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angelkhi-reclibrary · 6 months

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mega excited to read the rest of this. hazel IS spider-man you’ve fully convinced me of that. yet another chefs kiss 😘 🤌🏾

all in a day’s work [h.c]

summary: being spider-woman is going pretty well for hazel. that is until you notice these cuts and bruises appearing on her skin. she’s just a little clumsy, though, right?

pairing: hazel callahan x fem!reader

contains: mature language and content, shower sex (very little detail), spider!hazel, mentions of hazel’s transformation since becoming spider-woman, slight violence, cannabis mention, mentions of the avengers events, josie is hazel’s guy in the chair.

word count: 4.4K

a/n: it’s here. i’m beyond excited for you guys to read this short series. it’s going to be a four parter, uploading each part every week for the month of october. thank you and enjoy <3

one | two | three | four

Hazel hated criminals.

The ones who stole purses from innocent old ladies who were just trying to buy groceries. The ones who harass and assault women for rejecting them. Or in this special Brooklyn norm, a guy who had hotwired a BMW who was now involved in a high speed chase with four cop cars and a special hero following him.

Normally, she would be more than pleased to arrive at the scene. On any other day, she wouldn’t have promised to meet her girlfriend — sweet and patient you — at the bodega that your uncle owned. But some dumbass just had to hotwire a car when she had to meet you in an hour.

Hazel swung in between buildings, following the sirens of the police cars and the map inside of her mask, her eyes darting from car to car to find the one that was described. A dark purple BMW speeding down Tillary Street, turning down Gold Street. Once she had spotted the vehicle, she launched herself faster in the vicinity before landing on a U-Haul truck that was a few cars behind the BMW.

This guy was swerving and weaving through cars like a maniac as Brooklyn’s finest were hot on his trail. Hazel shook her hands out as a nerve-releaser, her gloved hands stretching in and out. She then sprinted across the top of the truck before launching a web at a tall building to maneuver her way onto the back of the BMW.

The breeze felt nice, though, after swinging around for so long. Her hands were gripping onto the sides of the vehicle to keep her balance.

“Excuse me, sir!” She tapped on the back window, waving a hand to get his attention.

The man’s eyes flickered to his rear-view mirror, eyes visibly widening at the sight of Spider-Woman hanging from the back of the stolen car. His response was to step on the gas. Hazel groaned as her lower stomach thumped onto the trunk, but quickly regained her posture as she hoisted herself onto her feet.

“Incoming text from honey with the white heart emoji and bee emoji,” Karen told Hazel, her Siri-like voice echoing in her ears. “Are we still on for sandwiches, babe? Semi-colon. Parenthesis.”

Hazel smiled at the message from you as she crawled to the top of the vehicle, mentally pumping her fist at the sight of the sunroof. The man had left it wide open. So he was an idiot in many ways. Hazel slipped in quickly, her bottom landing in the backseat. She’d tell Karen to reply as soon as she finishes with this nuisance.

“C’mon, dude, high-speed chase? What? Was stealing an old lady’s purse too cliche?” Hazel quipped with a cheeky attitude.

The man didn’t say a word but instead attempted to throw a punch in the backseat, letting out grunts of annoyance. Hazel blocked every swing with a sigh, wondering why the hell he was even trying.

“You know, you’d punch way better if you weren’t driving, sir.”

As the man continued to speed between cars, Hazel stares up ahead to see an empty alleyway in an upcoming street. She needed to get him off of the street so that innocent people wouldn’t be in the way of danger.

Hazel shoots a web at the man's eyes. He grunts at the sticky feeling and temporary blindness, releasing the wheel entirely. Hazel reaches over from the backseat, hands gripping onto the wheel to turn sharply into the deserted alley. She mutters a string of curses as the side of the car scrapes against the brick building.

She’ll tell Mr. Stark about billing that to the owner later.

Cars honked and came to a sudden halt at her illegal moves but the car was now in the alley, away from the public. She releases the wheel to quickly crawl out of the open sun-roof. Mid-way out, she feels the glass begin to close on her torso.

Hazel groans out at the squeezing pressure and looks down into the car to see that the man had hit the sunroof button on the roof of the interior. One of his hands gripped onto her spandex covered calf, trying to tug her back down.

“I have a girlfriend, dude. Let go,” Hazel grunted, wriggling in his grasp.

Hazel threw her foot back into his chest and jaw before jumping up and out of the car. She landed on a metal fire escape balcony. From that distance, she shot multiple webs at the end of the alleyway, creating a makeshift trap for the car to run into. Her wrists were beginning to ache but she kept her movements flowing, releasing the web as he was reaching the end. The car hit the large web with a loud thump but had stopped, which is what Hazel was aiming for.

The thief had stepped out of the car and began to book it.

“Karen, send a text back to honey reading,” Hazel stood on the fire escape and walked on the side of the building as she aimed a web at the man. The substance wrapped around his legs causing him to trip and hit the ground. “Of course. See you soon. With two x’s and o’s.”

“I am sending the text to honey.” Karen alerted Hazel to her mask.

Hazel swung over to land right next to the criminal's head, tilting her body to the side to grin at his scraped up face. She knew he couldn’t see her shit-eating grin but it brought her some sort of badass feeling. Like an ‘I-just-did-that-shit’ feeling.

“The cops will take care of you so if you’ll excuse me,” she shot her web around his wrist to keep him down and held them behind his back. “I have to see my girl.”

The man grunted loudly to which Hazel responded with a: “Bye, Mr. Criminal!” as she launches herself out of the alley and around the corner of the building.

You were browsing the shelf of snacks and candies in your uncle’s bodega. You had just gotten off your shift at the Build-A-Bear in the mall and you were absolutely starving. The array of chips and gummies made your stomach grumble, sighing as you were waiting patiently for Hazel to arrive.

Her Stark internship had consumed a lot of her time lately. Of course, you were incredibly happy and proud of her to be working under Tony Stark: a billionaire industrialist, inventor, and the Iron-Man.

You didn’t mean to seem clingy, but you missed her when she was gone.

“Bee, here you go.” You hear a voice coming from behind the counter.

There stood your uncle with your turkey club sandwich wrapped — no tomatoes. You let out a groan of relief as you walked up to the counter to take it from him. You reach into your tote to grab a five dollar bill.

“Bee, you’re not paying.” He began to walk around to avoid you giving him cash.

“Uncle Karter, take it now. I’ll hop over this counter and shove into the register,” your threat was playful, but you meant every word.

“You’re hungry so I’m giving you food. It’s just like having lunch at home.” Your uncle insisted as he pointed at you, resting his arms on the glass display of the different kinds of sandwiches and deli meat he had to offer.

You sigh, giving him a wary look. Yes, he was your uncle, but you felt guilty just being handed sandwiches that you could easily pay for. You have a job. Your uncle wouldn’t let you pay, though, so you reluctantly slip the dollar bill into your bag.

“Thank you,” you give him a small smile before taking a bite of the fresh sandwich.

“It’s nothing, kiddo.” The man shakes his head as his eyes flicker behind him at the front door. The bell rings and he jerks his head to whoever was walking in. “Your little girlfriend is here.”

You whip your head around mid-bite to see Hazel panting as if she had run here with a wide, charming smile. Her hands were holding something behind her back as she approached you happily with her brown broken-in leather backpack over one shoulder, her keys that were clasped onto a loop of her jeans jangling loudly.

“Hey,” she breathes out, her gaze flickering between both of your eyes. Hazel raises her hand to wave at your uncle. “Hi, sir.”

“Hazel, I told you to call me Karter. None of that ‘sir’ shit, dude. I’m 36, not 50.” Your uncle replied teasingly, causing you to chuckle. Hazel nodded, muttering a ‘right’. Her eyes locked with yours as your uncle began to attend to the other customers.

“How was it today?” You tilt your head as you take another bite of your sandwich.

Hazel shrugged her shoulders, scoffing out. “Boring science shit but it was good. New scientist named Dr. Connors that Mr. Stark introduced me to.”

You deadpan at her, nodding your head. Sure, the subject wasn’t your favorite but you always wanted to hear about Hazel’s day. You brushed off the short response as you swallow that bite of your sandwich.

“Okay, well, that’s good. What are you hiding?” You try to peer over her shoulder but she only leans to the same side as you.

“Grabbed something for you on the way here.” Hazel beams as she pulls out the present from behind her back.

It was a small bouquet of an array of flowers for this time of the year. It was fall in New York, so the array of white roses and yellow sunflowers brightened up your mood. Forest Hills blossomed during the chilly season; a beautiful orange hue washed over the neighborhood in Queens as the decaying leaves fell from the tree branches.

Your eyes softened at the simple yet sweet gesture. Hazel grinned awkwardly, hoping you loved them.

Ever since you two had started dating half a year ago, Hazel has always felt like she had to be the best girlfriend she could. You were her first girlfriend and she was absolutely crazy about you, as you were about her.

Other people haven’t been the kindest to you and she knew that. Lying and cheating were a main factor as you’ve told her.

The guilt ached in her chest everyday having to lie to you about being Spider-Woman. You were her entire world. Tony insisted it was for the best if she didn’t want anything to happen to you.

“You are too sweet, I swear. Thank you, baby,” you lean in close to kiss her lips quickly and take the bouquet in your free hand.

Hazel flushed so easily, making your smile widen. It was a good feeling to see after so many months that she still got flustered when you kissed her.

“It’s nothing. You deserve it.” Hazel replied as if it was something you should know.

You don’t respond to that, only blushing like Hazel was moments ago. You sniff the soft flowery scent for a moment before taking another bite of your sandwich.

“You wanna head to mine?” You offer with a flirty smile.

“Uh, yeah, sure.” Hazel nodded, eyes warily darting to your uncle who was occupied with his line of customers that appeared out of the blue.

“He’ll be here for hours. C’mon,” you loop your arm around hers. “Bye, Uncle Karter. See you later.”

Your uncle simply waves his hand mid-conversation with the middle aged woman in front of him. Hazel leaned into your touch for a second before letting herself get dragged out of the bodega by you.

A fresh autumn breeze brushed against her, hitting her pale skin. You leaned your head on her shoulder as you talked about all the adorable children that had come into the Build-A-Bear.

Hazel loved these small moments with you. Well, she loved every moment but little things like this clouded her brain when she wasn’t focused on keeping her identity a secret. Watching your eyes light up when you spoke about how happy these children looked when you handed them their bear made her heart grow tenfold.

When the two of you had arrived at you and your uncle's apartment, you reached into your bag to grab the house keys.

“You hungry?” You ask as your sliding the key into the slot.

Hazel shook her head, placing a hand over her stomach. “I’m okay. Thank you, though, honey.”

You place a gentle kiss at her cheek as if to tell her that you asked her questions like that to show that you cared. You frowned, though, as you noticed a bruise and cut on her top lip that you hadn’t really seen before.

Hazel noticed you paused and furrowed her brows.

“What is it?” She whipped her head around to see if there were any potential threats. She was tempted to check her watch that Tony had given her to get Karen to scan the area.

“Babe, did you hit your lip?” You raised a hand to graze over the reddening area.

Hazel’s eyes widened once she realized what you were talking about. Earlier this morning, Hazel had a guy hit the butt of his gun at her face when she had dealt with a smoke shop robbery. She actually got free weed from the guy working the register which she plans to give to PJ.

“Oh, yeah. May was opening a cabinet up top and it hit me straight in the lip. I kind of forgot about it.” Hazel easily lied through her teeth, letting you caress the outline of her lips.

“It doesn’t hurt, right?” You ask her softly, eyes flickering up to her freckled under eyes.

Hazel shook her head with a hum, her smile growing as she admired your worried features. You looked away with a flushed grin as you pushed open the front door. The faint aroma of pumpkin and cinnamon filled Hazel’s nose, warmth filling her chest.

It wasn’t the largest apartment but it was home to you. You and uncle didn’t need much more than this.

“How is May?” You asked as you hung your keys on one of the Smurfs wall mounted key hooks that you had found at a thrift store.

“She’s good. Working at the hospital right now so she’s hoping that‘ll pay well.” Hazel explains as she traces the knick knacks on the shelf’s in the living room.

You can’t help but smile at the thought of Hazel’s Aunt May. She really was one of the kindest women you’ve ever met. May had a tendency to call you her ‘future daughter in law’ in front of Hazel just to tease the girl, watching her cheeks and tips of her ears flush a deep red.

“That’s good. I don’t want her overworking herself, though.” You sigh as you set your bag down next to the arm of the couch.

“Yeah, me neither.” Hazel sighed. “So, what did you wanna do?”

You hum in thought, bringing your single braid from behind your head to over your shoulder. You began to untangle the twisted hair as you thought about what activities you and Hazel could do now that she was free.

A certain idea came to mind.

“Well, I do need to shower so,” you say nonchalantly, hoping Hazel would get the hint.

“Oh, okay. Yeah, I can wait out here. Take your time, honey.” Hazel nodded and went over to take a seat on the couch.

You stared at her grabbing the remote for the TV, turning it on and flicking through the channels. You release your hair to allow it to sit on your shoulders, waiting patiently for Hazel to realize.

“Oh, do you wanna watch Foot Loose when you get out of the shower?” Hazel’s gaze floated back to you.

Her excitement to watch the movie dropped when she noticed you tilting your head and looking at her like that. You had only given her that look when you were insinuating something sensual. Your body was swaying back and forth as your smile grew when she set down the remote.

“Sorry. I didn’t— I thought you meant by yourself.” Hazel rushed out as she turned off the TV, chuckling nervously.

“At first, yeah. But, hey, we’re conserving water if we shower together and you know I’m all about keeping the Earth green.”

Hazel couldn’t help but nod, standing up to walk up to you. “That— yeah. That’s true. Conserving water conserves energy that reduces greenhouse gas pollution.”

Her brain shouldn’t have turned you on as much as it did.

“Yeah? What else does it do?” Your fingers hook onto her belt loops, tugging her closer into your body.

Hazel allowed you to manhandle her as she would truthfully let you do anything to her. She knew how much her ability to retain and cite facts turned you on. It was obvious by how you were drinking her in like you could devour her.

“It can… oh, protect aquatic life and extend water supply to areas that lack and ensure agricultural production to thrive.” Hazel rambled out, her flush growing as your thumbs brushed past her hip bone.

“Oh, those poor sea creatures.” You frown, smacking your lips.

“Don’t you need to shower?” Hazel asked, suddenly overwhelmed with impatience.

Your smile only grew, a giggle falling from your lips. You intertwine your hands with Hazel’s as you hurriedly walk over to your small bathroom. Hazel made sure to remove her watch and set it down on the porcelain sink, not wanting any sort of message from Tony to interrupt her time with you.

You turn to shut the door and turn the lock with a ‘click’. Hazel is caught off guard by you removing your work shirt, blushing at the sight of you in your bra. She felt like such a virgin. She’s seen you naked at this point and still was a flustered mess around you.

“Can’t take a shower with clothes, Haze.” You raised your brows as you were unbuttoning your pants.

“Maybe I can. I can do laundry that way.” Hazel quipped back with a chuckle.

Nonetheless, she began to slip off her sweater. You walk over to her, hooking your fingers underneath the thick fabric to help her. Her sports bra came into view as you tugged the sweater up and off, tossing it onto the blue and white tiled ground.

You both messily kissed, clanking teeth from how rushed your movements were. Soft laughter released from you as you removed the rest of your clothing and underwear, Hazel following by copying your actions.

Hazel hoisted you up with ease by your plush thighs, causing you to let out a yelp at the sudden movement. You lazily kissed her jaw as you held onto her neck, listening to her soft hums as she stepped into the shower. You never understood how all of a sudden, Hazel had this strength and toned body. You’d never seen her hit the gym once since you’ve been together.

Not that you were complaining. Just confused.

“Alright, let me down,” you hum against her skin, “I really do have to shower.”

“I’ll, uh, help.” Hazel offered as she released her grasp from your thighs, carefully watching you step onto the tiled ground.

You simply give her a soft kiss, whispering a ‘thank you’ onto her lips. Hazel hums back before grabbing the hydrating shampoo from the shelf. You turned on the shower, letting out a soft ‘fuck’ at the cold water. You hurriedly turn the knob to the red ‘H’ symbol, leaning back into Hazel’s body.

Once the stream of water began to heat up, Hazel squirted out the correct amount of shampoo into her palms. She massaged the product to your scalp as you tilt your head back with a sigh. Her fingers work into your scalp, sending you into a domestic bliss.

“That feels so good.” You practically moan as Hazel continues with the shampooing.

Hazel chuckles with a blush, leaning down to press a gentle kiss onto your naked shoulder. Your mind practically turns to mush but you force yourself to continue the rest of your routine.

You and Hazel bathed each other after a few heated kisses. That’s all. (You had gone down on her and she fingered you until you came twice.) She had told you how much you resembled a beautiful Renaissance painting with every curve and dip of your body. The words squeezed at your heart, feeling yourself fall more and more in love with her — if that was even possible.

Now freshly bathed and spent from the day, you and Hazel settle down, remaining in just underwear with an oversized tee. The sun had been long gone — the only light source being the city lights from outside of your bedroom window. You were cuddled up in your bed on your sides Hazel was running one hand up and down the fresh and lotion-covered skin of your arm as you twirled her wet hair around your fingers.

“I wanna stay here forever.” You yawn and rub at your bare face.

“Yeah?” Hazel hummed.

You nod with a chuckle. “Oh, yeah. If I didn’t have to work or worry about stuff like the apocalypse and aliens taking over, I would stay here forever.”

“Aliens?” Hazel’s brows arched at your words, chuckling along with you.

“Well, I mean, you saw what happened with Avengers in the city a few years ago. That was terrifying, you know?” You mutter, zoning out as the memory flooded back into your mind.

You had been just a few streets down when Loki had sent an army of aliens down onto the city. Who knows what could’ve happened if you had been just one more street closer to the destruction.

Hazel only nodded because how can you forget an event like that? Lives were lost and changed forever. Hazel, at the time, was just like you; a normal girl in the city just trying to live day by day. She wasn’t able to save people as she could now.

“Let’s just… lay here a-and not think about that, honey. Okay?” Hazel whispered as she tried to reassure you while reassuring her own scattered mind.

“Okay. I’m sorry.” You whispered back with a self-deprecating chuckle as you felt that you had ruined the mood.

Hazel shook her head as she moved her hand from caressing your arm to cupping your bare cheek.

“No, no, no, it’s okay. I just don’t want you to worry about all that stuff that hasn’t happened.”

Hypocrite, Hazel’s mind echoed after she had continued to utter soft and kind words to you. That’s all she ever did. Worrying about the unknown or stuff she couldn't control.

You ultimately felt your worries fade for the time being. Hazel caresses the length of your back until your heavy eyes shut, allowing sleep to take over. Not too long after Hazel knew that you were sound asleep, she did the same.

Hazel was awakened by the sound of a loud alarm echoing throughout the space of the room. She had shot up quickly from the bed, looking down at her watch to see it was a call from Josie — her only friend from Stark Industries.

Hazel checked the time to see it was 7:04 in the morning; way too early to be calling her. She glanced at you tangled up in your bed sheets next to her, mouth slightly hung open as you were knocked out. She carefully got up from the mattress, trodding over to the bathroom to get some privacy.

Hazel groaned at her reflection, her hair a tousled mess and her shirt half-way off of her shoulders. She reluctantly answered the call on the watch, squinting her eyes as Josie came into view.

“Hi Hazel!” Her cheery voice threw her off guard.

“It’s seven in the morning, Josie.” Hazel grumbled, trying to fix her hair.

“That didn't sound like a ‘oh, good morning, Josie’ so I’ll pretend you said that.” Josie quipped back, adjusting herself in her cubicle. “Anyways, Mr. Stark told me to call you because he needs you here, like, immediately.”

Hazel’s eyes shot open. “Wait really?”

Josie hums as she types something on her laptop that was lighting up her screen. “He said in his email, and i quote: ‘call Underoos and get her here immediately. No’ and this is in all caps ‘questions’.”

Hazel rolled her eyes at the nickname. Within the first few days of working under Tony, the nickname came to mind and never left. As much as she wanted to stay in bed with you, she knew she had to see whatever Tony needed her there for. She scrunched up her nose and yawned, nodding and scratching the back of her head.

“I’ll be there soon. Probably 10-20 minutes.” Hazel stretches her free arm, releasing some tension in her biceps and upper back.

“Alright, cool. Oh, wait,” Josie muttered as she stopped typing on her keyboard, leaning back into her roller chair. “Ah, shit. Son of a bitch, dude.”

“What?” Hazel responded as she was about to leave the bathroom so she could hang up.

“No, nothing. I lost at Solitaire against Happy.” Josie shook her head, groaning before typing again on the laptop.

Hazel furrowed her brows before hanging up with a: ‘See you soon’. The last thing she heard was Josie angrily typing as she whispered: ‘Filthy cheater’.

Josie took Solitaire extremely personally.

Hazel slowly crept out of the bathroom as she had forgotten that your Uncle Karter was now home, if not, awake. She tiptoed back into your room, grabbing her bag from the small carpet strawberry right next to your bed. You had adjusted once again in your sleep, snuggling into the plush of your pillow.

You were a fidgety sleeper but she found it adorable. Watching over you right now almost made her stay but she couldn't risk Tony being angry with her. She quickly changed into her suit, walking over to your window to unlock it and crack it open.

Taking one more glance at your unconscious body, Hazel tugged her mask over her face before she shot a web out of the window at a building across the street. She threw her bag over her shoulder as she swung to the apartment building next door all the way to the Stark Tower.

Mid-way there, she suddenly remembered that she didn’t leave a note for you like she usually would when she left so suddenly. She brushed it off and told herself she’d send you a text as soon as she left.

Nothing to worry about.

Right?

taglist: @imjustapearl @seethesin @matchamilkislover @beabeebrie @curiousshifter101 @uraesthete @fictionalcharacterspecialist @c4llahansgirl @maggiecc @fruitysnackysmain @crvptidgf <33

#hazel callahan #bottoms movie #hazel callahan x reader #bottoms 2023 #ruby cruz #spider hazel #spider woman #hazel callahan fic #smut #hazel fic rec

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angelkhi-reclibrary · 7 months

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absolutely inhaled each and every one of these. you write hazel so perfectly and all of these are beautiful. i love love love 🫶🏾

𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐒! ☾

cherry.

19.

bisexual.

writing is the only thing that drives me both insane and makes me happy.

currently only writing for hazel callahan from the 2023 film bottoms! so send requests :)

𝐡𝐚𝐳𝐞𝐥 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ☽

playing house

more than study buddies

kiss it better

falling behind | catching up

about that spiderwoman (coming soon)

#hazel callahan #hazel callahan x reader #bottoms movie #sapphic #ruby cruz #wlw #bottoms 2023 #hazel callahan fic rec

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angelkhi-reclibrary · 7 months

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guts x tlou?! love love love, this is gorgeous 🤍

all-american bitch!

pairing: ellie williams x reader

warnings: mostly fluff, cursing, suggestive themes maybe.

a/n:i wrote this for my monthly challenge in our writing server, so if you see GUTS themed ellie and abby fics... that's why.... so i chose the song, all american bitch because i thought it would be a difficult write and wanted to challenge myself. so this one is a little shorter and i hope you enjoy! AI AUDIO in the fic also reblogs, asks, and replies are so appreciated and encouraged! thank u kisses

wc: 1k

"with perfect all-american lips."

ellie wanted to hate you.

with every fiber in her being, she wanted to hate you. but as she sat in the student center, laptop open and earbuds in, she couldn’t help but stare. from her place at the table she could see you wide-eyed and grinning, talking to a group of people she didn’t know. when you laughed you touched the shoulder of the guy to your right, but when you smiled you leaned into the girl to your left. she noticed how you looked at people when they spoke, hanging onto every word they were saying. every time the group would laugh at a joke or statement you made, she watched as you nervously fiddled with the necklace loosely hung around your neck with your initial on it.

she wanted to hate you but she didn’t. instead, she hated everything she thought you represented. the mean girls in the movies or the girl next door. you were somehow all of it wrapped up in one. she didn’t know you at all but somehow you were the perfect all-american -

“bitch!” a girl sitting across from you screamed, throwing her full cup of coke onto your face, causing everyone to stand up and gasp. ellie stood up with them, removing her headphones and ignoring the pull of dina’s hand, asking her what she was doing.

you wiped the sticky liquid from your eyes, and tried to get as much of it off your face so you could walk back to your dorm. when you began picking up your things and noticed no one was going to follow you, ask if you were okay, or defend you, a tear formed in your eye. you, however, was determined to not cry in front of most of the people that attended this school. instead, you scurried off as quickly as you could.

ellie didn’t even notice she was following you till the brisk fall air hit her face. your feet were moving faster than her mind was going, but she was determined to catch up.

“hey,” she called out. you didn’t turn around though, you just kept walking. from where she was she could hear your sniffles, “hey! are you okay?”

that got your attention. you stopped, not turning around, and waited for ellie to circle around you and say something.

“are you okay?” she asked again, watching your stunned face. she ignored the bubbling in her stomach at being this close to you. she could see every detail of your face, every crease, every freckle, and every pore. you were prettier up close, “i saw what happened back there… it looked brutal.”

“i’m,” a tear slipped from your face and onto your already damp clothes, ellie was sooooo not looking at your tits right now, “i’m fine.”

“are you sure?” she asked again, eyes searching your face for an answer, “none of your friends came to check on you?”

“i guess they aren’t really friends, huh,” you laughed dryly, wiping at your eye again.

“just shitty ones,” she joked back, “look, do you want me to help you get cleaned up? maybe you can vent to me about whatever the fuck that just was.

your eyes scanned her face this time, “why would you do that? you don’t know me?”

“i think you may be in need of some new friends,” she smiled, making you crack a small one.

“very true.”

------

ellie helped wipe the coke off your face and neck. since it had been sitting on your skin for a while it had gone sticky, and you were getting choked up trying to wipe everything off. plus, ellie was so nice and tender, gently rubbing at your skin and making sure she wasn’t rubbing to hard. she held your face in her hand, turning it and using your roomates expensive facewash to get it clean. when it came to your chest she backed up, saying a, “i shouldn’t.”

“why?” you asked, “we’re both girls.”

“i think i’m supposed to ask you out on a date before doing that.” she chuckled, stepping back a little further, expecting rejection, a slap in the face, anything.

“oh,” you said, eyeing her up and down, head-turning and lips pursed when you saw her tattoos, “could have figured from the tattoo alone.”

“hey! are you saying my tattoo makes me look gay?” she laughed, a big bright smile on her face. this time when you smiled you showed your teeth. ellie’s face turned a bright red, as she looked down. she made you smile, she was proud of that.

“it’s a dead giveaway that you’re gay,” you giggled again. ellie looked up at you, squinting her eyes.

“if you knew that i was gay then, why did you let me come in and?” ellie’s voice got quiet, she didn’t want you to think she was a creep. it’s not like she came in here to flirt with you, or did she. the way you were looking at her was making all her thoughts mesh together into slush.

“i don’t know,” your voice was teasing, you were fucking teasing her, “maybe i wanted a cute girl to come in here and clean me up.”

“cute?” ellie laughed.

“yeah, cute,” you repeated, pulling your bottom lip in between your teeth, “like how you’re blushing right now. that’s cute.”

ellie’s face got even redder somehow, causing her to hang her head and pinch the bridge of her nose, “fuck.”

“were you going for hot?” you asked, reaching for her from your place on the bathroom counter, pulling at the sleeves of her oversized t-shirt so she would move closer to you.

“what about my t-shirt doesn’t scream hot?” she looked up now, and fuck was she close to you.

“cute and funny,” you smiled, eyes bright, “who would’ve thought?”

ellie looked away again, flustered still, but still in your grasp, “you forgot respectable.”

you laughed and ellie was close enough to feel your breath on her neck. she shivered, but her eyes met yours again.

“when are you going to ask?” you whispered, voice low.

“what?”

“the date?” you clarified, making her smile grow again.

“oh, yeah,” she rubbed the back of her neck nervously, “do you want to go on a date with me?”

“yes.”

#soft ellie #this is so darn cute #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #ellie williams fic rec

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angelkhi-reclibrary · 7 months

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i lied 🫣

Hi! so to make my life a tiny bit easier, i’m not going to be active on this account much. instead i’ll be solely posting on @angelkhi (including recs). i’ll leave this account up since it has so many of my original posts including my masterlist buy from now on all posts will be on my main account. thank youuu 🩷

#teehee #sorry lol

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angelkhi-reclibrary · 7 months

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DOM!ABBY ANDERSON HEADCANNONS

cw: dom!abby (soft & mean), both receiving, fluffy too :) u mostly decide if au or not. minors dni. 18+ under cut

── ⋅⋅⋅ ────꒰ ୨ ♡ ୧ ꒱──────────

♡ dom!abby who loves causal dominance.

she’ll gently redirect you when you’re not paying attention to something important. “pretty girl, i’m talking to you.” a kiss on the forehead ensues if you whine out of embarrassment.

night out with drinking? she’s keeping her eyes on you. she definitely grips your chin as she pours water into your mouth. ”don’t need you hungover tomorrow.

refuses to let you grab anything off high shelves after an incident involving glass. “just need someone bigger, don’t you?”

♡ dom!abby who doesn’t care if you call her mommy, daddy, or just abby. she just loves to hear you call out and moan for her. she swears your voice sounds like honey to her ears.

♡ mean dom!abby who definitely loves it when you cry. she’ll coo and wipe your tears away as each thrust of her strap feels bruising. she doesn’t think she’s fucked you good enough without tears when she’s in that mood.

♡ soft dom!abby who loves to have you in her lap while she overstimulates you, shushing your whines with gentle kisses. “oh, baby, you’re doing so good. going to cum

♡ dom!abby who rarely puts up with any bratty behavior. three strikes and you’re out. she knows you can be sweet again once she’s done with you— even if it takes all night. she’s always proven she’s not afraid to punish you.

soft!dom abby will edge you until you’re in tears, begging her to let you cum. she’ll tell you to apologize and then maybe she’ll let you cum. “gonna apologize now, yeah? gonna be good for me?”

mean dom!abby will smack your ass red before she’s fucks you from behind with your least favorite strap— it’s not thick or long enough to really get you there. “you wanna cum? then this strap is all you get. bad girls don’t get what they want, so get to it baby.”

♡ dom!abby shoves her fingers in your mouth when you won’t shut up. “baby, i’m busy. suck on my fingers and shut up.” she’ll shove her fingers in further if you try to respond to her.

♡ dom!abby’s strength kink goes hard. being a gym rat pays off in more ways than one. she likes to fuck you against walls, holding all of your weight up with just her arms. she’s the kind of woman to bounce you up and down with her hands on your hips when you whine about being tired while riding her.

♡ dom!abby pulls your hair when you’re eating her out before shoving your face in more. she loves to watch you get all messy as you become more and more pussy drunk. “my messy girl. doing so good for me.”

♡ dom!abby likes to have you on your knees while you eat her out. she loves the way watching your on your knees makes her feel. abby swears the orgasm is ten times better when she has you like that. you also get ten times the praise.

♡ dom!abby loves to tie you up and stick a vibrator in you. especially when you’re pleasing her; she likes to see if you can cum at the same time.

♡ dom!abby loves teasing you. lazily teasing your bud with her fingers, making you beg her to do more. she knows you like it based on how much more wet you get when she does it. “good girls are patient. patient girls get good things,” is all she’ll tell you before she starts up again.

♡ dom!abby knows how to make you feel good like she knows the back of her hand. she’s sure she could have you cumming in under five minutes if she didn’t enjoy the long game as much as she does. she usually has you cumming at least twice every time. “not a good girlfriend if i don’t have my girl completely blissed out after every. single. time.”

♡ dom!abby who whispers how much she loves you into your ear as she slowly takes you apart with her fingers, tongue, and toys. she always tells you how much she adores you no matter what mood you’re both in. she can never hold in a coo when you tell her the same things back.

♡ dom!abby who drops the role the second it’s time for aftercare. she always kisses you on your forehead before she gets you water, a washcloth, and your favorite fuzzy robe. she holds you in her arms, one arm arm rubbing your back on the days you need to be lulled to sleep afterwards.

#i love this #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson smut #abby anderson fic #abby anderson fic rec

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angelkhi-reclibrary · 7 months

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plsplsplspls scissoring with rockstar!abby

yes ma’am 🫡

no matter how aggressive she is with her words, she’s gentle to the touch when it comes to taking care of you. There are slight undertones of her harsh words when she’s got her cunt slotted right against yours though, adrenaline is still high from her show, but they aren’t words that make you feel hurt or upset. You know that sometimes she just needs to take her remaining energy out on you. That was never a problem. you’d do anything for her. Which resulted in you being here, in one of the hotel rooms they had chosen after a long day, with tears running down your face. lips plump and red, covered with your spit that’s somehow— you aren’t actually sure when you started dribbling but she wasn’t really phased, not when your cunt felt so good against hers, and if she did notice, she didn’t really give a fuck.

“acted like i needed this the most, but— fuck . . looks like you needed this just as bad as me, pretty girl” Her breathing was ragged, rough, and overall almost gone with how much screaming she’s done tonight, how much she’s sadly smoked, but god, anything to hear the sounds you’re letting out underneath her. “you crying, baby? yeah does it feel good? i know it does”

You were gripping onto each other like the other was gonna disappear if you blinked, her blunt nails almost tearing the skin on your hips with how tight she was holding onto you. Your own creating indents into her arm, not that she minds, she loves it when you leave marks on her. You’re not even sure what orgasm you are on, she’s pulled 2 from you already— atleast. But with the way she’s grinding into you, fucking you just a little harder, you’re not gonna last that much longer.

Like this though, she looked even more ethereal if that was even possible. Her hair was damp, her forehead sweaty and her muscles flexing after movement, every touch and you just couldn’t get enough. The filthy, loud obscene sound of your cunts filled your ears again, whines slipping from you faster & faster but she couldn’t stop the breathless laugh that escaped past her lips, because she simply knew.

“you think I’m gonna let you cum yet? no baby, be a good girl and let me have my fun first then you can cum”

#😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫#yes.#rockstar!abby #abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson fic rec

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angelkhi-reclibrary · 9 months

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#marvel smut #marvel #steve rogers #bucky barnes #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #the last of us #the last of us smut #tlou #frank castle #loki smut #matt murdock

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angelkhi-reclibrary · 9 months

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part one is here! 🩷

little miss sunshine - j.m

pairing: bodyguard!joel miller x f!reader (3rd person)

summary: joel is tasked with the impossible, protecting a socialites daughter. it seems easy enough, he’s no stranger to bratty know it alls who get what they want with the snap of a finger. but she’s different. so very different.

warnings: 18+ (minors DNI), smut in future parts, mentions of alcohol, references to being roofied, language, sexual themes (no actual sex), mentions of blood, joel is a massive dick. let me know if i missed anything!word count: 2.8k

a little note: it’s here! (kinda). ive been kinda busy (i graduated!) but also wanted to take my time with this, and maybe explore some aspects of writing that i usually skim over (my bad). i estimate that this will be maybe 3 parts? i hope i do it justice either way, this fic was born out of this hc, but mostly your encouraging responses. thank you for being so kind 🩷

For a price tag of almost three grand, her dress is itchy. Sure it's beautiful enough that the slimy little daddy's boys will fawn over her, and each superficial gold digger will give her one syllable compliments in an overly saturated tone, but it fucking itches. She hikes the material further up her thigh for the third time since the short car ride began, trying to scratch at her skin. Maybe it's an allergic reaction. She hopes so, that way she can avoid the event all together. She's half way to pulling her sleeve away from her shoulder, ready to scratch the irritated skin, but a firm grip around her wrist prevents her from that sweet sweet relief.

"Stop fidgeting." Joel's tone is clipped, the usual hint of strain pulling across his words. She swears she's never seen him relax, not since he became her live-in bodyguard anyway. She cuts her eye at him but of course he's not looking. The only time she ever really has his attention is if her life is in danger, other than that its pure nonchalance and ignorant glances. She can admire his desire to fulfil the position, what with the pay and free accommodation, hell if she had a real job she'd probably be just as uptight as him. But there's only so much a person can take.

"It's itchy." Of course she sounds like a whiny little brat. It's fine, that's all he thinks of her anyway, she's sure of it.

"Should've picked the other one then."

She almost laughs.

She had walked him around the store at least four times, each trip resulting in the same two dresses. She couldn't decide between the colours, then the length, and then the sleeves. In the end he forced her into the changing room, mumbling she either picks one of those or goes in nothing. They both know that's not an option. Both dresses felt nice, as nice as a constricting piece of fabric could feel, they both looked as nice as they could in the dreary washed out lighting. In the end she had asked Joel, who sat just the other side of the door, arms folded, shoulders tense, scowl mastered.

Joel isn't one for verbal communication, unless it's telling her to 'go here' or 'stay there' or his most frequented phrase, 'shut up'.

But his eyes say it all.

Sometimes it's a simple twitch, letting her know he's not as irritated as he lets on, others it's a slight squint. That's her personal favourite. That's when she knows she's got him right on the edge.

His eyes fix on her, moving slow and calculated over the second dress. The way the fabric moulds to each divot and curve of her body, lingering on her chest, on the slightly too high slit exposing her thigh. It's a clear winner.

His levels of exasperation had clearly spiked in the time it took for her to change again, his constant glaring, huffing and puffing dialled up to 100. His wide steps only seem to grow wider on the way to the checkout, his whole demeanour screaming get me the fuck out of here. Which is why she doubles back on herself, not needing to check if he's following, she knows he will.

She stops, a wide array of underwear in front of her. She takes her time, making sure to show each and every barely there pair to him, watching that eye twitch with a perfect mix of irritation and lightly tethered resolve.

He'd dragged her out of there in the end, though not after she held up the skimpiest pair of panties she could find. His hand wraps tight around her arm, not enough to hurt her, she knows he'd never do that. But enough to tell her she's officially pushed his buttons a little too much.

Soon enough the car rolls to a slow stop in front of a grand building. Stone columns tower over her when Joel leads her from the car. She likes to pretend it's not in his job description, that instead he's simply just an emotionally constipated gentleman, but she's not stupid enough to believe it. Still, when his hand finds the small of her back, when he guides her up the steps and into the vast museum-turned-ballroom, it's hard to believe that his behaviour is entirely obligatory.

The event is just as grand as she expected. Her father certainly has no trouble with throwing his wealth around, even less so when it presents the opportunity to show just how wealthy he is. An ornate chandelier hangs from the ceiling, casting a warm twinkling light over the guests. An sizeable portion of an orchestra plays dreary classical music from the back of the room, and the guests are filling the space, drinking overpriced champagne and nibbling on bite sized canapés.

She waltzes through the sea of false affluence, painting on her best smile, choosing her most pleasant tone, saying all of the right words. She embraces her father heartily, pushing down the small piece of resistance when he pulls her close. She puts on a good, exhausting show. The only thing that keeps her grounded is Joel, hot on her 5-inch heels, anticipating her every move, being ten steps ahead of her.

She's seated with a handful of the elite from the gathering, laughing when they relay the same stories as always, gasping and feigning surprise when they compliment her. She eats the bland food with a sweet smile and laughs off propositions from parents who just know their son would be a perfect match for her.

In between convoluted speeches, she listens to them drone on about their latest investments, or how well their darling daughters are performing in their ballet classes. She smiles, she drinks. she laughs. She's the perfect daughter. The luckiest girl in the room, with the richest daddy and all the luxuries life could offer. But sat at that table, choking down specs of gold in the dry champagne, she feels more akin to the age old scrolls and scriptures.

A caged artefact, another one of her father's prized possessions, on display to be gasped at. She'd give anything for the glass to shatter, for tiny shards to rain down on each and every person in here. She'd marvel in their horror as they learn they bleed the same as everyone else on this planet. That they're not special, and neither is she.

From the corner of her eye, she spots Joel hiding in the shadows, standing to attention. His eyes constantly scan the room and every few seconds, they're on her. She almost feels bad for practically ogling him whilst he's doing his very best to keep her alive. But his black suit fits his form so well it'd be a sin not to look. She watches as he readjusts his cufflinks for the third time, the material catching around his biceps, the single button clipped across his stomach almost straining with every moment.

Yes, Joel is an insufferable bastard, but he's an unfathomably good looking one. His stoic behaviour is almost forgiven on that basis alone.

A round of applause pulls her from her Joel induced trance. She fixes her smile and joins in, nodding jovially with those around her. Not soon enough, she's free to leave the table, thanking them for their company, and heads straight for the bar. She feels Joel's presence before she sees him, perching a few seats down, eyes still wondering.

She doesn't pay much attention to the man next to her. His suit probably cost more than what most people make in a year, and his charming smile is more snake-like. She smiles when he pays for her drink, laughs and touches his arm, letting him think he has a chance. He's been talking about his most recent investment in overseas stocks for ten minutes, and all she wants is to go home and take off these fucking uncomfortable heels. To be able to breathe without the rigid dress digging into her skin. She wants to be alone, or as alone she can be with her human shadow.

"... and profits are at an all time high. My old man reckons I'll be taking over from him soon enough" The man, Matt? Mike? Manny, speaks. She flashes him a smile.

"Wow. That's amazing." Or at least she hopes it is, he could be talking about his dead childhood pet for all she knows.

"Let me buy you another drink?" He asks. Though it's more of a demand, he's already flagged down the bartender, ordering something sweet and fruity her, and a "real man's" drink for himself.

"You got the last round. I'll get these." She pretends to root around in her too-small purse knowing he'll decline, they always do. Men like him take any chance to throw their money around, wave it in peoples faces, impress the men and woo the ladies.

By the time she's ended the facade, he's waving his amex at her dismissively, nudging the drink towards her. Once again she smiles. She doesn't even want the drink, certainly not in his company.

His beady eyes watch her, a hint of something beneath the thick layer of painted on charm. That snake-like nature increases tenfold and it takes everything in her not to tip the drink down the front of his Givenchy shirt. The glass is barely in her hands when it's ripped from her hands, the familiar scent of Joel invading her space.

His face is taught, that scowl he loves so dearly gone, in its place pure rage. His eyes are dangerously dark, and she's sure if she looked hard enough, there would be smoke blowing from his ears.

It all happens so quickly. The sloshing drink flies from the glass straight into Manny's face, dripping down onto his clothes, turning his sickly white suit into a damp shade of pink. Then Joel is moving, slamming the empty glass onto the bar and gripping the terrified man by his collar.

She can feel the eyes of almost everyone at the gala trained solely on them, she almost expects the music to come to a screeching halt.

She can barely make out Joel's enraged words, despite the silent crowd. She's barely aware of his hand gripping her arm, pulling her through the parting guests. A sea of shocked faces, some sympathetic others purely confused. She stumbles on the top step, her stupid heels and Joel's insane pace working against her. The world turns upside down, and her hands reach out to brace herself, hitting his sturdy back. Even with a layer of clothing between them, she swears she can feel his bare hands across the back of her thighs, the tight muscle of his shoulder pressing against her stomach.

He's thrown her over his shoulder. Like a damned child. And now he's shoving her into the back of the car, as though she's the one that threw a tantrum and caused a scene. He rounds the car and slips in beside her, and they're speeding off back towards her apartment.

The last few minutes slowly slip from a hazy blur to a sharp reality, and she can't help but stare at him. Confusion and pure embarrassment hit her first, then comes the anger. He speaks to the driver for a second, and then the partition is rolling up again.

The car feels ten times smaller and itching of her dress is long forgotten. She wants to ask him what happened, why he dragged her out of there like an insubordinate child, but he's busy typing on his phone, making hushed calls as though a whisper wouldn't travel the few feet of space between them. His chest heaves, small tufts of hair peaking through the now open buttons of his shirt, the once neat tie hanging loosely from his collar.

He barely looks at her the whole time. Even as he helps her out of the car, or guides her into the elevator, or pushes open her front door, bolting it behind them. She throws off the heels the moment she steps into the large living room, knocking an ornament sideways. Not even that gets his attention.

"Sunshine secured." He speaks into his wrist, a small undetectable microphone hidden in one of the cufflinks. Sunshine. She remembers it like yesterday, the first time he'd called her that. She'd stumbled into the kitchen after a late night, barely acknowledging the hulking man sat at the island. She remembers the exact moment his eyes met hers with that all consuming gaze and the slight quirk of his lips as he studied her from head to toe, then in that deep texas drawl, uttered morning sunshine.

She had quickly come to learn it was not as endearing as it seemed. Joel doesn't do endearing.

There's a growing urge to throw something, at a wall or at him is still undecided, so she crosses her arms across her chest instead. She calls out his name, though it falls on deaf ears, his nose buried in that stupid phone of his. She tries again, and again until throwing something doesn't seem like such a bad idea anymore. Finally, he grants her the privilege of his attention and she considers for a moment, if that's all she wanted. Not answers, just his acknowledgement. He raises an eyebrow, his nonchalance pushing her over the edge.

"What was that?" It comes out as a high pitched shout, rather than the calm and controlled manner she had hoped.

Once again, he quirks his brow saying nothing any everything . This doesn't concern you, or are you really that stupid?

"Joel, you just threw a drink on someone and dragged me out of a room filled with hundreds of people. You would think that warrants an explanation!"

He has the nerve to huff and shake his head, shoving the buzzing phone in his pocket and takes a step towards her.

"You want an explanation." He eyes her again, focusing on the slow curve of her dress. "There was a threat. I eliminated it."

She scoffs, "You were being a dick."

"I was doing my job."

"Oh that's what it was! Your little tantrum was you doing your job?" She's aware that she's now the one throwing a tantrum, not that she cares when he's acting so high and mighty, as though the status of his role outweighs her own peace of mind.

"Go to bed." His phone buzzes again, he ignores it. "It's been a long night and I have a bunch of shit to deal with."

"Are you being serious right now? You just humiliated me in front of everyone. Was carrying me down the steps really that necessary?" If she was itching to throw something a few minutes ago, she's desperate now. Maybe her shoe, right in his face.

"He would've done a lot worse Sunshine, now go to bed." For fucks sakes.

"No! Not until you tell me what is going on."

He sighs, pinching the small bump along the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes for a moment. He does this a lot, when he's trying not to yell at her or even better still, quit his job. He shoots her a pointed look.

"If you weren't so busy flirting with your little boyfriend, you would've noticed him slipping something in your drink." His words are met with a long silence, and the space between them seems to stret even further.

The dress feels tighter, and she wobbles a little, though this time she can't blame it on the shoes. She was wrong. He hasn't humiliated her in front of everyone, he'd done it in her own home.

"Unzip me." Her voice is clipped. She's not sure if she wants to scream or cry. Maybe both. He hesitates for a moment, but then he's there right behind her pulling the zip down so torturously slowly, the soft brush of his knuckles on her skin threatening her with a shiver. She almost hates herself for it.

He steps back, but she doesn't face him. The dress slides off easily, leaving her in barely anything not that she cares. She's already humiliated herself enough, what's another notch in the belt? She gathers up the crumpled fabric, wanting nothing more than to throw it in the bin, and walks down the hall pausing at her door. She turns to him. She refuses to let him have the last word, he doesn't deserve it, not tonight. With tears already threatening her voice and Joel's beyond sour mood she's not sure she cares much either. Making sure to look directly into his eyes, she bares herself, lets him see the hurt he has caused.

"Fuck you."

She makes sure the door slams behind her, leaving him alone in the dark.

#joel miller x reader #the last of us #tlou #joel miller #bodyguard!joel miller #joel miller x f!reader smut #joel miller angst #joel miller fic #joel miller x f!reader #the last of us fic

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angelkhi-reclibrary · 10 months

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went a little bit insane 🫶🏾

having many thoughts about bodyguard!joel (f!reader) like maaaany. have em x (banner credits: @cafekitsune 🩷)

bodyguard!joel who wasn’t always on the straight and narrow and when an old contact calls in a favour he has no choice but to agree.

but imagine how pissed he’d be when he finds out he’s being payed to babysit a spoiled little daddy’s girl. he’s over it before he’s even started.

but then he meets her and she’s a ray of fucking sunshine and somehow that’s way worse for him.

he soon learns that when she wants to be a spoiled brat she lays it on thick.

his restraint is hanging on by a literal thread after a few days and if he sees her wondering around her apartment in nothing but a t-shirt, those tiny little sleep shorts and an attitude so help him god.

bodyguard!joel who goes to sleep half hard every night cause of the woman he’s meant to be protecting and he’s finding it harder and harder to not cross that line.

the only time he speaks is to give her orders and it’s barely a sentence but he’s so commanding it’s actually a crime.

bodyguard!joel who has no choice but to follow her around whilst she shops. forced to watch her deliberately pick out panties that look like pure sin. he can’t decide if he wants to stuff em in her mouth whilst he eats your pretty cunt or pull em to the side as he fucks her dumb.

car rides are literal torture. especially when he’s next to her in the back of one of her dad’s fancy new cars. he has to refrain from reaching over and pulling her into his lap each and every time.

him watching her get all dressed up for galas, knowing it’ll be wasted on little rich boys who wouldn’t know where to put their dick if they had a map.

joel being in a constant state of torture around her. when she’s so sickly sweet and he has to talk himself down from doing absolutely anything for her. or when she’s being bratty and he barely holds himself back from bribing her over his knee.

joel in an absolute frenzy when she’s in any kind of danger but no he has absolutely no romantic feeling for her (he’s so emotionally constipated it hurts)

her being an absolute angel and doing his laundry only to accidentally mix her underwear in with his clothes and now he has to decide if she really needs them back that bad.

he’s always close to her. always ready to step in if things go south. very very protective.

also kind of a gentleman even if he’s grumpy? pulling out her chair, holding open doors, etc etc. also he’s always guiding her. literally always. that man’s hand is superglued to her lower back.

joel helping her buckle up her heels, the slightest bit contact sending him literally insane. imagine him kneeling in front of her, catching a glimpse up the slit of her dress. mans finished.

him not being able to get through dinner without imagining her spread out on the table instead.

when he finds out she only acts up to get a rise out of him? restraint has disappeared. gone. poof.

bodyguard!joel finally getting his hands on her. brain literally shuts down he doesn’t know where to start. he just knows he’s not stopping til he’s had his fill. 100% overstimulates her til she’s almost crying.

he’s most definitely a switch fucking fight me.

i feel like when he’s in charge, he’s borderline mean, grabbing her jaw to make her look at him, gives major pleasure dom vibes. he 100% gets off on her getting off, also calling her names but the praise!!

“dumb baby” “my pretty little cockwhore” “look so good choking on my cock” “perfect little slut” okay shoot me

SO. POSSESSIVE. always reminding her who’s pussy it is his. always reminding her that her little rich boys couldn’t give her half of what he’s giving her.

naw but when she’s in charge my man whimpers and i’ll swear this in a court of law if i have to.

joel miller is a whimpering little bitch (but only for her) and she fucking loves it.

cause how can he go from being on the verge of tears as she teases him, riding his cock painfully slowly, to pulling her on top of him, fucking up into her until she’s dripping jon his thighs.

fave position is missionary (cause he’s in love) cause he loves watching her go from mouthy to absolutely fucked out. also he def loves her legs over his shoulders it’s just a fact.

A+++ aftercare. he’s got her rehydrated, running her baths with her favourite scents, all the cuddles. he babies you. but sure he’s definitely not in love with her.

bodyguard!joel is filthy and possessive but only wants the best for her, job be damned.

in conclusion

(half tempted to turn this into a full fic 👀)

#you were thinking it #i just said it #🤨🤨🤨#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #the last of us #the last of us smut #tlou headcanons #bodyguard!joel miller #joel miller x f!reader smut #joel miller headcanon

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angelkhi-reclibrary · 10 months

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just a little reminder that all my fics are on @angelkhi now!!

˚ ༘♡｡˚ 𝐧 𝐚 𝐯 𝐢 𝐠 𝐚 𝐭 𝐢 𝐨 𝐧 ˚ ༘♡｡˚

(𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐭 <𝟑)

𝐚 𝐬 𝐤 𝐬 & 𝐫 𝐞 𝐪 𝐮 𝐞 𝐬 𝐭 𝐬 | 𝐚 𝐛 𝐨 𝐮 𝐭 𝐤 𝐡 𝐢 | 𝐫 𝐮 𝐥 𝐞 𝐬

𝑖 𝑎𝑚 𝑎𝑛 18+ 𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑔. 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑜𝑟𝑠 𝑑𝑜 𝑁𝑂𝑇 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑦 𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑡𝑠, 𝑜𝑟 𝑚𝑦 𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑔 𝑖𝑡𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓. 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑎𝑐𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡𝑠 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑎𝑛 𝑎𝑔𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑏𝑖𝑜 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑏𝑒 𝐵𝐿𝑂𝐶𝐾𝐸𝐷.

𝑖 𝑑𝑜 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑔𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑎𝑛𝑦𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒 𝑠ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑒𝑙𝑠𝑒𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒, 𝑟𝑒𝑔𝑎𝑟𝑑𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑖𝑓 𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑑𝑖𝑡 𝑖𝑠 𝑔𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑛․ 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑑𝑜 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑒 𝑢𝑛𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑤𝑖𝑠𝑒․ 𝑖𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑑𝑜 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑎𝑔𝑟𝑒𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑎𝑛𝑦𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒, 𝑠𝑖𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑦 𝑑𝑜 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡․

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#marvel #marvel smut #marvel masterlist #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #the last of us #tlou #tlou masterlist #joel miller x reader #joel miller #abby anderson #bucky barnes #steve rogers #matt murdock #frank castle #masterlist

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angelkhi-reclibrary · 11 months

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nobody move, best abby fic just dropped fr. chefs kiss. insane. 🍒

crystal champagne glasses — bodyguard!abby au

synopsis: when reader, the millionaires daughter can’t help but misbehave — Abby the no nonsense bodyguard is hired to live in the mansion.

♪ every man gets his wish — lana del rey (unreleased) ♪

cw: fem reader, mentions of money / money problems, overprotective parents, mentions of loss of a parent (not reader), daddy issues lol, sprinkle of mommy issues too, alcohol and drinking, tiny mention of being sick, reader working out mentions, brat tamer abby lol, size kink, reader cries and gets humiliated and angry a lot lol, degradation, masturbation, strap on sex, think that’s it?

an: i had so much fun writing this! this is the quickest i’ve ever written a fic, i think because i’ve been excited to write this one and planning it for ages! now, if you don’t like my writing please click off now. no one is forcing you to read my fics. to all the people who have been excited for this fic, ily and i hope you enjoy it! as always, minors + ageless blogs do not interact with this or any posts / fics of mine. you will be blocked! ♡

You weren’t a princess. You were not a princess. You wished you were, shit — maybe your parents would actually care about you. Unfortunately though, there was no royalty behind your name. Just two millionaire parents who would apparently rather be anywhere else but at home with you.

You had your own hobbies, friends, a life — back at home. But of course, if you had so much as wanted to leave the mansion to partake in such activities, such as socialising (God forbid!) you’d need an escort, a driver, secret security officers stalking you, creeping out all of your friends and more. After a while it just became… not worth it. So you stopped showing up, stopped hanging out with people — and understandably, your invite to meeting up with friends started to get supposedly lost in the post. Things get lonely fast.

Bitterness was hardly the word for it. You understood your circumstances and if you were anything it wasn’t ungrateful. Your father only wanted you to be safe, hence the dozens of hired body guards in and out (But you’ll get back to that in a moment, of course.) Your friends just assumed you didn’t wanna hang out anymore, hence the missed invites. You had only started misbehaving out of bitterne— no, not bitter. Pissed off. Rightfully.

You always felt dread when you saw the answer machine light up red with a new message from the only person who had the number — your father. Where on Earth could he be calling from this time? Perhaps lounging by the pool in Greece or dining at a rooftop garden in Dubai — experiencing the world and bravely taking a moment out of his incredibly busy day to drop you a patronising and vaguely threatening voicemail. Atleast he spoke to you, unlike your mother who’d much rather pretend you didn’t exist because, and you quote, the stress of your misbehaviour ‘gave her wrinkles.’ Your manicured finger hovered over the button before pressing down, huffing out your nose as you stared out at the morning fog over the grassy hills of your land.

‘Good morning darling, dad calling again. You keep missing my calls, which I assume is on purpose so I’m leaving you a message anyways. I’m currently in Amsterdam with your mother and I just caught wind of Malakai the bodyguard quitting ‘suddenly and abruptly’ according to one of the maids. I’ve told you once and I will tell you again, if you don’t stop harassing the guards and forcing them to quit you will be in serious trouble. I mean cut off completely, sent off to work in the city with no more than a shitty little apartment and no money. So, I have decided to give you one last chance. I’ve purchased a bodyguard to live in with you starting Sunday morning so you’re going to have to fend for yourself until then. I searched high and low for this one, apparently they specialise in poorly behaved brats like yourself — so I’m hoping if anything that will whip you into shape. You’ve been through five bodyguards this year and it’s February. I’m serious about my threats. Step a foot out of line and you’re done, your mother and I are deadly serious. I will be calling the new hire at the end of next week to check in on your behaviour. Do not let us down darling, you will regret it. Okay, that’s all. See you when I see you.’

You smile.

Oh, how sometimes things just worked out. A life of your own, with normality and struggle and freedom — no watchful eye breathing down your neck and no lack of purpose weighing down on you. Your father had presented you with the easiest task, piss off the new hire so that you’d be set free. A task you’d grown to perfect, having done so time and time again.

The crackle of wheels on the gravel path leading up to the mansion awakens you on the Sunday morning. You want to grumble, having gotten literally no sleep. You see, you were terribly afraid of the dark — and you couldn’t sleep without your guard having light the fire in the fireplace of your bedroom (The one use you found for the hired help.) You had no idea how to light it and didn’t trust yourself not to burn the house down — so you went without. Hence the awful nights sleep. Where were you? Yes, curious. Rudely awakened and curious.

Your short nightie does nothing to combat the cool morning chill as you get up from the bed, letting your bed covers slide off your body as you traipse over to your window. A black Range Rover, they’re all the same. All the same angry men that drive the same angry car, with the same angry build and the same angry face. You scoff at the memory of your fathers threat on the voice message, stating that this guard was to be anything you weren’t used to before. You knew it wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle.

Except, you were caught off guard when the door opens. You watch a woman climb out the car, despite the vehicles spacious design she still seemed to unfold like she was inflatable as she climbed out — almost seeming too big for even a car like that. She was built, strong arms and chest, tree trunk thighs and veiny hands. You narrow your eyes at the black sunglasses perched on the bridge of her jagged nose, taking them off as she looks around with a serious expression. She was attractive, you’d admit — but in a way that made you cross. That stupid skin tight black t-shirt and black cargos and thick weighty belt around her waist told you everything you needed to know about her. The militant type, she was going to try and intimidate you with her seriousness. You smirk, seeing this as a challenge. She has no idea what she’s up against.

You rush down the spiral stairs at the sound of her lugging her bags inside. She flicks her braid over her shoulder to glance at you standing there analytically as she does so, biceps bulging as she lifts the heavy black cases into the centre of your foyer stood beneath the chandelier. She looked much too harsh for somewhere delicate like this.

“I take it you aren’t going to introduce yourself.” She speaks after a moment of sorting her bags, closing the front door to signify she was done bringing her things inside. You cling to the tall bannister, toeing the cold pristine marble floor, eyeing her and her things as if each bag had a bomb inside. She stands up to her full height, atleast breaching the 6ft margin and you squint, watching her stretch her arms to relieve herself from the weight of the bags. “Off to a great start already.” She retorts as you ignore her, her long legs stepping over a black duffle bag on the floor toward you.

“Why are your bags so heavy?” You ask quietly, less curious and more judgemental. Who did she think she was moving in here with all that stuff? She takes a long inhale, accenting the muscle in her chest as she places her hands on her hips. Her reply is calm and unbothered.

“I brought my weights with me, and lots of other things I need to stay in my condition. Do you have a name?” Her voice is velvety and more feminine than you expected. Your stomach gets hot and prickly at the sound.

“You know my name. I can bet anything my father told you everything about me infact.” You jut your chin up stubbornly. It’s her turn to analyse now, tilting her head a little to the side as she leans on her hip, eyeing you once over and then again.

“Yeah. Your dad was kind enough to tell me all about you and how you treated your past bodyguards. But when you first meet someone, you introduce yourself. So introduce yourself.” There is a slight bite to your tone and your eyes flutter a bit. You’re used to men being agitated with you, infact you thrive off it— but you’ve never had a woman guard before. Something about the harsh tone hurt you just that little more. Shit, maybe you just had mommy issues.

You mutter your name, eyes laser focused on her clinging to the last shred of dignity you had — but when she gives you a curt nod and an equally quiet ‘There you go’ it perishes in the wind like a dying leaf crumbling away for winter. She turns, looking around at her bags before reaching over for the smallest one. “I’m Abby. As you probably guessed, I’m your new bodyguard.” She walks over to you and holds out the bag. You look at her and then at the bag, and then back at her.

“What am I supposed to do with this, Abby?” You cross your arms with a raised brow.

“You’re gonna carry it to my new room for me. I’m a guest in your home.” She raises her eyebrows, waving the bag infront of you signally for you to take it.

You stare at her in disbelief, before laughing bitterly. “You’re right. You’re a guest in my home. So I’m not carrying shit.” You spin on your heel to stomp up the stairs, but she cuts you off by speaking calmly yet firmly.

“Then you can sleep in the dark.”

You turn back around slowly, wearing a frown that creases your brow. How did she know about that?

“I spoke to some previous guards of yours. Said you were terrified of the dark and needed a fire lit in your room every night. Y’wanna sleep in dark? Or you wanna help me carry my bags?”

You stare her down for a moment, weighing out your options. She’d already dominated the conversation by getting your name out of you so easily, and now she was winning again. However, you were exhausted just from one night of restlessly pacing with your light on — too afraid to turn it off and go to sleep. You needed your sleep. That being said, you scowl and snatch the bag from her hand, the leather of it slapping against your leg as you carry it up the spiral stairs.

“Atta girl.”

You clench your jaw.

The week begins, and as do your antics. Abby wasn’t easily wound up, but that only made you want to go ten times harder. She was a bodyguard, not a babysitter — but she was starting to feel like her duties were beginning to cross wires. She knew your game, knew you were aiming for something — she could see the determination in your eyes everytime you’d sass her back. So, she’d play you back. Not give into what you want.

Her first real duty came on a Wednesday when she was lounging in the living room watching some God awful 2000s police chase show, and in came you — tottering on little heels and a skirt so short and tight she could tell the colour of your thong beneath. Not that she was looking, of course.

She leant her arm on the back of the couch, eyes flitting over you as you rummage for the keys that you were sure had been left by the maid on the coffee table. “Going somewhere?” It comes out nearly as a scoff, smirk etched onto her face and it makes you roll your eyes.

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“Out with my friends. The ones that still talk to me.” You’re distracted, pulling your small handbag back up onto your shoulder when it slides off, free hand feeling around in a decorative bowl for the key set. Abby stares at you for a moment, which — okay, is a little indulgent. She wasn’t being a creep, she could just appreciate that you looked good. Before you could turn to throw a glare her way she was muttering an ‘alright’ and heaving her heavy, toned body up to stand and stretch.

You turn and look at her questioningly and she stops to return your gaze. “What? You think I’m just living here with you for fun? C’mon, if you wanna go let’s go.” She nods towards the door, but stops after a few steps when she hears you snicker.

“No thanks. I’m a big girl.”

She crosses her arms and the smirk that makes you wanna throw darts at her stupid face returns. “That right? You think daddy just hired me to hang out around the house, then?”

You stare at her, pursing your lips before exhaling through your nose wordlessly — walking towards the door in defeat. You just wanted to go out, it had been so long. You’re sure you could just ignore Abby.

She follows behind you, now swinging her car keys round her finger — so smug. “How were you planning on getting to the club? You live in the middle of nowhere.”

“Uber.”

It’s her turn to snicker, opening the front door for you and standing aside as you walk through. “Yeah. Okay. C’mon.”

Screw her. Because now, for some reason she was in your head.

Maybe you just had a few… weaknesses. You always liked your girls on the masc side, on the buff side — but that was a given. Who isn’t attracted to that, right? However, watching hot girls drive was something else, and Abby was being that something else. You know— hand on the back of your seat when she reverses, bicep bulging when she grips the wheel of her sleek car, the lights of the night time traffic illuminating the way her top lip curled upwards a little and bottom lip pouted. You felt a little relief, knowing it was one hundred percent the wine talking. The wine you’d probably drank a little too much of whilst you were getting ready, playing your music and singing along loudly just hoping it was annoying Abby (It wasn’t, she didn’t even hear.)

Ignoring her would start after the car journey you decided.

And you did, for the most part. Abby gave you your space, sitting a few seats away from your group whilst you had your fun — headache inducing squeals and brain numbing chatter over loud music and strong cocktails not quite interesting the blonde. She was driving, and working — so she couldn’t drink, just sat there all night bored out of her mind. She probably should have been monitoring how many drinks you’d had over the night, because soon you were stumbling off your seat to go and dance— and Abby’s hands were itching to pull your skirt down just a little, the hem climbing up to the swell where your thighs meet your ass. She sits back, just watching. She was here to protect you, not be your personal wardrobe malfunction manager — so that’s what she’d do. Sit back and protect.

God, did you always dance like this when you went out?

She felt her fist twitch on the table at the sight of your hips swirling, but she knew that was just a natural gay reaction. She should probably order you a glass of water, so you could sober up and tone down the sluttyness but she figured she’d let you have your fun for now— you may have been too far gone. Abby wished she was holding a beer or something whilst she stared across at the way you were grinding your ass into your friends crotch, the two of you giggling like idiots all hazy eyed from the liquor.

After a while you amble over to her, everything bouncing and spilling out but you clearly don’t give a fuck. Your guard is caught off guard when you come close, alcohol having decimated any concept of personal space as you lean over to speak to her where she’s sat, bent over with your hands splayed on her black jean clad thighs.

She tries to be subtle in the way she eyes you, her tongue peeping between her lips and eyes widening momentarily at the perfect shot of down your top. “I can’t hear you.” She yells over the music. You come closer and nearly topple onto her completely, Abby’s hands by nature resting on the back of your thighs as you now grip her shoulders. Briefly, she wonders if at a glance anyone thinks the two of you are a couple. She shakes it off ‘cos… you’re still a brat. Hot or not.

“I said, can I go to the bathroom or are you gonna follow me?” You pull back to make sure she’s seeing you attempt to pointedly raise an eyebrow at her, something you would have perfected usually if you were sober.

“Take a friend.” She nods to your most sober looking buddy and you shrug happily, pushing off her and grabbing your toilet partner and rushing off. She was kind of glad you were gonna be out of her sight for a moment, needing to cool off.

She wasn’t sure what happened after that. Abby was getting bored and tired, dropping the ball a little bit — and you must have been sneaking drinks from your friends when she wasn’t looking — because suddenly you were way too drunk, barely able to stand. Enough was enough when she watched you stumble over to the bar, heading to assumably get yourself another drink. Abby followed you, gently taking your arm and turning you around.

“Hey, no more. You’re blacked out.”

Your face screws up into this adorable little pout for a moment before the rage kicks in, brow creasing and fists clenching by your side.

“C’n dooo what I waant. Dompt tell meee what to do.” You thud her in the centre of her chest with your finger, slurring enough to the point where Abby was confident the bartender wouldn’t have served you anyway.

“No. Finish up, you need to go home.” She was stern, and as expected — this garnered the worst possible response, baring your teeth like a dog and digging your heels into the ground like you were about to pounce on her. You exploded into noise.

“Nnno! Fuck you you stupid securererty guard I can’t wait to get rid of youn’d be independent this is such buuullshi—” Your rampage was cut short by Abby sighing, squatting, and throwing you over her shoulder. Her free hand came up without thought, tugging your skirt down to not expose you to the world. You thrashed and yelled for a good ten seconds before giving in completely — by standers and your friends laughing as Abby marched you to the exit. You were asleep by the time she reached the car, and briefly woke up when she’d carried you to bed to demand her to light the fire place. The fear of the dark must have ran incredibly deep, interesting — she noted.

Abby thought that maybe you’d appreciate her cutting your drinks off and halting any further plans to embarrass yourself that night— but she came to learn that if she thought you were bad usually, you with a hangover was ten times worse. If waking up to the sounds of your loud upchuck wasn’t bad enough, you were a whiny, angry bitch relentlessly all day.

“I’m not your servant you know. Stop asking me to do things for you.” Abby walked in with a glass of water and Tylenol upon request, being met with a loud groan instead of a ‘thank you’.

“Do you have to fucking yell everything?” You complain, ironically — louder than her.

She was tired by the end of the day, beginning to wonder if the pay was enough to tolerate your brattiness. Abby had gained a reputation for dealing with difficult clients, perhaps diva-esque or ill-mannered, but often it wasn’t anything a stern talking to couldn’t fix, often intimidated by her height and build enough to shut them up after a few quips. You were effortlessly becoming one of, if not the most difficult and tiresome clients to crack, but she was determined. If Abby was anything, she wasn’t a quitter — which is why when your father called to check in on you, she told him you’d been good as gold, which earned her a glare from you when you’d overheard the whole thing on the way to the bathroom.

You were back to your regular level of shitty behaviour the next day, less whiny and more sarcastic and bitchy which she could tolerate. However, after a month had gone by Abby was finding the irritation harder and harder to control— especially since you had developed an ever so charming habit of putting on your headphones every single time Abby tried to tell you to do something or talk to you in general.

“Like I told you, I’m a bodyguard — not a babysitter. Stop leaving your—” She bounded into the room, stopping when she saw you look her in the eye and pull your headphones over your head, pressing play on your screen to start your music. Abby stares for a few seconds, taking a breath, telling herself to walk away. Be a bodyguard and nothing else. She ignores this, wound up— and moves to stand in front of you, clicking her fingers. Cheekily, you point to your headphones — mouthing a faux-apologetic ‘sorry!’. The blonde scoffs, wondering why she’s entertaining this in the first place and reaches up to yank the headphones off your head, but freezes at your sudden wide eyed yelp.

“Don’t touch me I’ll tell my dad and you’ll get fired!” It’s rambled out, fast and premeditated — like you’d thought of it already and had been waiting to put it to use. Abby glances down at your alight screen, noting the music as paused and wonders if you were ever playing music or was just doing this to bother her. She lowers her hand, because — well, she’s not an asshole — instead turning her palm upwards in gesture to hand them over.

“Headphones. Give them to me.”

“No.”

“Give them to me or I’m not lighting the fire in your room tonight.” She stares you down and you sulk, shoulders dropping and brows furrowing in devastation. Abby would have felt bad if you weren’t such a menace.

You stroppily yank the headphones off your head and hand them over, muttering profanities furiously under your breath as you turn away from her, sprawled on the couch. Your guard nods, disappearing to put them away before leaving you be — heading to the kitchen to make her afternoon smoothie. The sound of her chopping fruit sparked rage in you all over again at how at home she had made herself, and after a minute you were storming in again— bare feet slapping the cold tiles.

“Back for more?” Abby is calm now, content as she focuses on slicing into a banana.

“You can’t threaten me with my fears you know, that’s emotional and psychological abuse. You’re taking advantage of my fears to be in control like — like a coward. Trust me I studied psychology out of a book, I know my stuff.” You stand beside her ranting as she raises her eyebrows with a calm smile, nodding as she listens and finishes up chopping her fruit, beginning to load them into the— your blender.

“Oh? Smart girl then huh?” She teases and you huff, jutting your chin in the air confidently with an ‘mhm’ before hoisting yourself up onto the kitchen island counter, deciding to stick around for a while to pester her.

“Very. You could probably learn a thing or two from me.”

Abby twists her body half around in amusement, a mocking expression of being impressed adorning her attractive face. She closes the lid to the blender, keeping one hand on it as she speaks.

“‘That so? Go ahead, tell me what possibly I could learn from you, smart girl.”

Ignoring how ‘smart girl’ made you feel in your underwear, you only a manage a “Well first of all—” before she’s turned the blender on, the loud whirring masking any sound coming from you despite your attempts to yell over it for a few seconds. She nods teasingly, as if she was listening to what you were saying and you huff, giving up. You were usually a master in being annoying, but Abby was giving you a run for your money.

You hop back off the counter, muttering a ‘Big blonde stupid asshole.’ as you storm out the room and Abby lets go of the blend button, snickering to herself and yelling out a non committal ‘I heard that!’ after you.

The following day she had taken you to buy groceries after you’d complained that you’d wanted to do it yourself — Abby, following you around as you loaded up your cart, every so often remembering your duty to annoy her and hitting her with something along the lines of ‘I want my headphones back.’ which would be met with a disinterested ‘Tough luck.’ on her end. You couldn’t believe that she’d been living in your home for one month and you still hadn’t gotten under her skin. Perhaps that’s why the next day you’d let your guard down.

It was the first sunny day of March, the grassy hills in which the mansion sat on still harbouring that frosty bite to the air from winter — but pink blossoms had began to spring on the bushes and trees and the sky was blue, which instantly lifted your mood just that little bit.

You were curled by the large window that morning, still in your pyjamas and holding a mug beneath your chin, gazing out at the bright grass. When Abby had entered the room, she was surprised to hear you gently comment that “The weathers nice today.” — a rare sentence that wasn’t defying or insulting her. Abby looked over to you, noting your peaceful demeanour and deciding to carefully toe the line.

“Do you wanna… go outside today?” She suggested, something the two of them could possibly do together. She almost grimaced, waiting for you to curse her out like usual but instead you paused quietly for a few seconds before responding.

“I can introduce you to the horses.” With that, you hopped off the window seat and disappeared to get dressed. When you returned, your hair was in tidier condition and you wore a dress made for summer with only a thick knit cardigan over the top. She itched to tell you it was still way too cold to dress like that, but figured she didn’t wanna aggravate you before you’ve even made it out the door. Today was the day Abby would get through to you.

You were quieter than usual, assumably worn out and in higher spirits due to the sunshine. You’d received the horses as a gift on your sixteenth birthday — but due to the cold weather and outright depression you hardly rode them anymore, instead making sure they lived a healthy and luxurious life on your land and fed the best foods by their handler (mainly out of guilt.) Abby could tell you’d regret your outfit choice as the two of you walked along the pathway through the lush greenery outside, pulling your cardigan tighter around your body, head tilted as you watched the birds fly over the pond.

“What are your horses names?” She conversed lightly, stuffing her large hands into the pockets of her black bomber jacket.

“Cinnamon and blondie.” You answer quietly, before speaking up a few moments later. “Don’t judge the lack of creativity I was sixteen when I picked the names out.”

The pair of you reach the barn and she huffs a quiet chuckle out her nose, watching you pick up a brush as you approached the brown and blonde horses. “Hey, I think those names are perfectly fitting.”

She wasn’t sure why she wanted you to like her so badly all of a sudden. She partially thought it was because if you did you’d make her life and her job easier — but… no, it was more personal than that. You’d deprived her of seeing your pretty smile so much that she felt almost awestruck at the sight of your peaceful and joyful expression as you gently combed Cinnamons mane. She caught herself smiling as she watched.

The two of you talked. Like actually talked without hurling insults or rolling eyes. You sat on the hay, watching as she fed Blondie a carrot. Abby’s teeth were always so white and perfect, perfecting an already perfect smile. Perhaps you were in a good mood, because the thought of calling her perfect didn’t quite irritate you as much as it usually would.

“Have you even ridden a horse?” You’re still bashful about making regular conversation as you pluck at the hay from the bale you sit on.

“Nah.” She shucks off her jacket, the air in the barn balmier and muggier than the outside. It’s hard to not let your eyes flicker down to her strong arms, so you don’t deny yourself.

“Not even as a little girl?” You question and she chuckles a little.

“I didn’t have horse money.” There’s a pitch of longing behind her tone and you tilt your head, wondering about her upbringing. She senses your inquisition and glances up at you as she continues to stroke the horse. “I didn’t have much money for pretty much my whole life. It was actually why I got into the bodyguard industry. Good pay.” She shrugs one shoulder like it was nothing.

“Did you get to go to public school? Like in the city?” You lean forward with your elbows on your knees, chin balanced on your palms in intrigue. The way you said it sparked some amusement in her, ‘get to go to public school’. Like to you it was some sort of luxury.

“Yep. Got the bus everyday too.” Her eyebrow twitches up with a smirk, turning to walk towards you with her jacket in her hand. Whilst she expects you to pick up on her playful tone and perhaps roll your eyes, you continue to stare up at her in awe— an air of innocent curiosity around you that made her suddenly fight the urge to run a thumb over your cheek. She stood over you, placing her jacket by your side and you preened a little at how big she looked above you like that. Part of you felt mad at yourself for having developed a crush, knowing it was interfering with your plans — but you were touch starved. Really touch starved, so you allowed yourself a little yearning for your strict but not so strict bodyguard.

You clear your throat before speaking quietly. “You’re so lucky.”

At this, she scoffs, dropping down to sit beside you. Your skin felt a little warmer when her thigh pressed up next to yours.

“I wouldn’t say that. Would have traded lives with you in a heartbeat.”

You turn to her with a frown. “My life was boring. I didn’t get to do sneaky, crazy teenager things. I went to a small private school and had my small group of friends there and… we couldn’t do anything without dumb bodyguards riding my coattail. The only time we got privacy was in the girls bathroom, and even then if we took too long they’d come knocking.” You complain, pushing your shoe into the gravel.

“Oh, I see. So you didn’t get to be a bratty teenager so you’re making up for lost years now.” She spoke it with a smile, but assumes she took it too far as along came your infamous eye roll, shuffling away from her on the seat as the irritation snuck back in.

“I am not a brat.”

“And I’m not your bodyguard.” She challenges gently with a smile, nudging her knee against yours. You look at her with a stubborn pout and her smile doesn’t falter. “You’re not really a brat. I can bet you’re a sweet girl that just wants attention so you’re acting out.” Didn’t your father say she was supposed to be tough? Please. You say nothing. Your heart races in your chest but you’re too stubborn to say a word. Maybe you’d let your guard down too much. Roll your eyes again, that’ll do it.

After a moment you look away, not because you were still mad but more so because you were flustered. Sweet girl rung around your head like church bells.

“I know you wanna get rid of me.” She begins and you tense up a little. Way to ruin a nice morning.

“And?”

“I know why. You think you wanna be independent and get away from your parents. You have this… idea of living on your own in the city. Am I right?”

You’re prideful, facing away from her with your chin up. “You’re not wrong.”

She sighs out a little chuckle, shaking her head as she leans forward with her elbows resting on her thighs, head turned towards your profile. “You don’t want that life. Trust me. I’ve lived it and it’s hard.”

“Whats hard is having no freedom, no social life, being followed constantly because no one trusts you to make sensible adult decisions.” You snap at her, turning to look her in the eye.

“So you talk to your dad, try and see eye to eye. Not just… pack up and move out like you’re running away to the circus.” She reasons, like it’s just that simple. Her eyes dart across your face as she sees the rage build, infuriated by the assumption that your father was at all the type to negotiate.

“Theres no just talking to my father, Abby. This is it. This is my life unless I get out of here. I can’t live this way forever.” You raise your voice a little, frustrated at her lack of understanding. “I don’t know what your parents are like, but I’m sure you wouldn’t get it.”

She smiles in that way that people smile when they’re mad or upset, tilting her head down to look at her hands for a moment as she inhaled, shaking her head with a speechless chuckle when she exhaled. “I never knew my mom, and my dad died when I was sixteen. I don’t have the luxury of arguing with my dad like you do. Sorry.” She sarks and your face drops, which sparks a little guilt in that secretly soft heart of hers — because truthfully there was no way you could have known, and she could tell by your face you were immediately mortified. You stumble for words after a moment.

“Look. I can’t forgive my father for practically imprisoning me. We… we have a complicated relationship and I think we always will. He says he cares and then does nothing but ruin my life. But… he’s still my dad. No one should ever have to go through losing their father, especially not at that age. I’m… I’m sorry Abby. I can’t imagine what that’s like.” You speak quietly and she listens, an unreadable expression on her face as she does so. When you finish, her eyebrows flicker up ever so slightly.

“Huh.” She breathes, quietly.

“What?” You furrow your brows, sympathetic expression lingering.

“So you are capable of basic empathy. I had no idea.” She let’s a smile slip and your face drops into one of deadpan.

“Bye.” You go to stand up but she laughs and grips your arm, her strong but somewhat affectionate hand not allowing you to leave her side. You sigh with an irritated pout, facing away from her again. When her chuckles die down, she speaks again, her hand staying wrapped around the flesh of your arm.

“So what’s your plan then. You inevitably get me fired, you move into the city by yourself and then what. Where are you gonna work? You won’t be able to afford living in an apartment by yourself so who are you gonna live with?” She fires at you, realising she’s still gripping your arm and letting her fingers trail down a little before leaving your skin all together. You hate how it leaves goosebumps in her wake.

“I’ll use my family name to get me a job somewhere. As for roommates I’m not too sure, I suppose I’ll have to start looking online.” You smirk, glancing at her out the corner of your eye. “Perhaps I’ll just find a girlfriend first who will let me move in with her.”

The mention of a girlfriend makes heat prickle behind Abby’s ears. She had a sixth sense for these kind of things, most of the time able to tell when someone preferred the company of the same sex — mainly down to her own preferences, and she could tell almost immediately with you. However, it was always pleasurable to get the confirmation that she was infact, once again correct.

“Oh yeah? You think anyone else is gonna put up with that princess attitude but me? You better start working on your game.” She jests, and the mention of her tolerating your princess ways caused you to bite down a little on your bottom lip.

“What, you’re saying you’re not charmed by me?” You joke back for once, turning to face her to bat your eyelashes. She chuckles softly, eyes lingering on you for a moment too long before looking away and pushing herself up to stand by pressing her hands into her knees with a quiet grunt.

“Can’t say the insults and tantrums did it for me. Good luck to you though.” She allows a smirk to flit back onto her pouty lips before she thrusts a hand out, allowing you to take it so she could help you up, once again proving to you both that she was actually more than happy to tolerate that princess attitude she speaks of so poorly.

By the next day, your head is back in the game. All this talk of moving out set you straight, and whilst bonding with Abby in the barn certainly set you multiple steps back — you were back to your old self in no time, dead set on getting her to budge so that you could be free’d from your fathers watchful eye.

You eye your search bar on Google, sprawled on your front on your bed with your laptop open infront of you, having just typed ‘Roommates for sale backspace Roommates in the city friendly and not weird’. As you scrolled through the unhelpful results, your door opened — Abby standing in your doorway.

“Jesus do you ever fucking knock?” You curse, glaring up at where she stands in the doorway wearing her usual tight black tshirt and thick belted cargos and boots.

“Good to see you’re back to your usual self.” She sarks with a dramatic eye roll as she leans on her hip, refocusing (which took an extra second because you’re just wearing a little skirt and top today and lying on your front is making her think things.) “I’ve gotta go get my car serviced so I’m dropping it off at the garage thirty minutes away. You think you can survive an hour without me here?”

You’re not looking at her, continuing to scroll as you wave her off with just a distracted mumble causing her to shake her head and tsk followed by a chuckle as she pushes off her feet, disappearing down the hallway. “I won’t be too long. Stay out of trouble, smart girl.” She calls to you, before you eventually heard the sound of the front door shutting and then her car rumbling around the fountain infront of the entrance and out of the large iron gates. Finally, some peace and quiet.

However, after around thirty-five minutes, you had to admit you’d grown bored. You were home alone, and the room-mate search was coming to just about nothing so you had given up all together for the time being. You flop onto your back on the bed, huffing. Where you’d usually get up with the boredom and go to bother Abby until she argues back — you couldn’t. So, you figured you’d turn to the next best thing, listening to music whilst you do a light work out.

You didn’t like working out when Abby was home, because — as if she were a moth to a flame, she couldn’t help herself from interjecting and gym-rat-splaining everything you’re doing wrong and how to improve. The last time she walked in on you doing pilates, you nearly chucked a weight at her head because she started dishing out unwarranted advice. You knew she did it just to bother you, wearing that shit eating grin on her face when she’d lift a bicep and flex it, stating that it was ‘living proof that you should listen to me.’

You thought also that maybe a workout would help burn off some of the… frustration you woke up with. Perhaps it was the tension ridden barn conversation the two of you shared yesterday, a reminder of your starvation for touch, maybe you just had a load of tempting dreams that you weren’t remembering — but you woke up with your cunt aching and hungry to be filled. You figured this was the real reason behind your bad mood returning with such a vigour, and you couldn’t get yourself off, not wanting to give Abby the satisfaction of walking in (without knocking, no doubt) on you with your legs splayed out and fingers deep inside your wanting hole, probably accidentally moaning her name— or whatever. You couldn’t say the thought of doing so didn’t make things worse though.

When you rolled off the bed and onto your feet, you took a moment to collect yourself at the frustration of remembering that Abby still had your God-damn headphones somewhere, having stashed it away due to you using it as a prop to taunt her. You cursed her out, and then cursed yourself out for getting your beloved headphones confiscated before sighing. If Abby wanted to invade your privacy by not knocking, and taking away your personal items — you could invade her privacy by going into her room and searching for them. Perhaps you could even return them before she was back.

It seemed like a sound plan, so you padded down the hallway until you were met with the door to the guest bedroom where she had been residing. You push the door open, for some reason your stomach twisting in excitement at the small thrill of being sneaky— something you rarely got to experience. The room was clean and tidy, and smelt like her. You push further into the room, looking around and spotting a few of the black shiny duffel bags she’d brought along with her — the rest of her things assumably packed away into the closets. You kneel, unzipping the first.

Your hand sticks inside, rustling about only to be met with metal plated weights and an exercise mat. You huff, zipping it back up and trying the next one. You spot them instantly inside, but tsk when you struggle to pull them out — the headband portion of the listening device tangled with something else. You pull them both out, pulling them apart as you do so and gasp when you realise what you’re holding. A strap on. A harness with a dildo attached.

You drop it, nearly falling onto your back like a spider had just leapt out at you— your eyes widening. Placing your headphones aside slowly, you lift it again — observing it. Why on Earth did she have that with her? Your heart jumped slightly in jealousy, wondering if she was planning on bringing someone over and using it on them. Was she fucking someone, just a few doors down from you? In a moment of sick depravity and curiosity, you slowly bring the shaft beneath your nose— inhaling to smell if there were any… remnants of usage, or at best cleaning products to signify it had been used and cleaned. Your face feels hot in shame as you do so, and it just smells like new plastic. It looked new too. You pull it back, looking at it. It hadn’t been used at all.

“God, Abby.” You whisper as you turn it side to side, harness tickling your leg as you grip the girth of it. It was black and shiny like everything else she owned, roughly 7 inches with veins and thick— just as you expected from the broad bodyguard. There were balls attached too, and you run your fingertips over them gently, lightly pressing down to feel it’s texture. As you do so, translucent white liquid gathers at the tip of the dildo, a small trail of it running down the side of the shaft obscenely. You gasp lightly again as your cunt clenches hard without warning. A breeding strap, now you had only ever seen those in porn videos from your phone screen late at night with a hand down your pyjama shorts.

You’d been fucked with a strap before, of course. You’d had been allowed romantic relationships in the past, and your parents of all things were surprisingly cool with the gay thing. Of course, your father had to background check them first and practically set up play dates with their family (Undoubtably another wealthy family) However, the times you’d experienced with them were all short lived, fumbly and overall incompatible. It was clear that you and your past two partners were there purely to experience some sort of relief from their sexual frustration — which resulted in just rolling around the bed whilst your parents dined together downstairs, them gliding their smaller strap in your tight pussy as you clumsily rut against eachother. The experiences were somewhat fun and naive, but you never got to cum or experience real pleasure and satisfaction.

Oh but Abby, you could tell she had to have experience. She had been out there in the world, seasoned and a few years older than you — and when you look like that, with that kind of body, there was no way she wasn’t having girls in and out her apartment door like some kind of cock carousel.

You felt your wet folds pulsing with need to be touched, and you bit your lip — wondering how much time you had as it seemed to have majorly escaped you. The idea of fucking yourself with your bodyguards strap without her knowing had you wetter than you cared to admit from just your own daydreams in your bed, and you’d decided fuck it, consider it pay back for putting a dent in your plans.

You were squatted on the ground still, but now your skirt and panties were draped messily on the sleek wooden flooring by your side — excitedly holding the strap by the dildo wearing just a tight little crop top and nothing else like you were Winnie the fucking Pooh. It was humiliating in the way that made you reach down, checking and confirming that your slick had gathered across your lower region— pent up and built up from the past few hours of general frustration.

You had no idea how that beast was meant to fit inside of you, but you’d grown desperate — eagerly pulling it downwards and hovering over it, smearing the pearly liquid from the tip around in your slick as the harness clattered against the floor. You let out a sigh, only to realise you were trembling from the adrenaline of doing something you shouldn’t. Biting back an excited grin, you push in slightly — the stretch making you wince, brows furrowing. You let out a harsh breath, whispering ‘Fuck’ to yourself as you do so, just the tip stretching you beyond what you’ve ever taken before. You balance on the flats of your feet, toes curling against the ground and eyes squeezing shut as you try and push in further, the thickness making you quietly cry out, unable to take it properly.

Tears sprung to your eyes, half at the stretch and half in frustration at the inability to fit it inside of you. “C’mon, please.” You whine quietly to no one, walls spasming around the plastic, which now was slick with your arousal dripping down it. You were beyond turned on, to the point where you were starting to feel a little pathetic. You tried to ease up, reaching down to rub your clit to help you along as you take a deep breath, mind trying to ease itself — visions of Abby touching you instead of your own hand, moaning quietly and frustratedly at the thought of her strapping you.

You try and push it deeper, and it seems like your walls are about to let up — but the door flies open and so do your eyes. Your world comes crumbling down in humiliation, your ears ringing and face burning hot; Abby stands before you, eyes wide and jaw slack with pink cheeks.

Your first thought is to pull the dildo out, and the size of it makes you let out a quiet pained whine as you do so. She’s frozen, and the rage takes over you. It’s the most comfortable emotion in a situation like this.

“I told you to knock!” You yell, grabbing your skirt and throwing the dildo to the ground.

“This— this is my room!” Her voice is high and defensive, still processing what she just saw as everything happened so quickly. You pull your skirt up and grab your panties off the floor and to make the embarrassment worse — you burst into tears before you’ve made it out the door, storming past her and slamming the door to your room. The final blow was realising you’d left the headphones behind.

Abby watches you until you’re out of sight before turning her head slowly back to the strap on laying abandoned on the floor, a single drip of what looks like your arousal beside it. Jesus, she thinks, letting out a long sigh and running her hand over her face as she enters the room fully — letting the door shut behind her. She slowly lowers herself into a squat, thick thighs bulging in her cargos as she inspects the scene. Abby lifts the harness, before grabbing the dildo by the suction end and sucking in a hitched breath at how you’d soaked it only a little way down. Your poor pussy, she thinks as her lower region warms guiltily at the imagery now the shock had worn off. “Was a good attempt.” She mutters to herself, tossing the dildo onto her bed and sighing, standing up and stroking beneath her chin in thought. She worries, wonders what you must have thought about her seeing that she’d brought a strap on into your home. You must’ve thought she was some kind of perv, right? How was she supposed to bring you back from this?

As you lay face down on your bed, crying embarrassed tears for an hour straight— you wonder if it would have been less embarrassing if Abby had followed you into your room rather than leaving you to storm off on your own. She probably didn’t want to see you, or speak to you for the matter of fact. You sit up, wiping your cheeks furiously — if that were the case, you had the right to be mad at her. It was her fault, she took your headphones which spiralled into this whole thing. Was it better to let things fizzle out and be awkward? You couldn’t think of anything worse, so you finally rose to your feet again, cleaning up your appearance with your jaw clenched before storming back down the hallway. You were going to finish this, and make her leave for good.

You didn’t bother to knock, because when did she bother? You pushed the door open so hard it bang loudly against the wall, and Abby turned around from her dresser — going through some envelopes, totally unphased.

“I’m taking my headphones!” You practically holler, an accusatory finger pointed right at her. She places the envelope aside as she leans against the dresser crossing her arms and raising her eyebrows.

“Okay.”

“And my father will be receiving a call! Yes, I will call him and tell him that you’re rude, you push boundaries, and you don’t ever fucking knock on any door!” You raise your voice even louder, counting off your fingers as she stares at you.

“Again, this is my room and I didn’t know you were in here.” She explains slowly like you were stupid, which only enrages you more.

“This is my house!” You shriek, waving your hands and she pushes off the dresser, stepping towards you.

“Is it?” She frowns. “Do you even pay any rent?”

You falter for just a second, but it’s enough for her to see and nearly smile, which only builds your emotion. “This is my families house. On your very first day here you said that you were a guest in my house, so act like one. My. House.” You step closer to meet her in the centre of the room, eyes boring up into hers as she watched you, unimpressed, tongue in her cheek.

She couldn’t lie, you were hot when you were mad. Infuriating, sure. But hot. Hot in the way where she wanted to shut you up, make you cum until you weren’t fighting back — just babbling aimlessly, frown fully melted from your face. Fuck you until you learnt a lesson. The thought made her stand up a little straighter.

“Yeah?” She tilts her head daringly, and enraged you step up closer, bodies nearly touching just so you could yell in her face.

“My. Hou—” You go to repeat yourself for emphasis but you’re cut off by the feeling of her hand gripping your cheeks, smushing them. When she speaks, it’s calm and menacing. You stare up at her wide eyed.

“You’re not gonna talk to me like that. You’re embarrassed, sweet girl — and I feel for you, but don’t you ever yell in my face like that. You understand me?” She tilts her head further, eyes on you. You’re humiliated, knees knocking into eachother at her calling you sweet girl whilst berating you and you frown, still panting — all hot faced and furious. She uses your cheeks to make you nod and you groan. “Good. If you wanna talk about what happened, let’s talk. But before you come up here and start accusing me of shit, remember that you came in here searching, and you found that,” she turns your face so that you were looking at the strap on laying on the bed. She stays facing you, eyes browsing the side of your face now. Your eyes widen a little at the sight, the memory of using it replaying in your head. “And you decided to use it without asking me.” She steps back a little, eyeing you (not even bothering to hide the hunger anymore). “Okay. Say your piece.” She gestures with her hand and you collect yourself, pulling in a shaky breath.

You admit, the confidence from your tone had vanished. “I was just trying to look for my headphones. I wanted to work out.” You explain and she nods, encouraging you to go on. “You… you brought that into this house, why?” You point at the toy on the bed, the embarrassment starting to slip through again in your pathetic tone of voice.

“Its not your business what I bring with me in my own bag.” Her velvety voice was quick to answer and your brow creased, running out of reasons to shift the blame onto her.

“Well… you can’t bring things like that here it’s — it’s inappropriate.” You internally curse yourself out for stuttering.

“You didn’t seem to have any complaints an hour ago when you were trying to stuff it inside yourself.” She shrugs like she just couldn’t help it from leaving her mouth and in your embarrassment you turn to leave again, walking towards the door. She follows and reaches over your head and shuts it in front of you before you can, grabbing your arm and turning you around so that your back was pressed to it now as she looms over you. “What? Am I wrong?”

“Abby.” You go to complain, but it comes out as a weak whisper.

“Is that why you did it? Maybe you were trying to get caught so you’d have a reason to get all mad and go batshit crazy on me, huh? Still going ahead with that bullshit plan of yours to send me packing?” Abby theorises and you lower your gaze, head tilted towards the ground as you thought. It wasn’t that, you weren’t brave enough. You were genuinely just being disgusting and horny and got yourself caught — which to you was all the more shameful. She knocks your chin up with her knuckle, making you look up at her again. “Or maybe you wanted to get caught so you could be punished. Is that what you wanted? ‘That why you been such a fucking brat?”

“Not a brat.” You huff, though you couldn’t deny it any further than that.

“You know what a brat is? Girls like you,” She poked a finger into your chest. “Who wanna be put in their place so they act out. I’m starting to think that’s just what you need.”

You try and push off the door but she’s blocking you to do so, bodies too close. “Do you really think I’d come in here and yell at you just because I wanna get spanked or whatever?” You bite back, proud of the comeback until she roughly spins you around by the hips so your cheek was pressed to the wooden door, back a little arched. She takes a fist of your skirt and yanks it up, holding it to your lower back making you gasp — fully exposing your bare rear. She chuckles and you wanna die.

“I dunno, didn’t even bother putting on a new pair of panties before coming up in here. Seems to me like you knew what you were doing. Lost the bass in your voice too, smart girl. Where’d all that anger go?” Her hand is gentle when it cups your ass, feeling the meat of it in her hand. You could not believe this was happening. You were mortified. Soaked, but mortified.

You try to fight back with your words, but it’s coming out in little huffs and embarrassed pants at the feeling of her grabbing your ass. “I’m— m’gonna tell — gonna tell on—”

“You’re gonna tell on me?” She snickered. “Are you gonna tell the full story? What you were doing on the floor when I walked in?” She purs in your ear and you can hear her smiling. She’s sick.

You say nothing, because if you’re being honest you’re giving up on your resolve— the feeling of her hands on you just melting your anger away like ice. “No I didn’t think so.”

She gives your ass a light slap, just enough to jiggle it and make you whimper at the suddenness before turning you back around, eyes glancing between yours seriously. “You wanna know what I think?”

You sigh and nod, not trusting your voice at this point.

She gently takes you by the arm and walks you over to the foot of the bed, picking up the strap and holding it. “I think you need to clean my strap for me.”

The way she says it makes you feel hot and bothered, and you go to reach for it to shamefully disappear and wash it in the sink but she holds it out of your reach, raising her eyebrows playfully as she stares you down for a moment. “Not like that.”

She brings the strap down, stepping into the leg holes of the harness before pulling it up and adjusting it to fit her by the hoops at the hip. You watch, trembling — the sight of her standing there with a huge cock something you had only dreamt of, making you squeeze your thighs together. You hated yourself for how weak willed you’d become.

“You can clean it up that smart mouth of yours.” She smiles simply before placing both hands on your shoulders and pushing you down slowly to the ground. She sits too on the edge of the bed, spreading her thighs wide to accommodate to you between them. She wanted you to suck her off? Now that was just degrading. You pursed your lips, trying and failing to ignore the rush of slick seeping from you.

“Abby. Come on.” You whisper and she looks at you for a moment, making you shrink where you were kneeled before leaning forward, gently grasping your chin again, her face millimetres from yours.

“It’s the least you can do.” She threatens before leaning back on her hands, nodding towards her cock. She nearly folds and leans forward to kiss you when she sees the big, sweet, doe eyes you give her — so far removed from your usual glare. If she knew that all she had to do was dom the good girl out of you, her previous month would have been a lot easier.

You gingerly grip the shaft with your hand, bringing your face towards it. God, it smells like you still— to think that only an hour ago you were on the ground trying to shove it inside yourself. Your brows furrow as you kitten lick the top, before suckling on the top with a low moan in your throat gaining confidence. “Good girl.” She praises as you push down a little, sucking harder to the point where you can taste the breeding liquid. You’re not quite sure if it’s meant to be consumed but you don’t care, you don’t care about anything at this point.

You wanna push down further, but you’re struck with a thought and pull off her with a pop— glaring up at her with some of your leftover brattiness.

“What’s that face for?” She hums. You struggle to find your words.

“You… We’re…” You huff, sulkily and she watches the glimmer of longing pass over your face. “You’re making me suck you off and you haven’t even kissed me.” You finally get it out and she smirks, but not totally in a mean way — more so adoringly. Smushing your cheeks again with her hand, she pulls your face in, meeting you in the middle as her cock brushes against your chest as her lips meet yours. It’s a hard, wet, sloppy kiss with your cheeks smushed but it’ll do, and when she pulls off you with a loud smack she roughly rubs her thumb beneath your pouty bottom lip to remove the residual saliva. “Now get back to work.”

She holds back a giggle at the sight of your own pleased smile as you go back down, licking up the sides and cleaning off the plastic — groaning at the residual taste of you clinging to it. This was cruel, wicked even — and you were enjoying it.

“Thats it. Knew I’d be able to find better use for that mouth. Must be tired from running it so much.” Her voice is gentle despite the degradation and it fills your brain with a hazy, muddled fog — not sure how to feel anymore. You pull up for air after taking as much as you can, and as soon as your lips wrap around the dick again, Abby can’t help herself from pressing her hand down on the back of your head gently, muttering a “‘Can do better than that, pretty.” as you gag around her. This seemed to be the first straw in what broke the camels back.

It had dawned on you, half way through sucking her off that after this she was likely just to throw you out on your ass, back to your room to take care of yourself. Getting you on your knees infront of her was her way of winning once and for all, and this was only one last humiliation to shut you up completely. You hadn’t realised you were in your head until Abby was pulling her strap out your mouth, tilting your chin up to her as she leant forward once more. “Hey. Where’d you go just now?”

You try and break away, trying to catch her tip in your mouth again, jaw a little agape and tongue peeping out but she grips your chin more firmly, shaking you a little. “Hey. Look at me.”

“S’nothing Abby. Just lemme—”

“Did I hurt you?”

“No.” You swallow thickly, shaking your head.

“Then what?”

You suck in a deep breath. “Are you gonna chuck me out after this? Are you… are you only doing this to embarrass me?” She stares at you in perplexity as she watched your mouth turn down, emotions catching up with you as you squeeze your eyes shut — two fat tears sliding down your tears.

“Hey, no.” She’s still a little confused, but she wipes your tears away with the back of her hand anyway. She sighs, pulling you up by the arm and sitting you on her thigh. “Okay. Maybe this kind of thing isn’t for you. That’s okay.”

You wipe your nose, a little calmer and clearer headed now. “I was enjoying it. I think I just… I feel like no one cares about me. It just caught up with me that’s all. We can get back to it.” You go to stand up off her but she holds you tighter, making you look at her.

“I care about you. I stupidly, really care about you.” She speaks sincerely, and you stare at her analytically before realising that she actually truly means it. Abby cares about you.

She pulls you in gently this time, lips locking against yours. It’s not mean, or sarky, or trying to tease you — it’s a real meaningful kiss and you just melt. All that anger, all that competitiveness just melts off you like ice cream on a hot and hazy day. You wrap your arms around her neck, letting her lick into your mouth and dominate your tongue with her own, pulling it in and sucking on it making you shift on her thigh and whimper. You think about grinding down on her thick, cargo covered thighs and how good that might feel after a month of staring at them — but before you can, she’s easing you to lay on your back on the bed.

“Can show you how much I care about you. Maybe we can start over, how’s that sound?” She whispers into the space below your ear, pressing a wet kiss there and you let out a shaky huff, nodding. “Gonna need your words though. That’s how this works, sweet girl.”

“Please show me.”

“Like that, good job.”

Her hands look large, but they feel even larger — especially when they’re beside eachother, running up beneath your top— fingertips brushing over your hard nipples as she tests the waters, smiling against your skin when your back arches up into her, a sensitive whine quietly passing your lips. She slowly drags up your top, pushing herself down your body to pepper kisses down the centre of your chest, letting out a quiet groan of her own when she grips your tit with her hand, massaging the plush flesh. “M—outh” You choke out in a pleasured haze and she chuckles, eyebrows jumping up in amusement as she adjusts her position.

“Should have known you’d know exactly what you want.” She teases before flattening her tongue over the bud of your nipple, pulling back to blow cold air on it to harden it making you wince sensitively. The smile barely leaves her when she dips down, wrapping her pouty pink lips around the bud and sucking, soothing her tongue over it and digging her teeth in ever so slightly, letting them scrape over your nipple when she pulls away. “Fuck, so pretty.” She grits her teeth, reaching up and grabbing it in her hand again letting it jiggle beneath her palm.

You buck your hips again, which directs her attention to your lower regions — forcing her to depart from your breast to continue her journey down your body. She sits up, both hands encasing your waist, rubbing thumbs into your lower ribs gently. “Anyone ever eat your pussy?”

Your breath hitches in your throat at the bold question and your eyes flutter open, not quite remembering when you closed them. “No.”

She grins, like that was just the answer she was after and climbs back down— kissing your stomach and then flipping your skirt up so she could kiss your pubic mound. You shiver, a little insecure but filled with desire more than anything as her hands slide up between your legs. “Open these up for me.” She whispers, and her hot breath wafts over your needing cunt when she reveals it, pulling back to look at it.

You feel your chest and face get hot as she stares— dark eyed and hungry straight at your most private area. “So fucking pretty.” She whispers, thumbs sliding either side of your fat lips and pulling them apart, her brows furrowing. “You always get this wet? Jesus.”

You don’t answer, because you don’t quite have the guts to tell her that you don’t remember the last time someone had aroused you this much, to the point where it’s taken over your body and brain entirely.

She leans in, and you expect her tongue to dart out first — but she spits, directly on your clit making you jolt with a whimper, then chasing it up with the flat of her tongue as her thick arms wrap around your thighs, jaw practically unhinging as she starts eating you like her life depends on it.

You moan, loudly and with less shame as time passes now, grinding your hips up into her face — which she matches by pinning them back down to the bed, only pulling away to briefly grab a cushion from the bed and slot it beneath your hips to elevate you slightly — so fast and expertly you barely realise she’s done it before she’s back to mouthing at your crotch.

“Feels so good!” You whine and she chuckles against you, the vibration of which sends shockwaves through to your stomach. “Need you to fuck me.” You mutter, more to yourself but she acknowledges it anyway, the hands that were massaging your hips sliding between your thighs.

“If you want to take my cock I’m gonna need to prep you. You saw yourself, s’never gonna fit with how tight you are right now.”

With this new information, you feel her finger tips sliding through your soaked folds gently as she suckles on your clit relentlessly. You whine, trying your best not to clamp down when she slides in her finger, and then another. You were in heaven, panting up to the ceiling as she fingerfucks you, l your hand sliding down to encase itself in her golden hair — glowing from the sunset streaming in through the window.

She moans as she tastes you, brows furrowed and eyes clamped shut like she could feel every movement of her tongue herself. “Gonna give you one more okay? Need to stretch you— still so fucking tight.” She speaks against you and all you can do is nod, in fact at that point you’d probably let her do anything she wanted to you. It was such a relief to drop the act, to just relax and let her take care of you.

A third finger prods at your entrance and you wince as she slowly slides it in, looking up at you to watch your expression — brows pinching and eye twitching at the feeling, walls wrapping tightly round her thick fingers. “There you go, pretty girl. Took that like a champ.” She kisses your hip bone before getting back to work, slowly and experimentally fucking her three fingers in and out, curling them up to grind against your upper gummy inner wall.

“Feel like I’m gonna cum, Abby it’s — it’s so much.” You shake, toes curled so hard they’d gone white and she hums kindly against you, pulling off your clit again with a loud spitty pop.

“I know baby, I know. Let it out.” She whispers, rushed and syrupy like she was too on the precipice of a moan. She moves her tongue in quick successions around your clit as you start to buck and ride against her fingers, a clammy sound matching this — your wetness creating music against her knuckles as you fuck against them. “Cum, smart girl, cum.”

You do, and you’re so full it’s like there’s nowhere for the cum to go — and therefore you feel like you might explode, suddenly letting out loud cries and whines as you shake and jerk on the bed, only to be held down by Abby’s strong arms. She moans too, because you’re dripping down her wrists and her chin — seeming to have a never ending quantity of cum as she laps it up. You taste exactly how she thought you would.

You can’t even tell she’s stopped because your legs are still violently shaking for a minute, coming down from your orgasm felt like it would never end— but you were grounded by the feeling of Abby’s lips on your cheek, sliding her hands under your back to hold you. “I know, it’s okay. Good job.” She cooes into your hair, silencing your nonsensical babbles. She doesn’t push you to move onto the next thing, just stroking your skin and pressing her lips to your skin until you were calm.

Abby feels tugging down below, and looks down between your bodies to see your hand wrapped around her shaft, tugging towards you as your legs fall open again limply. She winces like she can feel it, and she swears she can when you lazily run your thumb over the tip that had drizzled some of the pearlescent liquid out from all the movement. She watches you play with the spillage between your fingers, before bringing it to your puffy cunt, spreading it through your folds and whimpering at the sensitivity.

“Shit, babe.” She sighs out, the room feeling suddenly much warmer. “You wanna continue?”

“Mhm. Was prepping to take you, remember?” You brush the loose strand from her braid hanging over her cheek out of her face. The gesture is intimate, like two lovers who have been together for a while. You almost feel embarrassed again but she turns her cheek and kisses your palm.

She nestles the pads of her fingers into your folds again, sliding around in your arousal and you sigh out at the sensitivity, the urge to be filled returning from its brief satisfaction. “Well you’re definitely wet enough.” She smirks in disbelief, and you can’t believe that there was a time where you would have rolled your eyes at such comments — now only doe eyed and lip bitten as your legs fall open wider. Her fingers are replaced by her strap, sliding up and down — collecting your wetness along it, a whimper leaving you when the tip nudges against your swollen clit.

“Think you’re ready for me?” She asks and before she’s even finished the sentence you moan out a quick and desperate ‘yes!’ making her laugh, keeling into herself with her chin to her chest for a moment. She looks cute and you want to kiss her again. In due time, you think. “How long has it been since you last got fucked?” She continues sliding her strap up and down. Abby secretly thinks she’s stalling, because she wants this closeness to last.

You shake your head breathlessly, trying to clear the fog in order to answer her simple question. Why was she asking questions at a time like this?

“Like — nine months maybe a year?” You answer and she nods, understandingly.

“It’s no wonder you’re so tight. This is gonna be quite a squeeze, yeah?” She looks you deep in your eyes, like she did every time she wanted you to really listen.

“I know, s’okay.” You breathe, and at this she takes your hand in her larger one.

“S’gonna be big. You can squeeze my hand if you want. Deep breath in.” She instructs and you slowly inhale as she pushes in, your hand squeezing hers as you clench around her thick length.

The “Fuck” you let out in a breathy groan is obscene and borderline pornagraphic, which makes Abby fight the urge to bottom out completely and shove her cock inside you fully all at once, but she’s patient, her breath hitching as she reassures you.

“I know, I know.” is all she can say as she pushes in further.

“W—wait.” You tense up a little and she freezes with no hesitation, letting you adjust to the stretch as she drops kisses onto your jaw until you were ready. This happened a couple of times, and she’d oblige to your wishes each time you halt her until she was fully seated inside you.

You felt like the air had been punched out of you, Abby was so deep. “Hows that?” She whispers.

“So big.” You mewl.

“Taking it so well. See, we got it all in the end.” She praises, quiet and gleeful watching you blissed out beneath her.

“Y’not getting paid enough for this, he’s not paying you enough to deal with me.” You babble into her shoulder in regards to her deal with your father, legs trembling around her hips.

“You kidding me? He’s paying me to fuck his daughters pretty pussy, think I’ll be okay.” She scoffs into your neck, sucking wet kisses into the skin there, hips still not moving as you adjust.

“S’not why he’s paying you.” Your nose turns up and she chuckles before lifting her face to hover right above yours, lips occasionally brushing. She begins to move her hips and you both gasp at the feeling.

“How about… instead of arguing with me… you shut up and take my fucking strap.” She whispers temptingly and you go limp again, apart from your hips which twitch against her movements letting her grind her strap in and out of you slowly.

“Oh my god!” You cry, letting go of her hand to wrap your arms around her neck, pulling her into you to connect your lips. She lets you whimper against her and suck on her bottom lip whilst she concentrates on finding that angle. She knows she’s struck gold when your legs jerk around her before your heels dig into her ass.

“Faster please Abby, please faster!” You sound deranged, at the point she wanted you all along — cockdrunk and desperate without a care in the world. She clenches around nothing at the thought of just keeping you this dumb all the time.

She speeds up on command, hips smacking against you now as she pulls away to watch the way your tits bounce beneath her. “Oh baby, you’re fucking taking it.” She pants, impressed at how quickly you’ve allowed her to really go in on you. She reaches between you to rub your clit and you squeal, tears springing to your eyes. “Yeah? Want me to rub it? S’it that good, pretty girl?”

“Yes! Please! I— I can’t Abby it’s too — Abby please I wanna— need to cum!” Your hands are curled into her t-shirt adorably which only makes her go harder, practically punching the sounds out of you like a squeaky toy each time she thrusts. You feel yourself teetering over the edge once more, abused pussy relentlessly sucking her in with obscene wet noises attached. Before you can release, your hand reaches down to cup the balls of the strap. “Want it inside, please Ab— please want it inside me—” You ramble and she catches on, and as you tense up, letting out a pained whine as you cum, she slides her hand on top of yours, pressing down to empty the cum lube inside you. The feeling of the warm liquid spurting against your cervix makes you shake, sobbing uncontrollably suddenly as you ride it out.

“There you go, good fucking girl. You like that don’t you? Fuck, letting me breed you like this the first time we fuck? You dirty fucking girl. Such a pretty fucking girl.” She’s babbling too, unravelled by the beauty that was you cumming the way you did. She knew she was good at fucking, but to make someone cry like that was driving her insane.

You’re floating when she pulls out, the two of you breathless and fucked out. Effortlessly, she pushes her hands under your arms and drags you further up the bed until you’re laying against the pillow and she drops down besides you, pulling you into her chest, t-shirt slightly damp with sweat. You listen to her heart thundering in her chest, and it lulls you into a sleepy and relaxed zone, pulling your thigh up over her hip with her help, her thumb stroking the crease where your ass and thigh connects.

“Did so good. The sounds you make are so pretty.” She whispers like she was trying to lull you to sleep. You shift, breath stammering in your throat and nearly choking you when your used pussy glides over her shaft— the veins and ridges catching against your clit making your hips jerk on her, unable to stop yourself from slowly and feverishly rubbing down on her as you breathe heavily in the quiet room.

“Want more, sweet girl?” She cooes, hand running down the back of your head to cup it lovingly.

“Too sore.” It comes out muffled into her t-shirt, aimlessly rocking your hips.

“That’s alright. Just keep… keep doing this.” She relaxes into the bed, kissing your forehead and letting you please yourself, grinding into the mixture of your juices and the fake cum soaking the both of your lower halves. It was messy and bordering on gross, but made your needy clit throb all the more. You were truly insatiable. Had it really been that long?

She sighed in pleasure at the feeling of you grinding against her, the position making her harness press deliciously into her own clit, pleasing you both. Perhaps she too could get off from this.

The sun had gone in, and the room had grown dark. But this time, you weren’t afraid — infact the growing inkiness of the sky was the last thing on your mind— safe, warm and dumb in Abby’s strong arms.

Maybe you’d let her stick around.

#bodyguard!abby #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson smut #abby anderson au #abby tlou2 smut #abby anderson fic rec #fic rec

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angelkhi-reclibrary · 11 months

Text

new joel fic posted!

remodel- j.m

pairing: joel miller x reader

summary: joel is tasked with remodelling your kitchen, but he seems to forget he isn't being payed for his down time.

warnings: SMUT 18+ (minors DNI), i guess it's kinda public idk it happens outside, teasing, some very cliche shit soz, mentions of boring construction stuff, mentions of alcohol (like one beer), hair pulling, spanking, brief fingering, p in v, heavy petting, age gap (reader is like 25, joel is old as fuck), pet names (pretty girl, darlin, angel), kinda mean joel in parts, praise, overstimulation, use of the words slut / whore, creampie?? kay that's it bye go touch grass.

word count: 2.6k

a little note: do contractors even fit kitchens??? idk. this has nothing to do with the fact that i'm about to have a kitchen remodel at home shush. or the fact that I just finished uni leave me alone. Once again this is some nasty shit that isn’t beta’d no one look at me. (i’m thinking of opening up requests for headcanons??? let me know what you think)

(gif credit: @kpfun <3)

The sun beats down on her skin, the fine mist from the sprinklers cooling her slightly, it was almost perfect. Another loud bang drifts through the open kitchen doors and she opens her eyes for a moment, raising her head to glance at the man currently tearing the kitchen apart.

It had been three days so far, of constant banging and drilling and deep curse words from Joel Miller. From the crack of dawn til her dad came home later in the evening, he worked. Part of her admired his work ethic, the other part not so much just wanting a relaxing weekend whilst the weather held up.

She hears the drill stop right on cue, the clank of beers in the makeshift fridge follows, and Joel steps out into the garden. She hears his shuffling footsteps, pretending she doesn't notice him coming over, waiting until his looming figure blocks out the sun. He holds out a beer, cap already popped off. It's the same routine he'd picked up a few days ago, her outside in a bathing suit, him working until the early afternoon where he takes a break, sipping his beer from the porch and not so subtly staring at her.

Only today he lingers by her side, taking the recliner closest to her, sipping from his own drink casually. She glance over at him, the condensation dripping off of the bottle and on her stomach.

She raises an eyebrow at him, her heart beating a little faster at him being so close to her.

"Can I help you?" He chuckles and takes a hefty swig, "am I blocking your like or somethin?"

She snaps out of her impromptu stare off with him and lean back once more.

"You're fine." She take a sip of the cold beverage, continuing to watch him. "You don't usually sit over here."

"We can't all sit around perfecting our tan all day." The corner of his mouth twitches into an insufferable smirk as he watches her spare him a glance and close her eyes again.

"If someone would employ me I wouldn't have to."

There's a bite to her words that turns his smirk into a grin. He's silent for a few moments, his gaze dotting between the water glimmering under the sunlight, and her exposed skin shining just that little bit brighter.

"Your dad mentioned you'd just finished university. Second degree too. Must be real smart." His fingers trace the edge of his beer bottle and she tries not to watch the way his calloused skin caresses the bottle.

She hums in agreement, unsure of her body's reaction to his compliment. Not that he's unattractive, he's quite literally the opposite, but he'd said no more than 10 words to her the entire time he'd been there.

"You miss it?" He asks and she let out a laugh, sitting up leaning back on her forearms, looking up at him from her spot on the ground. His eyes flicker, watching the curves of her body shift as she moves, but just as quickly he's looking her in the eye again. She doesn't know what's worse.

"Fuck no. I never have to write an essay or speak to a frat boy ever again." He chuckles with her for a moment, watching as she nurses her beer and continues.

"They're just so insufferable. No manners whatsoever. Couldn't hold a door open or say thank you if their lives depended on it." She scowls thinking back to the many immature idiots she'd shared campus with. "And don't even get me started on how bad they were in bed."

She watches as his eyebrows raise a little, something sparking in his eyes.

"Is that so?" He hums, watching her closely. "Couldn't give you what you really wanted?"

Her throat suddenly feels like sandpaper and she swallows some more of her beer, trying to soothe whatever it is that her body is doing.

"How would you know what I like?" Her voice is low, almost hoarse. She watches him, the way his eyes take her in, his gaze almost predatory. He sets the bottle down, watching her as he does.

Joel leans forward, his thighs spread wide in front of him, his thumb lightly tracing her lower lip. His eyes are on her constantly, trying to gauge her reaction to his touch. She tries not to show him that the slightest touch has bought her more satisfaction than any other man ever had, but he sees it. The way her defiant gaze softens as she leans into his touch.

His hand shifts, cupping her jaw for a moment, then sliding around to the back of her head, his soft touch turning into a harsh grip. He grips her hair, holding her in place and she has nowhere to look but at him and his hulking frame and eyes growing darker with each breath.

"I think you like to be told what to do, not that you listen. I think you like being a good girl, even with your bratty little mouth." She feels his warm skin on her cheek as he leans closer and speaks, "I think you like a quick dirty fuck."

The more he talks, the hotter her skin grows, small whimpers falling from her lips when he grips her hair even tighter. He smiles, pulling back to look at her on her knees, thighs spread, tits pushed out towards him.

"I think you want my cock." He watches as her eyes gloss over, chuckling. "You want me to fuck you so good you'll feel me for days, isn't that right darlin'?"

He loosens his grip a little and she nods a little too eagerly. He smiles, and shakes his head.

"I need to hear the words, angel"

"Want- I want you to fuck me Joel." She speaks, finding herself nodding along with her words and Joel's grip tightens in her hair, his eyes dark.

His grip doesn't let up as he leads her onto all fours, her bikini shifting awkwardly, almost exposing her. She rests in front of him, knees apart, back arched slightly, his hands wondering across her back and thighs.

His palm settles on her lower back for a moment, travelling lower to her massaging her

"You sure you want this? I can go back inside, finish the job and get outta your hair." She pushes herself back into his touch but he moves his hand to the small of her back.

"Joel please, I need it." She hates how desperate she sounds, how easily she's offering herself to him, but she also couldn't care less, too riled up to deal with the consequences. She feels his touch leave her all together and is ready to protest but he speaks.

"Good."

With that his palm comes down on her skin, delivering a harsh smack. She whines pathetically, and he just watches her face contort, pure lust written across her features.

He repeats his action, spanking her harshly until her jiggling skin is red and warm. He rubs a soothing hand over the area, feeling all the blood rush to his dick, uncomfortably hard in his pants. He was half hard before he even stepped out of the kitchen, days of pent up desire, watching her lay out here in her skimpy bikini not a care in the world.

He continues to soothe the skin, her small whimpers going straight to his dick. He hooks his finger in her bikini shorts and pulls them to the side exposing her, the cool breeze against her hot centre making her gasp. He stares her for a moment, just staring at her wet cunt, before he touches her running his fingers through her folds and toying with her clit.

"Look at you, fuckin' soaked and I've barely touched you." He increases the pressure, "Perfect little cunt. You're perfect."

His hand rests on her hip, gripping her tight when she bucks away from him, but soon loosens again when she begins to move against his fingers, seeking some relief.

He keeps toying with her, drawing small fast circles over her swollen nub. His fingers explore her folds, teasing her weepy hole and sliding back down until she's practically panting.

"You're doing so good for me, darlin." His fingers pause at her opening, teasing it slightly, watching how she clenches around nothing. He slides in, right to the knuckle, hissing at her warmth when she clenches around him.

Her breathing is shallow and she tries to stay quiet but he's moving just right, hooking his finger right where she needs him. She feels her orgasm slowly start to build, his name the only thing on her lips as he brings her closer and closer, right to the edge, then pulls away completely.

She whines, and he places a kiss on the back of her shoulder shushing her. He waits until her breathing evens out a little and moves his fingers back where she needs him, sinking two of his thick digits into. She grows even louder when he curls the, fucking her quickly. The obscene sounds of her wet cunt swallowing him, her lewd moans and his deep breathing all drown out the chirping birds.

At some point, her arms begin to give out and she slowly lower herself forward, head resting on her forearms. Joel simply just chuckles to himself, speeding up his movements when he feels her walls clench around him once more. She can feel it once again, building in her stomach almost unbearably, but once again Joel pulls away before she can cum, swatting her ass harshly.

"Joel please." She begins to beg but he simply just shushes her, repeating the process twice more until she's dripping down her thighs.

His hands tug at her waist, pulling her into him, settling her in his lap. Her knees rest either side of him, clit catching on the rough material of his trousers. Joel presses a bruising kiss to her lips before moving lower, nipping and biting marks on her neck and chest.

He gets to the hem of her bikini top fingers tugging it impatiently, exposing her chest. He pauses for a moment to stare at her, lips swollen, hair a mess, exposed to him. Then his head drops and she falls back a little when his lips close around her nipple, sensitive and untouched. He frees one of his hands from her waist, paling at her other breast, rolling her nipple between his harsh fingers.

"Such pretty tits baby." His mouth returns to her skin and she moans loudly, clamping her lips shut when she remembers someone might hear them. She feels his grin against her skin and he lightly bites at her nipple, making her gasp loudly again. Her hands thread through his hair, keeping him where he is at least trying to gain some sort of gratification from his never ending teasing.

He pulls back, enjoying the way her eyes droop lightly, the way her mouth turns into a little frown at the loss of contact. He taps her hip twice and she raises onto her knees, watching as he reclines, back against the sun lounger and unbuckles his trousers, shifting his boxers so he can free himself.

She can feel him, thick snd warm beneath her as she hovers over him, nails digging in his shoulder through his shirt. He grips himself tightly, squeezing and stroking for a moment before moving the bulbous head against her clit, and she bucks her hips against him, overly sensitive from all of his teasing.

Joel doesn't seem to care, brushing his cock through her folds once again, teasing her entrance and slipping away again. She falls forward, head in his neck, her lips finding his skin as she tries to keep quiet. She hear him lightly tut and his hand is back in her hair again, pulling her back so that he can look her in the eye.

"You afraid someone might hear you, hm? Look over here and see you wrecked in my lap before i'm even finished with you?" He pauses, slipping his cock against her once more.

He's right. If anyone were to look over into her garden they'd surely faint at the sight. Her bikini top pulled down, Joel mouthing at her nipples, shorts hanging to the side as he rubs himself against her. He grins again, the kind of grin she knows means trouble.

"Let em fucking hear you. Wonder what they'll tell your daddy..." His hand moves once again, this time against her throat, holding her inches away from his face as he enters her in one long thrust.

She can't hide the loud whine that falls from her mouth, mingling with Joel's throaty curse. He doesn't give her any warning as he fucks up into her in one smooth thrust, arms wrapping around her waist and pulling her down into him as he sets an unforgiving pace.

She chokes out a moan as her pussy stretches around him, feeling utterly full. Her hands grip the back of the wicker chair, her lips on his as she whines into his mouth.

"Such a pretty fucking slut letting me fuck you like this." He buries himself to the hilt, grinding up into her and she whines even louder, clenching around him.

"You like it when I call you a slut, huh?" He thrusts again, slow and deliberate, struggling to keep his composure as he watches her mouth hang open, eyes rolling.

"Course you do, you love it. My little fuckin' whore." His foot comes up to rest on the side of the chair, giving him more leverage as he speeds up once again. From this new angle, she can feel him even deeper, her chest rubbing up against the soft material of his shirt, clit catching against his jeans once more.

She knows she won't last long, still slightly on the edge from his earlier movements. She clenches around him, his cock hitting her perfectly over and over again.

Joel notices the way her whines get louder, how her hands bunch in his t shirt. He feels her clenching hard around him and this thrusts grow harsher, the need to finally make her cum burning in his chest.

He pulls her hips down to meet his thrusts, chasing her release through her loud moans. His lips suck on her neck, just below her ear, the sensation shooting straight to her core. Her skin tingles as she cums, her moan stuck in her throat eyes squeezed shut, mouth closed.

"Fuck" Joel groans, his fingers digging into her skin, sure to leave marks. He pulls her impossibly closer. He can, whispering quiet thanks over and over again, her words spurring him on.

He doesn't let up, chasing his own release, her cunt convulsing around him, choking his cock. His hips stutter a little and he groans loudly, his face buried in her neck, teeth digging into her skin.

His chest heaves with exhaustion, her soft pliant body on top of his. He cups her jaw softly, his actions a far cry from his earlier behaviour. His lips are soft against hers and she leans into him, muscles weak.

"You okay?" He mumbles, pulling away from her lips only slightly, watching her tired eyes and slow smile. She nods, forehead resting against his own too tired to speak so he kisses her again.

The pair rest in silence, hands all over each other, until Joel speaks up again.

"Y'know that kitchen might just take a few days" She chuckles lightly against his chest, and mumbles, almost indecipherable.

"Thank fuck."

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #the last of us smut #the last of us hbo #joel miller x reader smut #joel miller masterlist #pedro pascal joel miller #the last of us part 2 #the last of us

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angelkhi-reclibrary · 1 year

Text

kiss it better - j.m

pairing: dilf!joel miller x babysitter!reader

summary: turns out joel is trained in first aid, among other things.

warnings: SMUT (18+ Minors DNI) oral (f), fingering, masturbation (m), age gap, creampie but not technically p in v, cumplay i guess, squirting? cum eating/swapping(???), praise, an inkling of overstimulation, hair pulling, needy joel, some dirty talk / bad language, nicknames: dove, pretty girl, sweet girl, idk just some down right dirty shit with some feeling, mentions of injury (a scraped knee and elbow), age gap, slight hurt comfort, grumpy bucky, kinda sweet ending. very sorry if i missed anything!

word count: 2.4 k

a little note: hi! this shit is nasty soz xx i wrote this for bucky but changed it to pre-outbreak joel cause yeah, also not proofread cause i don’t like reading my own shit, and sarah is like 5 in this, also if u know me no you don’t, okay love ya x likes and reblogs appreciated 🫶🏾

"You, kitchen. I'll be down in 10."

You'd listened of course, planting yourself on the kitchen counter and awaiting his return, but those 7 simple words left you fidgeting for the entire 10 minutes he was gone.

Joel walks into the room without a word, puts the bright red first aid box on the counter next to you and pulls up a stool. You can't help but watch his fluid movements, admiring his grace and precision even in the smallest of movements. All of them are deliberate, calculated.

"This is gonna sting a bit." He rips open an alcohol wipe, sliding a hand behind your knee to keep you in place. "Deep breath for me."

"Joel, I can sort it myself- mother fucker!" You start to protest but he presses the wipe against your broken skin, the sting unexpected despite his prior warning.

"You kiss your mother with that mouth?" Joel smirks, wiping over your knee once more, his fingers digging into your flesh when you try to pull away from him. "Keep still."

"I told you I'd sort it." You mumble.

"Stop being so proud for 10 minutes. Let me help you."

"But..."

He sighs, finally looking up at you. You're not sure if it's the intensity of his stare, or the fact that he's hunched over you, touching you so gently, as though a scraped knee just might break you, but that sigh defeats you.

"Okay."

Silence falls over you again and you continue to watch him work, smiling when he fiddles with small bandage and adds a princess sticker for good measure.

"I'm sorry about earlier. Didn't mean for such a dramatic entrance but you know Sarah, she's..."

"Stubborn and bossy."

"I was going to say strong minded and competitive. Like her father." His brow quirks subtly, but you pretend not to notice it.

"So... stubborn and bossy." Joel smiles, still completely focused on bandaging your knee, "There you go, all patched up."

You nod, unsure of what to say all of a sudden. Joel fills the silence.

"I've missed you." Three simple words, that probably would've had little effect on you if they hadn't come from him.

"You saw me yesterday Joel."

"You know that's not what I mean dove." He glances up at you, just for a second, but a second is all he needs to know you understand. Of course you understand. You've spent the better part of a year trying not to miss him.

"Always so proud. It's okay to let people help you."

"My pride took quite the hit today thank you very much, your kid is way too good at tag." Joel chuckles, and your bruised pride heals a little, knowing that you had made him laugh. The way that his eyes crinkle and his nose scrunches, the almost giggle. You want to commit it to memory. To keep them it your pocket safe and tight for when you needed it. Even as his soft eyes bore into your own, silently demanding an answer to his statement.

"Thank you, Doctor Miller. I'd better be going." It's cowardly, barely even a whisper, almost drowned out by the low hum of the fridge.

But you don't move though and nether does he. Joel smooths the bandage over your knee, his lingering thumb quickly replaced by his soft lips. Joel gazes up at you as he rose from his knees, his hands sliding up your legs with each fluid movement. His hands move on their own accord, across your thighs, skimming your hips and waist, moving up and up until he's cradling your jaw.

"I wanna keep you in just a little while longer for observations, doctors orders" You lean into his touch, hyper aware of how close the pair of you suddenly are.

"Hmm. Okay Doctor Miller, any other remedies... since you insist." You're breathless, the air in the room seeming none existent as you bend to his will.

"I can think of one."

He bunches your skirt up around your waist in one swift motion, urging you to lay back against the cool marble countertop. His lips are full and warm against your skin, lingering on the inside of your knee, his fingers holed in the side of your panties, dragging them ever so slowly down your thighs. Joel's every movement is slow and deliberate, as though he's trying to savour each and every part of the moment.

"Such a pretty cunt." A small burst of cool air against your exposed pussy pushes you closer to the edge of desperation. Joel's hair tickles your inner thighs, his soft shirt brushing the back of your knee

"Tell me you missed me." He's so close to where you need him, practically dangling himself on a string. "Tell me how much you missed me touching you like this."

Joel finally touches you, his thumb circling your hole, watching you clench around nothing desperately spread out on his kitchen counter willing to take anything he'll give you.

"Missed you, Joel. So much." He hums, pride seeping out of his pores, dark eyes flickering when you say his name.

"Fuckin my hand to the thought of you was torture dove. Nothin compares to this perfect little thing." His lips purse and a small burst of cool air brushes over your clit. You grow more and more desperate the closer he gets, you're practically offering yourself up on a silver platter and he chooses now to take his sweet time?

Your fingers thread through his shaggy locks, prompting him to do something or you'll do it yourself. Joel' laugh is quick and breathless, his eyes slipping shut when you lightly scratch at his scalp.

He leans forward, tongue dragging from your entrance to your throbbing clit. Your fingers tighten in his hair and he groans pulling back to speak.

"Just as sweet as I remember." He takes another moment, then his head is between your thighs.

You're not sure if it's been hours or minutes but Joel's head is still buried between your thighs, lapping at your clit and weeping hole like a starved man. Every time you think he'll give you some sort of a reprise, he just gives you more. Fucking an extra finger into you each time he comes up for breath, or simply just toying with your clit, enjoying the way you respond so diligently to his every touch.

Your hands find the edge of the counter out of sheer desperation, too scared you'll pull at his hair too harshly in this marathon of touching, that is at least until Joel's movements stop abruptly, his head lifting from between your.

"Joel, are you okay?" His large hands wrap around your wrists, prying your hands off of the marble and back into his soft hair.

"Don't stop-" he presses a sweet kiss to your thigh "-feels so fuckin' good."

He wastes no time getting back between your thighs, bringing you back to that ledge he'd left you on. The soft point of his nose brushes against your clit, your hands grasping his hair with fervour. Joel's moan is low and deep, vibrating from his lips right to your open cunt. The knowledge that you're giving him just a fraction of what he's giving you makes your chest swell, and you bet that if you had to energy to lift your head and look down on him, his trousers would be uncomfortably tight and his hips Joeling up at nothing.

He curls his fingers, hooking them perfectly against where you need him, his hand moving at an unnatural pace. You try to stay quiet so not to wake the little girl asleep upstairs, but you're being torn apart from the inside out and Joel's muffled sounds do nothing but spur you on. Once his lips pucker against your clit and his fingers rest on that perfect spot, you're finished. Torn between pushing him away and pulling him closer, you simply just let it happen, let him coax your body through a perfect orgasm until you have no choice but to push the gluttonous man away.

"So fuckin' pretty. Look at ya, all mine." He's breathless, supporting your now upright frame between his muscular arm and chest. He presses his soft lips to yours, and it's a mess of nipping and sucking. His tongue brushes up against yours slowly and deeply, the taste of your own orgasm lingering on your lips.

"Just one more. Gimme one more yeah? So fucking good for me dove." You nod, something between a hoarse sigh and a whimper when he asks for verbal confirmation. He slides two long fingers back into you with ease, right back with that bruising pace, watching with dark eyes as you grind your clit on the ball of his palm.

"That's it, I've got you sweet girl. Give it to me." Joel's efficient when he works your body. He enjoys how you clench around his fingers when your orgasm builds, or how your swollen clit respond so well to his touch. He likes it when you push your fingers into his broad shoulders, anchoring yourself to him. He fucking loves it when you muffle the high pitched scream in his shoulder, teeth digging into his skin slightly as you release over his hand.

Dark grey spots linger on the cotton of his joggers from where you'd gushed all over him, but he doesn't care. Joel cradles your face, taking you in, his own little slice of heaven on earth. His.

Your nimble fingers tug the waistband of his joggers until they're just low enough to release him from their confines. His fingers brush over yours, moulding them against him, guiding you to palm his cock in a tight fist. Joel's concentrated gaze flickers between your glistening thighs, your pretty eyes, your half parted lips, your wet pussy spread out just for him. He's frantic, chasing pleasure from your white knuckled fists.

You slip your hand free, tracing over the stubble on his chin, fingers trailing around the back of his neck, until they're locked in his hair again. Your grip is rough when you tip his head back slightly, and he shudders against you, hips chasing his fist.

You relinquish in the small amount of power, the new feeling sending a rush down your spine. His lips rest against yours, his soft noises brushing against your skin.

"You gonna let me make a mess of this cunt, huh? Gonna let me come all on your pretty pussy."

"Joel please."

"Fuck. You're too good to me." He's whining for you. Fucking whining, and it's all because of you. Joel's hips stutter and thrust into his hand, the thick head of his cock bumping against your sensitive nub, extracting every last ounce of pleasure from your already spent body.

"Joel, come inside of me. Please Joel, you're always so good to me, let me be good for you." His hips slow as he takes in your words, your hands on him. He works himself over with his fist once more before he grips himself at his thick base pressing himself against your sensitive clit once again. He slides himself down, down, until the head of his dick is pressed against your waiting hole.

The familiar stretch of him pushing into you has you whimpering, still so sensitive. Joel's breath stutters and his hands grip your hips as he fucks his tip into you. His thrusts are quick and shallow as he gets himself off and you're muttering against his lips how good he feels, how pretty he looks, how much you love it when he takes what he needs. You scratch at his scalp, and grip his hair that little bit tighter and he's keening over, pressing his lips to yours. His eyes squeeze shut and he whines into your mouth as he pumps himself empty inside of you.

He works swiftly, removing himself from your warmth, sliding you to the edge of the counter and falling to his knees.

"Fuckin perfect." He mutters to himself, watching as his spend leaks out of you, fingers toying with the mess he made. He drags his soft wet tongue against you, once, twice, slipping into your used cunt until you're clawing him away beyond over-sensitive.

But then he's up, and in front of you and you're reading and waiting knowing what he's about to give you and you're willing to accept it. He kisses you, the mixture of your slick and his come on his tongue. You take it, the debauchery act pushing you so far past the point of desire. His fingers still move against you, still playing with your clenching cunt until you're seeing stars.

"Joel, too much."

"M'sorry dove." He says, pulling his fingers away from you and sucking them into his mouth.

He moves quickly, reaching for a cloth and some of his pyjama pants from the washing pile on the dining table. He's careful when he runs it over your thighs and in between your legs, holds you carefully when he helps you down from the counter and slips you into the sleep trousers that are far too big. He's soft and warm and careful and everything in between when he holds you against his chest.

"Joel..." He hums. "I don't want to miss you anymore."

You pull away to look up at him, terrified that you'd misread the situation, that your cloudy brain and lingering crush on the father next door has made you overstep the mark.

"Don't wanna miss you either dove." His lips brush yours.

He seems nervous, it's beyond sweet, but you'd never felt so light, so relieved. "Stay?"

"What about Sarah?"

"Please, she's been begging me to date you for months." Oh.

"And what do you want?" His soft thumbs stroke your lips whilst he holds your gaze, soft yet demanding.

"I wanna take you out to dinner. Want you next to me when I wake up in the mornings. I want you to sit on my face til your crying. Wanna give you everything you want, no matter how ridiculous, I just want you, if you'll let me." Oh. Big oh. You pull him close, resting a hand over his quick beating heart, worried it just might give out.

"You already have me."

He flashes a toothy grin, his blue eyes sparkling even in a dimly lit room. He kisses you slow and sweet, pouring every ounce of care an affection into your lips making it certain. You absolutely already have him too.

#joel tlou #joel miller #joel miller x reader #pre outbreak!joel #tlou #the last of us hbo #the last of us smut #dilf!joel #joel miller smut #tlou smut

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angelkhi-reclibrary · 1 year

Text

happy new year lovelies 🫶🏾 🎉

love me, hate me - s.r

summary: steve rogers pisses you off, and you piss him off. but is it really ever that simple?

warnings: SMUT 18+ (MINORS DNI), p in v, switch steve & reader, face sitting, unprotected sex, talks of bodily fluids, enemies to lovers a little bit, slight hate fucking but also not?? feelings at the end sort of.

word count: 2.8.k

a little note: Happy New Year to you all! finished this at 4 am so not beta’d any mistakes are my own (seriously i just spelled mistakes as ‘mestayks’ so like sorry lol) half based on this request but also something i already had in the works that seemed to mesh xx

"Let's not forget who's doing who a favour." You chide, already irritated by presence.

"Please sweetheart, I'm doing you more of a favour than you realise."

"And how's that Mr Rogers?" You fix his crooked tie. Always picking up after him.

"You walk in there with me? There's no way you're going home alone tonight." He smooths out the collar on his shirt, checking himself over in the mirror. "Your little problem gets solved."

"My little problem?"

"Don't get me wrong, Yels, it's great doing it yourself but it would be nice for someone give me an orgasm every now and then."

"You fuckin pig! You were listening to my conversation?" You're embarrassed. Beyond embarrassed. If there's one person that doesn't need to know about your dwindling sex life it's Steve Rogers.

"It's kinda hard not to overhear yours and Yelena's screeching on girls night." Once again those fingers fly up into quotation marks and you have to blink yourself free from the daze you're slipping into.

Maybe Steve does have a point, you're significantly louder after a bottle or two of rose, but it doesn't give him the right to use your own words against you.

"You're a dick, Rogers. It's none of your fucking business how many orgasms I have." He's smirking down at you now, something in his eyes you've never seen before. "Let's just get this over with. I don't want to have to see your face any longer than necessary."

The two of you enter the ballroom together as planned, and heads turn almost instantly. The quiet gasps and turning heads boost his scolded ego more than nicely. But that's all it is. A soothing bandage over a painful wound.

Stark's infamous shindigs that rivalled even the most grand of galas, yet you are the only thing that matters to him in a room filled with expensive champagne and extravagant sculptures. He watches you from across the room, Bucky's latest debrief on Sam's irritating behaviour blending into the mindless background chatter.

You're done up to the nines, pretty hair twisted in some intricate up-do, and that dress. That fucking dress. He wonders if things would be easier if you knew how he really felt about you, that the trading of insults between the two of you is the only way he can resist pinning you against every available surface and fucking the attitude out of you.

You work your charm with everyone that comes up to you, offering you drinks and boring conversation. You know you're in charge, so do they, and so does he.

He spots you talking to a pretty redhead he soon recognises as Wanda, she's changed since he last saw her. But he much more notices the lingering stares and flirtatious touches, the way you lean into each other and laugh a little too loud. Jealousy is no longer a green eyed monster, but a blonde haired, blue eyed super soldier.

You happen to glance over at him in that moment, taking in his tensed jaw and white-knuckle grip on his champagne flute, expecting it to shatter under any more force. He watches as you smirk in his direction, and the go back to the conversation like he wasn't even there. Sam and Bucky pull him away to a conversation that is meant to be important and he loses sight of you for the rest of the evening.

The party starts to get a little too lively towards 11pm, the rowdy crowd excited about the looming new year. You find yourself at the bar, sick of your uncomfortable shoes, ready to get more than drunk, kiss a bottle at midnight and fall into bed with your vibrator once again. Someone slides into the empty seat next to you, speaking to the bar tender. You catch the 'and whatever she's having' and roll your eyes just wanting to be left alone at this point.

Your double vodka and cranberry is slid in front of you and you take a single sip before turning to the man next to you. He's attractive, with his full beard and long brown hair. There's something in his eyes but you don't care enough to find out that much about him. He shakes your hand firmly, introducing himself as Quentin Beck. You smile and thank him when he compliments you, you hum and nod when he tells you about his latest technological venture that sounds weirdly similar to Tony's, you smile coyly when he rests a hand on your thigh and offers to take you somewhere a little less private.

You're silently disappointed that this is the best you could do on a night like tonight but you're not one to look a fort horse in the mouth. He guides you through the crowd with a hand around your waist until the function room doors come into view and your excitement dims even further. Steve stands in the doorway, arms crossed and biceps bulging as he stares at Quentin and then his hand on your waste.

"Hey honey." He wraps his fingers around your wrist lightly, stopping you in your tracks. He stares down at you for a second too long, then diverts his gaze to Beck.

"Fuck off." Two words. Two are all it takes for Quentin to crumble.

His hand moves from your waist faster than you can blink and he's already being swallowed up by the crowd when you turn away from glaring at Steve. His fingers linger around your wrist but you shrug him off, and leave the grand ballroom stomping down to the elevator.

He follows you of course, right up to your door, pushing inside when you try and slam it in his face.

"Honey that guy was a creep."

"Don't 'honey' me you just ruined my one good chance of getting laid tonight." You kick off your shoes.

"Well I wouldn't call it a good chance..."

"What was that?!" You're about to fiddle with the zip of your dress but instead steve has your attention and an insane amount of audacity.

"M'just saying he wouldn't have been worth it." He pauses, sitting on your bed uninvited. "Doesn't look like he can find his car keys let alone please a woman."

"I guess I'll never know now." You scoff.

"Use me instead."

What in the sweet baby jesus?!

"How much have you had to drink?" You chuckle, and go back to working your zip.

"You know I can't get drunk. How much have you had to drink?" He retorts, reaching up to undo the zipper for you.

"Not enough for this to be a hallucination. What's in it for you?"

"An orgasm." Fair enough.

"Why are you doing this? Are you trying to humiliate me?"

"What? No! I'm just trying to apologise for ruining your New Years hook up." He looks sincere, but then Steve never lies. You on the other hand, would be lying if you said you didn't want to jump his bones at least twenty three and a half of the twenty four hours in the day. And he's offering himself to you on a golden platter. Why turn. it down?

"Strip."

It's a simple word, but it holds so much power. Starting something that may just fucking ruin you. But you want it. He wants it. The easy route be damned. Steve is quick to discard his clothing, looking up at you expectantly waiting for your next request. You simply just let your dress drop, carefully stepping over the expensive fabric and slotting yourself between Steve's legs. His eyes widen when he realises you'd neglected to put on any underwear that evening. She reaches out to touch you, rest a hand on your hip but you slap it away.

"Lay back." You kneel over his hips, excitement fizzling on your skin as he rests on his elbows, taking up an insane amount of space with his broad shoulders and wide thighs. He doesn't move any further, a sly smirk on his lips and wonder in his eyes.

"I said I don't want to see your face, lie the fuck back." You have him under your thumb, and your pussy, when he lays back against the cotton sheets you crawl across his body and rest above his face. His hands grip onto the backs of your thighs, usually light eyes dark with lust.

"No touching." You thread his arms above him, resting forward and pinning them against the pillows. His response is muffled when you lower yourself onto his face. His tongue works wonders when he's not using it to talk and you definitely prefer it when he's not talking.

You grind yourself down against his pliant tongue, clit bumping his stupidly perfect nose with each thrust. You're taking what you deserve from him, what he owes you and you fucking love it. You love the fact that he could easily slip you underneath him, pin you beneath him and pull you apart but instead he's letting you use him, letting you grind yourself to an orgasm on his face.

"You're not so useless after all Rogers, fucking hell." His lips purse around your exposed clit and your thighs shake a little. You press yourself further against him, chasing your well deserved orgasm until you're panting above him half spent.

Lifting yourself off of him, you take in his flushed cheeks and blown out eyes. God he's pretty. Your hand strokes through his hair and he leans into your touch. Putty in your hands.

You reach back, your hands almost dwarfed by the impressive size of his pretty cock. You struggle to wrap your hands around him fully, but when you start stroking him slow but firm it doesn't matter. His face twists into one of pure bliss and his hips fuck up into your fist desperately. Deciding enough is enough you manoeuvre down his body, hovering over his painfully hard weeping cock. You drag him through your folds, almost slipping him in before bumping his engorged head against your clit until you're right on the edge of desperation and finally sink down on him.

You take him slowly at first, unable to stay quiet as he stretches you open. There's a slight sting but my god does it sting so good. Once he's fully sheathed you take a moment to accommodate, grinding down on him, twin moans coming from the two of you. You raise yourself up again, right to the tip and back down, slowly building the rhythm until you're bouncing on his cock, hitting spots you didn't even know existed panting for breath.

"You feel so fucking good." You whimper chasing your own pleasure, fuelled by Steve's. He fists the bedsheets, so obedient trying not to touch you, but you look so pretty and broken and you're touching yourself whilst you ride him, clenching down on his dick so fucking perfectly. He's more vocal than. you expected, grunting and moaning and whining.

"Fuck I'm gonna come. Steve." Your fingers roll your taught nipples between your fingers, pinching and pulling. Steve's hips stutter for a moment, but then he's right there with you, fucking up into your perfect cunt until you're shaking on his dick, grinding your clit against his pubic bone and falling over the edge.

He doesn't give you a second to breath, wrapping his strong arms around you and placing you flat on your back. You're breathless, your vision is still fuzzy but then he's pounding into you. Lifting your leg above his shoulder opening you up up to him even more. You're well and truly fucked. Not a single word or thought or even sound registering. You're just wide eyed and open mouthed and taking what he gives you.

"Not so cocky now are we, hmm sweetheart." His thumb flicks your clit once and you're coming all over again, a loud scream echoing off of the walls.

"There she is. So fucking perfect, taking what you need. Did I do well, did I satisfy your greedy pussy or do you still want more?"

"St-Steve. More." You sound so broken, so unalike yourself but you never want to go back to her when you can be this.

"Course you fuckin do. Play with your tits for me, that's a good girl." He thrusts slow but deep, your weak legs held in position by his huge hands. He relishes in your flushed face and smudged makeup. Your hair has foregone the confines of bobby pins and it's splayed out on the cushion behind you. You're fucking perfect.

"Who's cunt is this?" Your eyes lull into the back of your head when he delivers a quick sharp tap to your clit. "Tell me who's cunt it is and I'll let you cum."

"Y-Yours. Yours Steve."

"Good. And who's fuckin dick is this tearing you apart?" It's all too much, you're on the verge of crying from the overstimulation. "Who's is it?"

"Mine."

"Good fucking girl." He punctuates his words with his thrusts, picking up speed once more and rubbing small quick circles against your clit. Your tears do spill then, dark mascara running down your cheeks when you explode all over him.

He fucks you through the orgasm, pulling out of you when you begin to claw at his chest, leaving pretty marks all over him. He kneels over you, furiously stroking himself to completion until he cums in long white ropes all over your breasts, chest heaving and panting. He collapses next to you, silent as you try to catch your breaths and wrap your head around what just happened.

It shouldn't surprise you when Steve gets up to the bathroom and comes back with a washcloth, but it does. It leaves you stunned. You try not to show it though, nor do you give him a glimpse at how disappointed you are about leaving.

"Damn Rogers, you really know how to hate fuck." Steve's gaze is frantic, but mostly confused.

"Hate? I don't hate you." His eyebrows are pulled together so tightly you're scared they might just fuse into one another.

"Could've fooled me." You pull up your underwear and pull on his shirt foregoing the tight dress.

"Look. I don't. Hate. You. Do you get on my nerves? Sometimes. But I could never hate you."

"So what? You wanna call the way you've treated me since I got here a proclamation of your undying love." He's silent. "You can't be fucking serious Rogers."

"Don't be like that, you gave just as good as you got." You scoff, but it's the truth. "Every time I look at you I want to fuck you, every time I see someone even look at you I wanna fuckin... I don't know!"

"Steve..."

"You terrify me. I have all these feelings for you, but you're so... you. You're so gorgeous, you're potty mouth and you're strong and you don't take shit from no one, not even me. I'm an idiot, I know that and I don't expect a sorry to fix anything, but I need you to know that that wasn't a one time thing, I want you."

"Well fuck. You have feelings for me?" He nods, simple, effective and oh so Steve Rogers. "I thought. I don't know what I though. I walked in here and you just stared at me and left, and I guess I though you took one look at me and decided I wasn't enough. So I decided I was gonna prove you wrong."

"I think you're everything. You've certainly proved me right." He looks angry, at himself at and the situation, but mostly at the fact that you'd ever thought those things about yourself.

"Right pair of idiots we are." You mutter, trying to lighten the you're-not-sure-what mood. He pulls you into his lap, rough hand resting around your waist.

"Aren't we just." He whispers against your lips.

"How many people did you tell to fuck off tonight? Just out of interest."

"Bout 15." He mumbles and then laughs, "don't regret a single one of them though."

You surge forward and press against him. His lips are softer than expected and his movements are so slow, so tentative. You arch into him, greed driving your need to make up for the last few wasted months.

A loud bang erupts from outside of the glass windows, popping into a concoction of golds and reds and pinks, until the New York skyline is littered with individual fireworks displays.

"Happy New Year Rogers." You whisper against his lips, though it turns into a breathless whimper when he pulls your panties to the side. "You get on my nerves too by the way. Like a whole lot."

"Yeah yeah. Happy New Year."

#chris evans #marvel #marvel smut #smut #avengers endgame #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader smut #steve rogers #nomad steve #chris evans smut

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