#abraham x reader

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Hi I’d like to request Abraham with a breeding kink. They’ve already got twin boys and another boy but Abraham wants a girl like her mother, so he puts reader in a mating press and fucks her stupid till his cums taken root

Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Semi-arranged marriage. Ideals that might seem sexist but are quite typical for Romani communities, especially in a 1950s setting. Mention of loss of virginity. Breeding kink. Smut. Word count: ~2k

Author's note: I did a lot of research into Romani culture to ensure I got this right, but if there's anything that is incorrect or handled insensitively, please let me know. Abraham doesn't have a surname, a he's such a minor character, for the purpose of this fic I've given him one - it's Lee - quite a common Romani surname in the UK. I don't have a tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications.

She has spent her whole life dreaming of her wedding day, her thoughts filled with what her husband will be like and how many children they’ll have. 

She idolises her mother. Growing up, she helps her to care for her siblings and to keep a clean home. She learns how to cook, how to sew, all of the skills that will shape her into the perfect Romani wife. 

She hopes for a union that will strengthen her and her future husband’s familial ties and contribute towards their small community of travellers. 

It’s with excitement when she turns eighteen that she learns that a man within their community wishes to marry her, but she is nervous when she finally gets to meet him. 

Abraham; she knows of him, though they have never properly spoken. She finds him intimidating. He’s tall, has sharply chiseled features, slicked back hair and piercing blue eyes, tattoos litter his forearms. He is undeniably handsome, but there’s something about his smirk that suggests an element of danger. She’s uncertain of whether it frightens or excites her, the feeling that flutters in her lower belly when she looks at him is unfamiliar to her.

Her fate is sealed when Abraham gifts one of his prized thoroughbreds to her parents as his bride price. It’s a massive horse, with a shiny chestnut coat that he has clearly cared well for. He could sell it into racing and earn thousands, so the fact that he is prepared to part ways with it in exchange for her hand in marriage is more than enough to convince her mother and father. She cannot deny the way her heart flutters at the gesture either, it’s exciting to know that a man of his reputation is so eager to be wed to her.

Their wedding day feels like a dream come true, with both their families coming together to celebrate the happy couple. Yet despite the jubilant atmosphere and effort everyone has gone to to ensure the day is perfect, nerves swirl like butterflies within her. Their courtship has never allowed them any real time alone together and she is anxious for what will happen on their wedding night when it’s finally just the two of them.

As they join hands, Abraham’s blue eyes gazing deeply into hers with a tenderness she didn’t know he was capable of, her stomach does flips, but this time anxiety is not the cause.

When his lips press against hers for their first kiss, she is taken aback by their remarkable softness. He treats her with such reverence and care, as though he is handling something precious and fragile.

She trembles like a leaf as his steady hands help her out of her wedding dress to lay her down upon their marital bed. His calloused palms stroke across her skin, soothing her and she is once more surprised at his gentleness, a stark juxtaposition to his rugged appearance.

He takes his time with her, his kisses and caresses are unhurried, causing her to melt with pleasure, so that when he does push inside of her for the first time she feels only the faintest of stings.

As soon as she relaxes, her breathing growing heavier, her hips chasing the movement of his, it’s as though a switch is flipped inside of him.

He slings one of her legs over his shoulder, his thrusts becoming harder and faster, his forehead pressed against hers against as his eyes stare into hers.

“Been fuckin’ obsessed wi’ ya since I first laid eyes on ya,” he rasps, “Knew I had to have ya. You’re gonna look so pretty when I knock you up.”

She gasps at his words, tightening involuntarily around him, and it’s not long before he’s spilling inside of her as her own climax sends her sensitive inner walls into spasms.

Abraham’s appetite for her is insatiable and he has her on every available surface of their shared caravan, at every opportunity. She grows to love him. He has a mean streak, though it is never directed towards her; he treats her with utter adoration and is fiercely protective of her. It is only when they are intimate that his temperament towards her darkens, becoming possessive, spilling forth confessions of his desires for her to fall pregnant. She doesn't mind this, however; on the contrary, it excites her. When they aren’t together, he works hard with the horses, while she takes care of their home, and their married life is a happy one.

When she learns she’s expecting, he’s ecstatic, his large hand cradling her abdomen as he smiles down at her. She gives birth to healthy twin boys, Noah and Elijah, and six months later she discovers she’s pregnant again.

She is overjoyed when her third baby boy, Logan, is placed into her arms, though there is a small part of her that feels disappointment that he’s not a girl.

Over the next five years, their home is filled with love and laughter as the boys grow and Abraham dotes on all of them. The male energy within their home can feel stifling at times for her, and when their sons excitedly accompany Abraham to the stables each day, she feels lonely, missing the connection she had with her mother.

She longs for a daughter, someone she can teach to cook and look after a home, much like her mother did for her. But with three noisy boys keeping them occupied, there is rarely time for them to try again.

Wistfully, she thinks back on the days of when Abraham thrust into her on every surface, a memory that now seems unrealistic when they’re battling against endless shouts of “I’m hungry!” and “he’s hitting me!”

The sun has barely begun to rise as she slips out of bed, unable to sleep. Her hands cup around the steaming mug of tea as she stares out of the caravan window at the horizon, a sense of longing settling into her as she thinks about how soon her husband and the boys would be awake, leaving her alone again for the day.

She is startled out of her thoughts when she feels Abraham’s sturdy arms wrap around her waist, his chest against her back as he leans over her shoulder. The cleft of his nose presses into her hair, inhaling deeply before dragging lightly across her cheekbone.

“You’re up early, Mrs. Lee,” he whispers.

She hums in acknowledgement, leaning back against him. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“You alright, love?” Concern tinges his voice, his hand raising to cup her jaw, tilting her face to look at him.

“It’s stupid, don’t worry,” she says, moving away to place her mug in the washing up bowl on the kitchenette side.

“Oi,” he chides, grabbing her arm and pulling her back to him. “Less of that. Tell me.”

She sighs, pressing her palms flat against the solid expanse of his chest, before sliding them upwards to rest on his shoulders. “I just…I get lonely with you and the boys gone all day. I’ve just always wanted–”

“A girl?” Abraham cuts her off with a smirk.

“Yeah…” She says, lowering her gaze, feeling her skin heat up with embarrassment.

“What’s to stop us trying?” He asks, rubbing his hands up and down her arms.

She scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Fat chance of that when we’ve got a caravan full of screaming kids already.”

He nods his head, pursing his lips thoughtfully. “Well, how about we send the boys to Cora’s for a bit tonight? Once I’m finished with the horses today, it’ll be just you and me for the evening.”

Her eyes light up and she grins excitedly, the thought of some alone time with her husband for the first time in five years making her feel giddy. “Oh, I’d love that!”

When Abraham and the boys are ready to leave for the stables later that morning, he leans in to whisper to her as he kisses her cheek. “Hope you’re ready for all the things I’m gonna do to you later.”

A shiver of excitement shoots up her spine and she spends the rest of the day filled with nervous energy, unable to concentrate properly on anything.

In spite of her restless excitement, she ensures the caravan is spotless and bakes Abraham his favourite steak and kidney pie for dinner.

When he steps through the door later that evening, he’s unaccompanied by their sons, and is holding a bunch of wildflowers, which she recognises from the fields that surround his walk to and from the stables. She smiles at the thought that he’d gone to the effort to pick them for her, taking them from him with a peck on the lips as thanks.

“Made your favourite for dinner,” she tells him, as he backs her up towards the bedroom with a predatory glint in his eye.

“Smells good,” he tells her, hands moving to encircle her waist, “but maybe we can start with pudding?”

He dips his head, capturing her lips with his own and kisses her slowly, yet the hand that moves to cradle the back of her head serves as a quiet reminder that he’s in control.

“Clothes off, Mrs. Lee”, he instructs quietly, pushing her gently back on to the bed.

Her breathing comes in quick, shallow pants of eagerness, as she works to unbutton her blouse with shaky fingers. 

Abraham watches her intently, his hands slowly unbuckling his belt as she bares herself to him. He makes quick work of the rest of his clothes once she’s completely undressed, and covers her body with his own, all lithe, lean muscle and tattoos.

“You gonna let me taste you?” He murmurs against the shell of her ear.

She shivers, her voice coming out in a whine. “Please, I’ve waited for you all day, I don’t need that, just want you.”

“So desperate,” he chuckles, dipping a hand between her legs.

She gasps as he swipes his fingers through her folds, collecting the arousal that’s gathered there.

“Fuckin’ hell, you’re soaked.”

She lets out a quiet mewl in response, her body arching against his.

He smirks, gripping the base of his cock and sliding the head through her wetness, causing her to emit a needy sigh.

“Abe, please…”

He answers by sheathing himself fully inside of her in one fluid thrust, causing her to cry out.

“Wrap your legs around me,” he commands quietly, “wanna make sure I’m nice and deep.”

She does as she’s told, tipping her head back at the sensation of how far inside the change in angle pulls him.

Abraham grunts, pulling his hips back before slamming them forward once more. The pace he sets is relentless, fucking her into the mattress with urgency.

“Gonna fill you up,” he murmurs to her, “you look so fuckin’ good when you’re pregnant, love, can’t wait to see it again.”

She moans, walls fluttering around him at his filthy words, every drag of him inside of her pushes and pulls against a spot that has her toes curling and her voice raising an octave.

His brow furrows with exertion, full lips parted as he pants for breath, his grip on her thighs near bruising. He releases one of them, pressing his palm flat against her lower belly.

“Wanna make sure it goes all the way in here, love” he grits out, pace never faltering.

The combination of what he’s telling her and the way he uses her so forcefully nudges her closer to the edge and she tenses, feeling her peak begin to build inside of her.

Abraham’s gaze darkens as he senses this. “Nearly there, aren’t ya? Come on, give it to me.”

He slides the hand on her belly downwards, stopping when he reaches her pearl and circles pressured strokes against it with his thumb.

The added stimulus causes the already near unbearable pressure to build, until finally it reaches its boiling point, and she falls apart as waves of white hot pleasure roll through her body.

Abraham stills with a grunt, pushing himself as deep as he can possibly go, pulsating as he spills inside of her.

He collapses against her, breathless and sweaty, and she wraps her arms around him, breathing in the comforting scent of him.

“When’s Cora dropping the boys back off?” She asks quietly, after a few moments of satisfied silence.

“Not until tomorrow morning,” he says with a grin, “we’ve got all night.”

Nine months later, when little Esme is placed into her arms, she’s glad that they did.

#abraham #ewan mitchell #abraham x reader #abraham smut #abraham x you #abraham x y/n #abraham grantchester #abraham imagine #abraham fan fiction #abraham fanfiction #abraham fanfic #abraham fan fic #grantchester smut #grantchester fan fiction #grantchester fanfiction #grantchester fanfic #grantchester fan fic #grantchester

[fan-goddess]

Girlish Daydreams

A/N: I am not a member of the Romani people, nor do I know anyone who is. This whole thing is based off limited research and other fics I’ve read about his character and his culture, which I have tried to keep as accurate as I possibly could. Google is known to be misleading in searches, so If I for instance get a name wrong or use a phrase incorrectly and I offend someone, tell me what it was so I can apologise and hopefully correct it as best as I can do. I want this to be a place where someone isn’t afraid of reaching out when I have made a mistake

Pairing: Abraham x reader

Summary: You’ve never seen Abraham as a husband, let alone a person worth thinking of. Yet his sudden new involvement in your life may have you thinking differently not just about him, but about everything you’ve ever thought about

The story Taglist: @valeskafics, @omgbrcat @humanpurposes, @watercolorskyy, @blue-serendipity @anjelicawrites @lexwolfhale

Chapter One: A child’s dream

Chapter Two: A change of heart

Chapter Three: Before and now

Chapter Four: A new kind of promise

Chapter Five: Loving your husband

The Epilogue: This is a happy house (?/?)

#abraham grantchester #abraham fan fic #abraham x you #abraham fan fiction #abraham fanfic #Abraham #abraham smut #abraham fanfiction #abraham imagine #abraham x reader #ewan mitchell character #Ewan Mitchell #ewan mitchell fanfic #ewan mitchell fanfiction #Ewan nation

[troublesomesnitch]

Abraham (Grantchester) x Reader

Inspired by Ewanmitchellcrumb's amazing Abraham fics, in particular this one.

Contents: smut. first kiss, making out, dry humping, handjob. Porn without plot (and porn without penetration).

Warnings: arranged marriage, oldfashioned gender roles and attitudes towards sex and marriage. Abraham being dickish (but he's trying to be nicer)

Words: 3600

Purity culture and dry humping, name a more iconic duo, i'll wait.

-

The rain is beating hard against the tin roof.

You are huddled up against the wall, your arms wrapped tightly around your legs to keep warm. You had gone out for an afternoon walk to find some peace and quiet, and maybe pick some of the first little spring flowers, when you were suddenly caught in a torrential downpour. Not too keen on the idea of sprinting all the way home, you scrambled to take shelter in the first place you could think of: a dilapidated shed at the edge of a muddy field. The old farmer used to store tools and machinery there, but now it stands abandoned and in disrepair, full of cobwebs and mouse droppings.

If one was alone it might be quite an unnerving place, located as it is right on the border of the woods.

But you are not alone.

Abraham is sitting right across from you, dressed in his usual plaid jacket and red neckerchief, his long legs stretched out on the floor. When you stumbled inside he was already there, having sought shelter from the rain himself.

You only narrowly managed to convince him to stay.

As a young, unmarried girl, you are not supposed to be alone with men. Not even with Abraham - especially not with Abraham. The two of you will be getting married in just over a month, but the rules of courtship are strict, and every minute you spend with him must be chaperoned. Something that he has, surprisingly, taken very seriously. Maybe because his first attempt at an engagement didn't exactly work out as planned.

Still, your parents are satisfied with the match, and for the most part, you are too. Abraham is quite handsome, you think, with those splendid blue eyes, and he's just a few years older than you. A little rough around the edges, but he doesn't mind hard work, and he is good with children and animals, and those are fine qualities in a man.

Sometimes, he lets you sit and watch while he cares for his horses; cleans their stalls and their hooves, brushes their coats, takes them out to the pasture for excercise. He speaks so calmly to them, firm voice when they disobey him and soft when they are skittish or scared, and there is something so endearing about it. You wonder if he will speak to you in the same way once you're married. Harsh when you disappoint him, but gentle when he lies on top of you at night. You'd like that, you think.

Right now, Abraham doesn't speak to you at all. It is not too out the ordinary, as he isn't particularly talkative in the first place, but you had hoped that being alone with you might loosen him up a little. Instead, it seems to have had the opposite effect, and for the past twenty minutes or so, he has occupied himself with throwing pebbles and broken bits of plaster at a glass jar on the floor.

Not the most riveting pastime - but it does give you an idea.

"How about we make a game of it" you suggest, when the silence has become so deafening you can hardly bear it. "Best of five. If you win, I'll bring you lunch tomorrow - anything you want."

"Yea?" Abraham hums, looking up and right at you, clearly intrigued.

"And If I win - " you pause, a deep scarlet blush creeping up your neck. "If I win, I want a kiss".

"No" he says, right away and with a stern expression, his mouth forming a thin line.

"Just one -"

"No" he repeats, but it's a little softer this time, and he gives you a cocky half-smile. "You'll get one soon enough, don't you worry about that".

"But I won't win" you try. "You know I won't. Or" - you eye him teasingly- "do you really think you might loose to a girl?"

It's the same argument you would use against your little brother, and when Abraham's face settles into something very offended, you can hardly believe it actually worked. But all boys are the same apparently, even when they're grown men. Always have something to prove to the world and themselves and each other.

"I win - " he grumbles, "you bring lunch every day, rest of the week. And your mum's cider."

It's Wednesday today. Four days isn't a lot, you can manage that. There's not much cider left, but Mum will understand, she'll be happy to know that you're taking good care of your soon-to-be husband.

"Alright then" you nod. "You go first."

The odds are against you, because Abraham has had plenty of time to practice already, something you forgot to consider when you issued the challenge. But you are determined put up a good fight, not only because you ache to know what kissing is like, but also because you want to know what Abraham is like. If he's rough or gentle. If he's a passionate lover, or someone who just wants you to lie still and be quiet when he performs his marital duties.

As expected, his first stone goes straight into the glass; yours unfortunately bounces off the side of it. But then Abraham narrowly misses his second one, while yours actually hits the intended target. It gives you at least a glimmer of hope.

And then, something happens. Something very strange.

Abraham picks a rather large stone, but he overshoots by just a little and it lands on the dusty floor.

And the next one does too. And the one after that.

It must be on purpose, it must be. But his face betrays nothing at all, only the same disgruntled expression he always wears, and soon there's only one pebble left. Your very last one, and it lands in the glass with a loud plink.

"I won" you state, in complete disbelief, and the corners of Abraham's mouth twitch up a little.

"Looks like it, yea"

You eye him with suspicion. "But you hit - you got four in a row just before we started -".

"Beginner's luck" he shrugs, rising to his feet and brushing his hands on his trousers. When you hesitate, he cocks his head. "C'mere".

You do not need to be told twice, instantly flitting to his side and tilting up your face like you've seen ladies do in the movies. Abraham breathes deeply, and he places his hands on your waist to pull you closer. He smells nice, like fresh rain and firewood and a little bit like damp wool. You close your eyes.

"You ever kissed a man before?" he murmurs, so close that you can feel his warm breath fanning over your face.

You shake your head - of course you haven't.

There's no response to that, only calloused hands touching your face, Abraham's nose brushing your temple. He bends his head, and when he presses his lips to yours, you are not prepared for how soft they are, and how warm, and how gentle. His mouth opens slightly, his tongue slipping just past your lips, and then he releases your face and pulls back.

"There" he mutters, but you are not ready to part from him yet. Your hands cling to his jacket and your eyes are heavy and hooded when they flutter open.

"Again" you breathe.

He shouldn't, he really shouldn't, you are absolutely not allowed to do such things before the wedding. But Abraham is a young man, and since your engagement was officially agreed upon, he has surprisingly managed to stay out of trouble - mostly, at least - and away from neglected young housewives and the reverend's shapely daughters. It has been... a while since he last touched a girl, and you are the prettiest little thing, with your wet, parted lips and your hair frizzed from the rain. How could he possibly resist when you're looking up at him like that, begging for more?

Your first kiss was sweet and demure, but this time, Abraham wraps both arms around your waist and runs his hands up your back. He nibbles at your lower lip before he slides his tongue into your mouth, deeper this time, so he can brush it against your own. When you mewl it goes straight to his crotch, and he deepens the kiss, tilting your head to the side with a finger under your chin.

You mustn't, you shouldn't, you can't, but your body is burning with want, and you think Abraham's must be too. He's holding you closer, letting his hands wander over your body, your hips, your waist, the small of your back. They move to squeeze your bottom, and when he pushes his hips forward, there's something hard poking at your stomach.

It sends a jolt of excitement down your spine.

In theory, you know what a man looks like under his clothes. The men work outside in the summer, and many take off their shirts and roll up the legs of their trousers in the heat. But you have never seen a man fully naked, and you have never felt a man's body pressed up against you like this. Abraham's chest is hard, and his shoulders are broad, and his arms feel so strong when they're wrapped around you. He moves to kiss just below your ear, and you take the opportunity to let your hands roam tentatively over his chest and his stomach, even reaching under his jacket to feel the warmth of his skin through his shirt.

It's nice, but it isn't enough to satisfy your curiosity. You want to touch him there.

Abraham breaks the kiss when he feels your hand inching towards his crotch, but he doesn't stop you. Just looks at you stunned, with darkened eyes and a slight flush across his handsome nose. His... his - cock is straining in his pants, and you brush your fingers over the bulge, feeling how he hardens even more at your touch. It is clumsy and inexperienced, but Abraham still closes his eyes, and his hand comes down to cover yours and press it harder against him.

It feels good for him, despite your lack of practice; you can tell. You cup his crotch, and he lets out a sharp breath and bucks right into your palm. You tilt your face up again to kiss along his jaw as you rub him through his trousers, feeling how he swells and throbs from your touch, until he suddenly swats your hand away.

You worry that you have overstepped, or done something that hurt him, but he leans over you, and tugs at your hips - to pull you down with him, you realise. Right down to the floor, although he is at least gallant enough to shrug of his jacket and lay you on that, rather than directly on the ground.

Immediately, he starts on the buttons of your coat, almost ripping the garment open to part it from your chest. His hands greedily palm your breasts, covered only by your dress and the brassiere underneath, and he squeezes your flesh; pinches your nipples through the fabric and rolls them under his thumbs. They stiffen from his touch and he leans over you and brushes his mouth against your chest, even latching onto one pert nipple, sucking and biting until your dress is wet from his spit.

It makes you whine with both pleasure and pain, and surprise too. You have never been touched like this before, never felt wanted like this before. Abraham's eyes are dark with lust, and it is almost frightening how determined he looks when he hooks a hand under each of your knees to push them apart.

You gasp when he lays over you. His body is warm, and heavy, and it feels so right to lie like this underneath him, caged in by his arms and with your thighs spread wide around his hips. His cock is big and hard and he presses the thick bulge between your legs, and grunts softly at the feeling. You can't help but wonder how many girls have been underneath him before, because he's so unabashed in the way he pushes his hips against yours, so eager when he starts rocking back and forth, clearly mimicking... other things.

Your hands cling to his shirt and you arch up to kiss him again, sighing when catches your lip between his teeth. They don't kiss like this in the movies. At least not in the ones you have seen. Your mouth is wide open, and Abraham is absolutely devouring it, licking your lips, shoving his tongue all the way to the back of your throat. It is rough and needy, and there's a trail of spit between you when he pulls back to catch his breath.

If someone found out, you'd be in so much trouble. Abraham is on you, and his cock is stiff, and he is moving so intimately against you, but you can't bring yourself to stop him. It feels wonderful, having his weight on top of you, having his hard cock pressed against your center. His bulge is big and hard and heavy between your thighs, and he's groaning as he rubs it against you, rolling his hips steadily, rhythmically. As though he was really inside you, and you are not sure if it's on purpose or pure instinct, or maybe a bit of both.

It has you swooning, just thinking about it. How badly he must want you, how needy he must feel, his cock all hard and swollen and his balls so full of his - his come. The thought of it makes you sigh, makes you feel soaking wet, makes that tingling warmth spread even faster in your loins. There are so many things are happening in your body; the kissing, the rubbing, the pressure between your legs - God you've never felt anything like it. You squirm underneath him and spread your thighs wider.

it makes Abraham groan, your hands on his chest and the way your hips are bucking and circling against his cock, and fuck he'll go crazy if you keep making those noises, those soft little whimpers. His cock is pulsing and his balls are pulled tight, and seeing your face all twisted with pleasure has him leaking already.

Truthfully, it was Pal's idea that he should pursue you, just like it was Pal who first spoke to your father on his behalf - but as you are a sweet and pretty girl, Abraham could see no reason why he shouldn't go along with it. He is a grown man, and a grown man needs a wife, and he likes looking at your legs when you help your mother with the laundry. Especially when you wear that grey dress that is a little too tight around your hips. Once you're married he will buy you a brand new one, and a nice pair of shoes with a little heel, and you'll be such a pretty little wife, cooking his meals and washing his clothes and giving him kisses when he comes home.

He moves faster, pressing his hard bulge even tighter against you, and you can feel something building in your body, though you are only barely aware of what it is. Your muscles are tightening and tensing up, desperate for a release that you instinctively know how to find, and you arch your hips up and rub frantically against Abraham's cock. You need more, more friction, more pressure just there, and you hook a leg over his back so you can push up better. Abraham lets you chase your peak, even helps you along by sliding his hand underneath your bottom to press you tighter against him. He is utterly mesmerised by the sight, your blissful expression as you shamelessly use his body for your own pleasure, sighing and whimpering and grinding your little cunt so desperately against him.

When he kisses you again, all the tension breaks.

You gasp, and Abraham watches you intently as a series of tiny little shivers run through your body. A very gentle climax - your first, by the looks of it. You writhe and moan beneath him, and when the waves of your orgasm settle, you are all blushed and looking up at him with glazed, love-struck eyes.

He could probably coax you into sleeping with him right now if he wanted to, but in a - frankly rare - moment of chivalry, he decides against it. You're a sweet girl, saving yourself for marriage and all. Your first time should be somewhere nicer than in this cold, filthy shed.

One way or another though, he will make you finish him off properly, and he sits back on his heels and quickly unbuckles his belt. Abraham's cock is impressive in size, and he is very proud of it; always enjoys the look of amazement on a girl's face when he frees it from his trousers.

You look equal parts intrigued and horrified. It is much bigger than you had anticipated, long, pink and bulbous at the tip, and he boldly gives it a few quick tugs as you watch. Even in his hand it looks massive, and you wonder how on earth it'll ever fit inside you, but that is an issue for another day, because Abraham mutters here and reaches for your hand. Your fingers wrap cautiously around his shaft, and it is hard, stiff, and yet so soft at the same time. You have no idea what to do, but Abraham's hand closes over yours, guiding the strength of your grip and the pace of your strokes.

It turns out that pleasing a man is not difficult at all. All you have to do is move your hand up and down, dragging the skin over the tip of his cock and back down again in a quick and firm rhythm. Abraham dips his head into the crook of your neck, and his hands come up to fondle your breasts, his teeth gritted and his eyes squeezed shut. You quickly grow more comfortable with the motion, and you slip your other hand between his legs to fondle his balls too - carefully, as you know that is a very delicate area for a man. They feel big, and hairy, and heavy in your hand, and he moans when you squeeze them lightly, trying your best to massage them in a way that gives him pleasure.

It would seem that you succeed, because it isn't long before Abraham's body tenses and his balls tighten right in your grip.

" - gonna come" he grunts, and you can't help but hold your breath in anticipation.

Abraham groans, and his cock pulses in your hand, and then his semen starts spurting from the tip. There's so much of it, spilling all over your fingers in thick, sticky ropes, and you keep stroking him through his peak, taking in his ragged breaths, the shallow jerks of his hips, the deep furrow of his brow. It is the loveliest thing you've ever laid eyes on, and when he stills your hand and collapses next to you on the floor, your chest swells with pride. You made him do that.

"Fuck" he pants. There's a lock of hair sticking to his forehead, and you are dying to reach over and gently brush it back, but you are too shy to be so familiar.

"Was it good?" you ask instead, hoping for praise or maybe a nice compliment, but Abraham just gives a hoarse laugh as he tucks his cock back into his trousers. You look away. Despite what you did just a moment ago, looking at it now feels terribly indecent.

Outside, the rain has stopped, the wind has died down, and it is high time for you to return home. You wipe your hand clean with a handkerchief - you can rinse it in the stream on the way back - and turn away from him as you smooth out your skirt and button your coat.

"What do you want" Abraham asks suddenly. "For your wedding gift. What do you want?"

Immediately, you start going through all the lists in your head - there are a hundred things to consider when setting up a new household, clothes and dishware and furnishing, and the little hope chest under your bed is already filled to the brim.

"Well-" you begin, "I'll get linens from my mother, and you already have the stove sorted, and Cora said we could have her old cast iron skillet, but we should probably start saving for a -"

"No" he interrupts, impatiently. "Forget all that, what do you want from me"

He looks sheepish and uncomfortable and it takes you a moment to realise that he is trying to be attentive - maybe even romantic.

It makes you want to throw your arms around his neck.

"I don't know" you mutter, blushing all over again. "I haven't thought about it - you don't have to give me anything"

"I'll get you something. Something pretty, yea?" he grins, wide enough that his cheeks crease and dimple - God, he's awfully charming sometimes, when he wants to be.

You blush even deeper, picking at your nails and responding with an awkward yes, yeah alright.

Abraham doesn't say anything after that, already back to his usual sullen demeanor - but right before the door closes behind you, he grabs you by the wrist and pulls you back to kiss you right on the mouth.

You make your way back home, warm all over from the kiss and the excitement and the lingering heat in your core. And maybe a little bit just from the very thought of Abraham himself.

I have never posted fics to tumblr before, please let me know if there's anything wrong with it!

#abraham is criminally underrated in the ewanverse #abraham grantchester #abraham x reader #ewan mitchell #abraham grantchester x reader

[thought--bubble]

All the things you promised

Abraham X (Best Friend Reader)

Warnings after the cut

Word Count:2546

Abraham Masterlist

Full Masterlist

Banners and Dividers by @arcielee

Header by @zaldritzosrose

Based on THIS request

Warnings:: Cheating, Breeding Kink, unprotected PinV, virginity loss.

You stand proudly next to Andrei as your father announces your engagement in front of everyone at dinner.

You're elated. Andrei is sweet and charming, and you were hoping he would eventually ask your father for his blessing.

You had nearly given up hope when finally your father came to you to let you know of Andrei's intentions and ask your opinion on the matter to which you smiled and approved.

You realize now, though, as you stand before all of your family and friends that you missed one very important step in all of this. You did not tell your best friend before the announcement.

No, he had to find out here and now with everyone else. The look of shock on his face and the way he quickly turns and exits make it clear. That was an error.

You hop down from next to Andrei and scramble to find him.

"Abraham!?" You call out as soon as you get outside. Your head swings wildly from side to side, your eyes scanning each farmhouse, stable, and open space before you.

You huff in annoyance when you can't locate him. "Abraham?!" You yell out again. He just came out here. There is no way he can't hear you. Is he ignoring you? No he wouldn't do that.

You don't want to wander too far since it's dark, so you sigh once more before turning to go back inside where everyone is eating. Unaware of the pair of angry blue eyes that watch you from the darkness.

The blue eyes that avoid you from here on out.

The next day, you look high and low for Abraham. You go to all the spots you think he may be working at, you ask around, and no one seems to know where he is. He doesn't come around your wagon once, which is odd. He usually checks in on you at least once each day. Even on his busiest days.

This trend continues over the next few days, quickly becoming a week. You finally see him again, cutting wood and attempt to speak to him, but the moment you get close, he leaves.

Your heart sinks into your stomach as he continues walking away from you as you call his name. Even as you chase him. It's as if he is on auto pilot, and his only goal is to get as far away from you as possible.

With a bruised ego, you give up. You decide to give him some time. Obviously, he is mad that you didn't tell him about the engagement. Maybe he needs just a bit longer to cool off.

You try to be patient, but as the cooling off period stretches across another two weeks, you begin to lose hope.

You decide to search for him again. At this point, you are angry, too. Why wouldn't he just talk to you? Explain why he is so upset? Allow you to apologize? You know he isn't one to get all sensitive or in his feelings, but the least he could do is attempt to speak to you.

These thoughts swirl through your mind as you stomp angrily through the encampment, looking once again in each of the places you think he may be until you finally spot him, brushing a horse in the stables. His eyes staring off in the distance.

"There you are, you mangy mutt." You chuckle, attempting to sound light-hearted. "I've been looking for ya. As I know you are aware."

He stays silent, his eyes still trained toward the nothingness in the distance.

You sigh and pinch your nose in frustration. "Abraham. What is wrong? Is this about the engagement? I meant to tell you, really I did, but things moved quickly"

He grunts and puts the brush down, gently patting the horse on the back before turning to leave the stables.

"Do you plan to just ignore me then? Until the end of days?" Your annoyance and anger are evident in your tone

He lowers his head, his back still turned to you.

"No"

Finally, he speaks, weeks without hearing his voice have made you feel tender at the sound. The anger and annoyance start to fade, and you're left with your hurt and longing.

"Then talk to me. Look at me! Something." you take two small tentative steps toward him. Your heart beats in your chest loudly, adrenaline causing your hands to shake, yet you keep on.

"Abraham, please" You step even closer still, just about close enough to touch him.

"Stop" he near whispers, a painful edge to his voice.

You freeze in place. "I can't lose you. Not over this" Your voice is strained, your heartbreak woven into every syllable. You know he doesn't like Andrei, but you could never imagine the announcement of your engagement would push him this far away.

"Don't touch me. If... if you touch me...." He keeps his face angled away from you as his voice starts to crack.

You sigh softly, and you decide right then and there. He won't push you away anymore. You won't allow it.

You reach your hand out and touch his shoulder, and he bristles instantly before he turns around to face you. Those steely blue eyes meeting yours for the first time in weeks.

"Did you consider me?" He asks sharply. "Even once?"

You're slightly taken aback by his aggressive demeanor but swallow back your frustration so that you can answer him. "Of course I considered how you would feel about this" you start but are abruptly cut off as Abraham paces toward you.

"No. Did you ever consider ME? " he asks again. You can feel his breath on your cheek as he brings his face up to yours, whispering in your ear. "Was I ever your choice?"

Your face heats up, and your chest tightens at the question. You had always thought of Abraham as your friend. Someone you trusted and depended on.

"I....I ....." You stumble over your own tongue at a complete loss for words.

His eyes scan your face and start to darken with each passing second. "No. You didn't, " he turns from you again.

"You never gave any indication!" You desperately yell out to his back, and it's true. Never once had he let any intentions be known. You had assumed this was because he simply did not see you that way, and you had accepted that fact a very long time ago.

He again stops without turning back towards you, so you continue on.

"I heard you. Talk about Luella. Some of the others. You never did speak about me that way"

He growls, his back still turned. "I could never speak about you that way." He turns back toward you his lips pursed. "You don't speak about a wife like that."

You take in a sharp breath and avert your eyes.

"But now... you will not be my wife. " There is a mischievous glint in his eye, and he cracks a slight smile.

The presence of a smile on his face has you confused. As you arch a brow at him, he rushes toward you, pulling you tightly in his arms.

"Abe!" You push slightly against his chest, but he pays you no mind as he lifts you off of your feet and walks you further into the stables and away from prying eyes.

"He won't have what's mine," He grumbles as he places you back down on your feet in the furthest most part of the stables.

"Abraham...." You say your voice slightly trembling. From fear or anticipation, you weren't entirely sure.

His eyes lift and meet yours for just a moment before his lips crash down on yours, his large, rough hands tightly grasping at the sides of your head. He prods at your lips with his tongue begging for entry of which you against your better judgment grant him.

Abraham grunts into your mouth as he explores with his tongue all the while pushing your body further and further backwards until you feel the solid surface of the wooden wall against your back.

He starts to shuffle your dress up towards your hips, never breaking the kiss. You pull away slightly, meaning to protest. You know this is wrong, but Abraham quickly brings his mouth back down to yours and mumbles against your lips. "He won't have what's mine"

He begins to trail kisses along your jaw and down your neck, gently licking and nibbling at the skin as he moves.

The heat starts to pool in your belly at his rough touch, his calloused fingertips gripping at the soft flesh of your thigh under your skirts.

"Abe......" You say breathlessly between kisses.

He only grunts and brings his hand further up your thigh before cupping your ass and playing with the hem of your knickers.

"You were always meant to be mine." He whispers with a voice that is uncharacteristically soft.

He slides his hand between your legs, applying pressure to your pearl as you gasp.

"Already sopping," he chuckles into your ear, "and I've barely touched you"

He removes his hand quickly, spinning you around to face the wall and rucks your skirt up around your hips.

"He won't have what's mine," he growls again, pulling your underwear down your legs quickly and helping you step out of them.

Your mind is in overdrive and moving on instinct. You grip the post that runs through the middle of the wall before you, as Abraham reaches one hand between your legs and grips your hip harshly with the other.

You lean your head back and close your eyes, taking in all the sensations as his rough fingertips stroke your pearl.

"You're considerin' me now," He whispers breathlessly into your ear. You clench at the sound as you feel a tightening in your lower stomach.

"Oh my...... Abe!" Your fingernails dig into the wood of the beam you're holding when Abe pulls his fingers from your pearl and instead slowly slides one into your heat.

Your eyes open wide at the intrusion, while your body quickly responds, your hips bucking lightly. You try to ignore the embarrassment you feel at the sounds emanating from your lower body as he continues his ministrations when he suddenly slips a second finger in.

"Abe too much too much." You jolt slightly at the uncomfortable stretch.

"You'll get used to it. Gotta get you ready, " he says in between husky breaths, although he slightly slows his pace.

"Ready?" You huff, he chuckles again before removing his hand.

"Think you're about as ready as you're gonna get." You can hear him moving behind you, the soft clink of his belt ringing in your ears.

Your mind tells you to stop this now before it goes too far, but your body stands still. Legs spread, back bent and hands holding the post. Exposed and vulnerable before his eyes.

You take a sharp inhale as you feel the tip of his cock sliding against your slick folds and over your clit.

"Try not to be too loud" is the last thing he says before he brings his cock back up to your entrance and slowly starts to breech your walls, the stretch slightly painful yet satisfying.

You attempt to heed his warning and pant quietly, but as he continues to push farther you can't help but whimper.

He leans down, slightly pressing his chest to your back and pushing your hair over your shoulder.

"It will pass," he coos gently before kissing down the back of your neck, the feeling soothing.

He continues pushing, the stretch and the sting becoming less and less uncomfortable until his hips are pressed tightly against your ass.

He gives you a moment, not a long moment, but a moment to acclimate to his size before he starts to move, slowly at first but quickly gaining speed as the painful stretch is replaced with a comfortable fullness, that knot in your stomach beginning to tighten once again.

"He won't marry ya. Not when you're carrying my child. " He grunts his pace, still picking up speed.

You're unable to respond to his words. The pressure between your legs, growing nearly unbearable.

You reach down between your thighs to rub your pearl, the need so strong you can feel your heart beating in your nub.

Abraham quickly pushes your hand away, instead bringing his rough fingertips back over your clit and starts rubbing in small, determined circles over the nerve.

Your body grows tense as you feel your pleasure reach its ultimate high. Your entire body shuddering and clenching.

"Ahhh!" You screech out as your orgasm moves through you in waves.

Urged on by your climax, Abraham wraps his arms around you, standing you up nearly straight as he thrusts up into you harshly.

"He won't have what's mine," he snarls again, breathing heavily into your ear. "You'll leave here just as much mine as you ever were"

Abraham continues to thrust into you, one hand on your hip, the other around your throat.

"I'm gonna fill you, right now." his thrusts grow sloppier and more desperate as he nears his own climax. "Tell me you want it, tell me to do it," he demands, pistoning himself into your heat harshly, the muscles in his thighs growing tight from the exertion.

"Do it. Please, " You whimper "fill me"

He sighs in satisfaction and thrusts only twice more before you feel the warmth of his seed spread within your womb.

He stands there holding you tight to him as he rides out his high, his body slightly twitching with the aftershocks of his heightened pleasure.

After a few minutes, he pulls out and releases you. You stumble forward, nearly falling head first into the wooden post you had been gripping so tightly earlier.

Abraham catches you and stands you upright. He wordlessly fetches for knickers, helping you to slide them back on.

You stand bewildered before him not sure what to make of the moment.

"Go tell your father and Andrei you have to end the engagement," he says sternly while pulling his suspender straps back up over his shoulders.

"It.... it's not that simple. " You stutter out the words. You know, in good conscience, you couldn't marry Andrei now, and you didn't want to. Now that you know what it's like to be with Abraham.

"It is. Tell them you're pregnant by another man. Your father will give us his blessing. He'll have no choice" he states plainly, as if it is the most obvious thing in the world.

"But I'm not......." You trail off knowing that you could be after what just happened, yet you couldn't be sure for quite some time.

"Trust me." He leans in pressing his forehead to yours briefly before stepping away from you and moving to leave the stables.

"Where are you going?" You call out after him, not wanting your moment to be over.

"To do my work," he smiles back at you. "Now you go do yours!"

With that, he exits the stables, a large grin plastered across his face as he mutters one last thing under his breath.

"He won't have what's mine."

To be added to taglists see HERE

#abraham grantchester #abraham x reader #abraham #ewan mitchell verse #ewan mitchell fanfic #ewanverse #ewan mitchell #ewan nation #jess fics

[anjelicawrites]

The lost honor of Badger's crossing

Paring: Abraham x reader

Synopsis: you are adjusting to your life as Abraham’s wife. Everything seems to be perfect, when two strangers come knocking.

Warnings: reader has burn marks, angst, fighting, Abraham’s possessiveness, reference to arson, reference to murder, reference to prejudice against the Romanichal community, kissing, oral (f receiving), p in v sex, kissing, scratching, overstimulation, conceive kink if you squint your eyes.

A/N 1: I don’t know anyone from the Romanichal community and used Google for my research for this fic. I tried to be as accurate and respectful as possible. Please let me know if I’ve written something wrong so I can make the needed corrections!

A/N 3: Abraham doesn’t have a surname, I had to use Google to look for Romanichal surnames and pick one.

A/N 3: reader is AFAB but not described. Where needed, they/them pronouns used.

Abraham stares at you with a small smile on his face as you put some more wood inside the stove; the vardo is paneled with thick wood, but you like to be warm all the time, for this reason you're wearing one of his oldest cardigans: a ratty thing you had stitched back together with love and patience, that you wouldn't let him wear outside but it's perfect to stay indoors while doing chores. 

NSFW and 18 + only under the cut!

Quickly you finish putting together his lunch and give him the tight knotted cloth, hoping the food will not get too cold by the time he eats it. 

His big hands cover yours and he kisses your forehead gently; Abraham is such a different man in the privacy of your vardo, more affectionate and less aggressive than anyone has the luck to see him.

“Are you staying here today?”

You can see the worry in his eyes, he doesn't like when you wander around on your own, even flanked by the dog he bought for your safety. 

“Yes, I have so much work accumulated I will have my hands full for the whole day.” 

You’ve been elbow deep in your own old book trades, the only thing you bought with you from your old life, that you let the normal chores slip a bit and you don't want anyone to think that you're not taking care of your husband properly. 

“Good.”

His warm lips find yours in a deep kiss and you have to force yourself not to slip out of your clothes: the horses need him, he has his share of work to carry out. 

He's near the door when you stop him hastily. 

“Wait! Put this on, it's awfully chilly already!”

You wrap his long neck in the warm scarf your adopted mother knitted for you when you were a child, using thick, red wool and a simple, yet elegant, pattern. 

“You worry too much.” He jokes, but you can see in his eyes that he appreciates your care. 

“It is my job, you know. Take care of you.”

“My perfect little wife.” He growls, his free hand lands on your hip to grab the soft meat there. 

“Oh no Mr. Heron. Off you go!” You laugh as you walk backwards deeper in the vardo. “I’ll see you later!”

He stares at you with a burning stare that tells you he's not going to let you sleep tonight. 

The commotion happens later in the afternoon. You’ve been a busy bee for the whole day: doing the accumulated washing up, deep cleaning the vardo and cooking yourself a quick lunch. You had just put the heatless curlers in your hair and pulled out your sewing kit to start working on the random array of ruined socks that needed some mending, before the sun sets, that you hear shouting outside and the dog at your feet starts growling.

You step out of the vardo and mingle with the women standing behind the wall of men partially shielding you all; you can still see the two men dressed in cheap suits and the car they drove to the field where you are all currently living.

Between the shouting and the drove of buzzing chatting all around you, you can barely make out what the men are saying and froze when you pick up that they are policemen and they are looking for you; when they shout your maiden name, your instinct is to step up, but Mrs. Lee grabs your arm to stop you from moving and her husband shouts that there’s no one with that name living in the community: it is a technicality, you’re now Mrs. Heron and those men don’t know that, yet, but they will.

Without having spoken to them you know they will come back with questions about Badger’s Crossing.

You scuttle back into the vardo to curl on the bed and cry: for how long will that place hang over your heads? 

You catch a whiff of Abraham’s aftershave and the tears come out harder: you wish he was here to keep you safe in his arms, but you know it’s better that he wasn’t around: he’s so protective of you and aggressive with the outside world, that you fear he would attack those men and put himself in a ocean of troubles just to keep them off your scent. 

He’s not going to like any of this: you know he’s deluded himself into thinking that the matter with Badger’s Crossing had been resolved, but it’s always going to come back and haunt the whole community, even though none of them had anything to do with it.

Your fears have been proven right when he enters the vardo like a storm; likely Mr. Lee has already spoken with him and he’s charged himself up with rage, which explodes in a shouting match between you two.

“You’re not talking to these men!” 

He orders and boy how much that doesn’t sit right with you!

“You don’t tell me what to do Abraham!”

“You are my wife! You will do as I say!”

“I’m not your possession! And I do whatever I feel it’s better!”

“This is not your decision! The community will decide what’s better!”

This is something you still struggle with: you are used to shoulder the consequences on your own, make your bed and lie on it, as your adopted mother used to say, do what you think it’s right regardless of what others think (and if you hadn’t followed this mindset, you would have never met Abraham in the first place), now you have to do the polar opposite. You understand that your circumstances have changed, that gadji see the community, not the person and all excuses are valid to perform violence and persecution, but those policemen came for you and, to protect the community, you should do your part, even though the idea makes you sick.

You go to the assembly still angry at Abraham and stand stiffly by his side, only to slip away as soon as voices are raised: you know where this is going and you know you’re going to say something you’re going to regret.

You walk to the edge of the camp, Cyril the dog flanking you the way Abraham teached him and you scratch his head; the animal is still young but he’s big, a mongrel with some shepherd dog in him, by the way he tries to move you towards the path he thinks it’s the safest for you to walk.

You can hear in the distance the sounds of the assembly and you desperately wish for a pack of smokes.

“Penny for your thoughts’” Mrs. Lee says from behind you and you jump out of your skin.

“Jesus Christ!”

“I didn’t mean to scare you child. I didn’t see you back there, I thought you wanted to express your opinion on the matter.”

You try to look into her eyes but darkness has fallen and you can barely make out her form.

“If I were to voice what I think, I would regret the words immediately.”

You can’t see Mrs. Lee, but you can sense her gaze weightining you. She’s an impressive woman who commands respect not because she’s married the head of the community, but because she exudes a charisma you’ve rarely felt from other people. 

You’re not sure she likes you, she’s accepted you and helped you when you had no one else, like everyone else has done, but you wonder if she just did it out of affection for Abraham, or if she saw something in you.

You often ponder about this matter, if Abraham’s extended family simply tolerates you because he’s imposed you to them through marriage; on some levels you know you’ll always be the gadja that’s now living in their community, who tries to adapt but will always be something else, bought up following a different set of rules.

“What would you say that’s so scandalous, child?”

You take a deep breath and try to organize your thoughts.

“There shouldn’t even be a discussion happening at the moment: those people came calling for me, I should address whatever issue they have with me.”

“It became ours when you joined us. And we were at Badger’s Crossing as well.”

“None of us did anything wrong!” “Are you so naive to think that truly matters?”

The ice in her voice stops you: you still forget that the privilege you grew up with has never extended to them.

“No, I suppose it doesn’t.” You hang your head. “I still don’t think pretending I don’t live here or, God forbid, leave, will solve the problem. Those men will come back time and time again, until they’ve got what they’re after.”

Mrs. Lee hums and you feel her heavy gaze on you again.

“We should have never stopped in Badger’s Crossing, it was never part of our atching tan: we should have known better and now it’s our problem to shoulder, not yours alone, child. You didn’t bring that in our lives, if that’s what you fear, it oozed in our direction the second we stopped.”

You let go of the breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

“I don’t trust the police.” You tell Mrs. Lee. “Half of the problems at Badger’s Crossing would have been solved if our constable had done something. I don’t know why they want to talk to me, but they didn’t come guns blazing, perhaps if they get what they’re after, they’ll leave us be.”

Mrs. Lee's hand curls around yours; her palm is dry and work hardened, still is gentle and holds the faint memory of your birth mother’s touch.

“I’ll talk to my husband, just promise me you will not do anything without talking to him. The discussion is still ongoing.” She clutches your hand tightly. “You should do the same with your husband. He means well.”

“I know he does. We’re both stubborn like mules.”

When you get back to the vardo Abraham is nowhere in sight, he is still discussing the matter at hand, probably, and you wish a final word hasn’t been said on the matter.

You enter and go to the stove and put some more wood in there, before you light some candles and start undressing.

The vardo is bigger than the one Abraham used to live as a bachelor and far more decorated than the masculine, but simply furnished old vardo even was: you two want to expand your family and will need the space one day.  

You two had decorated it as newlyweds, you wanted more colors and painted all the wooden paneling with botanical designs and put pretty fabric everywhere, Abraham letting you because he knew he couldn’t stop you and helped you with all the patience he had: it had truly been a work of patience to live in an ongoing project and isn’t that the perfect metaphor for marriage? Still you don’t want to talk to him right now because you’re reeling from the fight and how he addressed you as his property and not his wife, the memory stroking anger and sadness in your chest, so much so that you can feel the tears already forming in your eyes: you need to sleep on this before you can even start to think about addressing the situation with him.

Abraham comes back later to the silent vardo. The fire is dying in the stove and the air is not as chilly as he thought it would be; you’ve left all the stubs of candles you two own to illuminate the vardo for him and he smiles at your thoughtfulness. He undresses as quietly as he can and slips inside the bed, next to your form.

You’re facing the wall and pretend to be asleep, you don’t see the way Abraham’s hand lifts towards your form, before he turns on his side to try and sleep a handful of hours: if he were a more courageous man, he knows he would curl his arm around your sleeping body, making sure that you know he’s still here for you, your fight be damned, but he fears your rage and can’t stand your rejection, not today, not when the world of the gadji came back to hurt you and he’s afraid of not being able to protect you.

So close, he had been so close in Badger’s Crossing to lose you, he feels like the air is escaping his lungs at the mere thought of harm befalling you: he needs to keep you safe, whether you want it or not, he’s too selfish to think of a life without you, why can’t you see it?

You wake up alone and cold, not because the stove isn’t burning, Abraham left it going at full mast and he’s put some more covers over you, but because you haven’t slept in his arms as usual and it feels wrong, as it had been going to sleep still angry at one another. You and Abraham haven’t been married for too long, shy of a year and you don’t want that to happen ever again.

You quickly eat your breakfast, your heart swelling when you see that Abrahams has brewed tea and left the pot on the stove to keep it warm for you: you will talk to him as soon as he gets back, loathing that the fight has lasted this long.

You feel the nervous energy pervading the whole camp and are glad that your chores are outside, for the day, having decided to go look for mushrooms and special herbs for old Mrs. Doe: she’s ancient and her poor knees and ankles don’t work anymore the way they should, you’re happy to help her any way you can. 

You’ve been walking for the good part of three hours, Cyril unleashed but never wandering around and with a big basket at your hip, full of mushrooms and herbs. 

To go back home you have to walk the last leg on the country road and leash Cyril just in case: there aren't many cars around but you don’t want to risk it.

You’ve almost arrived when you see the two policemen, they are smoking next to their car parked on the curb and are eyeing the road.

“Mrs. Heron, it has been difficult finding you.”

As you approach you can observe them: the one addressing you is tall and lanky, with a long, thin face and piercing eyes, his colleague is as tall but bulky, with a fat face and small, dark eyes.

“Who are you?” You stop at a distance and Cyril stands in front of you.

“I’m DCI Anderson and this is DS Thomas. We would like to have a word with you about Badger’s Crossing.”

You stiffen, even though you expected that to happen.

“There’s nothing to talk about. The whole matter was sorted by the coroner.”

“I still would like to talk to you. I’m curious to understand what happened.”

Both men are moving closer to you and your first instinct is to step back, keep the distance between you three.

“I think you can easily access all the documents you need. If you don’t mind, I have some work that needs to be done.”

“Actually, we do mind.” 

As if on a cue from his boss, DS Thomas’s hand curls around your wrist, stopping you from sidestepping them, Cyril growls at him.

“Keep that mongrel at bay!” He barks.

“Then keep your hands off me!”

You try to pull your arm away and his hold only tightens painfully.

“There’s no reason for violence. We’re here to help. We're all friends: let Mrs. Heron go.”

The brute does as he’s told and that’s all you need to know about their dynamic.

“As much as the paperwork was informing, I very much like to know what had happened from one of the survivors, and why you left.”

“I don't wish to revisit that and it's none of your business the reason why I don't live there anymore.”

You don't like this DCI Anderson, the more you look into his eyes, the more the coldness there seeps into your bones. 

“We decide what's our business, not you.”

DS Thomas barks in your face and your mind goes to the small knife in your pocket. 

“Are you accusing me of something?”

“No one is accusing anyone of anything, Mrs. Heron. I'm just curious to know why an Oxford graduate decided to change their life so drastically.”

“Then again, not a crime. We all need a change of scenery.”

DCI Anderson stares at you with unreadable eyes and you know he’s like those dogs who don’t stop chasing their prey until they’ve grabbed it. 

“Take my card, Mrs. Heron, there’s my phone number, if you ever need it. I'm not here to cause you any harm.”

“There’s no need for that:”

You three were so focused  that you didn't see Mr. Lee and some of the other men arrive; you use the sheer number of them to put as much distance between the policemen and yourself: hopefully they’ll let you go.

“Don’t be afraid to ask for our help, Mrs. Heron!” DCI Anderson says with a cold voice. 

Someone takes the basket from you as Mr. Lee asks you if you're alright; you don't truly know what to answer, something in the interaction irks you. 

As soon as you all arrive at the vardo, you can see Abraham pacing in front of the door. 

“What are you doing here? Is everything alright?” You blurt out. 

“Did they hurt you?”

His hands land on your arms and curl there to stop himself from checking all over you in front of the whole camp. 

“How? Abraham? I'm fine.” You half lie to him. 

“I’ve sent Paul’s children to collect him. We need to discuss this.” Mr. Lee interjects. 

“Yes, of course.” You say, opening the door of the vardo.

The two men sit around the table and you wish you were alone with your husband: now, more than ever, you need the comfort of his embrace. 

“Cuppa?” You ask, unable to sit still. 

“Thank you.” Mr. Lee answers

You zone out from the conversation and focus on what you're doing in the vain attempt to understand what irked your brain so much. 

Like an automaton you fill the kettle and put it on the stove, the drone of the men's voice not truly entering your brain as you try to decide which tea to brew and which biscuit to offer to Mr. Lee. 

“They think you stole me.” 

You say, putting the tray with the teas on the table, cutting through the men’s discussion. 

This is an old habit of yours, losing yourself in your thoughts to simply blurt them out, something both your birth and adoptive mothers used to scold you about

“That horrible DCI saying that he wants to help me. Yes, he wants to know about Badger’s Crossing, but he thinks you’ve taken me against my will, even married me into the community in the same fashion.”

The two men stare at you as if you’ve sprouted a second head. 

“That's why he was so pushy yesterday and ambushed me today. He believes me captive.”

Abraham stands up abruptly, almost sending the tea set flying around the vardo. 

“I’m going to kill him!”

“You're not going to do such a stupid thing, son!”

Mr Lee is already on his feet, back against the door of the vardo, ready to stop Abraham from doing something stupid. 

“It is not the worst thing gadji accused us of. They have no honor, they can't understand.” Mr. Lee adds. 

“That's why I need to talk to them.” 

You stand in front of your husband with one hand on his beating heart, Mr. Lee stands behind you, forgotten. 

“I'm not letting them steal you away!”

Panic and rage tinge your husband's voice, more than ever you wished you two were alone. 

“I'm not going anywhere but the matter needs to be addressed or it would truly appear as if I am a prisoner here.”

“Do you truly think those men will believe you?” Mr. Lee stares at you dubiously. 

“The only opinion that matters is that horrid DCI’s, the DS is just his guard dog, I don't even think he has a brain.” You pause to let the information sink in. “And me not being a romni could probably help: they’ll never believe any of you, they might me.”

You can feel Abraham's chest vibrate under your palm, his strong muscles shifting. 

“If they put a hand on you!” He growls. 

You hope no one will ever tell him that's already happened. 

“No one shall ever touch your bride, not with all of us ready to protect them.” Mr. Lee says. 

“No, that can't happen or it will truly look like I am not free to talk with them. And I don't want them in our space.”

“I'm not letting you be alone at their mercy. It is not negotiable.”

You recognise the possessive tone in Abraham's voice, understand that's his way to express his concern, and guilt envelops you like a blanket: he shouldn’t be suffering for you. He shouldn’t live in fear for you.

“The clearing is surrounded by trees.” Mr. Lee’s voice is reasonable. “We can easily hide there, they'll never see us.”

Abraham keeps you in his arms, after Mr. Lee leaves, his masculine smell, mixed with the horses’, fills your nostrils and calms you.

“Do you have to go back?” Your question is muffled against the wool of his jacket.

“No, Ben and his children can manage for today.”

Abraham’s arms tighten around your body, his face finds home against the curve of your neck.

“You don’t have to go. You don’t have to do this.”

“I know. I hate it.” It comes out more broken than what you’d like.

“I’ll never let them take you from me. Never!”

“That will never happen. I’m yours Abraham.”

His arms tighten to the point of pain and you wish you’d never have to leave the safety of his hold, of your vardo, to face the past again, after the onslaught that had been the inquest.

You still wish you were in Abraham’s arms, instead of standing in the clearing, having to endure the small talk of DCI Anderson.

“I’m glad you called, Mrs. Heron.” He says with a flat tone: now that you’re here he doesn’t have to pretend.

“I didn’t feel like I had any other choice, DCI.”

“I’m sorry you feel this way, Mrs. Heron. My job is asking questions, even when people don’t want to answer them, it is no one’s fault.”

“In this case, your enquiries are about a matter that has been closed and that reopens a wound, DCI Anderson.”

You know all your answers are stiff, but you can’t help but feel the same wave of pain you did when Badger’s Crossing was set ablaze, killing many of the people you used to call friends.

“It wasn’t my goal, Mrs. Heron and I am truly sorry.”

You want to ask him how much truth there is, since his DS snorts at your words, but you don’t want to derail this conversation.

“You should ask your questions, DCI Anderson.” You try to inject as much steel as you can in your words: those men don’t need to know how off putting this whole conversation feels.

DCI Anderson’s cold eyes bore into yours, trying to assess you.

“Badger’s Crossing was an idyllic place to live. Why not go back?”

You bark an unhappy laugh at his face: you can’t help yourself, this man is far more of an imbecile than you thought he was!

“I think you should scrap that ideal country village image from your mind, DCI. Badger’s Crossing has been my home for years, but it wasn’t an idyll. What happened was a long time coming.”

“The arson? The murders? It is hard to believe, Mrs. Heron.”

“To you, maybe, who live in the big city. I have been living there since the war, I knew those people and the violence was simmering.”

“Mr. Simmons was a decorated official…”

“Who used to beat his wife into a bloody pulp.” You don’t let him finish.

“A bit of behavior correction never hurt anyone.” The DC adds, and you know he pulls that at home constantly.

“Truly? She mustn't have gotten the idea when she decided to leave, instead of risking her life every day!”

“You shouldn’t exaggerate, Mrs. Heron.” DCI Anderson intervenes.

“I am not and this is the truth. Take it or leave it, I don’t care if you like it. Mr. Simmons was a cruel man who loved bullying anyone smaller and less strong than he was. From the moment his wife left, he started raining his violence on the whole community; constable Smith knew and did nothing to stop him.”

“I don’t see how scolding two gypsy girls is raining violence.” the DC adds with a scowl. “They were going to steal anyway. He did what any good man should.”

“What happened to be considered innocent until proven guilty? He berated those girls without any reason and didn’t like it when I told him to stop. It happens when you act the asshole in public!”

“I didn’t go to war to hear this disrespect!” DC Thomas advances towards you and you fear the men would do something stupid. “A man has the right to protect his community!”

“Well, both my parents died during an air blitz, this gives me the right to protect anyone, according to your logic.”

“Mrs. Heron, my colleague doesn’t want to offend anyone, but we all know how those people are.”

“Oh, so you know all of them. You probably know the whole of humanity. Did you know that Mr. Simmons attacked and threatened his neighbors for no reason? That Mrs. Ashtown and her son were two blackmailers and that the wife of the vicar had intercourse with half of the men in town? Badger’s Crossing was my home and had many secrets.”

You take a big breath as you let the men absorb the barrage of information.

“We all had secrets, only exacerbated by living in such a small community. Mr. Simmons needed help, he came back from the war a different man, more cruel than he ever was and lived among us, until he did the unthinkable.”

You will never know why he did what he did, what did the Ashcrofts did to deserve to be annihilated and if Mr. Simmons ever wanted to destroy the whole village, or if he couldn't control the fire he set at his neighbor’s home.

No one will ever answer those questions.

“You want to know why I chose this life? Because that place is cursed now and I can’t live in another village without thinking about Badger’s Crossing, without imagining the horrors hiding behind the nice cottages and farms.”

You move the patch of hair you use to hide the burn marks on the side of your head.

“I have to live with this. I have more on my body and I was lucky enough to find a way out of the burning village.”

Abraham saved you. He faced the flames and the smoke to pull you out of the inferno that was your home, when you were too frightened to find a way out yourself; you often wonder if your birth parents felt that way during the air blitz that killed them, if fear petrified them as your home caved on them, or if your dad had tried to save you mum, and failed in the process. 

“Is this enough of a reason?” You ask, removing the fingerless gloves you always wear and roll your sleeves to show the extent of the damage.

Both men are visibly repulsed by the mess that’s your skin and whatever questions they might still have, die on their lips: DCI Anderson’s cold demeanor seems to fall as his eyes land on your body and you know he’s trying to imagine if there’s more scars that you’re not showing, DC Thomas looks haunted and you wonder if he’s seeing someone else, someone who never made it home.

“It was my husband’s people who nursed me into health, as the inquest went on. They went against their own interests to keep me safe and sound, no survivor of Badger’s Crossing ever came forth to ask about me, how I was fairing, and those people knew me ever since I was evacuated there. They saw me grow up and be adopted, they came to me at the library asking for reading suggestions, they bought their antiques at my adopted dad’s shop. I was part of the village life and no one wondered about my health.”

Slowly you cover your scars and adjust your hair.

“And you ask me why I don’t want to go back to that life?”

You don’t know what those men came looking for, or if your answers were what they wanted, the only thing you know is that you feel drained, that your feet barely carry you away from the clearing and that those men let you go with haunted eyes; not that you care.

You seek Abraham’s embrace as soon as you’re away from the clearing, ignoring the men around you: you’re shook and need to be with him, as he does.

Abraham had to be stopped by the other men as soon as he sensed DC Thomas’s animosity towards you, his rage the only way he knew how to express his fear for you, and the pain, when you had to show those men your scars, as if your words weren’t enough to justify your decisions. 

Ever since the fire, he lives with the fear of losing you, of harm befalling you and him not being able to come to your rescue again. In his life before you he had never thought he would care for someone as much as he does for you. He was raised in the knowledge that he needed to be the good man who provides for and  protects his family; the fire had showed him that there’s a limit to what he can do to fulfill this, that anything can happen to you and he would not be able to protect you: how is he supposed to live with this? When the buried past comes haunting you and you have to relive it, and he is powerless against it?

Abraham helps you up enter the vardo and gently removes your thick jacket and boots, he seems to be unable to keep his hands away from your body to show his brain that you’re real and alive, and still with him, that those men hadn’t kidnapped you to bring you back to that accursed place.

You let him remove the pins in your hair and the bandana you always wear and follow him to the sofa in front of the stove, where he makes you sit and covers you with a thick blanket, one of the memories from his own mother and he makes tea for you.

He feels big and clumsy with the dainty tea set in his hands and the biscuit box that you two are supposed to replace, but he needs to move, to do something, anything to ward his fears away.

“Abe?” You raise your hand to grab his trousers. “Abe, come here?”

He falls between your splayed legs to hug you and you hide your face against the side of his neck to muffle your sobs; you can’t control your emotions anymore and simply let go, opening the floodgates as you grab your husband with desperation and he hugs you as tight has he can, crushing you against his body in the vain attempt to absorb you within himself, the only place he knows you’ll ever be safe.

He knows he’s possessive and that it’s hard for you to accept, free as you are, but how is he supposed to show you that he cares? He is a simple man, words don’t come easily for him as they do you, he has to make sure that you know how important you are for him, in any way possible.

His big hands caress your head and back with a gentleness that’s still foreign to him, he murmurs in your ear the same nonsense he does with the horses when they are skittish, until you stop crying and are silently hugging him with all your might.

“Abe?”

Your voice sounds so small it breaks his heart.

“Yes, my love?”

He tries to keep his emotions under control for you, because that’s what you need, but he hears the tremble in his own voice and hates it.

“Will you make love to me? Put your child in my belly? Show anyone who comes knocking that I belong with you?”

You two have been trying since your wedding night, without any luck. You asking him this, now, it’s your way to show him how much you care, your unwillingness to be parted from him, to change your body irreversibly, this time on your own terms.

“Yes, I will.”.

Abraham unfolds his body and stands to his full height, before he lifts you up, bridal style, to carry you to the bed.

With infinite care he sits your there and starts removing your clothes, kissing your scars as they come to light, until you’re naked in front of him, in all your glory.

“I don’t know how you can stand looking at me.”

“I don’t have to stand anything. I chose you for myself and that’s all it matters to me.”.

The certainty of his voice, the blaze in his blue eyes tell you that he is not lying; perhaps another man would wax poetic about your ruined skin, he touches you with reverence and love, calloused hands that become feathers where he knows you still hurt, chapped lips that leave butterfly kisses everywhere as he undresses himself, until he’s naked in front of you, strong muscles born of hard work and his cock, hard and leaking already, just for you.

“I need you Abe, don’t make me wait.” You beg, spreading your legs to show him just how much you need him.

“Never.” He growls from between your thighs.

His hands are strong on your hips when he pulls you towards his mouth, his tongue thirsty for all the sweet nectar you’re about to give him and he feasts on you, his lips everywhere on your cunt, sucking, kissing, nibbling; he moans when your juices hit his tastebuds, making you shiver in his hold and his lips fasten around your clit, sucking harshly, hungrily for more as his fingers explore your depths, looking for that special place that makes you kick against his face and he fucks against it, fast and unforgiving, needing you as wet as possible, mad for him as he is for you.

Your hands grab his hair and pull, desperately, trying to control his movements, how fast he’s throwing you in the throes of your own orgasm, to no avail: you’re at his mercy, your hips are pushing against his face without your control, seeking the pleasure he’s giving you, rubbing against his nose and chin, until he’s drenched and fucking your hole with his tongue becomes a need and you keen, muscles clenching desperately around the intrusion, your own legs manacles around his face and he woudln’t want to die in any other way but drowning in your juices.

He removes his face with a grunt and you cry out, your orgasm so close.

“Ride me. I want you to feel me in your throat. Remind you whom you belong to.” He growls, low and hungry, as he lays on the bed.

His cock is proud and red, small pearls of precum bubble on the tip and you swiftly lick them, not wanting any of his essence to go to waste.

You’re so wet when you straddle him, your hole loose already for him that his broad head breaches you easily as his nails rake down your unburnt skin, his hands explore your body possessively, one finding home around your throat, the other grabbing your hips to help you move with gentle figures if eight that make his cock burrow inside your cunt all the tighter.

You grind against his body, your clit sending shockwaves of pleasure with every pass, his hand curls around your throat when you start begging for his cock, to go faster, please! He intends to savor you properly, suck on your breasts as you move over him and keen and moan when he finds that spot again and bullies it mercilessly.

“Abe please!” You sound so pitiful and lost, luckily he’s here to keep you safe. “You’re spitting me in two! Abe please!”

His hips move faster now, a trot that has your breasts sway over his face and your cunt squelch around his cock, your muscles pulling him in with every pass and his hands are the only thing keeping you up, now that his hips are pistoning inside of you and your vision blurs with tears and pleasure.

“Pleasepleaseplease.” 

You beg and you feel yourself tighten painfully, your cunt barely able now to house his massive erection and he keeps going, fucking you mercilessly, opening you up to his invasion, spurred by your desperate keens of pleasure.

You come with a scream, your body rigid as he keeps fucking you, prolonging the pleasure until he has to slip out: he’s not done with you.

You’re still trembling over him when he rolls you on your back and bends your legs against your chest, before entering you again with a grunt of pleasure.

You choke on your words as he fucks you hard and fast, your legs around his hips, his hands grabbing the mattress to propel himself inside of you and you’re reduced to a puddle of pleasure and tears, your cunt sore and hungry for his cock and seed, his head reaching so deep inside of you it almost hurts with how full you feel.

You can feel another orgasm surging, stronger than the one before, your whole body curls around him and he has to be brutal to keep fucking you, opening you up again and again, deaf to your pathethic sounds of pleasure, spurred on by your nails on his skin and the small pain they’re causing him.

You’re crying now, your whole body arching under him, your cunt strangling him when his thumb brutalizes your poor clit and you beg him, pathetic and desperate for what you don’t know, needing the pleasure and fearing the band tightening in your belly.

You come abruptly, and he follows you with three sharp pushes and stays rooted inside of you, his weight carried by his arms and legs, his face hidden in the curve of your neck.

“I can’t risk having any of it going to waste.” He groans in your ear.

You kiss him, hungry for him as your cunt is for his seed.

“I can’t wait to have your baby.” You pant, body still shaking.

“I can’t wait to see you full with my seed. Time and time again. See your belly swell and your breast fill out. Show everyone that you’re mine.”

“Yes Abraham, yes. Let everyone know I’m yours.”

He kisses you again and you try to push your heel against his lower back when he moves to dismount.

“Don’t go anywhere. I want to feel you grow hard inside of me.”.

He groans, eyes crossing at your words: he’ll do anything for you, anything you ask, as long as you’re happy and safe.

#abraham #abraham x reader #abraham x y/n

[witchofthevale]

↷ september '23 fave fic recs!⋆☂｡☽˚.

Okay, okay here we go! This nearly killed me to make, so you better read them.

I'm kidding... I think.

Gentle reminder that what I consider 'fave' is by my own personal tastes and preferences, and you might not agree with them and that's okay! These are very lovely authors you can peruse on your own to find the right fic for you, and there are always the tags + algo. Just because your favourite fic isn't here doesn't mean it's not good; it could be potentially for a variety of reasons (I haven't read it yet, I have just not this month, I don't vibe with that character, etc).

That's what I love about the individuality in fandom and writers— there will always be that right fic from that right author that just hits all your good spots.

This is mine. For the month of September. If you find your next favourite fix here— I'm glad! If not, that's still swell! Hope you find it!

To the writers— thank you for writing such brilliant fics! I struggled setting this up because of how many I enjoyed 💝.

Anyways...

More quick reminders!

This is set chronologically; both by character name and by fic title.

If you are familiar with my blog, you will mainly see HOTD, some TLK, then random characters.

There may be smut! There may be dark fiction! I support and consume both! Please read trigger warnings actively! You are responsible for your own person! Community Labels ruin fandom ecosystems, stop snitching! Ignore or block at bloody will!

There are no series parts here. That is in a different display post that is still being processed lol.

If you see repeated author names, it can be numerous things— mostly, they're just that good, okay? Okay.

These are only for September 2023. I've read about 500+ on this account alone, and would die if I tried to go back before then, sorry. You can still check them out through tag navigation here!

I've also added some of my works that I enjoyed writing for the month, because why not.

Now that's fucking over, I hope you enjoy!

ABRAHAM (Grantchester)

*Untitled Piece by @ewanmitchellcrumbs

AEGON TARGARYEN II

Ceilings by @sapphire-writes

Lemon Cake To My Tea by @darlingofvalyria

Merciless or Ruthless? by @lovelykhaleesiii

Moan for Me by @st-eve-barnes

AEMOND TARGARYEN

A Mutual Feeling of Hate by @fan-goddess

Gelato by @oneeyedvisenya

Hell Hath No Fury @fromforeigntofamiliarity

His Love by @valeskafics

I'm A Fire, And I'll Keep Your Brittle Heart Warm by @randomdragonfires

Revolution by @valeskafics

The Black Stag by @darlingofvalyria

Til Death Do Us Part by @asumofwords

Unnerved by @dulcewrites

*Untitled by @ewanmitchellcrumbs

*Untitled by @missglaskin

Vulnerability by @valeskafics

ALDHELM

My Heart by @silens-oro

BILLY TAYLOR

The Perfect Send Off by @ewanmitchellcrumbs

BILLY WASHINGTON

Lonely This Christmas by @ewanmitchellcrumbs

DAEMON TARGARYEN

Ask, and You Shall Receive by @ewanmitchellcrumbs

A Thousand Words by @arabellasleopardcoat

Capital by @arabellasleopardcoat

Curse of Womanhood by @just-some-random-blogger

*Untitled by @barbiedragon

Valyrian Bride by @cryingforlife

HARALD SIGURDSSON

A Political Arrangement by @valeskafics

JACAERYS VELARYON

In Bastards of Blue, Wager in War by @darlingofvalyria

MAEGOR TARGARYEN

Little Lights by @dreamsofoldvalyria

OSFERTH

Lacnunga, Or, Remedy by @assortedseaglass

SIGTRYGGR IVARSSON

Little Warrior by @ewanmitchellcrumbs

SIHTRIC KJARTANSSON

Hours by @valeskafics

It's Urgent Darling by @sihtricfedaraaahvicius

Take No Wife by @valeskafics

TOM BENNETT

A Good Wife by @valeskafics

Rest by @fidelias

VISERYS TARGARYEN III

*Untitled by @barbiedragon

MULTIPLE CHARACTERS

Conquerors Reborn by @undertheorangetree | Helaena, Aemond x Reader

El Tango De Roxanne by @valeskafics | Jace, Aemond x Reader

Royalty Fucked by @oorhaellaoo | Baelon, Alyssa x Reader

#fanfiction recommendation #hotd x reader #tlk x reader #vikings x reader #abraham x reader #billy washington x reader #asoiaf x reader #tom bennett x reader #2013 💋 Fic Recs #💋 September 2023 #the witch's fic recs 💋

[wrenwrongs]

Abraham from Grantchester audio p🔥rn links:

You've Been Teasing Abraham All Day

Brother's Best Friend (a different one from the Tom one lol)

You and Abraham argue over who is the boss in your relationship (daddy kink, light degradation, dom!Abraham).

B-side (that would be an A-side if it weren't for the potentially immersion breaking references to modern things):

Mutually catching feelings for fwb (cw: slapping[not consensual?], spitting, degradation, mean!Abraham to sweet!Abraham, it's an hour long babes)

#abraham grantchester #abraham grantchester x reader #abraham x reader #s: audios #my posts #what is a queue like me doing in a post like this?

[devourable]

yandere church boy x gn bottom reader smut ;; semi public/risky, sacrilege, religious imagery mentions (takes place in a church broom closet during service), unintentional edging

it was a miracle the two of you hadn't gotten caught yet. how many times have you ended up like this just this week alone?

despite abraham's attempts to keep you quiet, clasping his hands around your mouth and keeping his own whiny moans just soft enough that only you could hear them, he just couldn't keep himself from ramming into you. every thrust was so hard that it rattled the door you were pressed up against — anyone in the hall outside of the closet would easily figure out what was going on inside.

"you feel so good," abe whimpered in your ear, "s-so soft— oh, god..."

your breath hitched when he pulled you backwards and thrusted into you harder. thank god the sound of the choir picked up just then — abe's hands could do little to muffle your cries. he was way too deep, it felt like he was in your stomach at this angle! but your pushing at his hips did nothing to stop him from fucking into you even harder.

so many people, so nearby, just a few meters down the hall. the thought of getting caught fluttered through your mind. what would they think of of you, getting fucked by the pastor's boy when *** was surely watching?

abe's incoherent whimpering interrupted your thoughts. he was trying to say something to you, and though the words were unclear, you knew exactly what he was trying to say.

so you expected it when his thrusts came to a disappointing stop, his hands slipping from your mouth to grasp and plant your hips against his own. you felt his cock twitching in you, just as desperate for release as you were, despite abe's unwillingness to let himself have it.

you let out a whine of protest as he stammered out his apologies, planting messy kisses along your neck and shoulder. you knew he wouldn't leave you unsatisfied, but... how many times would he do this before you actually got to cum?

luckily, you didn't have time to wonder. within moments of stopping, abe was pulling you back against him and moving his hips again, the feeling of him fucking you again while you were already so sensitive driving thought from your mind.

#i am losing my mind #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x oc #yandere boy #yandere imagines #yandere oc #yandere male #yandere smut #yandere nsft #yandere lemon #yandere x reader smut #male yandere x reader #xv ;; the devil — my writing #⛪️ abraham a. ;; the church boy

[celtic-crossbow]

Daryl: If ya bite it n’ ya die, it's poisonous. If it bites ya and ya die, it's venomous.

Carl: What if it bites me and it dies!?

Enid: Then you're poisonous. Jesus Christ, Carl, learn to listen.

Glenn: What if it bites itself and I die?

Michonne: That's Voodoo.

Abraham: What if it bites me and someone else dies?

Eugene: That's correlation, not causation.

Tara: What if we bite each other, and neither of us die?

Y/N: That's kinky.

Daryl, throwing his hands up and walking away: Oh m’ god.

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon incorrect quote #the walking dead incorrect quotes #carl grimes #enid rhee #michonne hawthorne #glenn rhee #abraham ford #eugene porter #tara chambler #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #the walking dead #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl drabbles #daryl imagines #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl dixon imagines #daryl x y/n #daryl dixon the walking dead #daryl x you #daryl x reader #daryl x female reader #twd daryl #the walking dead daryl dixon #the walking dead daryl #daryl #daryl dixon twd

[bones4thecats]

Adopting Their Fallen Enemy's Child (PT.2) ~ RoR/SnV x Child! Reader

Type of Writing: Poll Result Characters: Beelzebub, Apollo, & Child! Reader Name: Adopting Their Fallen Enemy's Child (PT.2) Original Poll Results: Here Other Parts: (PT.1)

A/N: Because of how long the poll result was, I decided to make this into two different parts! I hope you guys enjoy this and have a nice day/night!

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・

🪰 He saw Tesla as weak and pathetic, but even he had to admit, the way he held himself in battle with his wits was quite impressive for a human, but he did not wish to show any kind of compassion towards the human, he still lost

🪰 And when he heard the sound of a child crying and hugging a piece of metal, he turned around and saw a young child wearing the same pair of goggles that the human he had just defeat wore

🪰 Beelzebub tilted his head as you cried while your father kneeled and hugged you as he crumbled away into nothing, and what he said to you reminded him of Lilith…

“ I will always be with you, in life and death… I love you, my little ray of hope… “

🪰 The God of Darkness could hear your cries of pain and depression, and it made his heart hurt so much, but he couldn’t tell why… why did he feel… bad for you?

🪰 You looked over your shoulder at him and flinched as he took steps towards you, but the Watchman of the Apocalypse could sense how he was about to kill you, so he stood in front of you and held you on his shoulder while beckoning the oldest Valkyrie to grab you from the field

🪰 He would watch you sit by the feet of the Valkyrie, looking up at the Gods once and while whenever they landed a hit on your human fighter, but the one God you looked at the most of Beelzebub, if he was even there

🪰 Beelzebub eventually heard a knock on his door and saw the eleventh Valkyrie sister, Hlökk, staring at him before saying how you wished to speak to him

🪰 He tilted his head in confusion while looking down at you, you shared the same shimmer in your eyes that your father had, and it surprised him that you wanted to talk to him, you saw how he killed your father, why didn’t you hate him?

🪰 When he spoke to you about your father with the oldest Valkyrie and the Buddha in the next room, he watched how you admired his work, and even corrected a few things, that was when he knew…

🪰 He didn’t want to leave you alone in this world without any family, so, he offered the Human’s the ultimate choice

“ Brunhilde, I would like to propose a deal. I will take care of the young Tesla child and teach them everything their father would’ve while alive. I swear to keep them protected from anything dangerous. “

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・

☀️ He had to admit, your father was quite the fighter, he was an honorable man, and when he turned around to hear the cheers from his nymphs, what he didn’t expect was the quiet words of Leonidas, the King of Sparta, speaking

☀️ Apollo turned around and saw a young child standing in front of the man, holding a spear, one that was made for their small form, and seeing the King just smile and hug the child before speaking his final goodbyes and bursting into the shards of his life, it just made the God look at the child with sadness

☀️ The God of the Sun looked at you with apparent regret in his eyes, he never knew that the battle-driven man he fought had a child, nonetheless one that couldn’t even had been a full-grown teenager

☀️ You smiled as your father gave you one last kiss on the head and loving grin, and seeing you hug the man’s shattered leg made Apollo look at you with pity, and when the Valkyrie and human faded away to the sky, he walked up behind you and tapped your shoulder, alerting you the man who killed your father was there

☀️ His eyebrows furrowed and he sat down on his knees to stare into your eyes, smiling as you touched his face, trying to wipe away any blood from the wound

☀️ Despite him killing your father right in front of you, you still showed care for him, and when he asked you why you were trying to fix his appearance up, you answered with a polite;

“ My father told me it was a fair fight. And in fair fights, you need to treat the winner not like garbage, but like a treasure. You won fair and square, and while I feel sad of losing my father, I will not hold a grudge against you, God of the Sun. “

☀️ Apollo smiled and patted your head before standing and lifting you up into his arms to carry you back to the Gods’ infirmary, and once you came into the hallway of the arena, you looked at him and kept trying to whip the blood on his face away, claiming it would ruin his reputation if it stayed there and stained

☀️ While he healed, you stayed by his side, trying to make him tell you more stories of the battles he watched your father participate in, and because of how much time you two spent together, Apollo couldn’t help but start seeing you as his own

☀️ One day, he eventually asked a question that would make your life whole again;

“ Y/N, child of Leonidas and heir of Sparta, you are unlike any other child I’ve ever seen in my life. I would be greatly honored if you would do me the pleasure of becoming my child. I understand I will not fully replace your father, and I am alright with that, but you being alone is something I cannot stand. So, what do you say, youngling? “

#Record of Ragnarok #RoR #Shuumatsu no Valkyrie #SnV #RoR Abrahamic Pantheon #RoR Greek Pantheon #Record of Ragnarok Gods #RoR Gods #Record of Ragnarok x Reader #RoR x Reader #Shuumatsu no Valkyrie x Reader #SnV x Reader #RoR Abrahamic Pantheon x Reader #RoR Greek Pantheon x Reader #RoR Gods x Reader #Record of Ragnarok Gods x Reader #Child! Reader #GN! Reader #Human! Reader #RoR Beelzebub #RoR Beelzebub x Reader #RoR Apollo #RoR Apollo x Reader

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Sweet Nothings

Pairing: Abraham (Grantchester) x f!reader Warnings: Dirty talk, smut. Word count: ~1.4k

Summary: They had agreed to call it quits when Abraham's community moved on from Grantchester, however, the urge to keep in touch is too powerful for either of them to resist.

Author's note: Day five of the Smuffmas prompts - "letters and lingerie". No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications.

Abraham had kissed her fiercely, his lips pressed tightly to hers as though he meant to steal the very breath from her lungs. He’d kissed her like it was the last time he ever would, because the reality of it was just that - he was moving on, this would be the last time their mouths would meet with such passion.

She had always known that this was coming; six weeks prior when they had begun their little tryst, they had agreed when his time in Grantchester came to an end, so too would their relationship.

That doesn’t stop the ache in her heart when that day finally arrives though, but she does her best to hold back her tears as she watches him walk away, not wanting to make this any more difficult than it already is. She swears when he looks back she sees a hint of regret cast back at her in the blueness of his gaze. Perhaps that is just her seeing what she wants to see though.

Two weeks pass, and she does her best to carry on as normal, despite the void that Abraham has left behind in her life.

That is until the day a letter passes through the letterbox, landing softly on the doormat. It’s addressed to her, though she doesn’t recognise the handwriting. Tearing it open, a warmth spreads through her chest, recognising the sender as she reads it.

Darling,

I know we said that this is it, but I can’t stop thinking about you. The pillow on my bed that you laid your pretty head upon still smells like you. I miss the warmth of you, the way your body fits against mine. I can still picture your smile, still hear your laugh, and I think I’m going crazy without you.

I’m sorry if hearing from me is upsetting for you, I just can’t stand the idea that some other bloke will make you smile, make you laugh, make you moan like I used to. I don’t expect you to write back, but I’d be over the moon if you did. We’re camped up at a place called Yaxley, just outside of Peterborough. If you do decide to write back, address it to the Yaxley post office, and I’ll pick it up. I’ll check every day to see if you’ve written.

Yours, always,

Abraham

The penmanship is a barely legible scrawl, and the letter is riddled with spelling errors, yet she can’t deny it makes her pulse race to know that he’s missing her, so she snatches up a pen and paper and writes back straight away.

Over the following weeks they write to each other frequently, talking about their days, professing their yearning for each other, and with every exchange their words grow more heated and passionate.

She gets an idea when one of his letters states that he is “missing the pretty little pink thing” she used to wear for him, knowing exactly the lingerie set he’s hinting at.

Slipping on the satin French knickers and matching brassiere, the material feels silky soft against her skin. Butterflies flutter in her belly remembering how the last time she’d worn this, Abraham had peeled it off her, his bright eyes following the path of it as it had fallen away from her body.

Setting up the polaroid camera, she takes several photos of herself in various provocative poses - ones she knows will make his blood run hot - jutting out her hip, pushing out her chest, arching her back, accentuating her curves and all of his favourite places to touch her.

Once she is satisfied that she has an adequately arousing selection, she settles down to write.

Abe,

Enclosed are pictures of that “pretty little pink thing” you love so much. I hope it satisfies your longing, though it does little to sate mine. I ache for the feel of your big, strong hands against my body, and I’m saddened that when this comes off once more it won’t be you that’s removing it.

Remember the last time I wore this? I do. If I close my eyes, I can still feel the weight of you on top of me, the feel of your lips against my skin, the wonderful ache between my legs as you moved against me.

I’d give anything for just one more night with you. I fear you have ruined me for all other men.

Yours forever.

The envelope she drops into the postbox the next day is thicker and heavier than usual, and she grins excitedly, imagining the smile on Abraham’s face when he eventually opens it.

For the next week, her gaze is fixed on the letterbox each morning, waiting for his reply to drop through, but nothing arrives and the disappointment she feels mounts by the day, sadness and embarrassment causing a heated feeling in her cheeks and a heaviness in her chest.

She has all but given up on the idea of him ever replying, thinking she has made a fool of herself, or worse still, that her letter has gotten lost, when one evening there’s a knock at her front door.

Strong arms wrap around her, and once more her breath is stolen away, as Abraham’s mouth descends upon hers, backing her up into the living room as he kicks the door closed behind him.

He cups her cheek, keeping her close to him when they eventually part for air, his chest heaving. “Couldn’t find the right words for what those photos made me wanna do to ya, so thought it best I just show you.”

She squeals as he throws her over his shoulder, carrying her towards the bedroom and depositing her onto the bed as though she weighs nothing. Propping herself up on her palms she looks at him in wide eyed excitement as he looms over, his darkened gaze roving over her form before moving to follow her.

He bumps her nose with his as he plants a hand either side of her head. She can feel how hard he is already through his trousers, as he presses himself against her, and it makes her core throb with want.

“First,” he whispers, “I want you naked, no flimsy underwear compares to the feel of you bare against me.”

She gasps, as he all but tears the clothes from her body, the barely audible pop of buttons and seams lost to the desperate need she feels for him as she pulls at his shirt and trousers in turn. Sighing in pleasure at the sensation of his skin against hers once more, she feels a sense of relief. Having him like this is like returning home after a prolonged absence.

He kisses her, and she whines when he pulls away, the gesture all too brief, though she is quick to giggle as his lips trail a path from her neck, all the way down her body until he’s positioned between her legs.

“Then,” he continues, eyes flitting up to meet hers. “I’m gonna taste you, see if you’re sweet as I remember.”

Her head falls back with a moan as he licks a line with the flat of his tongue from her opening to her pearl. The rumble of appreciation that growls within his throat vibrates through her, and she buries her hands in his hair, certain she is ruining the carefully waxed and styled coif, though he is making her feel too good for her to care.

His hands grip her thighs as alternates between lapping at her with quick precise movements, and fucking her with his tongue. As she feels herself on the crest of her pleasure, he pulls away, and she cries out in frustration.

He grins as he moves back up her body, his chin slick and shining with her arousal.

“Now, I wanna feel you squeeze around my cock until you peak,” he murmurs, lining the head of himself up with her and pushing slowly forward.

Her mind goes blank as he presses inwards, only able to focus on the stretch of him inside of her, causing her to arch against him.

“I want every thought to be gone from your mind, every thought but how good it feels when I fuck you,” he continues, keeping his thrusts slow and steady, “So that that’s what you’re thinking of when I leave again and ask you to come with me.” As she feels the pressure begin to build in her lower belly again, she knows there is no way she can say no to him. Letters just won’t be enough anymore after this, she needs all of him.

#abraham x reader #ewan mitchell #abraham grantchester #grantchester abraham #abraham x you #abraham x y/n #abraham imagine #abraham smut #abraham fan fiction #abraham fanfiction #abraham fan fic #abraham fanfic #grantchester fan fiction #grantchester #grantchester fanfiction #grantchester fan fic #grantchester fanfic

[fan-goddess]

Chapter Four: A new kind of promise

Catch up on the fic here!

Authors Note: After weeks of heavy research into Romani weddings traditions, I decided to use a mix of traditional events and my own versions. The questions I’ve been trying to find answers for have come up with little to nothing, so I’m mixing it all up into my own thing. I am sorry if that’s offended people, but I genuinely can’t do much about it. I have tried asking for help, but nothing came through. I’ve used mainly Christian traditions, but am making it my own with as much limited information that I found online weaved in.

Chapter Summary: The wedding day is coming up quickly, and your little conversation with your hopefully soon to be husband has made you think of things more clearly than you before

Taglist: @valeskafics, @omgbrcat @humanpurposes, @watercolorskyy, @blue-serendipity @anjelicawrites @lexwolfhale @helaenaluvr @scarletbedlam @tssf-imagines @vhagar-balerion-meraxes @arcielee @targaryenbarbie @ilikechocolatemilkh @tumblin-theworldaway

Warnings: Talks of arranged marriage, literal marriage, most likely incorrect portrayal of a Romani wedding, she/her pronouns mentioned, (if I miss any let me know!)

The wedding is in two days, and the memory of Abrahams body against yours is still unrelenting and clear in your mind as ever. Sticking with you with the same ferocity as a stick of Ivy that’s grown on the side of a house.

Though it were his words that clung to you most adamantly. ‘Because while she may not even be here yet, I already somehow finding myself caring for her. Just as much as I find myself already loving you.’

“What’s got you in such a state my darling?” Your mother says, making you suddenly jump in pure fright as in your thoughts you’d forgotten she was even there in the first place.

You sigh. “Nothing mum. I was just… just thinking of the wedding.”

You’d hate to say anything to inflate her ego, but your mum has been nothing short of a saint, even with her small snide comments every so often. As while you’ve been so caught up on Abraham, she’s been caught up in the making of your wedding. Making sure everything is being set up rightly for the day, and making sure your dress will be made in good time. It seems her bossiness and her attitude is good for something other than nagging you.

She scoffs in disbelief at your answer, but to your relief she seems to let the comment slide. Focusing on making herself a cup of tea, reminding you of your own that whilst you were caught up in your thoughts, turned cold in your hands. Still, you sip at it diligently anyway. Attempting to use it as a very useless distraction that of course does little to help.

The stables are now a place you can’t go to anymore. Too fearful to be put face to face with your soon-to-be husband to go anywhere near that now haunted place. From what you’ve heard from the recent girl talk you’ve been listening too with pricked up ears whenever Abrahams been mentioned, he hasn’t been going there too much recently anyway. Choosing to go either there or mainly out in the woods. He still drops off the wood and the animal carcasses, only with the recent development of the two of yours’ relationship, he only places them at the step of the door, before knocking and leaving soon as he comes. As if he was never there in the first place.

You don’t blame him for acting like this. Especially with how you acted to him after he practically told you he loved you.

You hate yourself for it. As when he uttered those words, you froze. You mumbled incoherent words even to yourself, and ran away like an absolute fucking coward. You left him standing there in that stable, leaning against the wall after he said those personal things to you, and you feel absolutely awful for it.

Your parents had asked what had you in such a rush when you all but sprinted through the door, but you couldn’t dare tell them the reason. Instead, you yelled you needed the loo, and hid in the toilets for a few minutes and cried into your hands like an idiot.

The days that went by after that had all been eerily and dreadfully similar. His words had revealed something within you that made you so fearful of it all that you now cannot do anything but hate yourself, and pray to whatever man or thing that was in the sky that Abraham would still love you, even after what you had done.

To your surprise though, praying to whoever you could seemingly worked, as each night that passed resulted in another day until your wedding. When you’d become his wife and he’d become your husband. It would have been so exhilarating if the days before hadn’t been so awful and hateful.

The anxiety has been killing you, but putting that aside, the dress itself was absolutely beautiful.

It was white, a colour insisted by your mother even though there was a very high chance it’d be dyed a mixture of green and brown by the end of night, and reached around your mid calf. There was even delicate lace hand sewn by your mother. An act you could not dare to deny brought small tears to your eyes that were quickly dried away claiming hay fever, in fear it would somehow spoil the minimal makeup that had been insisted by the other ladies who’d helped you get ready.

Yet as you found yourself walking down the laid out path towards where your fiancé stands, you cannot deny that for once, you felt truly beautiful. That it felt thrilling almost to feel actually wanted and desired by a man who you would soon share your bed with.

Abraham doesn’t turn to look at you until you’re a few steps away. Yet when he does, your heart does somersaults as you see his mouth open slightly, and his eyes quickly move to look over you fully. His eyes widening slightly as he takes you all in, though you feel the need to almost snicker when you see they linger at times specially around your cleavage. An act he stops doing so quickly you could easily blink and miss it.

His reaction calms you though. As it shows he still cares for you in his own way. It shows that he still wants to be wish you. In his own way…

When you get to him, he nods his head in his own way of a greeting, and you nervously nod your own. Your lips already sore and swollen from how much you’ve been biting them in your anxiety the last couple days. Yet when Abrahams eyes trail to look at your lips, a whole new type of ache travels through you.

“May all who are here today sit now!” Pal shouts, his voice loud and asserting as everyone quickly moves to follow his orders. You and Abraham as well moving to face him as he looks at the both of you with a kind smile you cannot help but reciprocate.

“Abraham Lee, is here today to marry this fine woman from our own clan. Her parents are here today to witness the change of her transitioning from their daughter, to Abrahams wife. I understand that Abraham, instead of using typical money, has gifted one of his prized horse to the brides parents as payment. Does the brides parents feel this is a good payment for their daughter?”

You can’t turn back at the moment to look, but you can hear your father’s grunt as he lifts himself onto his feet, and how your mother fusses at him for him to be careful.

“Yes, me and my wife believe the horse that Abraham has provided our family with was a sufficient price to pay for our daughter. We are grateful to welcome him into our home, and are grateful he has taken such a shine to our only child.” Your father chokes, almost sounding on the verge of tears at the end of his words, before another round of grunts begins, signifying he’s finished and has sat back down on his chair again with a sigh.

Pal nods his head in a silent thanks to your parents, and turns to your right to look at Abraham eye to eye.

“Okay then. Now, Abraham Lee. Do you promise to take this romni under your protection? Do you vow to look after her, and be a good husband for her? To allow herself to be shielded by you forever, until the day you die?”

He doesn’t answer straight away, you yourself only hearing him let out a single deep breath, and you quite honestly feel yourself almost die on the spot fearing the worst has happened. That he has realised his mistake and that he’d put the wedding off there and then, shaming you for your actions.

Only whilst you’re worrying, he grunts and begins speaking, and you have to slowly let out the breath you were holding previously in thanks. “Yes, I vow to do all that and more for her.”

Then Pal turns to you, and suddenly you find yourself unable to breath once more. Who knew the whole ordeal would be so friggin stressful?

“Do you, a daughter of this clan and of the Roma, take Abraham Lee as your husband? Do you understand you will be under his protection, living in his home with him and being with him until his or your last breath? Do you vow to be a good wife to him, looking after him and caring for him back to full health whenever needed? Do you vow to guide him, when it is needed too? Do you vow to do all that and more for him, in exchange for his protection?”

Your breath is shaky as you hold it, and whilst it would be improper to do so, you want so badly to hold Abrahams hand firmly in your own and use his strength for some stability. Still, it is improper, and Abraham still has every right to shove you to the dirt and shame you.

“Yes, clan leader, I vow to do all that and more for him, as he is my husband now and forever more.” The extra words aren’t necessary, but it feels nice to do and makes you feel sort of giddy to see the small smile on Abrahams face in the corner of your eye. His body shifting from side to side as the next part of the ceremony begins.

“May the husband and wife hold each others hands.”

The two of you turn to each other, and you’re pleasantly surprised to see Abraham’s cheeks are an unfamiliar shade of pink. He almost appears bashful, but that would no doubt be an unfamiliar feeling of his.

Still, his hands move to clasp your own, and your thumb begins to rub small shapes on the back of his veiny hand. His own hands though clench slightly round yours, possibly as a warning. It probably wouldn’t be a good look for him or you if he was to begin glaring at you already, not even ten minutes into the ceremony.

“Do the two do you vow to look after each other, stay true to each other, and be good to each other for the rest of yours and theirs’ lives?”

This time, there is no real hesitation from either of you, as both you and Abraham almost manage to say ‘I will’, at the same time as each other.

Though after that, Pal smiles at the two of you, and motions for the bread to be brought out. Which when it gets handed to the two of them, it’s odd, as it’s almost like the both of you don’t want to release each others hands just yet, content in providing the other with a comforting warmth. Still, the both of you split hands anyways, and move to hold your own hands and kneel before Pal who continues to stand, to allow the rest of the ceremony to continue to take place.

“I bless the both of you with this bread, in the hopes it will symbolise the fruitful future the two of you will bring to each other.” You can feel the bread being placed on your knees, and for a slight second, your body recognises that familiar feeling of warmth and comfort as you feel Abraham’s hand on your leg for a quick moment grabbing one of the two chunks of bread. Pal hands him the salt, and he adds an almost amusing amount onto it, you yourself doing the exact same, only with much less.

Abraham brings the bread to your lips, and with a surprising amount of grace you manage to take the break into your mouth, eyes widening as the sudden taste of salt hits you. Your hand moving to cover your mouth as it takes a few seconds for you to be able to swallow. But after that small moment, which you could see brought a smile to Abraham’s face, you place your own piece of bread by his lips, and with much less care for his manners he fully leans forward and places his lips over your fingers, leaving spit to cover your fingertips as you let go of the bread and it falls directly on his waiting tongue.

Pal gives the two of you a minute to swallow, but neither you nor Abraham needs it. And instead, the two of you take the time to admire each other in your respective wedding outfits. Your own eyes focused on the way his body somehow manages to look so good in the clean yet somehow still Abraham looking suit, while his almost can’t seem to focus on one thing. His eyes constantly roaming your body as if he can’t get enough of you.

“Now that that’s been done, the bride and groom, if you can continue to face each other please! It’s time for the last bit of the vows part before we can move onto dancing, which I can say for all is what we’re definitely looking forward too! Or in my case, the booze!”

A small wave of laughter is heard from the guests, and even a small giggle from yourself is heard. A doing which brings a small, barely noticeable smile from the man in front of you.

“Finally, the newly vowed couple of the rom and romni needs to do one final thing. Abraham, my friend, it’s time for you to kiss your new bride!”

Your breath feels like it’s swept away from you as Abraham steps closer to you and takes your head in his hands, before pulling you closer. Your eyes close in delight and you feel yourself so close to letting out some sort of noise of pure happiness when his lips firmly press against your own.

Your heart feels like it’s about to beat from your chest as your hands grasp around Abrahams vest and somehow try to pull him closer to you. You can feel his body heat overwhelming you, and you almost let out something akin to a sad sound when he eventually pulls away from you. Yet that quickly gets forgotten when you see Abrahams red swollen lips up close. And when you find yourself able to tear your eyes away to look properly at him, you can see his own eyes and doing just the same. Unable to look away from your lips.

The both of you are so smitten that you almost don’t hear Pal announcing how it’s time for the celebration dance. Only broken from the trance when Pal places a hand gently against the both of yours’ shoulders and murmurs the instructions to the both of you, choosing to ignore the knowing smirk on his lips as the both of you are lead to where the rest of the nights festivities are being held.

It’s beautiful, for there are various lights that are hung up all around that brighten up the space wonderfully, and many other things that are dotted around that bring a deep sense of fondness deep in your heart. Soon though, music floods the air as you giggle amusingly at the sight of your mother and father dancing wildly as if there was no one else there. As if his injury was never there in the first place.

You look at Abraham, but to your delight you find he is already looking at you with a content smile on his face. It’s strange, to see the once hard working and duty driven man that is Abraham look so soft in your presence. But you must say, it certainly begins to grow on you almost annoyingly quickly.

“Do you, do you want to dance?” You stutter, scared he’d say no to your question. Only to your surprise, he doesn’t. Abraham murmurs his own version of an agreement, and takes your hand in his own, bringing a deep flush to your surprised face.

To your delight, he brings you to the very centre of the makeshift dancing area, and he holds you close to him as he begins to move you in time with his body. His hands clasped firmly against your waist and your hand, his face tucked next to yours.

“I didn’t get the chance to tell you earlier, but you look gorgeous…” Abraham murmurs, his breath tickling your ear sending shivers down your spine. “Made me forget about everything except the fact that you’re mine now. That you belong to me, and the fact that now…” He takes such a deep breath as he pauses that he almost causes the hair tucked behind your ear to fall loose. “That now I’m yours too.”

You can’t help yourself from grinning at his confession, nor can you dare think to stop yourself from kissing his cheek lightly. Showing your own silent appreciation for his words.

The two of you dance for a while. Content in each other arms. Dancing till you’re forced to confess how much your feet are aching in your shoes. Yet even when the two of you sit down, Abraham still keeps his firm hold on you, refusing to let go of your hand from his. The only time he actually let go being when he insisted on getting you some food to eat after the long day, glaring and seemingly harsh when he practically forbade you from standing and getting it for yourself. But as little as you really know your husband, you know he means the best in his words and his actions. As he had said earlier, he protects fiercely what he loves.

You’re so wrapped up in thoughts with a smile that you can’t help but flinch slightly when you feel a hand place itself on your shoulder, yet a brighter smile when you see you father looking down on you with his own tearful smile.

“The two of you looked happy together when you were dancing. I don’t think the poor boy wanted to let go of you!” He grins, sitting down next to you in an empty chair.

“I didn’t either!” You giggle, smiling so fondly you swear you can feel your cheeks begin to hurt.

“I’m glad. I’m so happy for you darling that you’re happy. You know, I just remembered the talking too I gave that boy before this...”

“Oh dad you didn’t!” You gasp with your hands over your mouth, a horrified look on your face as you think of all the worst things as possible that couldn’t happened between them.

“Oh you bet I did! I refused to allow this man one moment of thought that he could get away with hurting my little girl! I told him clearly and firmly, that if he hurt you in any way shape or form, that he’d have me and all the lads making sure he paid for it dearly!”

“Dad!” You groan, embarrassed and horrified as you laid you head in your hands, your cheeks no doubt a bright red right now from the shame.

“It’s true! I may have weak bones, but that doesn’t mean I can’t give him one for sure!” Your father insists, much to your utter horror. It gets even worse when another voice joins in the conversation…

“I agree sir!” Abraham speaks, two plates in his hands as he places one in front of you and one in front of himself as he sits in another empty chair to your left. When you look down to see what he’s gotten you, you’re quite delighted to see a lot of your favourite foods there waiting for you to eat them.

“Thank you.” You say to him, genuinely surprised and grateful for what he’s done for you just now.

“Don’t be,” He grunts, tucking into a sausage roll on his place. “I got your mother to help me. Didn’t want to get you anything you hated or were allergic too or something…”

You don’t respond, choosing what’s best to respond with is a small hum of agreement and nod, before placing your hand on his which lays on the table. You have to try and not let out an audible noise when Abraham seems to instinctively clench his fingers around yours and firmly hold you. Ever the possessive man it seems your husband will be.

Your father looks at the both of you fondly, and he gives you a small smile and a nod of his own before he leaves to most likely go to talk to your mother or some other person.

“Did you enjoy it. Today, I mean.” Abraham grunts again, pausing his movements to look at you so intently you feel your whole body flush.

“Yeah, I really did. Think it’s the best day of my life.” You smile, genuinely feeling almost euphoric seeing his bashful face that he tries to hide with his now free hand. Though to save his embarrassment you move to eat your own food with a smile, staring at the dance floor where Pal has somehow convinced your mother to dance with him, much to your amusement as you begin to giggle at the sight.

Soon though, the night comes to an end as the parents take the little kids home, and the adults who have no children have other adults take them home after getting absolutely shit faced drunk, much to Abrahams amusement who huffs a laugh at them.

Your parents come to the both of you and wish you well, as your belonging have apparently already been moved into Abrahams caravan so you could stay there tonight. And due to them knowing of Abrahams family situation, they wish him the best of luck too. Even giving him a hug which you swear leaves him looking brighter than earlier.

The two of you are the last people to leave the party, but a couple other members of the clan offer to help bring the presents people have given the both of you, which Abraham and you accept gratefully when you see the sheer size of a few of them. Though when you see some familiar wrapping you remember seeing in your mother’s wrapping box you can’t help but laugh slightly in reminiscence of it all.

Abraham and yourself make it to his caravan relatively quickly whilst being followed by those who’d offered to help. They came in and left rather quickly, putting the gifts on a countertop before leaving, saying their own little congratulations while they do. Leaving you and Abraham alone in the room to look at each other.

A strange sort of silence overwhelms you, and it’s with a small gasp you suddenly feel Abrahams hand on your cheek caressing your skin carefully and softly.

“I think, if it’s alright with you little, we continue what you left me with at the stables…”

#abraham x you #abraham grantchester #abraham fan fic #abraham fan fiction #abraham fanfic #abraham fanfiction #abraham smut #abraham x reader #abraham imagine #abraham #grantchester smut #grantChester #ewan mitchell character #Ewan Mitchell #ewan mitchell fanfiction #ewan mitchell fanfic #ewan mitchell x reader

[in-act-ive]

The Walking Dead x GN/NB!over stimulated!Reader

This is a two parter! As of right now the second one isn't out!

Request : nope

Type : headcanon

A / N : My tip is always headphones!! I also only did the characters im comfortable with writing about as of right now! If you need more tips always feel free to ask <33

Carl Grimes

He gets it

He also picks up on it really fast

If you're acting at all off he'll come up behind you and cover your ears to block out some of the noise

He likes it when you put your hands over his

If you look like your about to cry he'll take you away from the chaos and get you some place thats calm and you don't need to stress out anymore

He's probably picked up anything he thinks you can mess with while being over stimmed

One of those is definitely a stuffed animal

Carl definitely has had made excuses that embarrass himself just to help you get away

Rick Grimes

He has experience with it due to his son

He's horrible at picking up on it though

Most of the time you have to go up to him and tell him you're over stimulated by everything going on and he'll try his best to help you

Most of the time he'll send you off with Carol or Tara cause he wants to help but he's busy

When you have to be some place with him he has something in his pockets for you to mess with to distract yourself

Rick just tries to make sure you know he does care

When he does have the time he'll take you somewhere you can rest and will stay with you

Unless he gets pulled to work again

He wants to prioritize you, really

He's just a busy man

Daryl Dixon

He does not what he's doing

He just tries to ask you what you need

He picks up on it almost immediately

9 times out of 10 he goes and asks Carol or Rick what he should be doing

He probably just sends you to someone who knows what their doing unlike himself who is an idiot

He has a list of everything you've said / he's been told that helps

He keeps it on him at all times

He's pretty good about disappearing without anyone noticing so if he knows you need to be away from all the chaos he'll take you there

He won't exactly sit with you, he'll pace around instead

Like, he wants to be there for you, yes, and... He's not good with showing that

Abraham Ford

He knows exactly what he's doing

He's probably sat you down to ask what he can do to help you because he really does want to help

He makes sure to have something in his pockets to give to you to fiddle with when you need a distraction

Big hands = covering your ears

He'll run the back of his hand along yours to let him know he knows and is trying to figure out what you need

He picks up on it a bit slower than most but he does

Sometimes he needs Glenn or Tara to point it out to him so he knows for sure

He will get you away without saying a word to anyone else

If anyone asks he'll say " None of your damn business " and walk off with you

If you start crying he'll cup your face in his hands and whipe your tears away with his thumbs

Glenn Rhee

He's got this

He doesn't

He's trying though!

He picks up on it quickly though and lets anyone who he knows cat help you know

Abraham is his first option every time

He's probably the one to drag you away from a crowd and get you some place thats less stimulating then RUN for Abraham

He does want to help but he really doesn't know how

He's usually your second to last option so most of the time when you get to him you're already crying

He's good at comforting crying people

He'll get you some place safe and kiss your knuckles and use his sleeve to whipe yout tears

He's a sweetheart

He doesn't really understand whats going on but he wants to help none the less

He's probably asked you what happens and how you feel so he can imagine what you'd need

Shane Walsh

Bold of you to assume this man knows jack shit

In all fairness he knows some from dealing with Carl for most of the boys life

He's been nominated most likely to send you to anyone but himself

When he does have to help he kinda pats your back and tries to dig through his pockets to find something for you to fiddle with

He kinda seems irritated with you when you bother him about it

Eye rolls every time

He'll cover your ears if you ask nicely

On rare occasions he'll take you somewhere less stimulating

He'll leave you there

Aside from being rude 24/7 he will try and help if he has to

He just doesn't like being helpful

Negan

This man is so helpful

You still don't know why he's like that

Most of the time he picks up on it instantly and will try and help you best he can

He'll sit down with you in front of him facing him and he'll cover your hears, running this thumbs against anywhere they can reach

He likes it when you distract himself by playing with his hair

If you're lucky and you two are close enough he'll pull you into his lap

He'll get everyone to shut up and leave so you can be in a less stimulating environment

He's found and stolen a bunch of things you can mess with when you need too

He always focuses on your breathing, making sure its stable, always

He may act like an ass but he tries to tone it down

He knows how to help and will help anyway you want / need it

Gabriel Stokes

He knows the basic amount of things

Probably asked Rick for help on what to do lets be honest

He didn't want to ask you directly to seem inconsiderate

He tries to avoid you to not make it all worse

It makes it worse

Someone had to tell him that avoiding you made you feel horrible and he felt bad

The amount of times he apologized was exhausting for you

Hr tries to help out a lot better now even if he has no clue really what he's doing

He'll give you something to fiddle with and help you take deep breaths before running to find someone who knows how to help you better

He has stated he wants to help but doesn't know how to nor does he want to be the main person you rely on

Note: This was not spell checked nor grammer checked! I apologize in advance for the mistakes

#carl grimes x male reader #the walking dead x male reader #the walking dead x reader #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes #the walking dead #rick grimes #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes x male reader #glenn rhee #glenn rhee x reader #glenn rhee x male reader #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x male reader #abraham ford #abraham ford x reader #Abraham ford x male reader #shane walsh #shane walsh x reader #shane walsh x male reader #negan #negan x male reader #negan x reader #gabriel stokes #Gabriel stokes x reader #gabriel stokes x male reader #twd

[thought--bubble]

Abraham Story, all the things you promised is ready to post tonight! So excited! 😁 then, in the next few days, will be part 3 of the mini Aemond series Right place wrong time. If you haven't read the first 2 parts, you can find them HERE

#jess writing updates #abraham x reader #dark aemond x reader

[anjelicawrites]

After the fair

Paring: Abraham x reader

Synopsis: during a horse fair you meet an old friend, Abraham gets jealous and needs to be reminded who you love.

Warnings: reader has burn marks, reference to nausea and vomiting, anxiety, fighting, crying, jealousy, Abraham’s possessiveness, reference to prejudice against the Romanichal community, kissing, fingering, p in v sex, kissing, scratching, overstimulation, titty sucking, pregnancy sex.

A/N 1: this is a sequel to this fic, but it could be read as a standalone.

A/N 2: I don’t know anyone from the Romanichal community and used Google for my research for this fic. I tried to be as accurate and respectful as possible. Please let me know if I’ve written something wrong so I can make the needed corrections!

A/N 3: reader is AFAB but not described. Where needed, they/them pronouns used. Reader is addressed as "wife".

It’s a beautiful spring day, sunny but not too hot. It explodes over the assorted smells of people, food and horses at the fair.  You’re all the happier to be able to inhale lungful of air without feeling sick: you’re roughly into the second trimester of your first pregnancy, the first having been a nightmare of nausea caused by any smell, throwing up and being afraid of losing the child slowly growing into your belly.

You know your body is still recovering from barely managing to keep anything down for months, you’re all belly now, the rest of your skin stretched thin over your skeleton, not that you care, now that you feel better and you can feel movements in your tummy.  Abraham is still worried about you and the baby, whenever he’s not with the horses, he’s hovering over you like a hawk, ready to go fetch the healers of the community as soon as he sees signs of discomfort on your part. It’s so endearing to see how uncaring of what the whole camp thinks of him, not when your health and safety are one the line: he’s always showed you his love and care, in the privacy of your shared vardo, and kept a more stern façade for the outside to see: now that you’re expecting your first child and had such a rough start, he doesn’t seem to care about what the other men think of him, only what the women helping you advise him to do to help you with the pregnancy.

Abraham is at the horse fair today with some of the animals he’s worked on during the last year and a half, you as well came to town to do some business with one of the book antiquarians you collaborate with; having been sick for so long, you had to put everything on hold and are itching to go back to trading antiques with all your contacts in the UK. You are tired and your ankles feel swollen, yet you are happy: you feel fulfilled by a very productive work day and you want to have a small wander around with your boots in the mud and under the sun, before telling Abraham you’re going back to the vardo to lie down for a bit, before dinner.

You turn around when you hear your name being called and spot an old friend from your Oxford days.

“What are you doing here? How are you?”

You are surprised and happy to see him after such a long time!

“I’m just enjoying a nice, sunny day.” He smiles. “What brings you here? It’s so far away from Badger’s Crossing!”

You try not to flinch at the name and almost manage: the poor man doesn’t know how much that spot still hurts you and you don’t want to ruin your day.

“I’m here with my husband, he works with horses.” You say with a smile. “Husband? Now, when did that happen?” “As it usually goes.” You laugh. “A little over a year ago.” “Congratulations for that and for the little one on the road!”

He hugs you again and you tighten your arms around his big frame with all your strength: he’s always been a good friend, a companion during the long hours of study in the library, a gentle soul trapped in the body of a giant.

“What about you? Are you still trying to climb the academic ladder?”

Minutes fly as he tells you all about his goals and achievements as you two walk around the fair, he’s always been flamboyant and enthusiastic about his field of choice, and he hasn’t changed one bit. He regards you with tales of Oxford life, making you laugh with his stories about your former professors there as he helps you navigate the uneven terrain of the fair, ending up with an arm as thick as a tree trunk linked with yours.

“So, where is your husband? I need to meet the man who managed to snag you away from your books and the rest of us, he has to be a remarkable person!”

“He is! There’s so many people I can’t see him.” You go on your tiptoes and shield your eyes from the sun. “There he is!”

Abraham seems to sense your presence and stares in your direction without you calling him, his expression darkens when he sees you with your arm linked to your friend.

“Hello husband.” You go to him and put your hand on his. “I met an old friend today!”

Abraham just stares at your friend, whose expression has changed as soon as he’s seen him: too late you realize your mistake.

Abraham puts his arm on your shoulder and pulls you closer to him as your friend tries to make some half heartedly small talk: you’re so used to be around your community, you’ve forgotten how lowly gadji think of them, how the distrust easily flows towards the Romanichal people who have welcomed you with an open heart. 

You are not sad when your friend bids a haste goodbye and leaves you with your husband.

“Who was that?” 

You can feel how tense Abraham is and you place your hand on his sturdy chest.

“An old friend from university, no one of importance.” You smile in his direction. “Are you going to stay here long? I’m going home for the day.”

Abraham stares at you, assessing your condition with a worry and care you’ve gotten used to experience.

“It’s not going to take me too long. You go along, take one of Peter’s children to accompany you.” “There’s no need for that. I will collect the book when we leave the area and it’s not that much of a walk.” “it is not negotiable.”

Abraham is always on edge when Cyril is not shadowing your every move, but you couldn't bring both the goods to the antiquarian and the dog and you had to leave him guarding the vardo.  You came to the city with some of the women, he’s not going to let you go back on your own: he wouldn’t have done it if you weren’t pregnant, to begin with, now that his first born is in your belly? He’s not taking any chances.

In the end the daughters of Esme Jones come back with you, their chatting easing a bit of your tiredness and annoyance towards Abraham’s over protectiveness. You love your husband, you don’t know what you would have done without him after Badger’s Crossing, but he needs to remember you can take care of yourself, even in your state. But the thought doesn't even cross his thick skull, he simply treats you as if you're made of glass, your opinion not even considered, and that irks you to no end. 

You have to lie down as soon as you arrive at the vardo to put your legs up, hoping to help with your swollen ankles.  You’ve turned the small transistor radio on, waiting for the radio drama to start, as you tap gently on your distended belly: the midwife has suggested you might be carrying twins, after you told her how the kicks seemed to be everywhere in your belly, at the same time. 

Truth to be told, your tummy is pretty big for someone around their fifth month and she could detect no strangeness in the way your child is growing and moving inside of you, perhaps twins it is?  The thought scares you a little, not because you don't know how to act around children, in your past life as a librarian you used to organize activities with them, and were pretty good at it; those were not your children, though, you didn't have to shoulder the responsibility of their well being for their whole life. If you're truly carrying twins, how are you going to manage? The idea fills you with the need of your mother, either adoptive or biological, to take your hand and tell you everything is going to be alright. 

Two sets of kicks drag you back from your anxiety, or perhaps is kicking and punching against your tummy?  You drum your fingers again but the child (children?) don't take your bait. 

“You really want to be a mystery up to the end, don't you?” You ask your tummy without receiving an answer. 

When Abraham comes back you’re midway eating toast with butter and sardines.  You were supposed to wait for him and share the kidney pie you’ve backed, maybe while sitting outside to enjoy the late spring afternoon, but you had this violent craving for food that you didn't want to fight, not after three whole months of nausea and vomiting. 

You’ve noticed he's washed himself before coming back, his ridiculous mane of hair wet and styled the way he likes, yet he looks aggravated: had something happen back at the fair?

“Abraham?” 

You don't want to sound too apprehensive, but you can feel the tense aura around him, who doesn't respond, preferring to take a swing from the water bottle on the table. 

“What happened, my love?” You ask. 

Abraham's eyes are darker in the dying sun streaming from the window, dark blue like the stormy sea, his mouth set in a thin, unhappy line. 

“You know he wants to shag you, don't you?” He asks, the belligerent tone barely controlled.  “Who?” You're genuinely confused, feeling like he's thrown you in an ongoing conversation you've missed the start of.  “Your friend.” He spats. “The one from before. He knows you're spoken for, that you're carrying another man’s child inside of you, and he still wants to shag you!”

Slower than you want to, you manage to stand up to look into Abraham's eyes. 

“Abe, he's always been like that: expansive with his affection. Not once has he ever wanted to sleep with me.”

Abraham's brow seems to knit even tighter as he regards you.  

“You don't see it, but I could!”

The shadows on his face are darker, turning his beautiful face in a stern mask of disappointment; you stand your ground, feet planted on the floor of the vardo, eyes locked with his. 

“Let's say that you're right, that he wants me.” You grab his hands and put them on your tummy. “Tell me Abraham, whose child am I carrying? Whose seed has taken root inside of me?”

His hands clench at your words, his nose flares. 

“I’ve asked you a question, husband: who is the one who had me, who bred me? Was it him? Hmm? Who was it?”

Your nails are leaving half moons on pain in his wrist that he can't feel, his fingers spasm over your clothed tummy with the need to rip your clothes open to stare at your naked body: you’ve never been more beautiful and enchanting than now that you're full of his child, his cock is always at half mast with the need to be buried inside you warmth, now so tight and always welcoming.  You don't realize how crazy you drive him, how much he wishes to stay rooted inside of you for the rest of his life, to suck on your breasts until you're keening and begging him to stop, but he will not: he needs to die with your taste in his mouth. 

Your eyes stay locked for what seems hours but it is just seconds, before Abraham's hands evade your hold to grab your face, his long fingers in your hair to keep you where he wants you to be. 

“It was me.” He growls, before smashing his lips against yours. 

It’s not a gentle kiss, nor it is refined; his mouth slants over yours and his tongue invades your mouth, proprietary and hungry, while he backs you towards the bed and you kiss him back ferociously, your fingers already under his shirt, your nails raking down his long back.

He undresses you fast, almost ripping your clothes off your body and keeps his burning gaze on your skin while he undresses himself: you can see the hunger there, barely controlled after all the months you were too sick to sleep with him, but you still feel self conscious of the way your body is changing and of the way your scars are uglier now that your skin is stretched thin over your bones and your belly is already so big. You know he doesn’t see any of your imperfections, that he loves you, yet you wish to be perfect for him, unblemished for his eyes to see.

You slide up the bed to make space for his long body and spread your legs to accommodate his form as he hovers over you, his weight carried by his strong arms. He knows what you’re thinking, he can see it in the darkened hue of your eyes and in the way your fingers itch to cover your body with the bed sheets: he’s not going to have any of that. You are his, belong by his side, not under the heavy cloak of shame: to him you are as pretty as you were before the fire and the way your body is changing adds more fuel to the fire of his desire.

His lips are soft all over your skin, starting from your brow he kisses a slow path down your body, over your closed eyelids and your nose, his teeth nip your lips playfully and his mouth sucks at your neck, until you’re marked for the whole world to see. Gentle his tongue licks your burns and ravenously he sucks on your breasts, he murmurs sweet nothings at your belly and he smiles when he hears the child kick in response; his long fingers explore you slowly, you’re embarrassed by the squelching sound you hear and he’s having none of that.

“So perfect.” He murmurs, the blue of his eyes almost hypnotic. “So much tighter for me, and always wet.” “Aaaabe…” It comes out strangled as your back arches as much as your tummy lets you. “You’re always hungry for me? Are you not?” “Abraham, please!” You whine when his calloused thumb grazes your clit. “Answer me. Show me how obedient you can be.” He growls hotly. “Yes Abraham! For you! Only for you, husband!” You whine as your cunt tries to suck his fingers deeper. “What a good wife you are.” He purrs. “I think you deserve a reward, don’t you?”

The pads of his fingers start massaging that rougher patch inside of you faster as the thumb of his other hand takes care of your swollen clit and you cant your hips following his lead, moaning as the pleasure unfolds inside of you and spreads through your nerves, warm and familiar makes you whine and shake under his ministration.

“Abe! Abe!” You plead, needing his permission. “Close, Abe!” “Yes, now!”

His fingers move impossibly fast and your body vibrates with pleasure, trashes and arches drenched in sweat under his, your mind almost snapping when his lips curl around one nipple and suck hungrily as you come with a desperate moan.

“Oh God.” You pant, seeking his warmth. “You did good, sweet wife, so good.”

You feel pleasure lick at your nerves again when he uses his hand, drenched with the proof of your pleasure, to slick his erect cock with slow, deliberate strokes, his eyes boring into yours, daring you to look away.

“I love you.” You sob. “I love you so much!”

You don’t know where the tears come from, but they fall freely from your eyes and Abraham is fast in slotting himself behind you to hug you as tight as he can. With your big belly in the way, hugging from the front while laying down is difficult, you have to squirm a bit to hide your face against Abraham’s neck to cry, desperately, his masculine scent calming you and driving you into overdrive at the same time, heightening all your feelings for him, now exploding in your chest like fireworks.  Your emotions are so much stronger now that you’re pregnant, they escape your control, leaving you defenseless against your own self, and lost without your husband.

Abraham’s callous fingers dry the tears from your cheeks carefully, as if you’re made of glass and he’s afraid of breaking you with his oaf’s strength.

“Better?” He murmurs in your ear. “Yes. I don’t know what happened.”

You snuggle closer to his warmth, making sure his hand is laying flat on your belly and your leg is over his, wanting his cock to find home between your lower lips.

“You don’t have to.” He says and you know he’s telling the truth. “I know. I want you, please.”

The heath in your voice travels like an arrow to his cock, which swells once again, aided by the warmth of your cunt and the knowledge that you want him, and him only. He rolls his hips against yours, letting your smell, the taste of your skin pervade his senses. His hand takes hold of your tight to secure you against his body as you moan, reveling in the way his body responds to yours, how your desire entices him, how this magic can only work between you two, and no one else.

Slowly, Abraham enters you.  Ever since you stopped feeling so sickly, he tried to be as gentle as possible with you, choosing to forego his more rough ways to express the passion that consumes him, preferring to be gentler, to feel your body react to his, to just experience your pleasure and though that, find his own.

Both of you groan when he bottoms out and your walls hug his cock impossibly tight, almost to the point of pain when he starts to rock against you, his erection sucked in when he leaves your warmth, the velvet of your walls the sweetest torture, your moans spurring him on, your taste intoxicating on his tongue, as it is the softness of your breast in his hands.

His hips rock gently against you, a soft moan escapes your lips with every push in as one of your hands grab blindly behind you, scratching his naked skin, trying to pull him as close to yourself as possible.

“I’m here.” He growls. “Feel me.”

Your body shakes in his hold, your nails scratch his skin, pain and pleasure mix in your brain, leaving you a begging, screeching mess in his hold as his calloused hands grab and touch your breasts, your nipples so sensitive already that you keen, almost in pain. 

His touch is delicate, yet proprietary on every inch of your body; the way his free hand slides on your sweaty skin to grab at it, the hold on your hip to keep you flush against his bigger body, his teeth on your neck, everything marks you as his in ways the ring on your finger doesn’t.  Nothing compares to feeling him explore you and own you, to have his cock rearrange your insides with long strokes that make you whimper, to feel his index finger slowly play with your clit, keeping you on the edge of pleasure, not letting you fall, not yet, not before he’s fucked the fist of your cunt some more, heard your desperate sounds of pleasure, squeezed your breasts, now so big they fill his hands, marked you again and again.

“Abe! Abe!” You whine, you hips bucking against his hold “Shh, wait! Not yet!” he growls desperately. 

It’s so hard to control his own orgasm when your cunt sucks him in and he can only grind against you as you kiss him, ferocious and desperate, tongue and lips sloppy against his: how he wishes to keep the two of you on the edge forever, to stay rooted in your cunt until the end of times, to bully that rough patch inside of you until your voice gives, to never have to leave you again!

You come with a scream, white sparks explode behind your eyes as your cunt clenches so tight Abraham follows you immediately, his seed marking you yet again. His vision blackens for an instant, his orgasm infinite inside the sanctuary of your body, until all his muscles relax and he slumps against you, who lay breathless on the bed, overused cunt stained by his leaking seed, just basking in the feeling of his tired lips all over your sweaty skin.

For long seconds you two exist in this blissful silence, broken only by your ragged breaths, you two might as well be the last people on earth, the thick paneling of the vardo providing with all the soundproofing to believe the camp outside doesn’t exist.

“Are you still angry?”

You ask Abraham, after turning on your other side to look at his face. He’s more relaxed now, his hair a mess, his cheeks pink with exertion.

“I’m never angry with you. Your friend? He should know not to touch what isn’t his.”

There’s still an edge in his voice, that known possessiveness now enhanced by your state that’s the core of your husband. He means well and fears the gadji and their violence, is petrified by the idea of losing you, or the child: he’d die without either of you.

“I’m not sure I can call him that anymore, not after the way he looked at you. Shush! I don’t care that you’re used to it.”

There’s something in your husband’s eyes, an emotion you can’t decipher, too fast it disappears after he’s closed his eyes.

“You are truly a gift from God.” He says, and it’s the most romantic thing he’s ever told you. “I’m being just, that’s it.” You answer.

You cup his cheek and he rubs your palm like a cat.

“I’m so happy I’m carrying your child, Abraham.” “A pretty baby just like the mum.” “And the dad. Don’t sell yourself short.” “I don’t have much good to give.” He says with clouded eyes. “Don’t! If our child has half the courage and strength you possess, I could be happy. Don’t try to win this argument!”

Later that night, after you two had indeed eaten the pie outside, while chatting with your extended family, Abraham loses himself staring at you, asleep all curled up in one of his old shirts. The cotton isn’t loose on your body as it used to be, not with your protruding belly and fuller breasts to fill it, not that it matters: you always take his breath away. 

Slowly, making sure he’s not waking you up, Abraham moves the hair hiding the burn marks on your head and kisses the scarred skin with reverence: if the child is going to be half of the good person and the fighter you are, he can call himself a happy man.  You are too good for him, he can only try to live up to you and be a decent father, show the child the right way in this life, but with you by their side, he knows the child’s future is bright.

#abraham #abraham x reader #abraham x y/n

[catnteawrites]

*the first night in alexandria*

Rosita and Abraham: *heavy breathing*

Y/N and Daryl: *kissing sounds*

Maggie and Glenn: *chuckles and giggling*

Rick: "WHEN DID THIS BECOME A WHORE HOUSE???"

#daryl dixon #twd daryl #daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixon twd #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #daryl fanfiction #the walking dead daryl #the walking dead #daryl the walking dead #daryl dixon the walking dead #daryl x reader #daryl x y/n #rosita espinosa #twd rosita #rosita twd #abraham twd #maggie rhee #maggie twd #maggie the walking dead #maggie and glenn #glenn and maggie #glenn rhee #glenn twd #rick twd #rick grimes