mae

mae | 21 | she/they | femme lesbian

ꨄ︎: yjs, arcane, women, the pitt, rdr2, horses, animals, books, dr pepper, sleeping, pokemon, cats, capybaras, fiona dourif, alt music, my bf, sophie thatcher, ella purnell, the pretty reckless, taylor momsen, sepideh moafi

ꨄ︎: main/reblogging: angryoilslick516

masterlist

rules

getting needy from a heated make-out session on the couch, trying to hump her thigh. but instead, she grabs your hips and pulls you onto her lap, directly onto her strap bulge.

whining and gasping as you feel it pressing against your clothed clit x_x begging her to use it on you but she shakes her head and guides your hips down in a grind.

"c'mon baby show me how much you need me."

going like that for a few minutes, soaking through your panties and leaving a patch of your arousal on her crotch area because you got so so needy from feeling her bulge against your cunt.

"such a good girl, hm?"

"do you need it? do you need this butchcock?"

being close to tears as you beg her to fuck you, and she finally relents. her fingers slide your panties to the side and teases your clit a little, cooing at how you writhe above her.

"oh sweetheart, you needed this, huh?"

"so wet and all you've done is hump me like a bitch in heat."

sliding her fingers inside your hole, groaning as you practically suck her fingers inside. "fuck, she's so needy, huh?"

your fingers dig into her shoulders as she starts fingering you and rubbing your g-spot, letting your cries fill the room. they get more and more high-pitched as you get closer to the edge. and right as you're about to cum, your cunt clenching around her fingers, she pulls out, grinning as you sob in protest.

"n-no-! no, please, i was so close-!"

I AM WORKING ON THIS I SWEAR

thinking abt her being home alone for the weekend and spending the entire time with her fingers buried inside her x_x

thick thighs spread wide as she fingers herself (thank you @minieskirt for that visual), obscene wet sounds filling the room, her hair a mess, and her cheeks flushed...

i don't think she'd be very vocal, more so just heavy breathing and cursing under her breath, groaning at the first slide of her fingers inside her needy cunt

and then maybe she's not satisfied and rides a dildo :3 her perky lil tits bouncing as she does, letting a small needy moan leave her lips when it hits the right spot

kissing cassie mckay's stretch marks.

not gonna lie, don't know how i didn't come up with this earlier, as i'm fucking obsessed with literally every single part of that woman (including the lines on her face, do not get me started on those.) and routinely go feral in @minieskirt 's dms about her.

so, i bring you the clusterfuck that is my mind surrounding these thoughts :D

- thinking about... your first time with mckay. she's insecure, soso hesitant about stripping out of her clothes, letting you see what's beneath. she hasn't been this vulnerable since chad (though we all know how that went).

- thinking about reassuring her as your hands slide beneath her top, telling her how beautiful and fucking sexy she is, how you won't give a damn about the marks, the lines, her stomach. you just need her.

- thinking about her finally relenting, stripping off her shirt and pants, leaving her in a bra where her nipples, hard and waiting, are peeking through the lace, and panties that have a visible wet patch on them. poor girl is so worked up, so sensitive :c

- thinking about dropping to your knees before her, hands sliding reverently over her body, tracing every line and mark.

- thinking about looking up at her as you begin mouthing at her stretch marks, starting at her stomach and working your way down to her sides, her thighs, not leaving a single one untouched by your lips.

- thinking about tracing the marks with your tongue 😵‍💫 feeling her shiver beneath you as the cold air hits her saliva coated skin <3

y'all remember in ep 2 when they were trying to fix that man's dislocated arm? and cassie was panting after and you could hear it?

yeah.... i can't stop thinking about g!p cassie panting like that in your ear after she cums <3

oh absolutely anon

maybe she makes you sit down on the bed after you've been bratting off all day. standing in front of you, cradling your jaw, slipping her thumb into your mouth for a split second before muttering "open."

and when you do immediately (because her commanding you is fucking hot), tongue sticking out for her already, she'll gather the spit in her mouth before spitting it all directly into your waiting one.

she'd watch you with lidded eyes as you close your mouth and swallow obediently, her thumb stroking your jaw as you do.

"good girl," she'd praise softly before coaxing your mouth open again, "now suck my fingers, get 'em ready f'me."

x_x just imagining it: swirling your tongue around her digits, feeling the roughness of them against it. moaning at the taste of her, it muffled as she shoves them deeper down your throat till you gag <3

making you suck them and warm them with your mouth for a good few minutes, and the sight of you below her like this is making her boxers even damper than it already was.

thinking about her pulling her soaked fingers out and there's a string of saliva connecting them to ur lips <3 she'll brush her wet fingers against your cheek before gently guiding you down to a laying position against the bed x_x

i'm thinking about...

her body draped across yours as she thrusts / scissors you lazily, breaths hot and heavy in your ear from her face being buried in the crook of her neck, her lips brushing against your earlobe

her hands roaming every inch of your body as you ride her, unable to keep her hands in one place for long, pulling you closer until your arms wrap around her neck as you bounce and her arms pull you against her chest

content warnings: smoking, mentions of alcohol/alcohol bottles, mentions of a blade, aster being a slob

Chapter Two

Present Day

The sun beams down on the Firelight camp as the members go about their morning routines. Older members group together for patrols, kids run about with paint on their hands, paint smudged on their cheek. Happy, smiling, giggling. It brings Aster a sort of happiness that can only come from this, seeing children run about without worrying. Without living the life she did.

She turns away from the window of her shabby hut and steps over the pile of paint splashed canvases towards her nightstand. Or, what is supposed to be a nightstand. It's actually a wooden crate she stole from the docks, piled with an ashtray (that had more cigarettes than anything else), her daggers, and a sad looking vase of violets.

She collapses onto the stained mattress and pulls out her lighter and a crushed pack of cigarettes. She grumbles as the lighter goes flick, flick, flick before a flame eventually appears. She brings it to the cigarette hanging from her lips, sighing in relief as the flame hits. A small puff of smoke leaves her lips as she sits up and grabs the bowl of water at her feet before standing up and gently pouring its contents into the vase.

Smoke curls out from her nostrils as she leans forward against the crate, watching the water sink into the dirt. She feels some sort of satisfaction as she watches this, like she's made amends with the woman she loves by finally doing her fucking job. She wonders if that'll be enough for Violet, her Violet, to forgive her. She doesn't think so. But then again, Aster doesn't think highly of herself at all.

"You know smoking kind of defeats the purpose of taking care of it, right?"

Aster groans around her cigarette and collapses dramatically onto her mattress at the sound of her adopted brother's voice.

"Don't lecture me again, please," she grumbles, earning a small, fond laugh from Ekko as he leans against her doorway, watching her drape an arm over her eyes, further smudging the eyeshadow there.

"Patrol's in 5. I want you leading one through the Lanes and I'll lead one through the sewers," Ekko orders, going back into that fierce leadership mode that Aster is so proud of.

"Aye aye, captain."

"Shut up and get ready," he retorts, pushing off the doorframe and heading back out to the clearing.

His words make Aster snicker to herself as she gets up and clips her dagger belt to her waist, cigarette hanging loosely from her lips. The dagger handles clink softly together as she maneuvers it around to her liking, clipping and unclipping it until it rests comfortably. Attached to her belt is a flask that reeks of week-old whiskey, though Aster shamelessly takes a swig anyway, and a small satchel next to it. She reaches in and grasps a small rock, adorned with countless scratches from the many times she mindlessly sharpened her blade.

She runs a calloused thumb over the many markings before unsheathing a dagger and running the blade across the stone. She does this even as she kicks aside a pile of whiskey bottles, only stopping to grab her leather vest and shrug it on. Her muscles flex and ripple underneath freckled skin with the movement, the leather sliding easily over her broad shoulders.

She puts out her cigarette (begrudgingly) and pushes open the door, stepping out into the dusty clearing. The sounds of life in the camp reach her ears, louder now as she approaches the clearing. se squints her eyes against the sun as she approaches the older Firelights gathering for patrols. Instinctively, the small gathering parts for her to emerge through in the middle, and their voices go quiet.

Her gaze travels over the various members, their faces set in determined expressions. She's proud of them, but if anyone noticed the flicker of pride on her face, they didn't comment.

"Firelights! It is time for patrol."

Her voice is strong, hardened by a life's worth of grief and hardship. It carries through the clearing easily, bringing the Firelights' attention to her. She begins choosing who will venture with her through the Lanes.

Her choices are carefully made, choosing a team of variety. Some stronger physically, some nimble. Some small, some big. They all come with their own strengths, and Aster uses each one.

Finally, the group begins to disperse, members beginning to break away to prepare for the upcoming patrol. Aster does the same, grabbing her hoverboard from where she left it leaning against the big tree. And then, when her members are ready, they head out.

content warnings: death, minor mention of blood, grief, aster has absolutely no chance at a happy story 😭, lots of angst!!!

Chapter 1

7 years ago..

The brick alleyways fly past her in a blur as she runs—no—sprints towards the shimmer factory. She only fell asleep for 2 seconds, and Powder slipped away from her.

Aster can see the abandoned factory up ahead. She's so close, she can feel it. Gritting her teeth, she forces herself to run faster faster faster before—

BOOM.

Aster is thrust against a wall, her head smacking against the old bricks so hard black dots her vision. She lays there, crumpled, as debris and dust rain down around her. After a few moments, when she comes through, she groans weakly, pressing a hand to her throbbing head.

It comes back red. "Shit," she mutters weakly, lifting her head to glance around. It's then she realizes: The factory is gone. Nothing left but fire and ash. The sight of it all burning down sends a wave of despair through her.

"Nononono," she says weakly, crawling forward. The scent of smoke fills her lungs, making her cough violently. But she pushes forward. It's not long before she's met with a wall of rubble, one much too big for her lanky body to move, much less crawl over.

"V-Vi?" She croaks out, a weak hand grasping a rock, as if she could move it. It doesn't budge, nor does she hear a sign of life from the other side.

"Vi?" She calls again, weakly, "I-Is anyone there?"

Once again, she's met with silence. All that remains among the ashes is Aster and her grief. She curls up against the rubble and wails. A deathly, gut-wrenching wail that reverabates through the winding alleys of Zaun. She feels her grief consume her wholly.

And all she has to blame is herself.

𝟭.

rules:

- no plagiarism.

- only req when my reqs are open please i'm an autistic college student and i burn out.

- do not feed my work into ai.

- all work is written by ME, no ai used.

- all art of ocs are commissioned or made in piccrew. all ocs came from my brain; do not copy them either.