’s too intense, baby?” He pouts at me mockingly, using his fingertips to gently rub my clit, keeping me from getting a real break, but I’m grateful to be able to catch my breath at least.

I whimper at him pathetically and nod, looking at him with tears threatening to spill out of my eyes. “Yes! Please, please no more Sir, it is too intense, it is! I won’t be able to handle cumming like this!” My words are flying out of my mouth as fast as I can say them, hoping beyond all hope that he listens to me this time.

He watches me intently as I beg and the tears threatening to spill down my face are obvious, but his eyes don’t soften one bit. If anything, they seem to somehow darken even more. He shakes his head slowly, his lips curling into another sinister smile as he whispers, “Oh, it’s so cute when you beg me like that. I think you’re finally starting to learn your lesson in respect.” And with that, he returns his tongue to my clit, thrashing it cruelly against me and wrapping his lips around, sucking and rolling his tongue to elicit more sweet, desperate cries from my mouth. 

I let out a strangled moan as soon as he continues, and my orgasm hits me almost immediately. I struggle and thrash against the restraints, this orgasm feeling 100 times more intense than the others. Tears fall onto my cheeks as the pleasure turns into pure torture, words lost in my throat yet again as all I can do is scream and moan and take it. 

His tongue works up a frenzy, not giving me a moment's rest as he forces my orgasm to be drawn out as long as he can. When I finally come down from my high, he looks up at me to see my ruined face. Pink cheeks, tear stains, red and swollen lips from how much I’ve been chewing on them. His hand moves to gently rub my pussy lips, licking his lips at the sight of me. “That’s it, my little slut. You belong to me. I can do whatever I want with you. Right?” 

His question is a test, and I am desperate to pass with flying colors. “Yes! Yes Sir, I belong to you! You own me, please!” I look at him with pleading eyes, a few tears leaking down my cheeks again as my legs tremble uncontrollably.

To my utter relief, his eyes finally soften towards me and he smiles up at me. He pulls himself up to kiss my lips gently, slowly sliding two fingers inside of me, thrusting them deep and hard, but slow. “That’s it, good girl. I’m so glad to see you’ve finally learned your manners, baby.” He pulls back to watch me, enjoying the sight of me being so submissive as he slowly slides his fingers in and out of me with force. After a minute or so, he talks gently to me. “I’m going to leave you tied up, sweetheart. I know you’re being good now, but you understand that I have to finish your punishment, right? I can’t let you off the hook just because you’re finally being my good girl.” 

I’m so grateful that he’s finally being gentle with me that it takes me a good few seconds to process what he says. My eyes are glossed over and my brain is so fuzzy; I can feel myself drifting into subspace with every passing moment. He can see it in me too, he knows me so well. I sniffle when I finally realize what he’s said and he’s expecting a response, slowly nodding my head. My voice is hoarse from all the sounds I’ve been making. “Yes Sir. I’m sorry Sir.” 

He hums, visibly pleased with my response. “That’s better baby, I know you are.” He pulls his fingers out of me before standing up, turning towards the night stand again. He opens up a drawer and pulls out my arch nemesis: The Magic Wand. I can never handle that without begging and sobbing for mercy, even without it being a part of a punishment. Even when he tries to be nice, it’s always too much. 

He turns back towards me, searching my face for any sign of resistance, just to make sure that I really have learned my lesson and I plan on being a good girl. The second I see the wand my cunt clenches and I let out the tiniest whimper, gulping nervously. A single tear falls down my cheek again and he brings his hand up to wipe it away. “I know baby, I know.” He says softly before turning around and plugging it into the wall. 

The moment he turns back around and switches it on, he presses it against my clit, watching every single expression on my face. I jerk against the restraints and feel like the wind has been knocked out of my lungs. He bites his lip for a second before groaning out, “Ohh, that’s it baby. Feel that?” I can only whine at him in response, struggling to keep my eyes on his but somehow I manage, although tears are threatening to spill out any second from the overstimulation. “You’re going to cum so hard for me, aren’t you baby?” He presses it into my clit more, making tiny circles, causing me to cry out and arch my back, my entire body pulling against the restraints whether I want them to or not.

“Yes!” I cry out in response to him, although it barely sounds like a word. My entire body feels like it’s being electrocuted, and I can’t help but shake violently as I’m being thrust into an orgasm within seconds of him asking. A scream rips itself out of my throat and I feel like I’m going to explode. Eddie’s eyes roll to the back of his head as he hears me, groaning out, “That’s right, fucking scream for me.” 

I feel like this orgasm is never going to end. My vision is going black, or maybe my eyes are just squeezed shut, I can’t even tell anymore. The way I scream is absolutely primal, tears rolling down my face and my crying turns to sobbing. My entire body is full of electricity and suddenly, I feel it. My body is fucking convulsing (as much as it can against the rope, anyway) as fluid starts squirting from my pussy. I feel it pool up underneath me and I hear a gasp and a groan from Eddie. “Thaaaat’s it baby, look at you fucking go!” he sounds like he could cum just from the sight of me. As soon as it ends, he finally turns the vibrator off and pulls it away. I feel like I can finally fill my lungs with oxygen again.

 When my eyes open, Eddie and I stare at each other with the exact same look of utter shock on our faces. That’s the first time I have ever done that. His look of surprise is short-lived though because when he sees the mess I’ve made on his hand, he drops the vibrator to inspect his hand in the light. He licks off every finger with a smack of his lips and a wicked fucking grin on his face. My face is frozen still, especially after seeing him do that. “Fuck, sweetheart,” he breathes, staring down at me with a mixture of awe and something wild in his eyes. 

I close my eyes and a few more tears fall out onto my cheeks as my breathing is still a bit ragged. I feel his hands gently wipe away my tears and he whispers, “Baby, look at me.” My eyes flutter open halfway, nibbling my bottom lip. “Color?” He asks, his eyes look so warm and caring at this moment. I lean into his hand on my cheek with a tiny smile and a sniffle.

“Green.. I promise I’m okay. That was just… I don’t know if I can do that again.” I shake my head at him to emphasize my words, but I feel much more grounded after the check-in. 

He smiles gently at me, nodding back as his expression softens. “I know baby, I know that was a lot. But you’re doing so well.” He puts two fingers under my chin, making sure my eyes stay trained on his so that I really hear every word. “You can do this, sweetheart. I know you can.” He leans down and presses a kiss to my forehead before lifting back up, a stern expression on his face again. “Now. I want you to repeat after me. Say ‘Please Sir, I want you to make me cum like that again.’” He watches me closely, licking his lips as he waits for my response.

I close my eyes as he kisses my forehead, nodding through his encouragement. But my eyes fly right back open with his last demand and my voice gets caught in my throat again. Even as fucked out and obedient as I am now, my heart rate spikes at the thought of having to do… that again. Still, I swallow hard before somehow forcing the words out. “Please, Sir… I want you to make me cum like that again.” My lower lip is quivering as I whimper the words out. 

He groans as I say this, his cock twitching noticeably. His lips suddenly crash into mine, kissing me roughly. As he pulls back, he’s got that wild look in his eyes again as they trace over every inch of my body. “That’s my good girl. I’m going to make you cum one more time while I use that throat of yours.” He climbs onto the bed again, facing away from the headboard and putting each of his legs on either side of my head. I open my mouth and stick my tongue out, the heavenly sound of his own moan flooding my ears as he slowly lowers himself into my mouth, making sure to glide himself all along my tongue on the way in. He pumps his cock in and out of my mouth at a steady pace, slowly working its way towards my throat. After a couple minutes of this, he feels himself getting close to his own release. He leans over and grabs the wand again, turning it on and growling, “Get ready, slut. Knock on the headboard if you really need to breathe.”

He shoves his cock deep into my throat and I can’t help but gag, struggling to breathe through my nose and relax the muscles in my throat. “Fuck!” he groans out, before he pulls the hood of my clit back, something he knows is the most cruel thing he could do, and presses the wand firmly into my clit. Every single muscle in my body cries out in agony, begging to be allowed to squirm away from the sensation. I try to scream out but it makes me gag, and I lose my ability to breathe at all as my lungs refuse to work anymore from all of the stimulation. Too much stimulation. My brain feels like it’s short circuiting. Just as my lungs are starting to burn from lack of oxygen, I cum somehow even harder than I did the last time. I feel like I’m on fire and being shot up into icy space at the same time. I can’t move, I can’t scream, I can only cum. Once again, I feel myself start to squirt, and it all becomes too much. I start gagging on him again, and I hear him fucking whimper before groaning. His cum shoots down my throat and I have no choice but to swallow it. 

He turns the vibrator off and throws it to the side, pulling his cock out quickly as I gasp for breath, taking in huge gulps of air as he makes quick work of my restraints. He slowly guides my arms down and gently rubs my shoulders, then helps me close my legs and gently rubs my hips. He whispers, “I know baby, I know,” as I wince from the pain of finally being able to move my limbs and them being so sore. 

The second he looks me in the eyes and is about to ask how I feel, my vision goes blurry and I’m confused for a second before I actually realize I’m crying again. I can’t stop it though, my body is so exhausted and my brain is so fuzzy and every part of me is buzzing and sore. He instantly wraps me up in his arms, cradling my head against my chest and kissing my head. “Good girl,” he whispers to me, and his voice back to the normal, sweet and kind Eddie I hear every day. “You are such a good girl, I am so fucking proud of you, baby.” 

This was easily the most intense punishment I have ever been through, and he knows it. I’ve never squirted before in my life. I can barely even hear him whispering reassuring words to me over my own ragged breathing and sniffles, but I do notice that I am clinging onto him for dear life. He holds me close, rocking me gently back and forth. He kisses me on the top of my head again, and his voice starts to soothe every ounce of unrest in my body.

“Shh, shh.. It’s okay baby, I know it was rough, that was a really hard lesson. But you did so good.. I’m so so proud of you, baby.” He slowly takes his hand off of my head, leaning back enough so that he can wipe away the tears on my cheeks with his thumbs. Then he cups my cheeks in his hands and kisses all over my face. He starts at my forehead, then my nose, then both of my cheeks, and over my eyes. He is so gentle with every kiss, and about halfway through my tears stop falling and a little tiny giggle escapes my lips. 

I open my eyes to look up at him and his heart breaks when he sees my eyes red from so many tears and my cheeks absolutely covered in tear stains and blotchy pink skin. “Was that too much for you?” he whispers, talking so softly, as if his tone itself could blow me away if it was too loud or firm.

I smile softly and shake my head, still sniffling but just barely. His eyes look so pretty, I could get lost in them and never want to find my way out. His eyebrows are furrowed with concern and I can see his eyes scanning my every feature to make sure I really am okay. My heart swells about a thousand times its normal size. “No, it wasn’t too much, Eddie. It was so, so good. It was easily the most intense thing I’ve ever felt in my life, but it wasn’t too much. I promise. I just need lots of love now, okay?” I smile at him again with a little scrunch of my nose, trying to make extra sure he knows I really am okay. 

Eddie lets out a shaky breath but I can see the relief on his face as he brings my head into his chest again, holding his hand there to cradle it as he tickles gentle circles across my back with his other hand. “I’m right here, baby. I’m right here. I’ve got you. I love you so much.” 

I close my eyes again because the sensation on my back feels like heaven. I mumble into his skin, “I love you too. So much, Eddie.” I start trying to regulate my breathing, every deep inhale brings his delicious scent of woodsy musk and cigarettes. Once I feel like I’m returning back into a normal headspace, I pull back a little and show him my wrists and point to my legs. They’re still red and indented from the rope. “Can you help these feel better please?” 

He smiles softly down at me, his eyes and fingers running over every single mark on my skin, before nodding. “Of course, baby. Let’s go into the bathroom and I’ll take care of you.” He gets off the bed before picking me up and helping me wrap my legs around him. I press my face into his neck and wrap my arms around him and can’t help but smile. I could honestly live like this, in his embrace. Smelling his skin. His hair tickling my face. Feeling his chest against mine. It’s all perfection.

Once we get to the bathroom, he slowly puts me down and spins me gently to face the mirror. He looks into it at me, smiling and petting my hair to smooth it down. “There’s my pretty girl,” he murmurs, “You are so perfect.” My face turns a bright ride and I hide my face in my hands, unable to help myself. 

“Eddie!” I giggle out. He always knows how to make me smile and completely fluster me at the same time. I gently peek at him in the mirror through my fingers, his smile is so sweet as he watches me. He chuckles at my reaction, gently placing his hands on my hips and spinning me around to look at him. I lower my hands and stare into his eyes, practically entranced.

“You’re so cute, baby.” He smiles and kisses my forehead again, bringing each of my hands into his and up to his lips, kissing each one so gently. He guides me over to sit down on the toilet seat, before turning to the tub and turning on the water. “Let’s get you all cleaned up, yeah?” 

As I sit down and watch the tub start to fill, I nod and lean forward to rest my head against his side, wanting to never stop touching him. “Yeah…yes please, I’d love a bath.” 

We wait in silence for a few minutes before he checks the temperature. Deeming it perfect, he grabs my hands again to help guide me towards the tub. As I sit down and relax into the water, he smiles at me and says, “Ahhhhh, that’s better, isn’t it? Feel good baby?” 

I nod and smile up at him and watch as he grabs the shower head to bring it down. He sits down next to the tub, turning on the shower head and he is so careful about wetting my hair without letting water drip onto my face. 

He takes his time, massaging my scalp slowly and with the perfect pressure as he shampoos it. After another few minutes of silence, I hear him starting to hum one of the songs from that Black Sabbath album, Master of Reality. I can’t tell which song it is, though. My eyes start to droop and I giggle a little at the end of the song as he’s slowly rinsing the soap out of my hair.

“You’re going to make me fall asleep if you keep this up, you know. Warm water, massages, and music? You’re spoiling me, Eddie.” I say, my eyes closed still to make sure no soap or water gets into my eyes as he rinses my hair off.

He chuckles softly at me, pressing a kiss to my now-clean hair. “I could do this for hours, baby. Plus, you deserve to be spoiled. Trust me.” I sigh in content and lean into his kiss, feeling utter bliss in the calm of the moment. 

Once he is done making every inch of me nice and clean, continuing the whole time to give me praise and making sure he is absolutely as gentle as he can be, he drains the tub for me and helps me stand up. He wraps me in a towel and gives me a great big hug, and it takes him a few seconds to let go. He picks me up again, bridal style this time, and brings me back to the bedroom despite my giggling at him that I am able to use my feet again. 

“I know you can, but I’ve got you baby, don’t you even worry about it.” He presses another kiss into the side of my head, which is probably the thousandth kiss of the evening. Not that I’m complaining for a second. He helps me get dressed into my comfiest pajamas and then dresses himself in boxers and a random t-shirt. He turns to me when he’s finished, cocking his head at me with a smile.

“So…I call for pizza, you pick the movie?” he asks, already reaching for the phone. Yeah… I’m so spoiled.

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Tag Request: @tlclick73

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#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie stranger things #Eddie Munson Stranger Things #Stranger Things #Smut #Stranger Things Smut #Fanfiction Smut #Fanfic Smut #Fanfiction Writing #Fanfic Writing #Stranger Things Fic #Stranger Things Fanfiction #Eddie Munson Fanfiction #Eddie Munson Fanfic #Stranger Things Fanfic #Eddie Munson Fic #Stranger Things Eddie #Stranger Things Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson x Reader #Eddie x Reader #Dom!Eddie Munson #Dom!Eddie #BratTamer!Eddie Munson #BratTamer!Eddie #Sub!Reader #Brat!Reader #Dom/Sub #Brat/Tamer #Female Reader

[butmakeitgayblog]

Too hot too cuddle for professor au!

I got several for this one, but this is the only one with specific au so I'm goin' with it 😌

////////////////

"I'm calling off tomorrow."

"No you're not. There's only two weeks left, you have to go."

"Why?"

"Finals are coming and all that. Think of the kids."

The night goes quiet as the too-warm breeze from the swivel fan at her side makes another circuit of the room.

"... Fuck them kids."

Clarke smiles at the grunt that's half-muffled into a pillow, her foot reaching out across the bed to nudge a calf that lays bare and sticky with a dusting of sweat. "You don't mean that."

"Right now I do," Lexa whines and readjusts for the tenth time in as many minutes. "It's too hot to move. It's too hot to think straight—"

"When have you ever done that anyway?"

"It's too hot to wear clothes."

"Now that I'm not complaining about," Clarke hums, reaching over to caress the curve of her girlfriend's perfectly crafted bubble butt.

She glances down at the toes that flex under the bit of sheet draped over Lexa's ankles and not another inch higher, because despite them both foregoing their normal nighttime attire and it really being too hot for any kind of bedding, Lexa had staunchly insisted that, quote, 'Sleeping with my feet uncovered just feels... wrong.' Unquote.

"Don't even think about getting frisky, Ms. Griffin" Lexa muffles into her pillow again as she reaches back to blindly point behind her in Clarke's general direction. "It's too hot for that too."

Clarke grabs the vaguely menacing finger and kisses it. "Just try and get some sleep, baby."

"Who can sleep like this?" Lexa lifts her head just enough to let out dramatic series of sobs before flopping back down. "I can't even cuddle my own girlfriend without it forming a gross, sticky skin paste."

Which was true. They had tried. And had predictably failed, much to Lexa's misery.

"We'll cuddle tomorrow night, baby. Right after the A/C guy leaves."

"That doesn't help me sleep tonight though, now does it?"

Clarke looks over to the mass of sweat-frizzed curls that lays splayed over the pillow beside her. "You're worse than Madi sometimes, you know that?"

"If Madi were here right now, she'd back me up."

"Mmm, technically if Madi were here right now, I think she'd just be horrified at seeing you splayed out butt-ass naked."

She laughs at the disgusted sound of Lexa's grunt as the hand in hers is yanked away.

"I should have failed you when I had the chance."

Clarke ignores her girlfriends antics and rolls over onto her back, sighing as the fan makes another pass and cools the fine sheen of sweat that coats her body.

The heat hangs over her like a cloud, thick and humid, seeping into her pores and settling heavy in her bones. She gives in to its weight, letting it pull her down into the sleepiness that had clung to her like a haze for the entire day.

She's just about to drift off into a restless, sweat-soaked slumber when she feels the bed shift as a hand drifts over... and lands right on her left breast.

Clarke doesn't even bother to open her eyes, just smiles and scootches over a bit, so the hand can lay in a more comfortable position to cup her.

"Better?"

The hand holding her breast gives a sleepy squeeze.

"... S'better."

#anon #prof/stu au #teach me #writing prompt

[downtowncannibal]

My Black Christmas Informational Masterlist(?):

Every now and then I get asked for links or sources to some of the things I post and/or reference. This serves to be easy access to anyone interested in more info regarding the film, Bob Clark, or Billy in general. I'm sure I will expand with more links or info at some point, but here are the basics.

Docs and Commentaries:

Commentary featuring Nick Mancuso reprising his role as Billy. If you're not entirely interested in seeing Billy be represented as something beyond the figure in the movie or are looking to gain more knowledge on the creation of Black Christmas, this probably isn't for you.

Just as the title says, this is a Mini-Documentary that explores Black Christmas, its legacy, and a look into it's production. If your here for more info on Billy I HIGHLY recommend this as Nick has some incredibly interesting insight. Includes Lynne Griffin, John Saxon, along with Carl Zitter. Also includes some older clips of Albert J (Black Christmas's Camera Man), Bob Clark, Olivia Hussey, and Margot Kidder.

Closest thing to an ACTUAL documentary on Black Christmas I've seen. Goes good into detail about the production and creation of Black Christmas going from "The Babysitter" to "Stop Me".

There are a TON more extra's from the special release in 2015. Here is a playlist which compiles all that are publicly available. This does not include Bob Clarks actual commentary, nor Keir and John's. I own those on DVD, and I'll see what I can do about converting them onto my laptop, but I majorly recommend purchasing the 4k re-release from last year if you're looking for them. It's def worth your money and time if you're interested.

Tv Spots, Radio, etc:

Actual Documents:

2nd stage of the Black Christmas screenplays. Tread VERY lightly with this if you are sensitive to topics such as CSA and Child abuse, if you catch my drift. Has some problems with pages being turned upside down, but that's nothing I can fix at the moment.

The novelization based off of the "Stop Me" Screenplay. Questionable canonical status, but that's up to you. As it is based off "Stop Me" I am once again warning you to tread lightly and take care of yourself as the same warnings previous very much apply here.

ETC:

Not sure what to categorize this as, but I frequently see this slip under the radar of many people.

If you're looking at this masterlist because all of a sudden you've gained a fascination with this stupid fucking misogynist like I did, YOU WANT TO HEAR THIS! It is from Billy's POV and it gives a great insight into his mind and uses audio from the film, which if you rewatch the film after listening to this oh my god you will not be able to stop hearing shit. (Such as the fact I did not notice the music and wind in the beginning of the film when Billy enters the attic is literally just a bunch of people whispering his name.) Give it a listen, but again, tread lightly, if you, once again, catch my drift.

#Black Christmas #Black Christmas 1974 #might add some about the other versions too... #we'll see #billy lenz

[straightbaittournament]

may the best bait win! propaganda under the cut:

bellamy and clarke:

They start off as a rivals-to-lovers kind of arc, the actors are married and have a kid in addition to (allegedly) being friends with benefits in the early seasons They have multiple intense romantic moments even while they're with other people, the actors were told to play them romantically and have spoken up about it, and are now married, they once won a "sexiest moment" award despite it just being him pushing her hair back, they get married in the books, they constantly tell each other that they need each other, and call themselves "the head and the heart"

they get married in the books the actors were told to play them romantically for seven years, but in the final season, clarke KILLS bellamy because the showrunner hated his teen girl fanbase. they also had multiple almost-love confessions, and constantly said things like "i need you" and called themselves "the head and the heart"

"m/f pairs who have some kind of weird fucking thing going on that is never explicitly named platonic or romantic" "couples whose romance is teased but never confirmed as such" No matter how much the showrunner tries to deny it, it was quite obvious from the beginning that Clarke and Bellamy were supposed to end up together. But then Clexa happened, and the massive backlash to Lexa's death (understandable) pretty much killed any chance they could manifest that romance. I'm okay with that, because it allows Bellarke a complexity that most straight pairings don't have. But the chemistry, and the chemistry was strong - so strong that the actors got married!

They're canon in the books the show is based on, and their plot seemed like it would be a slow burn enemies to friends to lovers, but the producer actively made fun of fans for shipping it and ended the series with clarke killing bellamy.

janeway and chakotay:

Janeway is the Captain of a Starfleet ship lost so far from home it will take decades to reach. Chakotay is the Captain of a Maquis (rebel) ship also lost there. They decide to work together to get home and combine their crews when the Maquis ship is destroyed, and Chakotay becomes her second-in-command. Because of the seriousness of the situation, Janeway feels that she cannot afford the distraction of a romance and so they never get together. They have NO personal space and look longingly at each other quite often and one episode has them forced to abandon ship potentially forever and they live together in a little house and he builds her a bathtub because she complains about not having one and they share a romantically charged massage where he tells her a made up story about a warrior and the woman who inspired him which he openly admits is made up and actually about them. Also he holds her while she cries about their chance of going back to the ship being destroyed. In a different episode she “dies” and he cradled her body while weeping about it. They also have candlelit dinners regularly and she lent him a copy of the book her ex-fiancé gave her, and every time the show conspires to make one temporarily unaware of the other, they flirt hardcore. An episode designed to show how they wouldn’t work as a couple only makes more people ship them. Also a young version of Janeway meets older Chakotay via time travel and asks him if they’re together in the future despite her being engaged at that point. He declined to answer directly.

they have a lot of Tension thruout the series & a very deep relationship, but Janeway has someone waiting for her back home & Chakotay ends up in a romance plot with another person in the last season (that I personally felt came from out of nowhere but whatever) I rooted for them! I rooted for a str8 couple! I did not care that Janeway had someone waiting for her back home even tho I usually do! but I did not care! they deserved to fuck!

#bellarke might've actually been the most submitted pair i got #''they deserved to fuck'' one of the quotes ever #straightbait tournament round 1 #the 100 #star trek #star trek: voyager #bellarke #j/c #janeway x chakotay #bellamy blake #clarke griffin #kathryn janeway #chakotay #poll #polls #poll tournament

[owl127]

So I was at this women’s basketball game—it being March Madness and all—and this player that I find really really cute (she actually kinda looks like Lexa), wasn’t warming up. When the game started she went through the tunnel and back into the locker room which is kinda weird because even if you’re injured normally you still sit on the bench. But at halftime she came out and I noticed she had earplugs in and after a little Google I found out she has a concussion so she was probably in the locker room because it was too loud on the court. The rest of the game I was thinking about how someone could totally write a fanfic where Lexa is on a sports team, gets hurt, is sad she has to sit out, but has a little mid game locker room rendezvous to cheer her up and give her a thrill. Would you please please pleaseee be that someone?

Lexa’s ears itched to remove her headphones, but the shadow of a headache had started behind her eyes, so she let the noise canceling headphones do its magic. She walked behind the starting team and watched with a frown the pile of windbreakers grow at her feet on the bench while she remained covered. She fiddled with the dark red zipper, the squeaking of rubber against shiny vinyl grounding her while the visiting team entered the arena. Lexa looked away, her eyes darting at the faceless crowd of silver and maroon. The muffled noise of the fans, something she looked forward to at each game, mounted on the pain growing between her eyes. The blinking lights of the stadium did not help with the building dizziness, but she forced a smile as she waved back at a bundle of little girls with signs with her name shining in bright silver glitter.

Lexa Woods.

She bit her lips at the thought of disappointing little girls.

On the other side of the court, the away team warmed up. Lexa looked for a familiar blonde braid, but they were in a huddle, and the amount of blonde heads was borderline offensive for basketball.

“Oi!” A ball came in her direction and Lexa held the pass in pure reflex, but that didn’t stop her frowning at Anya. “You look miserable. Smile for the cameras. It’s the fucking final fours, Lex.”

Their team captain’s shouted words were not as encouraging as Anya thought, and Lexa threw the ball back on the court.

“I’ll be out of here in a minute,” Lexa said and pointed to her headphones. “These are not working as expected.”

A rare sight of kindness flashed over Anya’s face, but it was gone just as fast. She sat next to Lexa, her mouth close to Lexa’s covered ears. “We’re here because of you. No one doubts that. We’ll win this so you can crush it at the final.”

Lexa bit her lip. They needed to win, and her concussion needed to be fully recovered for that to happen, and none of that was a guarantee. She nodded, and the movement didn’t help with her growing headache.

“I’m going back in,” she excused herself, standing up. Anya’s face softened, nodding.

“Your head okay?” Anya asked at the same time a wave of nausea hit Lexa.

Lexa moved her palm in a so-so pattern, and before their couch yelled at her, she backtracked her steps into their home locker room. She didn’t look up at the calls for her name while ducking into the tunnel, focused on escaping the noise.

The locker room was messy, with open bags and unfolded clothes littering the floor. The smell of bleach and foot powder was familiar, with a hint of synthetic eucalyptus from the shower row. Lexa finally took off the headphones, her ears popping in relief. Layers of concrete and tile protected her from the loud crowd, and Lexa closed her eyes. 

She could have made history tonight. Instead, because of a single nasty call at her last game, she cannot even watch from the bench.

“Fuck,” she mumbled, her lips trembling in frustration. She wanted to punch something.

“I know, right?”

Lexa’s neck turned at the voice, her vision blurring for a second as she focused.

She must be hallucinating, because in front of her was Clarke Griffin, point guard of the Arkadia Comets, and the usual pain in Lexa’s ass whenever they played. But why was she here and not on court? Her brain finally caught up with the full image and she noticed the clutches under Clarke’s arms and how her left foot didn’t touch the floor.

“I watched your last game.” Clarke’s dimples showed at a half smile. “I’m surprised you made it to the game tonight,” Clarke said as she sat heavily next to Lexa with a long sigh and the clacks of her crutches against the wooden bench. Her hands immediately massaged her injured thigh.

“What are you doing here?”

“There are stairs to the visitors’ locker room, and I really needed to pee. Can you believe they built this building for like, healthy people? There are stairs everywhere.” 

“I meant…” Lexa pointed at Clarke’s whole deal, and differently from Lexa, the other player didn’t wear a uniform or a windbreaker, just a hoodie with her university’s colors.

“Pulled muscle. Bad enough to knock me out. I didn’t want the sponsors to see me with the crutches.” Clarke nodded in the direction of the plastic supports. Lexa noticed a bright blue athletic tape poking out from Clarke’s joggers all the way to her lower abs visible under the hoodie. Her cheeks flushed, and when she looked up, Clarke smirked at her.

“How did it happen?” Lexa cleared her throat, ignoring the way blue eyes went up and down her body.

“Not as hilariously as the block that took you down,” Clarke said with a shit-eating grin that Lexa wanted to wipe off.

“That was a fault!”

“Sure, babe.” Clarke adjusted in her seat, massaging her thigh again. “I’m sorry you can’t play tonight. I was looking forward to destroying you.”

That made Lexa smile. “In your dreams, Griffin.”

“Oh, but my dreams about you are quite different, Lex.”

And there she was. Griffin always played the mind game to destabilize Lexa. Whispers on the court, faces from the bench; Lexa hated it. She also felt a little joy in it, but ultimately, Clarke Griffin was a distraction.

“I’m sorry you’re missing the game, too,” Lexa said, unsure if her face showed her reaction to Clarke’s comment. By the way Clarke lounged on the bench and shifted closer, Lexa must have blushed.

“It was a good run,” Clarke said.

“You don’t think you can win?” 

Clarke snorted. “Do you?”

“I trust my teammates,” Lexa said and crossed her arms. If Griffin didn’t have any loyalty to her team, that was her problem.

“Don’t get me wrong, darling—” the thin hairs on Lexa’s neck bristled at the pet name — “I love those bitches. But I dragged a bunch of future dentists and teachers to two final fours. You have other girls making draft picks in your team while I average astonishing zero bench points every game.”

“But you’ll be the first draft pick.” The truth rolled out easily on Lexa’s tongue, and she suppressed the bite of jealousy at the thought. 

“And you’ll be second, unless they go insane.”

And here they were, top two draft picks dusting in the locker room while the semi-final roared above them.

Lexa shrugged, running a hand over her loose hair. Her usual braid or ponytail was a no-go with her headache, and her hair kept falling into her eyes. “If I get top four, I’ll be happy.”

“You will.” There was certainty in Clarke’s voice. “We are one of the lucky ones.”

“I know.” There was no hiding the struggle of women’s basketball. Sure, the league had promise and potential, but it was a shadow of the sponsorship and compensation of the men’s league. With limited teams, getting a spot as a professional was already an achievement.

“So, can you help me back to my locker room, princess?” Clarke asked, pointing to her crutches. Heat rose to Lexa’s cheeks, and she crossed her arms.

“Why are you always like this?”

Clarke, halfway to standing, sat back down on the bench. “Like what?”

“Why are you so, so…” Lexa searched for a word, but unwelcomed suggestions jumped to the front of her mind like “hot” and “sexy”, and she ended up going with, “infuriating! Why do you flirt with other players only to mess with their game?”

Clarke huffed, an unusual pink dusting her cheeks. “I don’t flirt with other players.”

“You’ve been pretending to flirt with me in every game for a year!” Lexa didn’t know she needed to vent about something tonight, but Clarke gave her the opening she needed.

“Wait, wait,” Clarke said, raising her hands in surrender. “One, I don’t do that to other players. Two, I mostly do it with you because I know it won’t affect your game. I need to have something against your resolve, and flirting with a straight girl is harmless enough. Besides, you’re hot, Lex. Wow, why don’t you react like this on the court?”

Lexa’s cheeks burned, and she rolled her eyes. Once she stepped on the court, nothing else mattered and Lexa would be hyper-focused on the game. But tonight, not being under the spotlight and off her game, Lexa was not immune to Griffin’s tongue. Compliments—Griffin’s compliments! She needed to change this line of thought.

“What on earth have I done for you to think I’m straight?” Maybe that wasn’t the correct shift in the conversation. Clarke lit up like a Christmas tree, her mouth opening for a second, then closing again, settling on a half smile.

“You never reacted to me before.” Clarke’s voice was a full octave lower, and Lexa might be in trouble. Lexa swallowed and fidgeted with her jacket zipper. “And maybe, yeah, I’ve been flirting with you not only because of the games,” Clarke confessed, the heat in her cheeks darkening.

Was Clarke flirting with her again?

“I was kind of hoping you’d be able to play tonight,” Clarke continued, “so I could watch you all night instead.”

Yes, that was flirting, Lexa’s concussed brain detected. She didn’t move as Clarke shuffled closer, their thighs touching.

“I tried to find you early on, but all your teammates were wearing braids,” Lexa said. At 21, Lexa should have a better control of her mouth, but alas, there she was confessing her charms to her rival.

“They wanted to show me support.” Clarke’s voice was close, and closer still as she said, “So you were looking for me?” But the expected grin or tease was not behind her words. Lexa gathered the rest of her courage and chanced a glance at the fellow point guard, finding nothing but… admiration?

Kiss her, Lexa’s obviously concussed brain offered, and Lexa’s heart race in adrenaline as she ignored the thought.

“You’re the best player,” Lexa reasoned, swallowing as Clarke invaded her personal space. “Of course I look for you on the court.”

“Well,” Clarke said, and her hand, a tad larger than Lexa’s, reached for Lexa’s own. “I look for you outside of the court, too. I watched the video on your channel about your work against bullying in your town’s high school. That was inspiring.”

Lexa’s heart swelled with something akin to fondness, but she blamed that on the concussion. “Thank you.” Lexa whispered, the moment asking for softness.

“You, Lexa Woods”—Clarke’s large hand closed around Lexa’s, warm and steady—“You are inspiring.”

It wasn’t every day that the league MVP said she was inspiring.

Kiss, kiss, her brain supplied.

Lexa didn’t have to wait for her body to listen to her brain. Clarke was MVP for many reasons, and not hesitating was one of them.

The kiss was soft and warm, and Clarke’s hand tugged lightly at Lexa’s neck. For the first time that day, Lexa breathed easily. It lasted a moment, as Clarke showed to be dexterous with her tongue, and then Lexa was breathless.

“My team will be here at half-time,” Lexa whispered when Clarke finally, reluctantly, pulled away.

“Is that your way of saying you don’t want to kiss me again?”

Lexa wished she could say no to that smile, but she was learning that denying that smile was harder than to block Clarke’s 3 pointers.

“It means we can’t do it here,” Lexa said.

“I’m staying in town for an orthopedic appointment tomorrow morning. You could always stop by my hotel later tonight.” Clarke reached for her clutches and stood. 

“My team will want me around after the game.”

Clarke smiled, one eyebrow raised. “Would you rather be in a noisy bar with your team celebrating, or watching the British Bake Off with me while making out on a king bed?”

Lexa’s cheeks warmed. “The British Bake Off?”

Clarke made her way out of the locker room, slow and steady. “We can watch it on mute, which helps with your headache, and watching it always makes me… hungry.” Clarke delivered the last word over her shoulders, licking her lips for extra dramatic effect. Lexa felt her face heating as Clarke limped out of the room.

Hours later, Lexa’s team had gained their place at the final. Her headache was under control, and her utmost satisfaction had nothing to do with the chocolate cake they ordered from the 24h hotel service.

#a couple weeks late but here it is #loved this prompt #drabble #drabbles #the 100 #clexa #lexa the 100 #clarke the 100 #why not make out with chocolate cake watching the british bake off? #sounds reasonable #clarke is a cocky little shit because why not

[bellamyblake]

Fine by dusk

Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Smut, Angst, A/busive Relationships, veteran Bellamy working construction, Nurse Clarke;

Words: 15,415

Bellamy and his contruction crew are hired to fix the Griffin manor's back porch and garden. Clarke's stuck in an abusive marriage with Finn who's dream is to have the perfect family life so he could rise through the ranks, become mayor, then perhaps even senator and he doesn't care what he has to do to get it. Meanwhile Clarke feel sad and uncertain of what is even happening to her anymore. That is until she lays eyes on Bellamy Blake.

Bellarke Christmas exchange, written for @dark-scape

"I love it." she admitted "Used to want to go to art school."

"Why didn't you?" she shrugged and looked down at their hands that were so close to each other that all she wanted to do was take his fingers in hers and never let go of them.

"I don't know...mom wanted me to go to medschool and I did grow to love being a nurse."

"But your true passion is drawing?" she hummed and he picked up her chin with his hand, putting their faces really close to each other again. "You should keep up with it."

"I only started drawing again recently." she didn't tell him it had all to do with him but judging by the cocky smile he got on his face, he read right through her.

"Oh yeah? Was there any reason why?"

"I got inspired again." she admitted and decided to tease him as she pushed closer and now their noses touched while her hand reached over to his middle where she put the stethoscope earlier. He reached to put his beer aside and take his leg off the table too, coming in even closer to her. Two could play this game and she was intent to show him that.

"By what?" he asked and she smiled as she snuck her hand under his shirt for a brief moment and grazing his ribs with her nails. His stomach jumped, so did his dick in his pants that were getting really thight for him.

"I have no idea." she said innocently as she pulled away and made his breath hitch again. "What about you? Any passions?" she picked up the plates from the table and went to the sink where she threw away whatever was left in them and turned the water on. Bellamy wasn't stupid-he understood the signs clearly, she wanted this as much as he did and they were simply fooling around right now, playing their game.

He got on his feet and limped to the counter where he leaned on it from behind and trapped her so that she couldn't move. He leaned into her ear and whispered.

"War. I've always been good at it." he admitted. Her breath hitched and she dropped the plate she was holding as the water kept beating on it. When he pushed a bit harder from behind her, rubbing his half-hard dick against her butt, she gasped and he reached to tuck a strand of hair fallen on her cheek, behind her ear. "That and...history. Writing. I like that."

"So you're a writer?"

"Used to be. Overtime I just got better at holding a rifle as I said. Some people may find it to be fucked up but..." he let his hand fall to her side and he quickly snuck it under her arm, so he'd be able to cup her breasto over her thin shirt and make her move on her toes and press hard against his body.

"It isn't." she looked back at him and he smiled at her as he looked down on her. With his good hand he reached out and turned the tap off, then he placed it on her lower stomach, close to her crotch and pushed her harder against his body, rubbing his dick up and down her crack a little without breaking eye-contact with her. "Maybe you should pick it up again." she offered, gasping for it. Her hand flew to his wrist, desperate to hold onto something and he just smiled devilishly again. She hadn't felt that hot and aroused in...maybe ever, she was already pathetically dripping in her panties, so bad, she just wanted to touch herself and his cock pressing against the crack of her ass made it worse despite the fact that it was all happening with their clothes on.

"I don't know...I found a new hobby lately. I think you and I share it." he whispered as his other hand worked to find her nipple and pinch it between his fingers while his other hand went lower to cup her crotch through her jeans. She wasn't sure if he could feel the wetness there already but his eyes widened a little which meant he probably could.

"What's that?"

"Undressing at the window every night and making me go crazy about you." he whispered before he finally leaned down and kissed her.

Clarke lost any ground she had and almost collapsed in his arms-this felt like nothing she's ever done. His lips were so soft against hers and his tongue didn't just move uncomfortably in her mouth, desperate to do something like Finn's did, no...he just kissed her slowly, wanted to become one with her and allowed her the chance to also take charge if she wanted, which she did.

#bellarkeedit #bellarke fanfiction #the100edit #bellamyblakeedit #clarkegriffinedit #bellarke fanfic #bellaarke #the100daily #modern au #smut #christmas fic #i know im late but they gave us until the end of january #also this will have a second part #it's mostly...smut #and some pain sadness and less plot #finn is awful what's new #clarke and bellamy are hot af #my writing

[anonfanfic]

Write whichever ship you want! (Unless someone else suggests one. Or you could always do a random one)

Clexa it is! (haha)

"This trip is meant for mending fences and coming together!" The Raiders coach yelled above the din of the two teams disembarking from their buses and walking into the makeshift summer camp. 

“After you have found your bags, come to me for your room assignments!” The Hawks assistant coach yelled, her clipboard pressed tightly to her chest.

Clarke grabbed her backpack and single suitcase and walked over to figure out which Raider she would have to tolerate for three days of bonding.

“Griffin, Room 13 with Woods!” The coach announced so loudly that Clarke’s heart felt like it had stuttered over several beats. Both teams stopped what they were doing. Putting Clarke with the other captain was like putting oil and water together as far as they were concerned. They despised each other and it would be hard to make any bonding happen if the leaders tried to kill each other in their sleep. Clarke felt a strong and bright heat creep up to her cheeks and neck as she took the key from her outstretched hand.

Clarke walked toward the mess of cabins at the center of the grass field without looking back at the group. She had no desire to lock eyes with her cabinmate. The two teams that were involved in this little bonding trip did not like each other. That hatred was fueled mainly by the two leaders of either team. 

The Raiders and Hawks had always been rivals. But once Lexa Woods and Clarke Griffin took captain spots last year, the rivalry had intensified to nuclear standards.

Clarke heard lightfoot falls running behind her and didn’t have to turn around to know that Lexa was jogging to catch up.

“Clarke, wait up!” Lexa called and Clarke heard howls and jeering from the group.

“What the fuck, Lexa!” Clarke spun around on her heels, her face still red and her jaw now clenched tightly. “Do you have to make this more of a spectacle than it already is?” 

“Lexa stopped just short of where Clarke stood and lifted her arms up defensively. “Whoa, I was just trying to get out of this heat. Sorry, didn't know it was a whole thing to get to my bed.” 

Clarke rolled her eyes and turned back to continue her walk to their cabin. She crossed her arms over her chest and let out a quick breath. 

“Bullshit, you knew what you were doing.” Clarke grumbled, fumbling with the old key and lock system. “I just want to survive this and finish my senior year so I can get the fuck out of this place.”

The door finally creaked open and Clarke walked in taking the bunk on the far right side.

“Hate it that bad here?” Lexa asked, walking in and avoiding the other beds that were further from Clarke’s and putting her bag on the one right next to where she had chosen. 

“Fuck you. You made me hate it here.” Clarke growled, getting up and moving over the the bed on the far left.

Lexa got up and followed Clarke, this time not sitting on the bed next to Clarke but jumping down next to her on the same bed. 

A loud crack echoed inside the cabin and the center of the mattress they were sitting on buckled and fell in.

Both girls jumped up and Lexa moved over to sit on the bed across from the broken bed.

“Because I didn’t want to be hidden away for four years?” Lexa asked, slamming herself down on the bed and looking up at Clarke.

Clarke’s fists were balled up at her side as she walked over to Lexa. “You didn’t fucking care when it mattered to you, too.” Clarke sat down on the bed with such force that the wooden side of the bed frame splintered, sending both of them to the ground.

Lexa jumped up and without pausing walked over to the bed on the right closest to the door.

“It never fucking mattered to me, Clarke. I loved you more than all this shit.” Lexa sat on the bed and crossed her arms over her chest. The sting of tears on the edges of her words.

Clarke got up and walked over to Lexa. She stood in front of her and looked down with intense eyes. “Everything in my life has come with a condition. How the fuck am I suppose to know this god damn relationship wasn’t going to cost me more than I had?” Clarke almost jumped off her feet before landing next to Lexa on the bed. The old frame basically buckled on the stress. Both girls got up and eyed the only other bed left in the small wooden cabin.

“I don’t know what else I can say to make you understand how much I love you.” Lexa got up from the destroyed bed and gently sat on the last remaining bed in the cabin.

Clarke got up and moved to the only door out and turned the brass lock. She moved toward the bed Lexa was sitting on and sat next to her.

“Why don’t you show me?” Clarke whispered, leaning in close to her ex.

#clexa fanfiction #clexa #clarke griffin #lexa kom trikru

[wanhedas-dagger]

future Tarnished but so grand drabble

A lazy Saturday morning drabble for @lexa-griffins for her birthday and also as an advance apology for all the angst that is to come in the near future.

No, Lexa still wasn’t quite used to the sight she woke up to yet. They had been living together for nearly five years now, engaged for a good two, so she was no stranger to waking up next to Clarke, she had been doing it almost every morning for the past one thousand eight hundred and fifty six days. But Lexa still wasn’t used to it.

It was the constant feeling of peace and contentment, it was the soft love, it was the safety and comfort that Lexa hadn’t known her entire life that she felt every morning now when she opened her eyes. It was rolling over on her side and watching the woman she loved sleep just a little longer, it was knowing she didn’t have to rush out of bed and get things ready or there would be consequences, it was knowing when her partner woke up, she would be met with a smile and a soft good morning.

She used to hate the weekends, used to hate Saturdays in particular because she was forced to spend the entire time within the confines of her house with Michael. Now, Lexa looked forward to it. Saturdays were easily her favorite, she got to spend it at home with Clarke, got to the spend the entire day together lounging in the living room with her head on Clarke’s lap catching up on all the TV show episodes they had missed over the week, or spend hours in bed clothed in nothing but the soft ray of sunshine that had sneaked its way in through the curtains.

“Morning,” Clarke said groggily as her eyes opened, “How long have you been watching me sleep?” She teasingly accusingly, voice low and deep, heavy with sleep.

“Oh not long,” Lexa matched her tone, “Just a couple of hours.” She could barely keep it together till the end of the sentence, a small giggle escaping despite Lexa’s efforts.

“It’s Saturday.” Clarke stated. “And it’s still in the AM,” She added after a quick glance at the clock on her nightstand which read 9:17 am. “So why are we awake, angel?”

Lexa shrugged with one shoulder, “I’m not tired?”

Something flashed in Clarke’s eyes at the statement, a playful sparkle as her lips curled into a matching smirk. “Then maybe…” She started calmly, hand coming up to Lexa’s arm and letting her fingers trace up alone the length of it. “I should tire you out?” She did her best to hide the excitement in her voice, putting on a not-at-all convincing act that this was just for Lexa and not herself. “So we can get a little more sleep?”

Lexa was never one to turn down an offer like that. And it wasn’t long before the two of them found themselves entirely too close to each other with Clarke’s fingers inside Lexa and Lexa’s mouth on Clarke’s chest. It was slow and lazy, quiet moans muffled by kisses, whispered I love yous, and breathless sighs. Clarke’s fingers knowing how best to drive Lexa crazy, Lexa knowing all too well the ways to touch Clarke that would was sure to make her cum by heightening the pleasure she got from fucking Lexa.

It was at least a handful of organs later that the two of them finally came apart on their prospective sides of the bed. Chest heaving and a sheen of sweat covering their skin as they caught their breath. Lexa didn’t wait before closing the distance between them, her face finding the crook of Clarke’s neck and Clarke’s arm immediately going up around her waist.

“Tired?” Clarke asked knowingly.

Lexa’s eyes were already closed. “Enough to go back to sleep for an hour or two, yeah.”

#I think the moodboard is the best part about this #I wrote this in like an hour and a bit #it is a drabble in every sense of the word #can be read as a stand alone too if you haven’t/don’t wanna read tarnished #it’s just a short soft piece #they’re soft and there’s some soft bedroom activities #lexa-griffins #f tarnished but so grand #Clexa #t100 #Clexa fic #Drabble #personal

[femininenachos]

Vacation au? Do tell 👀

They arrive via ferry from the mainland, then by rental car.

“We would’ve got here a lot sooner if Grandma Wells ever dared to go above 20 mph.”

“Excuse me for not wanting us to plummet to our deaths on a blind turn, Octavia. Those roads are treacherous.”

“The speed limit was 40. 40! A senior citizen could go faster. In fact, an old lady on a Vespa overtook us back there.”

“That is such bullshit.”

Clarke drops her luggage and cuts across the argument. “Guys, enough! Come see the view.”

She throws open the patio doors to reveal an infinity pool with the most spectacular backdrop. Sparkling azure waters, rippling in the early evening haze, dramatic red-brown cliffs in the distance descending sharply into the sea. The picture postcard perfect village of Polis sprouts out of the rugged mountainside, whitewashed cuboid houses with painted blue doors, window frames and shutters, clustered tightly together and cascading down the steep slope.  

It takes her breath away.

“Oh, wow.” Wells peels off his shades and stands alongside Clarke in silent awe for a minute, transported by the sheer beauty of their surroundings. “Okay, I could get used to looking at that every day.”

“Right?” Clarke agrees with a wistful sigh. “The Airbnb photos didn’t do it justice.”

“Bell’s going to be so fucking jealous when he sees this on my Stories,” Octavia says, whipping out her phone.

To one side there’s a secluded courtyard, hemmed in by purple oleanders, the fragrant air thick with the scent of bougainvillea in bloom that climbs the walls.

It’s a slice of paradise; a dream come true.

Their haven for the next two weeks, and Clarke already feels the stress that followed her across the Atlantic melting away.

She fully intends to make use of that hot tub, preferably with a trashy airport novel in one hand and a fruity alcoholic concoction in the other. Just switch off, relax, and unwind. Mentally, she’s already changed into her swimsuit when Octavia pushes in between them and drapes her arms around their shoulders.

“So… what are our plans for this evening?”

“A glass of wine and some nibbles and an early night.”

That earns Clarke an appalled look from both her friends.

“I just came off a sixteen-hour shift. Who else here scrubbed in for three separate surgeries yesterday then hopped on a plane? I’m exhausted.”

“Fair,” Wells shrugs.

Octavia isn’t so sympathetic.

A frown sits on her face. “You can’t be a shut-in on our first night, Clarke.” Her eyes turn pleading. “Look, we’ll just have a nice, low-key dinner at the taverna. Maybe hit a bar or two after.”

Clarke groans.

A tug on her wrist. “Come on, we’re on vacation. Live a little. Whatever happened to party monster Clarke Griffin?”

“Uh, residency and 200k of student loan debt.”

She looks to Wells for backup, but he remains studiously blank. Some ally he is, she thinks with an inward tut. Meanwhile, Octavia just pins her with one of those formidable stares that always fills Clarke with a vague sense of inadequacy. 

She crumbles after a beat.

Heaves an exasperated sigh. 

“Fine. But no shots.”

~*~

Of course, the first thing Octavia does when they’re seated on the outside terrace is order a round of fayaflou. Distilled locally, it might as well be 100% proof pure ethanol by the way it burns down Clarke’s throat and starts an inferno in her chest. Even Wells chokes a little, but Octavia just acts like she guzzled down spring water fresh from a mountain stream.

“Another?” She asks, a dangerous glint in her eyes.

“Fuck, no,” Clarke croaks out through a coughing fit. She holds up a palm in surrender, the other flat against her sternum as if that could somehow mitigate the effects.

A scoff from Octavia. “Lightweight.”

“I’d just like to return home with my liver intact.”

“Same,” Wells says, his features contorted into a pained grimace. “I didn’t agree to this trip to get blackout drunk. Polis is steeped in culture and history. I mean, did you see those incredible ancient ruins on the drive here?”

Octavia rolls her eyes so hard the retinas nearly detach.

But after a moment’s reflection, she concedes. “Actually, you have a point. Gotta pace ourselves. The night is young and I’ve got my eye on that hot piece over there.”

All eyes follow her nod to the bar, where an impossibly chiselled, handsome guy is making cocktails. Tall. Tattooed. Muscles bulging out of his tight black shirt as he juggles two bottles at once with impressive showmanship. 

They all have to scrape their jaws off the floor. 

He might be the most beautiful man Clarke has ever seen, not that she would dare interfere when Octavia has her sights set on someone. But then a waitress glides up to him, passing off an order with a short, melodious laugh that reaches Clarke’s ears and when the woman turns around, Clarke’s mouth drops again.

Because she is gorgeous.

Chestnut brown hair pinned up in a twist, a few loose tendrils framing the kind of face that people wrote epic poetry about thousands of years ago. High cheekbones and pouty lips. A jawline cut from marble. Eyes drawn heavy with liner scan the terrace, landing on Clarke for a second, and those lips pull up almost imperceptibly, twitching into the subtle hint of a smile.

Caught staring, Clarke flushes and drops her gaze, feigning a sudden fascination with the laminated menu.

“How is it that everyone here looks like a model?” Wells wonders aloud.

“It’s all the genes,” Octavia says in a superior tone, proud of her own distant Polisian ancestry. She props her chin on her hand and bats her lashes. “We’re naturally beautiful people, what can I say?”

Wells snorts. “Naturally conceited, maybe.”

“Whatever. Clarke. Clarke? Clarke.”

A finger snap in front of her face jolt Clarke out of her daze. She scowls, but when she lifts her eyes, seeking out another glimpse of the waitress, Clarke is disappointed to find her gone.

“What are you having?” Octavia asks. “I’m thinking… calamari to start, and maybe we could share the seafood platter?”

“Uh…” Clarke pretends to pour over the menu options, still in a state of distraction. The words blur together. Her pulse hasn’t slowed yet and her palms are sweating. “Sure, sounds good.”

“Clarke might prefer something off-menu,” Wells says, and she looks up again just in time to see him incline his head towards the waitress approaching.

Octavia hoots delightedly and Clarke kicks her under the table.

All the same, Clarke’s throat dries out.

She can’t force her eyes away, drinking up the sight in front of her. How the crisp, white short-sleeved blouse hugs the girl’s torso and toned arms, such a striking contrast against sun-bronzed skin. One too many buttons are undone, affording a peek of sharp clavicles and a shadowy inch of cleavage. It has Clarke wetting her lips as her eyes dip down, taking in the neat black skirt and heels. Legs that go on for miles and miles.

Clarke shifts in her seat, warmth spreading through every inch of her body. She can’t even blame the residual heat of a sweltering day, the gentle sea breeze providing welcome relief as the orange disc of the sun squats low on the horizon, the last golden rays reaching out like fingers across the sky. 

“Not a word,” Clarke warns, seconds before the waitress arrives at their table.

Then Clarke hears her speak. “Hello, I’m Lexa. Are you ready to order?” Lightly accented English delivered in a crisp, coolly confident voice with a girlish lilt, and Clarke is a goner. 

Fully melts into a puddle of lust while Octavia and Wells rattle off their choices. When it’s Clarke’s turn, she finds herself tongue-tied. Up close, those eyes are the lushest, loveliest shade of green, and Clarke is transfixed.

Her stomach swoops.

It’s ridiculous. She’s a grown adult, a medical professional with years of clinical training below her belt, and inside she’s a mess because a beautiful woman is looking at her with an expectant arch of one eyebrow, patiently waiting for Clarke to recover from whatever brain malfunction she’s currently experiencing. 

“Hi, hello,” trips from Clarke’s mouth and it feels like her soul leaves her body at the same time. In an instant, her face heats. She offers a small, flustered laugh. “Sorry, I’m a space cadet today. Head in the clouds. The time difference, I guess.”

Across the table, her friends hide their amusement behind their knuckles, clearly entertained by her latest episode of undignified flailing in front of an attractive stranger. 

Full lips curve into a smirk that does absolutely nothing to slow the rapid hammering of Clarke’s heart or cool her flushed cheeks.

“What can I get you?”

A date, please.

(And in five years, give or take, a springtime wedding in a converted barn with fairy lights strung everywhere and two hundred guests in attendance, if Mom has any say in the planning.)

Get it together, Griffin.

Like the flip of a switch, she turns on the charm. Eases into a smile, one that’s seldom failed her (and gotten her out of plenty of scrapes besides). Tucks her hair behind her ear and lets her fingers trail down her neck. She sees the way the woman–Lexa’s–eyes darken as they track the movement, how they make a quick but unsubtle appraisal of Clarke’s seated figure.

Her confidence soars.

The mild funk she’d found herself in from a long day of travelling evaporates.

“You know what, I’m feeling adventurous. Surprise me.” Her gaze flicks towards beestung lips then back up, locking eyes once more. “Lexa.”

They hold eye contact for a stretch of seconds, and Clarke feels a current run through her. Mutual attraction, instant and electric.

“More drinks?” The question is intended for the whole table, but Lexa’s attention doesn’t stray from Clarke until Wells clears his throat. She almost appears annoyed by the interruption, a flash of irritation in her eyes, a muscle in her lower cheek flexing before her expression smooths out and she turns her head to look at him. And, God, that jawline nearly takes out Clarke in the process. It’s lickable. 

“Could we have a pitcher of water, please? My friends here are extremely thirsty,” Wells says, glancing pointedly between Clarke and Octavia.

“Make that three margaritas,” Octavia overrules him. “And have the sexy bartender bring them over.”

“O!” Clarke snaps, mortified.

So brazen. 

She gives Lexa an apologetic look, but there’s a ghost of a smirk on her lips again, a gleam in her eyes that suggests she’s happy to play along.

When Lexa departs, Octavia bumps Clarke’s arm excitedly with her fist. “I saw that! My girl, getting her flirt on like a pro.”

“Flirt?” Wells chuckles. “She practically had a sign on her forehead that said: ‘funny how my legs are wide open all of a sudden.’ Zero points for subtlety.”

Clarke huffs out a sigh and crosses her arms. “Oh, fuck off. Let me objectify someone in peace.”

“No, no. It’s good!” Octavia insists. “You should be putting yourself out there more. Especially after the F-I-N-N debacle.”

An eye roll. “You can say his name, O. I won't relapse into a depressive episode.”

“Okay, but you deserve to have fun. Ogle girls. Guys. Nonbinary eye candy.” She pats Clarke’s wrist. “I fully support your hot girl summer.”

Octavia peers past Clarke to check out the bartender again. She bites her lip, eyes glazing over a bit. “And I, for one, plan to climb that fine man like a tree before the night is over.”

Clarke sighs again. Unfolding her arms, she reaches for the empty shot glass in front of her, twirling it around with her fingers. “She’s probably a player, anyway. I bet she’s slept with six sunburnt British girls already this season.”

Tearing her gaze away from the beefy hunk behind the bar, Octavia looks at Clarke dubiously, brows pulled together. “Uh, she seemed pretty laser-focused on you. I felt like I was intruding on some serious eye-fucking a minute ago.” 

A fiendish grin spreads. 

“All signs indicate that Sexy Lexy has the hots for Clarkeypoo too.”

“Stop,” Clarke groans, hiding her face in her hands while she squirms with embarrassment. She shakes it off. “Vacation flings are so cliche, and the last thing I need as a souvenir is an STI.”

“Can we just enjoy a civilised meal, is that too much to ask?” Wells says, shaking his head in dismay. “All this sex talk is spoiling my appetite. I really don’t want to think about either of you in that capacity, ever.”

“Such a killjoy,” Octavia tells him. “Don’t worry, we’ll find someone for you too. A bespectacled, buck-toothed museum guide or something, that’s more your speed.”

Clarke tunes out their ensuing good-natured bickering, eyes landing on Lexa where she stands at the bar, chatting up two stereotypically Scandinavian blonde backpacker types. A tiny, unreasonable ember of jealousy flares in her gut that she tries to ignore. It’s not like they’re anything to each other (yet). Maybe Lexa flirts with everyone to alleviate the boredom of her shift and this is all just a mildly diverting game to pass the time.

As though sensing Clarke’s attention on her from afar, Lexa glances over her shoulder, and in the brief moment when their eyes catch and hold, the slight smile that curves across Lexa’s lips feels like it might be Clarke’s downfall.

Next

#Asks #vacation au #clexa

[aphrodites-law]

Clarke wakes up eight years in the future, where her college best friend happens to be her girlfriend. Part 4/? (Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3)

Aside from the obvious, Clarke couldn’t get over how different this other version of herself was. She only recognized two sweatshirts and a t-shirt in her entire wardrobe. Her ripped jeans were gone, her beloved leather jacket was nowhere to be seen, and her dresses were the kind of classy Clarke wanted to make fun of. Seriously, where was the cleavage on this? She’d gleaned from her phone that she worked as a freelance illustrator - a welcome surprise - so that was hardly an excuse for the uninspired looks.

To be fair, the “special” drawer at the bottom was the furthest thing from classy. Clarke had closed it quickly after peeking. There was more variety in her underwear, but overall she’d lost her style. Other Clarke dressed like every other adult Clarke knew and it was a fucking downer.  

As for Lexa, her style had evolved but there were recognizable remnants of her younger self. She still favored darker tones, with the occasional trusty flannel, but her grungy looks had been traded for business casual. Clarke felt a pang in her chest, realizing how deeply she missed her Lexa. She wondered what Lexa would tell her if she were here. If she would be impressed by her older self.

But this wasn’t the natural way of things. They weren’t supposed to know how everything would turn out. Clarke knew anger was useless, but she felt it nonetheless. It was comforting to have a version of Lexa here, but Clarke felt robbed of a multitude of experiences.

Like watching her best friend grow into a confident, put-together adult.

Or falling in love with her.

Which was evidently what had happened at some point.

Yet Clarke had never entertained the thought in her present. Even their kiss had been driven by immense gratitude for the girl who’d salvaged the worst night of her life. At least that’s what she’d told herself. They’d never talked about it because nothing had felt awkward afterward. They’d slipped back into the effortless routine of their friendship.

Lexa had met Costia and then a few others. With looks and smarts like hers, dating wasn’t an issue. She liked it, too. There hadn’t been anyone serious after Costia, but she wasn’t a player either. She never had a bad word to say about her dates, even if they didn’t work out. She was a romantic at heart and a few college girls bruising her feelings wouldn't change that.

Which was why the love part still troubled Clarke. She knew Lexa like the palm of her hand. Lexa didn’t fall for girls like her - aimless, stubborn and too proud for her own good. She liked girls who spoke about their goals at length. Girls who knew what they wanted. It was silly to even consider Lexa having feelings for her. Not like this, with this kind of passion. Clarke would’ve been able to tell. She would.

So what brought them to this point?

Clarke still wondered if this was truly the future. A parallel world born from the butterfly effect didn’t sound any less wacky, but Lexa had said she’d wanted her since their first kiss, which obviously wasn’t the case for her own Lexa. The mention of Costia seemed to have thrown her, perhaps because she didn’t know her at all in this world. If Other Clarke and her had started going out after their kiss in the car, it would make sense she’d never meet Costia.

Though that would mean they’d been dating for over ten years. Jesus. That couldn’t be right.

She didn’t have a ring and neither did Lexa. Well, that wasn’t too surprising. Clarke had witnessed her parents’ marriage fall apart and her mother’s second marriage end up in screaming matches too. Her grandmother was three-times divorced and her only cousin seemed ready to leave her husband any day now.

Griffin women didn’t do marriage very well and Clarke didn’t care to continue the tradition. She didn’t mind staying someone’s girlfriend forever, but she knew Lexa liked the idea of being a wife one day. Hopefully their stupid state would get its head out of its ass.

Wait. Clarke rushed to grab her phone but then stopped, knowing she’d forget the answer as soon as she read it. Surely by now it was legal, right? So why hadn’t they tied the knot? Clarke could see herself compromising if she were madly in love.

Was Other Clarke having doubts about the relationship? Was she thinking back on that crucial moment in her life, when she’d started dating Lexa, and wondering ‘What if we hadn’t?’ Clarke had a chilling thought that perhaps she’d been brought here to break up with Lexa. But her stomach suddenly twisted, a visceral reaction that knocked the breath out of her. It was almost as if Other Clarke had taken over for a second, lashing out.

She leaned against the wardrobe and took a deep breath.

“No breaking up,” she whispered.

It wasn’t like she could do it anyway. She’d stab herself in the tit before she broke Lexa’s heart. At this point, all she could do was play the part and hope the answers would come to her.

After some back and forth, she put on a dress with a jacket and tights, warm and dressy enough for a birthday outing. Lexa walked out of the bathroom in dark pants and a top with the weirdest shoulder cutouts. Eight years did a lot to fashion apparently.

“Ready?” she asked.

Clarke nodded, wondering how screwed she was if they bumped into someone they knew on the way. She’d have to smile and let Lexa do the talking.

“I thought you’d wear your blue dress,” Lexa said.

Clarke looked down at her outfit. “Uh, nope. The green one.”

“I guess you’re not planning on getting lucky,” Lexa said with a growing smile.

Feeling the rising panic she usually did when Lexa alluded to their private conversations, Clarke tried playing along: “Why not? Do I not score in the green dress?”

Lexa snorted. “Do you not- what?”

Sensing she’d missed the mark, Clarke quickly moved on: “Maybe I just wanted to match your eyes.”

“Corny... but effective.” Lexa smiled as she leaned in to kiss her. Clarke had given up on trying to stop these, instead enjoying the sensation. Lexa’s kisses were unlike any others she’d had. She wondered if their years of experience just made these second nature. Sometimes, like now, she didn’t want to stop at all, so caught up in the feeling that she became an active participant herself, even overzealous.

“Hmm.”

It was that sound again - the little hum Lexa made after their kisses got more heated.

“What?” Clarke asked.

“You’ve been kissing me differently.”

Clarke’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Bad different?”

“No, no, just…” Lexa glanced down, “like you’re trying to figure me out.”

“I thought I’d try something new.”

“That’s the thing, it reminds me of when we first started dating. When I was trying to find out how you liked it and you were trying to find out how I liked it.”

Clarke felt awkward, reminded once more of the gap in their experiences. Which was fucking weird, because technically the body she was in was plenty knowledgable regarding Lexa’s preferences. “So it is bad.”

“I’m enjoying it,” Lexa reassured her, then ran her hands down her ass. “Makes me think of when we couldn’t keep our hands off of each other.”

Clarke blushed, not disliking how close their bodies were. “Clearly an issue these days.”

“A glaring one.”

At least these two still bantered, which was oddly reassuring to Clarke. “We, um, we’re okay in that department, right?”

Lexa arched her brow. “Well, our old age makes it a little hard to fuck over an entire weekend.”

“Very funny.”

Lexa sighed. “Of course we are. I love what we have. How we’re growing together. Obviously sometimes I wish we could escape to the summer after graduation again, but I’d miss our life now. Everything we worked on and built together.”

“Summer after graduation? What was…?”

“Hm?”

“Never mind. So, we’re good?”

“I am. Are you?”

Clarke looked into Lexa’s eyes and saw her best friend. Just Lexa. Just the girl who’d been such a central part of her life since college. Just the girl she’d played a ridiculous amount of darts with, done the best roadtrip of her life with and cooked the most revolting on-a-budget college meals with. Just the girl whose laugh she knew from a mile away. And she didn’t know if she’d find that girl again, or if they’d grow old together too, but at least a part of her was still here. Still making her feel like she was home. 

“Yeah. I have everything I could possibly want.”

Lexa kissed her cheek. “Then let’s have that birthday date, gorgeous.”

-

Part 5

#clexa #clexa fic #f: citf #w #it's not much but it's honest work #why do you think Other Clarke is having an existential crisis? #happy holidays 🎄

[bisexual-protagonist-competiton]

MATCHUPS AND CONTESTANTS ARE HERE! For the three added, I stuck with characters who had two submissions already. I'm also trusting the people who submitted that these characters qualify, so please do yell at me if I messed up a name or if the character doesn't fit! Here's the full list of characters and matchups:

Matchups were put together by a random generator because i have no idea who most of these characters are

Magnus Chase(Magnus Chase and the Gods of Asgard) vs Kim Dokja(Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint)

Jake Peralta(Brooklyn Nine-Nine) vs Annabeth Chase(Percy Jackson and the Olympians)

Dean Winchester(Supernatural) vs John Constantine(DC)

Sasha Waybright(Amphibia) vs Luz Noceda(The Owl House)

Clarke Griffin(The 100) vs Jay Ferin(Just Roll With It)

Sokka(Avatar The Last Airbender) vs Gwen Cooper(Torchwood)

William Wisp(Just Roll With It) vs Harley Quinn(DC)

Korra(The Legend Of Korra) vs Bob Belcher(Bob's Burgers)

Edalyn Clawthorne(The Owl House) vs Gordon Freeman(Half-Life)

Chip(Just Roll With It) vs Valkyrie(MCU)

Dave Strider(Homestuck) vs Shuichi Saihara(Danganronpa)

Norma Khan(Dead End Paranormal Park) vs Caleb Widogast(Critical Role)

Hamlet(Hamlet) vs Phonegingi(Dialtown)

Glimmer(She-Ra and the Princess of Power) vs Quentin Coldwater(The Magicians)

Jonathan Sims(The Magnus Archives) vs Percy Jackson(Percy Jackson and the Olympians)

Wei Wuxian(Mo Dao Zu Shi) vs Nina Zenik(Six of Crows)

Neku Sakuraba(The World Ends With You) vs Lance McClain(Voltron Legendary Defender)

Wonder Woman(DC) vs Deadpool(MCU)

Vax'ildan(Critical Role) vs Nancy Wheeler(Stranger Things)

Apollo/Lester Papadopoulos(Percy Jackson and the Olympians) vs Fig Faeth(Fantasy High)

Nick Nelson(Heartstopper) vs Steve Harrington(Stranger Things)

Zagreus(Hades) vs Shallan Davar(Stormlight Archive)

Asami Sato(The Legend of Korra) vs Marceline The Vampire Queen(Adventure Time)

Tatsuya Suou(Persona 2) vs Rapunzel(Tangled)

Juno Steel(The Penumbra Podcast) vs Sora(Kingdom Hearts)

Marcy Wu(Amphibia) vs Buffy Summers(Buffy the Vampire Slayer)

Kaname Date(AI: The Somnium Files) vs Phoenix Wright(Ace Attorney)

Aubrey Little(The Adventure Zone) vs Sophie Foster(Keeper of the Lost Cities)

Blitzø(Helluva Boss) vs Will Graham(Hannibal)

Jim Kirk(Star Trek) vs Bow(She-Ra and the Princess of Power)

Captain Jack Harkness(Torchwood) vs Loki(MCU)

Jack Kennedy(Day Shift at Freddy's) vs Eleanor Shellstrop(The Good Place)

Polls 1-8 will go up tomorrow(March 21), 9-16 the next day(March 22), 17-24 the next(March 23) and so on.

So sorry for the wait! lmk in asks if i fucked something up :)

#round one #bisexual #bi protagonist competition #tumblr competition

[audi0med1c]

Clexa Modern AU as Celebrity Exes- "Is It Over Now?"

CHAPTER 1- THE RESTAURANT

The absolute last thing Clarke wanted to see tonight on her rare chance to dine out was Lexa fucking Woods.

Lexa Woods, in her signature dark grey Armani suit.

On a date.

Before she could successfully grab her best friend's arm to duck out and choose another restaurant, those green eyes flick over and meet hers, as if she had been waiting on her to arrive.

"Shit you gotta be fucking kidding me." She hisses, earning a concerned look from the dark-haired girl just in front of her.

"What?" The girl says, looking Clarke up and down for something wrong.

"She's fucking HERE."

"Who is?" The girl says, turning to scan the dining room.

Clarke grabs her arm to stop her from turning, "No don't look don't-" but winces when it's clearly too late. Both of their eyes meet those green ones still locked onto them.

Lexa is holding a glass of red wine, and raises it slightly in their direction, shooting them her signature grin that Clarke would love to walk over and smack right off her annoyingly beautiful face.

"We can go somewhere else, Clarke, come on."

A flash goes off outside, as the first of what will eventually be many paparazzi snaps a picture through the restaurant's front window.

"No," Clarke says, "I'm not giving her that satisfaction."

They wait to be seated, and as the waiter is pouring their first glasses of wine the third member of their party arrives, fashionably late as always.

"Um since when do they seat VIPs off in the corner? Wasn't the reservation under Clarke Griffin? Your art is literally hanging in their lobby."

Clarke hates when Raven uses that term, as she never expects or cares about getting any sort of special treatment anywhere. Actually she'd prefer blending in and being invisible most of the time.  

"We aren't the only VIPs tonight." Clarke uses the term sarcastically, nodding her head in the direction over the girl's shoulder, "And I requested this table, so just sit Raven."

"Ohhhh damn what are the odds of that?" Raven chuckles, pulling out her seat and taking a long sip of wine, shooting a glance at the other girl with them.

"Octavia stop looking, Jesus." Clarke kicks the girl's shin under the table.

Clarke had asked for the table on the far side of the dining room, away from as much of the crowd as possible, and took the seat that kept Lexa mostly in her line of sight without having to turn her head and be obvious.

"She's still watching you." Octavia says, not even trying to hide looking over her shoulder at the pair behind them.

"Ugh ok maybe I can't fucking stay here." Clarke motions to their waitress.

Raven is typing on her phone under the table, which Octavia catches out of the corner of her eye.

Raven: You didn't think to tell me Lexa was coming here tonight???

The three dots hover in the bottom corner for what feels like forever.

Anya: How would I know that?!?! Wait who is she there with??

Raven: A blonde. A HOT blonde.

Anya: Oh god. Can't wait to hear about this when you get home.

Clarke catches Raven typing on her phone under the table, and then notices Lexa casually check her phone a few seconds later and shoot another grin in her direction.

"Really Rae?" Clarke says, annoyed, "Can you leave Anya out of this?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." The girl says not even trying to hide her smile. 

The waitress, a bubbly young girl with short bouncy auburn curls looks nervous when she approaches.

"Yes Ms. Griffin, are you ready to order?" Clarke is always sure to be overly nice to waitstaff, or any staff when she is out in public. She honestly hates most of the things that come with being so easily recognizable, particularly the stereotype of celebrities being entitled, petulant, or conceited. It's not something she intentionally sought, or even thought was possible when she pursued art full-time after college and found her own moderate success. Any level of celebrity status could never go to her head, as she will always be the small-town girl from the East Coast town of Polis, who grew up with next to nothing and never quite felt like she belonged in a place like L.A. to begin with.

But dating one of Hollywood's hottest A-listers will certainly put you on people's radar.

Clarke leans in towards the waitress, "Actually, we will take the check for the wine, I completely forgot about a previous commitment I need to get to, but can I order a bottle of Dom Perignon, for the table right over there before we go?" She motions with her head towards the table where Lexa is now very obviously pretending to laugh at whatever the bimbo across from her is saying.

"Of course, will that be all for you tonight?"

"Actually, if I give you an extra hundred dollars, will you relay a message when you bring over the bottle? A toast of sorts."

The two girls across from her are trying to keep a straight face, but watch wide-eyed as Clarke whispers something into the waitresses' ear, and hands over her Amex card.

The girl's face when she straightens up is a mix of nervous and giddy, understanding the context of the request.

The history of the two patrons was no secret – it had been front page of the tabloids for months after their very public, very messy breakup. Now it was just the simple annoyance of whatever bullshit spin came out of their occasional run-ins or when they attended the same events.

"I'll be right back." Clarke says, pushing back from the table to stand. 

"Wait where are you going?" Octavia calls after her.

"Bathroom." She replies over her shoulder, heading towards the hallway on the far end of the dining hall. She made sure to keep her eyes straight ahead as she walked past the brunette and her date nonchalantly, but the familiar aroma of Dior perfume crawled up her nostrils and she hated how good it smelled.

It reminded her of silk sheets and long nights, her hands sliding over hips and thighs and feeling the hot breath of whispered sighs.

Don't you dare. She thought to herself, shaking the memories from her head. 

She stared at herself a good long while in the bathroom, both expecting and dreading the door to open. When it doesn't, she touches up her red lipstick, adjusts herself in her skin-tight black cocktail dress so her already exposed cleavage is just a tad more on display, and heads back out to the dining room.

Her friends are already at the hostess stand, waiting for her before heading out past the now moderate amount of paparazzi that must have heard her and Lexa were spotted in public at the same place for the first time in months.

A small grin tugs at her lips as she passes the brunette's table, noting the new bottle of vintage champagne that sits opened with two glasses poured but not being touched, and a now slightly miffed date that shoots up an embarrassed look when she notices Clarke passing by.

Clarke bends over far more than necessary as she signs the bill left on the table, tipping an additional $50 on top of the $100 she promised because the look on the young girl's face was honestly better than she could have hoped for and collects her Amex card. As she heads to join her friends at the front she hears a muffled voice from behind apologize and excuse themselves as they stand up from their table.

The warning looks on her friends' faces tell her to expect the hand that tugs her backwards as she reaches the hostess stand, pulling her to the side at the front of the restaurant.

The velvety scent of Dior wafts into her nose again, and those green eyes are much closer to her than they need to be, but she doesn't step back. At least not yet.

"Really Clarke?" Comes the expected reprimand, "Here's to the search for something greater? Classy."

"She's practically my clone." Clarke shrugs sharply.

Lexa remains unamused.

"Hardly, she's missing your signature....what is it..." Lexa dramatically gestures with her hand, searching for the right word... "Soul-sucking abrasiveness."

"Fuck off, Lexa."

"There's that mouth." Grinned the brunette.

"Bet you miss this mouth." Clarke shoots back.

Lexa's grin widens, "Actually yeah, just had a dream about it the other night."

"You dream of my mouth before or after it called you a lying traitor?"

Lexa takes a slight step closer to the blonde, ignoring the camera flashes going off outside the front window.

"You've called me worse." She utters smugly.

"I said fuck off Lex."

"Or you could fuck me yourself."

Clarke tries not to show how caught off-guard she is by the quick retort, and especially tries to hide how flustered she suddenly is. She leans into her annoyance at the brazen overconfidence.

"Pretty sure it's the only way you'd be getting fucked tonight...I know a pillow princess when I see one, and THAT," she nods her head back in the direction of Lexa's table and abandoned date, who's now anxiously sipping on her wine, trying not to be obvious at her constant glances towards the pair at the front of the restaurant, "That right there is a girl who is here for the free dinner, the free drinks, and the free orgasms after and that's it."

"Make me a better offer then." Lexa smiles as she tries to step even closer, but Clarke pushes back with a hand up at the girl's shoulder that was now inches away from her.

"There is no offer. I'm surprised you haven't run out of blonde models by now anyway, so enjoy however many you have left before you have to slum it with some brunettes."

"Heyyyyy!!" Raven and Octavia chime from the door, pretending to be offended. Both had been inching closer, shamelessly eavesdropping.

"You never run out of blonde models in LA." Lexa shrugs, "But I don't even know her. I'm just doing my agent a favor, and she's who suggested coming here. What was I supposed to do say 'no actually this was my ex's favorite place and she might possibly be here on this one random Wednesday night?'"

"Sure why not?"

Lexa rolls her eyes, "Are we jealous Clarkey?"

"WE...aren't anything." Clarke snaps, motioning between the two of them.

"Well WE..." Lexa gestures back towards her table, "Aren't anything either...so can you drop the hostility?"

Clarke muses over the girl at the table, "Blue eyes, that's enough for at least a few dates by your standards."

"You're practically insulting yourself at this point you know..." Lexa huffs amusingly. She was having way too much fun getting a rise out of Clarke. The blonde purses her lips, her eyes dropping down to the plush lips in front of her quickly but not quick enough, because Lexa catches it and takes her bottom lip between her teeth, dropping her own eyes to Clarke's mouth for a prolonged moment before bringing them back up to meet blue eyes.

"Can I go now?" Clarke says annoyed, "Your date is waiting."

"She can stay waiting." Lexa breathes as she dares reach a hand around Clarke's lower back, but the blonde is quick to swat her away and step backwards.

"This is not happening...."

"Again." Lexa adds with a smirk.

Clarke rolls her eyes.

"This is not happening again." She corrects. The last time she showed up at Lexa's penthouse she had convinced herself was only out of convenience. It had been a while since she'd gotten laid and the thought of meaningless small talk with a stranger or worse, someone she'd have to face again at work or in some overlapping social circle was too much of a headache. So when she ran into Lexa at a nightclub nearby and got a simple text at bar close saying "Damn Griffin, I know you wore that dress tonight just so I could take it off you.  Door is unlocked."  She figured it technically wasn't much different than any other one-night stand.

Right?

But in this moment she regrets having fed into the already overinflated ego that is Lexa Woods: Actress, musician, and professional flirt.

She will deal with the heat between her thighs and knot forming in her lower stomach later. If not with whatever name responds first when she leaves here, then with one of her many battery-powered friends in her nightstand.

"Whatever you say, Clarke." The brunette finally scoffs nonchalantly, and with one final lick of her lips, Lexa gives one more intentional glance down at Clarke's mouth before turning to head back into the dining hall, making a show of her return to her table by reaching for the waiting girl's hand and placing a quick kiss on the back of it before taking her seat again and lifting her champagne glass to cheers.

"Damn Clarke I'm impressed... I would have folded." Raven admits, opening the door as they rush out to a waiting town car, flashes immediately going off as soon as they are outside.

"Clarke! Clarke!" A few of the photographers try to get her attention, but she puts a hand up to try and block her face as Octavia gets the car door open.

"Clarke! How do you feel about Lexa bringing a date to your guys' spot?"

"Clarke what did Lexa say to you before you left?"

"Do you enjoy getting paid to harass people?" Raven harps at the small crowd as she follows Clarke and Octavia into the back seat.

Once the door is closed and they pull away, Clarke sighs, rubbing the space between her eyebrows.

"Well if you want her, have at it." She says almost dejectedly. "I told you, it's over between us."

Raven and Octavia exchange a quick glance before Raven squeaks out a response, cocking her head inquisitively.

"I mean.... is it really over now?"

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

Follow along this rollercoaster contest of who can act like they care less....

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