(Not mine)
"The paints supposed to go where?!"
You were sure people could hear you outside the tent, but your temper could have easily drowned you then. You didn't care. Lexa was knelling before you, paint pot in hand, face slightly red from the truth that she had just revealed to you. Initiation into warrior hood was one of the things that you had waited for, for what seemed like an eternity. There was one thing, however, that was starting to bemuse you. The ceremonial paint.
The initiate was supposed to have a continuous paint line going across their chest, and it was all well and good for the guys, but for the girls? Oh no. You were basically giving someone permission to draw on your boobs, and no one else was even going to see them - you did wear clothes during the actual service.
"It's a tradition, Y/n, so hurry up so we can get this over with." She tossed her brown hair, tying it back tightly, so it wouldn't get in her way, "don't you want to honour your ancestors?"
"I'm pretty sure our ancestors didn't want people to paint on their breasts."
"That wasn't what I meant." She proceeded to finish the paint on your legs, so you could roll your trouser legs back down. She then commenced to engage you in a frightful stare down, her eyes constricting, like a cobra about to strike, only you knew you were safe, as she didn't have any visible weapon you could see.
Oh, boy, you were wrong.
Instantaneously, Lexa tackled you to the ground, pining both of your arms down.
"Hey!" You shouted, "THIS IS ASSAULT!"
"You brought this on yourself," she chastised, tugging at the bottom of your baggy F/C shirt, as you squirmed to try and keep it on. This was not going to turn into a strip tease. Eventually, Lexa gave up on trying to force your clothes off, and sat back, still on top of you. She looked away, as if considering a Machiavellian idea, and you were cautious.
"Um, Lexa...?" You began, smiling innocently, "could you get off me now?" She peered back at you, her pale blue-green eyes sending you looks that send jolts through your now pulsing veins. What was she up to? You thought, but the questions stopped when she leaned in, hair spreading out over your body, and pressed her lips against yours.
The folds of her mouth didn't taste sweet, as you had expected them to, they tasted like salty, like the sweat you had shed in your efforts to become a warrior. This reminded you of what you were alive for.
"Take it off," she softly moaned between kisses.
"W-what?" You stammered, placing your clammy palms on her shoulders.
"You heard me," she repeated, "take. It. Off."
And so you did.
YOU ARE READING
The 100 Imagines
Fanfiction[Y/N] (your name) x Lexa Bellamy Clarke Octavia Monty Jasper Murphy (I can add whoever you want me to) (I take requests) Info i need: Your name: Age: Character you want: Describe what you want to happen: ________________ Tell me if you want me to sh...
