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joelsgreys · 25 days

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fall into temptation | three

Post Outbreak Joel Miller x Preacher’s Daughter! Reader

series masterlist l previous chapter

summary: Of all the women to catch Joel Miller’s attention—it just had to be one of the goddamned preacher’s daughters.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. JACKSON ERA. SLIGHT PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION OF READER, mentions of her hair which she can put up into braids as well as her style of clothing. despite the nickname Joel gives her, it does not speak to her body type or size. AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and Joel is 56). several mentions of religion and religious symbols, reader has a father and two sisters, all who come with names, reader gets put into a a very uncomfortable situation, insecurity, anxiety, Seth is an asshole, protective Joel, he threatens to break someone’s jaw which is a warning in and of itself. SMUT. loss of virginity, reader is inexperienced but not totally clueless, oral (both m and f receiving), risky unprotected p in v sex (please wrap it up), lots of praise and pet names (baby, babygirl, honey, you know, the works), Joel gets a teensy bit rough, creampie, hint of aftercare, ends with a cliffhanger, but also not really if you think about it?

MOODBOARD FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES ONLY, NO MENTION OF RACE OR BODY TYPE.

word count: 10k

a/n: it was not my intention to post this on jesus day, but here we are. this took forever and a day considering the second part was posted back in september, but i am so so proud of myself for finally completing a wip i could cry. i did a bulk of the editing while i’ve been sick and in all honesty i probably should have asked someone to beta for me because i think i coughed out like 90% of my brain cells this week, but i think it turned out okay. ish.

Somehow, even over the volume of the live music, you could still hear their hushed, astonished whispers.

“Are you seeing what I’m seeing?”

“Is that Joel Miller with Pastor John’s daughter?”

“What’s she doing holding his hand?”

“He’s got to be at least twice her fucking age—”

Throat bobbing anxiously, you glanced up at Joel.

His shoulders were squared back, his head held high.

Solid. Steady.

Joel couldn’t seem to care less about the bewildered stares, the judgment that was being flung his way. Not once did he seem to waver. But you?

Oh, you were already starting to crumble underneath it all, on the verge of falling apart right before everyone’s prying eyes. Shame sat heavily inside of your chest, the weight of the feeling suffocating you, making it harder and harder to breathe as it prevented air from reaching your lungs.

It had nothing to do with Joel. Of course it didn’t. It had all to do with you and with who you were. Their beloved preacher’s sweet, innocent young daughter.

His youngest daughter.

Suddenly, the whispers were no longer whispers.

“Oh God, she’s not going home with him, is she?”

“That’s not right! Someone should say something!”

“Pastor John would never allow something like this.”

“Poor thing’s naive—she doesn’t know any better.”

Hot, stubborn tears of frustration glazed over your eyes and threatened to spill. It was as if you were a child who didn’t know any better, a gullible, clueless little girl with nothing in her brain who needed to be rescued—saved from the bad, bad man before he did bad, bad things to her.

Had it been anyone else, no one would have batted an eye. No one would have noticed, let alone cared. But it was you that Joel Miller was leaving the bar with in the middle of the night and it was you whose hand he had clasped in his own. That is what made it wrong. That is why it was a problem.

Everyone’s concerns had nothing to do with him at all, they had everything to do with you. You, you, you. You were the sole reason why it was a problem, the reason why he was being perceived as the Devil himself, horns out as he dragged the poor little unsuspecting angel down to the fires of Hell.

“Joel?” Overwhelmed, you instinctively reached for his arm with your free hand. Cold and trembling, your little fingers curled tightly around his bicep, digging into the firm, bulging muscle through the thick corduroy fabric of his sleeve. You whispered his name again. “Joel—”

“S’alright, babygirl,” he reassured you quietly over his shoulder. He gave your hand a comforting squeeze. “S’alright. Just keep your eyes on me, sweetheart. I’ve got you. You just keep on lookin’ right at me, okay?”

Nodding, you inhaled deeply and focused on him. Only him. The broadness of his back and his shoulders. Tufts of hair that curled over the collar of his shirt. Only him. He’s what mattered. He’s all that mattered.

“Almost there,” Joel murmured, squeezing your hand again as the door came into view. “Breathe, baby. We’re almost there. I’ve got you. You’re alright. Ain’t gonna let anythin’ bad happen to you. Promise I’ve got you.”

It wasn’t until his fingers wrapped around the old, brass handle that you finally exhaled the breath you had been holding out in utter relief, though it was very, very short lived. Just as Joel pulled the door open, you felt a hand wrap around your arm. Dry, slender fingers dug into the soft flesh above your elbow as an attempt, and a feeble one at that, was made to tear you out of Joel’s grasp.

The music stopped and the bar fell silent. Everything and everyone came to a sudden standstill, freezing mid dance, mid drink, mid bite, mid gossip.

Shocked, you glanced over your shoulder. “Seth?” you squeaked his name. “What—what are you doing?”

Seth didn’t acknowledge you. His focus was on Joel.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Miller?”

Joel’s anger couldn’t be seen, but it could be felt. So palpable you could have wrapped your fingers around it. It radiated off of him and loomed over the entire bar like an incoming storm cloud. Threatening. Dangerous.

“Where are you taking her?” Seth demanded, his other hand curling around your wrist as he tried, but failed, to snatch you from Joel’s side once more. “Let the girl go! You let her go right now, you hear?”

Caught in between the two men, you nervously turned to look at Joel. Nostrils flared, jaw clenched, seething eyes that did the talking for him. His message was loud and oh so abundantly clear.

If Seth didn't take his hands off you, he wasn’t going to have any hands.

Not after Joel Miller was through with him.

Blazing heat flooded your face. As if it couldn’t possibly get any worse, everyone had now gathered around you to watch the tense encounter, eyes wide, brows raised and jaws practically on the weathered, hardwood floor.

Tommy Miller stood among the crowd, subtly shaking his head, his lips pressed together in a tight, thin line of disapproval as he glowered at his older brother. Would he be looking at Joel like that had it been Esther in your place? If she was the one he was taking home? Would any of this be happening if it was her instead of you?

“Seth.” Uttering his name, you shifted your attention back to him. You sounded calm and collected, despite feeling anything but. Joel’s hand in yours was the only thing keeping you steady and grounded. His touch was the only reason you hadn’t yet spiraled into a state of panic. Clearing your throat lightly, you spoke again and tried your hardest not to waver. “Please let go of me.”

Still fixed on Joel, he spat, “I’ll be damned if I let him take you anywhere.”

“He’s not taking me anywhere, Seth.” Without thinking, the words came tumbling out of your mouth—loud and clear for everyone in that room to hear. “He isn’t forcing me to go with him. I’m making the choice to leave with him. Out of my own volition. Please let go of me.”

Finally, Seth looked at you. His old, worn features were twisted in disbelief. “What?”

You swallowed dryly. Part of you wanted you to shrink away, curl into yourself. Instead, you straightened your posture, forced yourself to stand a little bit taller. Willed yourself to have a backbone for once in your life.

“You heard me,” you said, lifting your chin in defiance. Several onlookers gasped in surprise at your rebellion. Where had this insolence come from? “I’m choosing to leave with Joel. Now, please let go of my arm.”

Behind you, Joel stood silent and still.

Watching. Observing. Waiting.

He wanted nothing more than to intervene. Rip you out of Seth’s hands and shatter each and every last bone in all ten of his fingers for putting them on you. Had Joel not realized that this was probably the first time in your whole, entire life you’d mustered up the courage to use your voice, he would have easily given into the urge. He wanted to protect you. He needed so badly to protect you. Yet, he knew you weren’t helpless or incapable of standing on your own two feet. He knew you deserved the chance to stand up and speak for yourself after a lifetime of being silenced, a lifetime of being forced to stay in your place, seen but never heard.

“Seth, let go of my arm,” you repeated. It was no longer a polite request. It was a demand.

He scoffed. “Do you honestly think I’m going to let you leave with somebody like him? You think I’m just going to stand back and let him take advantage of you?”

Oh, you hadn’t liked that insinuation, not one bit.

It caused something inside of you to finally give way.

Snap.

The blood in your veins boiled, ran hot enough to make you feel like you were about to burn from the inside out. “Joel isn’t taking advantage of me! It isn’t like that,” you seethed, furiously. The quiet, well mannered, obedient good girl everyone in Jackson knew was gone. And she could stay gone. In your periphery, you could see Leah elbowing her way through the sea of people to the front of the crowd with an incredulous look plastered on her face. She stood there beside Tommy, who appeared to be just as incredibly bewildered by your outburst. “Don’t treat me like I’m some child who doesn’t know any better! I’m an adult and I’m old enough to make my own choices, okay?”

For a moment, you had forgotten it was Seth standing there in front of you.

“I’m capable of making my own decisions! I don’t need you to dictate my life. I don’t need you to tell me what is and isn’t good for me—controlling what I should and shouldn’t believe in.” Your voice trembled as emotions you’d been suppressing for years bubbled their way up to the surface. Amidst the chaos, you could feel Joel squeeze your hand again, as if silently encouraging you not to lose your nerve. He was your anchor, the only person who could keep your world from capsizing. You knew he wouldn’t let you drown. Not even God, who you had always been forced to believe was your pillar of strength, had ever made you feel this protected. Safe. “I don’t need you to tell me how to live and much less when it’s the end of the world.”

It wasn’t Seth you were addressing.

It was your father.

Your father, who controlled every last thing, from what you would eat to the way that you dressed and how you wore your hair.

Your father, who refused to let you have a mind of your own, who simply could not bear the mere thought of you thinking for yourself.

Your father, whose love felt like shackles, heavy, rusted metal restraints that had been digging into the flesh of your wrists for far, far too long.

“You need to let me go now,” you said, swallowing back the lump in your throat. Once more, you caught Leah from the corner of your eye, your heart lurching in your chest when you noticed her desperately trying to wipe at her eyes with the back of her hand. She was the only person in the room who understood how you felt. Her rebelliousness only ever masked the pain of knowing her father’s love came with terms and conditions—and the fear of knowing what would happen if those terms and conditions weren’t met. For several weeks, you’d gotten a taste of what she went through everyday, how her fear of putting her foot down led her to run around in secret and live a double life. “Just let me go.”

Seth firmly shook his head. “No! I’m not letting you go anywhere with him. I don’t know what the hell he did to you, but he’s clearly got you all fucking brainwashed.”

That was fucking enough. Joel stepped in, lowering his voice as he said, “Y’know, I’ve just ‘bout lost count of how many fuckin’ times she’s asked you to let her go now and it’s really startin’ to piss me off.” Raising an eyebrow, he laid his offer out on the table. “Here’s the deal. You let go of her right now and I won’t shatter your fuckin’ jaw into pieces. That seem fair enough to you?”

“No.” Seth gripped your arm even harder, prompting you to let out a little yelp as his nails dug painfully into your skin. Though it’d been accidental and he hadn’t meant to hurt you, it didn’t matter. He’d just set off the ticking time bomb that was Joel Miller.

Furious, Joel snatched a fistful of his shirt with his free hand—the other still held yours. Gentle, despite being mere moments away from beating someone to within an inch of their life.

“Joel! Stop!” Tommy’s voice broke through the tension as he approached. His footsteps were slow—careful and cautious, as if he was afraid to make any kind of sudden movement. “Joel. Hey. C’mon now, let’s not do this, alright? Ain’t gotta handle things this way. We can talk it through. No need for anyone to wind up bleedin’ in the fuckin’ infirmary tonight, so just take a breath and let him go.”

Blatantly ignoring Tommy’s attempt to keep the peace, Joel tugged Seth forward, yanking him closer. “Listen to me and listen to me good ‘cause I ain’t gonna fuckin’ say it again. You’d best take your fuckin’ hands off her right now unless you wanna spend the rest of the night sweepin’ up your teeth off the floor of your own fuckin’ bar,” he threatened, his tone enough to send a chill up anyone’s spine, even your own.

“You wouldn’t dare, Miller.” Somehow, Seth managed to keep a straight face, but you could see it so clearly in his eyes and in the tremble of his lower lip—oh, he was terrified of Joel and rightly so. “Not in front of all these people. Not in front of your brother. That wouldn’t be a smart move considering you’re already on thin fucking ice for what you did to that boy’s face, now would it?”

Joel tugged him closer. “Test me,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “Go on. Fuckin’ test me.”

His challenge was immediately met with a pathetic look of defeat. Seth dropped your arm and he was released.

“S’what I fuckin’ thought.” Without another word to the man, Joel whirled around and roughly pulled the door open, leading the way outside. As you both descended the building’s old, creaking wooden steps, you began to shiver and he suddenly remembered he’d left his jacket behind inside the bar. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “C’mere, my little dove,” he murmured as he tucked you against his side for warmth. “I’ve got you.”

The first thing he did was light the fireplace.

“Should start warmin’ you up, sweet girl,” he’d said to you over his shoulder. He tossed a log into the blaze as you sat perched on his couch rubbing your bare arms with your hands. “M’gonna go upstairs and find you a blanket, alright? You stay put.”

“Okay,” you’d mumbled, knowing there was no point in telling him not to fuss over you.

Even with the soft, fleece throw blanket he had draped around your shoulders and the warmth of the flames in front of you, you continued trembling. Subtle, but he’d noticed it, felt it when he had sat down beside you and pulled you close against his side. “Oh baby, you’re still shakin’?” That was when he realized you weren’t cold. Frowning, Joel rose to his feet and disappeared down the hallway. He came back to the living room a minute later with a glass of water in his hand. With a small, labored grunt, he dropped to one knee in front of you and held it out. “Here.”

“No, thank you.” You shook your head. “I’m not thirsty.”

“Maybe not, but I’m kinda worried you could be in a bit of shock, right now,” he stated, the creases in between his brows deepening as he observed you for any other physical signs of distress. Carefully, Joel lifted the glass to your lips, gently coaxing you to take a drink. “C’mon, darlin’. Think you can be a real good girl for me and at least take a couple sips? Hm?”

Sighing softly, you nodded and did as he asked of you, taking a small sip of water. It soothed your dry mouth and throat and you took another one. Maybe you were thirsty after all.

“Little more, now. Little more. That’s it. That’s my good girl.” Once he was satisfied with how much you’d had to drink, Joel set the half empty glass down on the oak coffee table behind him. He turned back to you, placing his large hands on either side of your thighs below the hem of your dress. He started tracing soft, soothing circles into your skin with his thumbs. “M’real proud of you for standin’ up for yourself back there, sweetheart. Took a whole lot of fuckin’ courage to do that, y’know.”

You glanced down at your hands in your lap. “Mhm.”

“Baby. Hey. Look at me.” One of his hands abandoned your leg and he reached up, delicately taking your chin between his thumb and index finger. He tilted your face upwards, his worried gaze meeting your own. “Talk to me. M’right here.”

“That—that was a lot,” you admitted meekly, shoulders sagging as the adrenaline started wearing off and your body slowly came down from the peak hormone rush. “It was a lot.”

Sighing, Joel’s hand fell away from your face. “Yeah, I know it was a lot, babygirl. I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“No.” You were quick to cut him off. “Don’t be sorry.”

His chest heaved with another sigh, this one deeper, heavier, bearing the weight of his guilt. “Well I am,” he said. He planted his hands on either side of you on the couch and lightly shook his head. “Didn’t even fuckin’ think twice when I pulled you outta that fuckin’ supply closet and took your hand in front of all those people. I was so fuckin’ hellbent on showin’ everybody you were mine that I didn’t even stop and think ‘bout what all it would mean for you. It was selfish of me. Real fuckin’ selfish. And I’m sorry, little dove.”

“Do you regret it?” you asked, quietly.

Joel chuckled in spite of himself. “M’pretty sure I’m the one who should be askin’ you that question, darlin’,” he remarked. “Tell me. Do you regret it? Do you regret me pullin’ you outta that closet?” He momentarily paused. There was a stutter in his heartbeat when you dropped your gaze away from his, silence your only reply. “Do you regret me takin’ your hand in front of everyone?”

Of course not.

You wanted to be his and you wanted everyone to know it. There was no regret, none.

Still.

The consequences that you would undoubtedly have to face in the morning were overwhelming. Daunting.

Surely, by then, your father would know about you and Joel. When he came downstairs right after sunrise and he discovered you weren’t in the kitchen helping Lydia prepare breakfast, he would question where you were and make some kind of remark about how you should not be sleeping in this late. He would tell her just how irresponsible it was for you to ignore your duties and obligations to him and the family. Sloth was one of the seven deadly sins, after all. He would make her trek upstairs and wake you, and when she did, your sister would find your bed empty.

Meanwhile, there would be a knock at the front door.

No stranger to having members of the congregation show up on his doorstep when they were in need, be it of prayer or comfort, your father would answer it only to find someone, not in need of solace, but who felt that it was their responsibility and moral obligation to inform him that they had seen his youngest daughter leaving The Tipsy Bison with Joel Miller in the middle of the night, hand in hand.

He wouldn’t believe them.

“Now, that is simply not true,” he would say, offended that anybody would have the nerve to show up at his door and accuse you of something so vile. “That’s not possible. I know my daughter and she would never do such a thing. It must have been someone else that you saw with him. Someone who looked like her, perhaps.”

Then, Lydia would descend the staircase and tell him you weren’t in your bedroom. “She must have gone up to the main street as soon as she woke up,” she would suggest with a shrug, not yet privy to the events that had taken place the night before at the party you and Leah had snuck off to. She never had to worry about you, the good one. “I did notice we were running pretty low on eggs. Sugar, too. She probably wanted to be the first in line at the pantry to—Papa? What’s the matter?”

The color would drain from your father’s face when the realization slowly sank in. No, you weren’t out on the main street picking up eggs for breakfast and sugar for his tea. You were lying up in Joel Miller’s bed—defiled, impure, and with the curse of Eve on your flesh. Even after dedicating his entire life to making sure you did not stray from the path of righteousness, he had failed. You had fallen into temptation.

There was a chance he would have mercy on you. All you had to do was beg and plead for his forgiveness—and more importantly, for the forgiveness of God. “Vow to atone for your sins,” your father would say, his gaze fixed on the Holy Bible in his lap. He probably wouldn’t be able to look at you, not after what you had done. “Repent. And swear to me, child, that you will never so much as glance in that man’s direction ever again.”

No. That’s not what you wanted.

You wanted Joel and the freedom to be with him.

But that freedom came with a high, high price.

You were willing to pay it, but you’d be lying if you said you were prepared to navigate the consequences. Then again, was there really any way for someone to prepare themselves to be shunned by their own father?

“I can take you home,” Joel offered quietly, the sound of his voice taking you out of the future and bringing you back into the present.

“What?”

“I can take you home,” he repeated himself. “I can take you home right now if that’s what you want, sweet girl. Won’t give you any kinda grief ‘bout it.”

Confused, all you could do was stare at him.

“Listen to me, baby. You mean a lot to me. More than I can even begin to explain,” Joel reassured you before any kind of doubt could find its way into your mind. “I want you to stay with me. There’s nothin’ on what’s left of this fuckin’ earth I want more than for you to stay here with me. But what you want matters to me a hell of a lot more than what I want.” He reached up, lightly stroking your cheek with his thumb. “If you decide you wanna go home and go back to your family—back to your old man—then that’s where I’ll take you. Okay?”

Your father would give you an ultimatum. But Joel? He was giving you a choice. And he’d respect that choice.

“I wanna free you from your cage, my little dove. But I think we both know you’ve gotta make the choice to fly outta there on your own.” He lightly swept his thumb over your quivering bottom lip, his eyes meeting yours as he whispered, “Door’s wide open for you. What you do next is all up to you.”

“I’m afraid, Joel,” you confessed. A tear slipped from the corner of your eye and rolled its way down the side of your face. He was quick to wipe it away, along with the others that followed. “I do want out of my cage. I really, really do. But I’m terrified. All I have ever known is my family and my faith. I have never been apart from my father and my sisters.”

His expression softened. “I know you’re scared. Can’t promise you things will be easy, but there is one thing I can promise you.”

“What’s that?” you questioned, then waited with baited breath.

He gingerly cupped your cheek in his large palm. “I’ve got you,” he swore to you, just like he had done so back at the bar. “If you decide to stay, I promise I’ll take real, real good care of you, alright? For the rest of my life, I’ll take care of you. You won’t ever have to worry ‘bout a thing with me by your side. Swear it on my life.”

Warmth blossomed in your heartspace and finally, you stopped trembling. Lifting a hand, you curled your fingers around his wrist as your gaze fell to his mouth. “Joel?”

“What is it, darlin’ girl?”

“Kiss me. Please.”

With a gentle nod, Joel’s other hand found your hip, the warmth of it seeping through the cotton fabric of your dress. Leaning in, he brushed his lips against yours. It was a chaste thing, soft and innocent until you grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him closer to you. “Babygirl,” he mumbled against your lips. He deepened the kiss, sweeping his tongue through your parted lips and into your mouth. He tasted like bold bourbon and citrus beer. There was a faint hint of tobacco too—you recalled him admitting to you one night in the church house that while he wasn’t all that much of a smoker, at least not like he used to be when living in the zones, he would occasionally partake in the habit if he happened to come across a pack of cigarettes while out on patrol, pairing the nicotine with a drink. He tasted delicious. He tasted delicious because he tasted like yours.

You sank back into the worn, supple brown leather of his couch, tugging him forward so he sank in with you. Over you. Releasing your near death grip on his collar, you managed to wedge your hands in between your bodies and began to claw furiously at the buttons of his shirt, your fingers shaking out of pure desperation to feel him. It wasn’t until you were halfway down that he finally noticed what you were doing and leaned back, catching both of your wrists.

“Baby, wait,” he panted, shaking his head. “Don’t think now’s a good time for that—”

“Joel, please,” you pleaded, the intense ache between your thighs almost too much for you to bear. “Please. I want it. I want you.”

“S’been a rough night for you.” Joel’s voice was hoarse—strained, like he was aching just as much, if not more. “You’re real emotional right now. Vulnerable. Last thing I want is to take advantage of you at a time like this.”

You frowned. Had Seth’s words gotten into his head?

“You’re not taking advantage of me.”

“Darlin’ I just don’t think we should—”

“Joel, please,” you begged him again. “I was so good for you, was I not? Wasn’t I patient, just like you asked me to be?”

His lips thinned into a tight line. He wouldn’t be able to resist much longer. You, his beautiful little temptress of Eden.

“I waited for so long,” you reminded him. “I’ve been so, so good for you. Please, just make me yours already. I don’t want to think about anything else right now. I just want to be with you. Please, Joel. I need you so badly it hurts.”

Christ.

No man could stand it. No man could possibly have the strength to deny you.

With a look of utter defeat, he folded. Before he could say another word or make another move, your greedy mouth was on his, and you kissed him with fervor, with urgency, as you finished the task of unbuttoning his shirt. Pushing it off of his shoulders, the corduroy fabric fell into a crumpled heap behind him, nearly knocking the glass of water off the coffee table. You broke away from him and shamelessly marveled at his mouth watering form—you admired the way miles of smooth, tanned skin stretched over his wide shoulders, broad chest and soft, soft belly. Arousal pooled between your legs and you reached out and raked your fingers down his chest, and over his stomach, going lower and lower, following the trail of coarse, dark hair that led you to his brown leather belt. You clumsily started fumbling with the brass buckle until he caught your hands once more.

“Slow down, my little dove,” he murmured. “No need to rush this. We’ve got all night.” He stood up and held his hand out to you. Time blurred a bit—maybe it was your nervousness mingled with the eager anticipation of what was to come, but there seemed to be a small gap in your memory, a blank space that spanned from the moment you rose off the couch until the moment you found yourself standing in his bedroom where you were about to answer to the call of the flesh.

Dropping your hand, Joel switched on the lamp on his bedside table and kicked off his boots before taking you into his arms. “C’mere, honey.” He nuzzled your cheek with the tip of his nose as he spoke, the scruff of his beard tickling your cheek. “Couple’a rules, sweet girl. I do somethin’ that you don’t like, you tell me. You want me to stop, you tell me to sto—”

Without waiting for him to finish his sentence, you slowly lowered yourself down onto the floor and knelt at his feet with purpose, as if kneeling before an altar, a sacred, holy space. Though you felt anxious, you were eager to worship. “I haven’t forgotten about what I said earlier tonight,” you cooed, noticing the mild look of surprise on his face. “I said I’d make it up to you and I intend on keeping my word.”

All the blood in his body rushed south to his cock and it strained painfully against the crotch of his jeans. “Baby, I—” Again, he was cut off, only this time by the sound of his own groan when your hand brushed up the front of his thigh and over his growing bulge. He glanced down, his heart thrumming painfully hard against his sternum as he watched you reach for his belt buckle.

With all your might, you willed your hands so as not to tremble. It was self-explanatory, what you were about to do, but your total lack of experience sowed seeds of doubt into your mind—you wanted to make him feel good, just like he had made you feel good outside of the church house during services. Just how you knew he would make you feel tonight.

Hand still over his buckle, you pressed the tenderest of kisses to his bulge through his jeans. Then, turning your head, you rested your cheek on one of his thick, blue denim clad thighs and peered up at him through your eyelashes with a small, nervous smile as you confessed what he already knew. “I’ve never done this before.”

Oh, how sweet and endearing you were. Joel reached down and smoothed your hair back and away from your face, tucking it behind your ear. “S’alright, honey,” he crooned, grazing the silkiness of your cheek with his index finger. “I’ll walk you through it. Teach you how to be a real good girl and suck my cock just the way I like it. That what you want, my little dove?”

His filth made your cunt clench hard around nothing.

Slowly lifting your head off of his thigh, you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and managed a clear, consenting nod as your hands fumbled with his buckle, the clinking sound of metal ringing loudly in your ears. You undid the button on his jeans and pulled down his zipper, your throat drying when you saw the outline of him, his size intimidating even behind the cotton fabric of his faded, black boxer briefs.

With a harsh swallow, you glanced up at him, silently asking him for his permission to continue.

Such a polite little thing, Joel thought to himself. “Go on, sweetheart,” he encouraged.

You tugged his jeans down to the middle of his thighs and hooked your index fingers underneath the elastic waistband of his boxer briefs, pulling them down and freeing his cock. There was a deep, swooping sensation in your belly as you watched it slap up against the lower part of his abdomen. After many nights of sitting in his lap, feeling him through his clothes, grinding your cunt down onto him, you thought you’d at the very least had an idea of what you would be in for, but oh, how wrong you had been. He was so much bigger than you could have imagined, and your stomach swooped again when you realized he was not going to fit. Anywhere.

Licking away the dryness of your lips, you take him in one of your hands, feeling the heaviness of his length in your palm. He was so long and so, so thick.

“Oh fuck,” Joel hissed the curse through gritted teeth, his hips jerking forward involuntarily as your touch sent a charged jolt of electricity shooting up the length of his spine. He looked down at you, his pupils blown wide with arousal. Christ. You hadn’t even done anything to him yet, but seeing you sitting so prettily at his feet was almost enough to make him come on the spot.

Delicately wrapping your hand around him, you found yourself almost in awe at the way your fingertips barely, just barely, touched. The sheer size of his cock dwarfed your hand, and made it seem so much smaller than it really was.

“You’re so big,” you murmured, echoing your thoughts. You licked at your lips again, suddenly feeling ravenous, an appetite that had seemingly come out of nowhere making you salivate. The tip of him was flushed red, slit already glistening—how badly you wanted, needed a taste. Never, ever, did you think you would be down on your knees for anything but prayer, but there you were, starved and desperate to bite into the forbidden fruit.

“What’re you waitin’ for, darlin’ girl?” he croaked.

“Permission,” you replied, sweetly.

“Go right ahead, baby. S’all yours—I’m all yours.”

Yours.

Yours, yours, yours.

Finding your first push of courage, you leaned forward and so carefully swept your tongue along the tip of his length, collecting the slight saltiness leaking from the slit and getting your first delectable taste. With your hand still wrapped firmly around his base, you looked up, your eyes locked on Joel’s face as you flicked your tongue up against the rigid underside of his cock.

“Fuckin’ Christ,” Joel groaned, all of the muscles in his stomach already pulling taut when he felt you dragging your tongue in a slow, purposeful lick along the length of him. “Babygirl.”

“Is that good?” you asked him, sounding hopeful. “Am I doing good?”

“Doin’ so, so fuckin’ good for me, sweetheart. Look so fuckin’ pretty down on your knees for me.”

Pleased, you wrapped your mouth around the head of his length, pressing forward and taking him in as far as you possibly could—which, in all fairness, wasn’t very far. At least not as far as you would have liked. Another groan tore itself from the depths of his chest as your plush, plump lips sealed around him, your tongue warm and wet on the underside of his cock. Moving both of your hands to rest on the sides of his thighs, you began to move your head back and forth, following what felt most natural to you. The nerves you initially felt slowly but surely dissipated, vanishing one by one with every curse, every tremble, every sharp breath.

Joel resisted the urge to buck his hips forward, fought the desire to feel himself at the back of your throat. He needed to be gentle, so careful with such an innocent, pliant thing who had much, much to learn. “Sweet little fuckin’ mouth feels so good around my cock, baby, just like I fuckin’ knew it would. Y’think it can take more of me, little dove? Hm?”

You hummed, the vibration intensifying his pleasure.

“Yeah? Y’trust me?”

Your reply came in the form of a muffled, “Mhm.”

Joel reached down and cradled the back of your head in the palm of his hand. He carefully guided you further onto his throbbing length, slowly feeding you one inch at a time. Your fingers dug into the denim of his jeans. He was much more than a mouthful for you, and you could only take about half of him before he hit the back of your throat, prompting you to gag around him. Drool dribbled out from the corners of your mouth and down the sides your chin, dripping onto your lap.

“Oh fuck, sweetheart. Yeah, that’s it. Little more now, honey,” Joel encouraged. He bucked his hips forward, his head slipping further down your throat. Just when you felt like you were about to choke, he pulled out and you tried your hardest not to cough and sputter as you took in a much needed, precious breath of air. He gave you a few seconds or so to finish catching your breath as he shoved his jeans and boxer briefs further down his legs. He stepped out of the articles of clothing and kicked them somewhere off to the aside, standing before you completely bare. “Open up.”

Your absolute devotion to him bred sweet submission, so as worried as you were that you wouldn’t be able to handle it, you nodded obediently and very willingly did as you were told.

He guided himself right back into your waiting mouth, pressing deeply. You tried to relax your jaw, reminding yourself to breathe in and out through your nose. Tears streamed down the sides of your face as you did your best to forestall another gag. “Little bit more,” he said, thrusting his hips in a slow, steady controlled rhythm. He advanced even further into your mouth—trusting he wouldn’t suffocate you, nor push you too far past your limits, you opened up wider. He moaned, “Yeah, baby. That’s my good girl. That’s my good fuckin’ girl.”

With a bit of newfound confidence, you hollowed your cheeks and sucked him. You swiped your tongue along the thick, prominent vein on the underside of his cock, earning yourself more of his sweet, sweet praise.

“Fuck, yeah, suck me off, sweetheart. This pretty little mouth was fuckin’ made for sin,” he breathed, guiding your head back and forth with a firm, but gentle hand.

You moaned, the noise muffled around his length. Slick soaked through your panties and coated the insides of your thighs. With another moan, you tightly squeezed your legs together, inwardly reminding yourself that patience was a virtue.

Noticing the way you had shifted, Joel moved his hand from the back of your head, lightly curling his fingers around your jaw. He pulled you off of his cock, a loud, lewd popping sound bouncing off the sage green walls of his bedroom. “C’mere, baby.” He grabbed your arms, effortlessly hoisting you up to your feet.

“What’s wrong?” you questioned him worriedly. “Did I do something wrong?”

Chuckling softly, he brushed a finger along the strap of your dress. You could do no wrong, his perfect, perfect girl. “Of course not, sweet girl. You did so fuckin’ good for me,” Joel reassured you, lightly tracing along your collarbone with his finger and making your flesh erupt in goosebumps. He leaned forward and feathered a kiss onto your lips, murmuring against them, “Are you wet, little dove?”

Before you could even process the query and generate some kind of coherent response, he dove his opposite hand between your thighs, cupping your warm heat in his palm. At this, your weak knees buckled, prompting you to reach out and grab onto his arms to hold steady and keep yourself from falling into a helpless heap on the floor.

“Oh, honey. You’re soaked. That what sucking my cock does to you?” he cooed. He peppered another kiss, this one onto the corner of your mouth. His voice lowered another octave. “Poor little thing. She needs me, don’t she? Needs me to take care of her?”

You whimpered. “Yes.”

“Manners, babygirl,” he reminded you, skimming your cheek with his nose. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, please.”

Humming in approval, Joel withdrew his hand from in between your legs and guided you backwards towards his bed. “Sit,” he commanded gently, bidding you to let go of him. “Arms up.”

Reaching for the hem of your dress, he took great care in pulling it over your head, then discarded the vibrant yellow material over his shoulder, leaving you in nothing but your cowboy boots and thin, cotton white panties. Without a word, he knelt before you and pulled off one boot, and then the other, setting them both aside. He hooked two fingers underneath the elastic waistband of your underwear, coaxing you to lift your bottom off of the bed, just long enough for him to pull them down and slide them down your legs. He was so tender in the manner in which he undressed you.

“Fuckin’ beautiful, beautiful girl,” Joel praised. His dark gaze dragged down the length of your body as you sat before him wearing nothing but the delicate, gold chain around your neck. The holy cross nestled between your supple breasts gleamed in the light of the lamp on the nightstand. He would leave it on until your decision was made, set in stone. “My pretty little dove.”

“Joel.” You whimpered his name, hands curling around fistfuls of his dark blue sheets. You were drenched now, in dire need of some relief. If he didn’t touch you where you needed him most, you would surely lose your mind.

Desperate, you leaned back slightly onto his bed and parted your knees, your folds glistening as you showed him just how badly you needed him.

Joel groaned, almost visibly salivating at the sight. The blazing heat in his eyes sent ripples of desire coursing through your body, straight to your throbbing core.

You opened wider. “Please.”

“Christ, babygirl. Already soakin’ the sheets.” Sliding a finger up along the seam of your pussy, he grazed your clit, the touch light, but somehow still enough to make your hips arch off the mattress as white-hot pinpricks of pleasure danced their way up your spine. He lowered his head and leaned in, your sweet scent drawing him in like a moth to a flame. Just when you were about to start pleading him for more, he dipped his face into the apex of your thighs, his mouth finally, finally, meeting your wet heat.

“Oh!” you gasped, your head falling back. “Fuck!”

Against you, his lips curled upwards into a wicked grin. He’d never heard you curse before, not until now.

Joel took his time devouring you, savoring the essence of your cunt with each broad stroke of his tongue. Sealing his lips around your clit, he flicked the swollen, sensitive bundle of nerves over and over again, eliciting from you some of the sweetest noises that he had ever heard in his entire life. In preparation for what you both knew was to come, he pushed one finger inside of you, the invasion causing you to fist his sheets even harder. He then slipped in a second finger, groaning in sheer, carnal bliss at how your walls squeezed them, at the mere thought of them squeezing his cock in the same manner. How was it that you felt so much tighter this time around?

“Oh God.”

You shouldn’t be saying His name. Not like this.

Not when something this sinful was being done to you.

Hungrily, Joel lapped at you, curling both of his fingers in an upwards motion to hit the perfect spot. He knew you were close, felt it in the way that you squirmed and writhed. Draping his arm across your hips, he pinned them down onto the bed, holding you still as he chased your high as if it were his own.

“Joel,” you chanted his name over and over again in a fevered prayer. Releasing the sheets, your hands found his hair, tangling themselves in his curls. Your head fell back, and you cursed at the ceiling of his bedroom. “Fuck, fuck, fuck Joel—”

Pushing onto his mouth, you came, moaning his name so loudly you were certain the whole neighborhood was getting an earful.

Joel pulled back, his beard and mustache slicked with your spend. “S’right, honey,” he crooned, his digits still buried to the knuckle as he helped you to ride out your wave of ecstasy. Eventually, when he pulled them out, you tried closing your shaking legs. He tsked and shook his head, wrenching them open further. “No, no, baby. Keep those pretty thighs open for me. Wanna see her.” He admired his work, his cock twitching at the sight of your pussy, swollen and shining, and ready to take him.

Like earlier, there was another brief skip in time.

Mind still in a haze, you hadn’t even realized that he’d risen to his feet and guided you further up onto his bed, not until you were lying on your back with your head on his pillow and he was hovering over you, his hard length brushing against one of your messy, inner thighs when he settled himself between your legs.

Your heart began to pound in a mingle of both fear and excitement.

Joel’s eyes met yours. His pupils were blown so wide, there was not one, single trace of brown anywhere to be seen. “Y’absolutely sure about this, little dove?”

Your response came without hesitation. “Yes. I’m sure.”

He pressed a kiss to the underside of your jaw. Your submission was a gift, and he would cherish every last second of your surrender to him, savor it for as long as he possibly could. His lips, soft and warm, skimmed along the column of your throat, leaving a trail of fresh goosebumps in their wake.

If, by some chance, you decided that you wanted to go back to your father and to your faith, Joel didn’t know how he would find it in himself to let you go, not after this. Of course, he would have to let go, though.

The last thing he wanted was to help free you from one cage just to stick you right back into another. While he was no stranger to loss, he had to admit to himself that to lose you would be a knife to whatever was left of his heart.

Shoving the thought out of his mind, he reached down and gripped the base of his cock, pumping it in his fist before running the leaking head along your puffy lips, coating himself in your wetness with the hope it would ease some of the pain you were bound to feel. “Ready, babygirl?” he asked you, lightly teasing your entrance. “Might hurt a bit. M’gonna go slow. Just need you to relax for me, alright?”

“Okay.”

“I’ve got you,” he promised.

You nodded, saying softly, “I know.”

Though he knew he had all of your trust, Joel could still sense your anxiousness. He reached out for your hand, lacing your fingers together with his own as he gingerly pressed forward and eased himself into you, taking the very innocence you had been taught your entire life to preserve, one slow, careful inch at a time.

“Oh—Joel!” You cried loudly at the initial stretch, your pretty face scrunching in discomfort. Tightly slamming your eyes shut, sparks flew behind your eyelids when he finally bottomed out. The burning sting in between your thighs was too overwhelming, almost impossible to cope with. He felt so enormous within you, you could have sworn he was in your belly. Another broken cry fell from your lips and he swallowed it with a comforting kiss.

“Jesus Christ,” he hissed against your lips, a thin sheen of sweat coating his brow, neck, and chest. He wasn’t sure where he found the strength, but he suppressed his urge to thrust. Instead, he dropped his face into the hollow of your neck and waited, giving you the chance to adjust to him. He mumbled against your skin. “Doin’ so good for me, sweet girl. Y’know that? You’re doin’ so fuckin’ good for me.”

Even in discomfort, you preened at his praise.

He squeezed your hand, and after a minute, he gave an experimental thrust of his hips—and then another and another before he ceased his movement once again. He was so big and you were so deliciously full of him.

Eventually, the pain subsided, and you found yourself asking, no, begging for more. “Move.” Your other hand found itself cupping the side of his face, coaxing him to lift his head and allowing your gazes to meet. Your soft, plush thighs parted further to help accommodate the breadth of his hips. “Please, Joel. I need you to move—I need you to fuck me.”

Surely, you would be the death of him.

He drew his hips back with cautious, tender care, then advanced in the same manner to fill your precious cunt all over again. He did it over and over, your pleasured moans encouraging him to begin picking up the pace. He drove his cock in and out of your weeping pussy, the slapping of flesh against flesh, the lewd, wet squelch of you around him inspiring him to fuck you harder, faster. And the noises you were making?

There was something oh so beautiful about your cries, sweet raptures of submission as you laid there beneath him, all too graciously taking everything he had to give you like the good, good, good girl you were for him.

“Fuckin’ hell, sweetheart,” Joel rasped. “Look at you—look at the way you take my fuckin’ cock, honey.”

And you did.

Glancing down, your gaze fell between your bodies and you watched in awe, openly marveled at the way Joel slid in and out of your cunt, how he knocked hard so deeply inside of you, driving himself as far as he could possibly go.

“Fuck Joel, I’m gonna—” You tried warning him as the pressure in your belly neared its peak, but you tumbled over the edge before you even had the chance to finish your sentence. Arching up off off the bed, you pressed your chest against his, your fingers squeezing his own so hard you feared you might break them.

“That’s it babygirl, let go,” he grunted, speeding up his thrusts. “Squeeze my fuckin’ cock—just like that. Good girl. My perfect, perfect girl.”

You didn’t quite get the chance to let the praise sink in.

Joel pulled himself out of you, and with ease, he flipped you over onto your belly. His hands gripped your hips and pulled them up off the mattress, his fingers moving to firmly knead the fleshiest part of your ass. He leaned over you, the head of his cock nudging at your hole. “Y’think you can handle a little bit more, sweetheart?” he whispered the question into a tumble of messy hair, the delicate scent of the lavender shampoo you used to wash it filling his senses. “Answer me, little dove.”

“Yes,” you replied breathlessly with a nod. “I can.”

With a satisfied hum, Joel sank into you, this second stretch not quite as overwhelming at the first, but still intense. “Relax,” he murmured, hunching further over your quivering back. He pressed a kiss onto the top of your head and then leaned down to brace his hands on either side of you. “Need you to be sweet for me just a bit longer, okay, baby?”

“God,” you whimpered when the heaviness of his balls came to rest on your sensitive clit.

It was the second time you’d uttered His name.

Joel almost grinned at the irony. He found his rhythm, groaning in gut-deep satisfaction with each snap of his hips—each smooth stroke in and each smooth stroke out.

“Oh fuck, sweet girl.” Heaven was indeed a real place, and Joel Miller was buried in it to the hilt, right at this very moment.

He was getting closer and closer.

Maybe it was your eagerness to help him reach his own release mingled with the pride you knew you would feel once you did that gave you a second wind, a fresh, new burst of energy. You planted your hands firmly on his pillow. Rolling your bottom lip between your teeth, you curved your spine and pushed back onto Joel with purpose, meeting his thrusts halfway as you rode his aching length to the satiation that waited for him at the end.

“There’s my girl,” he rasped. “Oh fuckin’ Christ—”

No way he could live his life without you now.

He needed you.

He needed you so much more than you needed him.

Joel slipped an arm around your shoulders, across your chest.

“Oh!” you gasped as he then yanked you back, pulling you flush against him. The rough crash of your back against his chest, combined with the angle in which he was fucking you knocked the wind out of your lungs.

His lips were at the shell of your ear. “Stay,” he panted, his breath hot against your cheekbone. He wrapped his other hand lightly around your throat. Relentless, were his hips now—his movements had become frantic. Desperate. “Stay with me, baby.”

Even as you fought to catch your breath in the position he had you in, you picked up on the fact that he wasn’t asking you of it, nor was he demanding you of it.

He was begging you.

Him, the most feared man in this town. Begging you?

“Joel,” you choked.

“Please, my little dove,” he pleaded, turning your head towards him. His mouth was then on the corner of your own, his beard roughly scratching the soft and delicate flesh of your cheek. “I need you, babygirl. Stay with me. Please, just fuckin’ stay with me.”

Your hands curled around his wrists. “Yes, I’ll stay,” you moaned. “I’m yours, Joel. I’m all yours. I—I’m not going anywhere. I promise. I’ll stay with you.”

A low, guttural sound rumbled through his chest. Joel firmly took hold of your cross, and without so much as a warning, he ripped the chain from around your neck and tossed it somewhere over his shoulder. He heard it land on the hardwood floor with the tiniest, faint clink the moment he spilled into you, ropes of warm release coating your fluttering walls. Curses and groans spilled from his lips and into your neck. Your cunt clutched at his pulsing cock, greedy for every last drop of his spend she could get.

Once you were filled, you both collapsed beside each other on the bed, heaving to catch a steady breath.

“Y’okay, sweetheart?” Joel managed to ask, his chest still rising and falling rapidly.

Exhausted, all you could do was nod and utter, “Mhm.”

He exhaled an amused huff through his nose. “C’mere.” He reached for you and pulled you against his side. He draped an arm around your shoulders, holding you as close to him as was possible. “Y’did so good, honey.”

Your mouth curled into a small, contented smile.

Several minutes had passed by, and despite telling him that you were too tired to even think about moving, Joel made you get up and use the bathroom, and while you did so, he ran a clean washcloth under warm water. “Here, darlin’. Let me clean you up,” he’d said, his lips meeting your forehead in a loving token of affection before he sank down onto one knee and ran the damp cloth along the insides of your thighs. He took extreme care when he wiped at your swollen folds, knowing you were still sensitive to the touch. “There we go. All done, now.”

Not long after, you were both back in his bed, wrapped up in his sheets.

Yawning, you nuzzled into bare his chest, your eyelids feeling heavier and heavier with each and every second that ticked by. You’d started drifting off when you heard his voice.

“Baby?”

“Hmm?” you answered sleepily, eyes still closed.

“Did you mean what you said?”

“Mean what, Joel?”

There was a brief pause. “Y’know, when you said you’d stay with me.”

Snuggling closer to him, you mumbled, “Mhm. Of course I did.”

“S’not gonna be easy,” Joel murmured into your hair.

“I know.” You yawned. “But I have you.”

“You do. You’ve got me—and I’ve got you, babygirl.”

“Mm. I know that too, Joel.”

You felt him kiss the top of your head and then fell fast asleep in his arms.

The sun bloomed over the Grand Tetons.

Your father would wake soon, that’s to say if he wasn’t up already.

The nerves began to set in.

Joel must have sensed it. “Breathe, baby. S’gonna be okay,” he soothed, squeezing your hand.

With one of his warmer, heavier jackets that normally didn’t see the light of day until winter season draped around your shoulders, the two of you made your way down the road and towards your house. Or better said, towards your father’s house. Because after what you were about to do, that yellow and white cottage would no longer be a place you could call home.

He led you up to the porch. “Y’sure you don’t want me to go in there with you?” he asked, quietly.

You could have laughed. You almost did.

“Do you believe that to be a wise choice?”

“No, I reckon it ain’t the best idea,” Joel admitted with a sigh, raking his free hand through his unkempt, salt and pepper hair. He looked up at the house, then back at you. “Look, little dove. No matter what happens in there, just know that everythin’ will be alright. M’gonna take care of you. For the rest of my life, I’ll take care of you. I’ll try my hardest to be everythin’ you need.”

“You already are, Joel,” you said, your gaze earnest.

His chest swelled with warmth.

Truth be told, Joel didn’t know how he had managed to defy the odds—how he, of all people, had managed to make his way into that sweet, innocent, beautiful little heart of yours, but somehow he did, and he would not take this responsibility lightly.

He brushed your lips with his and promised, “Gonna be waitin’ right here, okay?”

“Okay.” Inhaling deeply, you willed yourself to let go of his hand and took a step back. You then started up the porch steps on wobbling legs. When you made it to the top, you glanced over your shoulder at Joel, who gave you a subtle nod of encouragement. Exhaling slowly, you reached for the knob with trembling fingers and turned it, opening the door. You stepped inside, your heart dropping into your stomach when you saw your father sitting there at the foot of the staircase, as if he’d been waiting for you. He had been waiting for you. Fully dressed, he sat on the second to last step with both hands folded on his bible in his lap, a rosary clutched between them. “Papa?”

He said nothing. Instead, he silently observed you—his eyes glazed over the men’s jacket and the short dress you were underneath it, the disheveled, loose hair and kiss swollen lips. Your holy cross nowhere to be seen.

“Papa.” You swallowed harshly and shifted your weight anxiously from the heel of one boot to the other. “We, um—we really need to have a talk.”

He peered around you, catching a brief glimpse of the man standing outside, waiting for you at the foot of the porch.

He cleared his throat, lightly. “Yes, child. I suppose that we do.”

Nodding tightly, you turned around and slowly closed the door. Joel’s words rang in your mind over and over, giving you the push of strength you knew you would need.

I’ve got you.

divider credit goes to @saradika 🤍

#fic: fall into temptation #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x afab!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller series #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller angst #the last of us fic #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #post outbreak joel

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unoislazy · 5 months

Text

Your Touch

Mizu x Reader

Summary: Mizu is touchstarved. That’s it, that’s the entire thing.

A/n: Next story will hopefully be “Caged Bird” part 3, then I will finally post one of the asks that I took an interest in.

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You looked at Mizu, her dark hair pulled up into the high bun it was always in. The loose curl that she always kept out no matter what the occasion, lightly bounced as she walked by, focused on whatever task she had to finish.

You watched and looked on with curiosity, you wondered if she had ever done a different hairstyle on her hair before. You thought a braid might compliment her features, or even half up, you had many ideas and suddenly you were determined to try them.

Well that would require Mizu’s permission first.

“Hey Mizu.” You began, drawing out each syllable of her name to quickly pass on the hint that what you were going to say wasn’t serious.

She paused for a moment, putting down a large box and wiping her brow before looking at you. Her eyebrow rose ever so slightly, her curiosity was piqued despite her not saying a word.

“Have you ever worn your hair differently?” You asked. She simply stared at you for a moment before shrugging,

“A few different times. I just can't really afford to when I’m doing ‘samurai’ things.” She said in air quotes. She never enjoyed calling herself a samurai, for one thing most of the time she purely acted out of the name of revenge not honor. Another, she’s a woman.

Personally, you didn’t really care about the rules of a samurai, you respected them and their ambition but the ones you had met in the past were more focused on their honor over anything else. It had only hit you when you had met Taigen, he was so obsessed with reclaiming his honor like a disowned child that he practically abandoned his engagement. You didn’t understand it, what good is honor if it can be taken away so quickly.

You looked up at Mizu who seemed to be deep in thought. You figured she was just thinking of the different styles she had done before, but her face held a certain sadness as she thought. You began to realize that there was a story attached to the topic of hairstyles that you knew better than to bring up.

“Have you ever braided your hair?” You asked, regaining her attention. She thought about it for a moment before shaking her head. It wasn’t a common style for the time so you weren’t exactly that surprised.

“Would you like to try one?” You asked. You had definitely piqued her interest, her eyes shifted ever so slightly wider as you patted the spot in front of you.

She obliged, sitting down and facing away from you, her legs in a crossed manner with her hands peacefully resting on her knees.

She almost seemed a bit eager to try the hairstyle which honestly excited you a bit, it’s not often Mizu openly gets excited about something, especially with her very subtle expressions.

She sat before you, her slim figure not too far away from you as you gently reached up and grabbed the hair tie that seemed to hold Mizu’s entire hairstyle together. You’d never understand how she did it with so much hair, it never made sense to you. Her sleek dark hair unfolded, a healthy glow could be seen throughout it, she took care of it despite it being up all the time.

With one hand you ever so gently began to rake through her hair, making sure there were no knots that might get in the way of the process. Because of this, you noticed Mizu stiffen for a moment, a shiver could visibly be seen going throughout her body.

Having seen this your hand jerked back, not wanting to make her uncomfortable. Before you could say anything she turned her head just enough to look at you from over her shoulder and said in a low tone,

“Keep going.”

You paused for a moment as her words sunk in. The way she spoke to you was no different than any other time and yet for some reason… it felt different. You decided to pay no mind to it as your hand returned to her head, slowly dragging it through and sending shivers throughout Mizu’s body yet again.

Despite this, she sat calmly making no other movements other than the occasional twitch here and there as your hands glided through her hair. Having her hair done was a pleasure she never thought twice about, but the way you so delicately pulled at her hair, twisting it and shaping it as if she was some piece of art, it made her feel cared for in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time.

You carefully separated her hair, overlapping the pieces in a rhythmic manner, cautiously pulling the groups of hair but never hard enough to hurt. It didn’t take long before you had finished, you tied it all together with the hair tie that she used before, letting go of your work.

“How does it look?” She asked, now turning to fully face you. There was almost some sort of innocence that shone through Mizu's expression, one that seemed to say she genuinely cared how she looked. It was kind of sweet to see her usually stoic and harsh exterior break for a moment, it showed you who Mizu really was even if it was for only a few seconds.

You had seen Mizu with her hair down before, maybe not often, but you had seen it. Something was missing.

You stared at her for a moment, a confused look riddled your face before it hit you, the curl.

You gently reached your hand up towards Mizu’s face, one finger looping around the curl that had been hidden away underneath all of the other pieces of hair. Not expecting this, Mizu froze, letting you do what you needed to do but also not knowing how to react otherwise.

Once you had fixed the curl, you moved back a bit to reassess your work. You smiled, finally happy with how it looked.

“Perfect.” You said, proud of the work you had accomplished. Mizu was happy enough just taking your word for it but she was still curious to see how she looked. She drew her sword partially, only just enough to be able to see at least a little bit of her reflection on it. From what she could see, she truly didn’t mind the look.

“So, what do you think?” You asked, patiently waiting for her answer. You watched as a very small smile graced her features as she said,

“It looks good.”

She put her blade away, turning to look back at you as she brushed a few loose strands out her face.

“I wasn’t expecting you to be so… gentle.” She admitted quite plainly. Her hands rested on her lap as she thought back to a time when someone else had done her hair.

“Anytime my mother did my hair, gentle didn’t seem to be a word in her vocabulary.” She joked, a melancholic yet reminiscent look made its way onto her face as she thought back to the many times her mother had scolded her for looking to feminine.

“Being rough will only get you so far.” You responded, not really realizing how that sounded. It earned a small snicker from Mizu but it still went over your head regardless. It had got you thinking, the blue eyed woman constantly trained, having faced the several hardships in life at such a young age that no one would even dream of facing. She had to be tough in every way possible if she had any hope of surviving.

But you were determined to show her, in your own way, that you can let your guard down every once in a while.

“Let me see your hands.” You ordered pretty out of nowhere.

“What?” Mizu responded, clearly taken by surprise by your sudden demand.

“Let me see your hands.” You repeated, putting one of yours out and gesturing for her to place hers on top.

Her eyebrows wrinkled with uncertainty, having not a singular clue what you were planning to do, but she still did what you told her to anyway. Her confused expression remained as she placed her hand on yours, her palm facing towards the sky. With your free hand you gently traced the lines on Mizushand, slowly going over each callous that you could see. Just as you had expected, her hands were coarse and rough, tense from constant overworking and pressure, or maybe they were tense because she wasn’t used to the feeling of someone else, you couldn’t tell.

At first she didn’t know what to do except watch your hands.

“What are you doing?” She asked, confused what the point of this was.

You continued to trace lines and pointless circles around her hand, occasionally gently massaging different points.

“You’re really tense.” You pointed out, “I figured this might help you relax a bit.”

Mizu sat still for a bit as you continued, still not easing up in the slightest. Having her hair done was one thing, she had it done before so she knew at least somewhat how to react, but this was something different. You looked up at her, noticing her unbroken stare before smiling at her.

“Relax.” You calmly instructed her.

She closed her eyes, eventually relaxing into the feeling of your touch just like she had done before. She had truly forgotten what it felt like to be touched in a way that didn’t result in a bruise or broken rib.

You continued your motions, occasionally putting slight pressure on different areas. However in one area you had put just a bit too much pressure, resulting in a noise that sounded like a moan escape from Mizu. You immediately stopped, taking your hand away as you apologized,

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

You looked up at her, ready to continue apologizing but you were met with a serious yet… almost affectionate gaze as she said,

“Don’t stop,” She began, her voice was quiet and relaxed so at least you knew your work was paying off.

“It feels nice.”

There it was, that feeling again. You averted your gaze, not able to handle making eye contact with her while also processing your very wild feelings at that moment. One thing about Mizu was she never truly realized just how attractive she was, she always deemed herself a demon or a monster because that’s what she was taught to believe.

But you saw past that and because of that, things that Mizu didn’t even think twice about doing, would nearly send you into a coma just because it was her doing it.

She had no idea the power she had over you just from a few simple words, and you had no idea the power you had over her just from a simple gentle touch.

You continued on like she had told you, smoothing out the tension in her hand the best you could without any prior training on the subject. Eventually you had switched over to her other hand which was somehow more coarse than the first. You couldn’t help but admire the amount of time and strength that went into forming such things.

As you continued, you could tell Mizu was refraining from making any noises. In all honesty, it was nothing you hadn’t heard before, she’s been in pain enough times around you for you to get used to her whimpering and groaning.

Except this time was different, usually the noises she made were from a place of pain and discomfort.

However, this time, they seemed to come from a place of pleasure.

Caused by you.

“It’s okay.” You began, refusing to look up at her. “The more you let out the more I know I’m doing the right thing.” You encouraged, and sure one could say it was for a selfish reason but really who could blame you.

You could hear her continue to refrain, but over a small amount of time you could hear her a little bit more. Your heart raced as you continued, the act you were partaking in was nowhere near as sensual as it sounded and yet it still felt so intimate. If anything that’s all you wanted it to be, but that was a line you’d dare not cross, at least not yet.

A little more time had passed, you had eased out all the tension you felt in her hands and let go of her. Almost immediately she began to miss your warm and gentle embrace, having returned to her harsh and cold reality. But really, it wasn’t as cold as she had thought because you were still there, right in front of her, looking at her as if she was the only human to have ever existed.

“There now, do you feel better?” You asked quietly, a bit sheepish considering the amount of thoughts that had crossed your mind that you would never say out loud.

Mizu rubbed her hand absentmindedly, her face seemed a bit glazed over like she had been so lost in her thoughts and she wasn’t ready to be a normal person again. Once she had finally, fully, snapped back to reality she nodded.

“Thanks.” Was all she said before you two sat in silence. The tension was practically thick enough to cut through but neither of you wanted to be the one to take that leap, not without knowing for certain it was one they could even take in the first place. Up until now, sure you two had been close, but you had never gotten so close physically. You wanted to, she wanted to, but neither of you wanted to own up to it. She claimed she didn’t need distractions, and you claimed it was a feeling that would flutter away just as quickly as it came.

Well you were both wrong.

You both sat there, not looking at each other, not saying anything before you decided to gain the courage to say,

“Mizu?” You practically whispered. She looked towards you, finally taking her attention off of her hand which she continued to rub, trying to emulate the feeling of your touch but to no avail.

“Yes?” She responded. You very slowly inched a bit closer to her, not trying to make your idea or intention too obvious but she already had a few possibilities in mind on how this might unfold.

None of which she was complaining about.

“Can I… can I touch you again?”

That was all you asked. Sure you had literally just put down her hand but it was the fact that you had even asked that sent the same shivers down Mizu’s spine. She went quiet for a moment, not knowing what to respond with.

She truly had never been asked for permission to do anything before, not in this regard at least, and it shocked her a bit.

It somehow became the most intimate question you could’ve asked.

She nodded, not saying a word as she continued to look at you. It was as if she was trying to memorize your features, as if she was trying to burn them into her retinas so she'd never forget.

Your hand very carefully went towards her, cupping the side of her face as if it would break with too much pressure. She slowly began to lean into your touch, the warm feeling returning quickly as she let her harsh exterior down yet again, feeling uncommonly safe because of your touch. From this position she looked towards you, her hand making its way up to your face, and brushing a few hairs out of the way before asking,

“Can I kiss you?”

Her voice was raspy and low, just above a whisper. She waited patiently for your answer as you both sat in silence before you nodded in response. With that, her hand that had brushed the hairs from your face, slowly made its way to the back of your neck as you both leaned forward and-

“Hey, I found this place that sells food down the road and I- Oh. You’re here.” Taigen had barged into the room, not a singular care in the world as he looked at Mizu with his usual disdain. By this point you had already jumped back from her, being startled by Taigens sudden presence while in such an intimate moment.

With a cold glare Mizu looked towards Taigen,

“What do you want?” She spat. She could get over him annoyingly asking for a duel every now and then but ruining this one moment for her was too far. She finally felt safe and warm in someone else’s embrace and the same man who ruined everything else for her had to come back and fuck something else up.

Before either of them could say any other ‘kind’ words to each other you very quickly made your way to exit the room, not wanting to think about the awkward moment any more than you’d have to.

“I’m going to go… find some things for Ringo. I’ll see you later Mizu, bye Taigen.” You said, very quickly making your way out of the room, leaving both Mizu and Taigen together. Mizu had watched you leave with a certain sadness that you could only really see in her eyes, the rest of her face remained as stoic as ever as she turned back to Taigen.

“New hair style? You look oddly feminine wi-“ The man began, pointing towards her still braided hair.

“Say another word and you’ll lose an arm.” She threatened.

“Noted.”

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wolfiesmoon · 4 months

Text

I can't sleep

Ran x good girl!reader

Do i want a bad boy (literal criminal) bf? Yea but i would probably cry if he insulted me or got into trouble in any capacity at all

(i am totally not unironically vibing to pretty little psycho while writing this)

edit: i made a part 2!!

"I dare you to kiss Haitani Ran." Your friend nudged you.

You knew you shouldn't have agreed to this stupid game of truth or dare. You knew your friend was going to make you do stupid stuff like this.

"Like... the big scary delinquent guy?" You asked, hoping you heard her wrong.

"Yeah, that Haitani Ran." Your friend smirked mischeviously.

"How about I don't do that?" The last thing you'd want to do is get involved wth any delinquents or gangs. You have no idea how dangerous Ran could be and even if he wasn't you'd still refuse to kiss a good for nothing delinquent.

"Are you trying to get me killed?" you followed up, realising just how bad this dare could end up.

"You do know that refusing this dare means that you have to do anything I say for a week, right?" Your friend had a horribly evil look on her face. You don't even want to know the things she would make you do if you refused this stupid dare.

But is kissing Ran any better? Pick your poison, you suppose.

"Fine, I'll do it." You said behind clenched teeth, not at all happy about this outcome. You've never even kissed before, and now you have to kiss freaking Ran Haitani. You might actually die.

Why did you agree? What is wrong with you?

This might just be the worst day of your life.

You ended up being a little unfocused in class, making your teacher worry.

"Haitani-san." you call out to him, your voice dying off slightly at the end due to nerves. You're the only ones left in the classroom, with your friend watching from behind the door to make sure you actually do it. He looks back at you and you feel a shiver run through you.

Oh my god, you're actually doing this.

He stops, waiting to see what you want with him. You move closer to him, and his eyes narrow slightly, as if he's getting a good look at you.

"Now, what could the class president herself possibly want with me?" his tone was slightly mocking and you would have showed him you're not to be messed with but honestly you'd probably be the one losing in that scenario.

You inhaled sharply, pulling him down by his braids and planting a kiss straight onto his lips. This feels like a bad shojo plot, the "good girl" falls in love with the "bad boy" and kisses him all of a sudden. Except there's no romance involved here. Just a dare.

Is this how you kiss? Why does it feel so strange? That should be enough, right? You can feel your parents shaking their heads dissaprovingly already.

Ok, now you're just kissing him for way too long. It's time to let go. And you try to, you really do. Since when were his arms wrapped around your waist, anyways? And why isn't he letting you go?!

You can feel your friend's evil stare burning into your back. This is not amusing!

He laughed a little into the kiss, pulling you impossibly closer. Oh, so they're both going to enjoy your suffering now, you see how it is.

Still, kissing him isn't half ba-

Ok, you're actually losing it. You need out and fast.

You wriggled out of his grasp, running away as fast as your legs could take you. You heard both Ran and your friend yell something behind you but you honestly don't care.

Why did you ever agree to do this?!

That same thought persisted even as you tossed and turned in bed that night.

"Oh god, he's going to send his goons after me and I'm gonna die... And then I won't ever get to become successful..." you muttered to yourself.

"Or maybe he's gonna come and kill me myself after school tommorow... Ugh..." you can't come to school tired, you won't be able to pay attention in class that way. You can't ruin your perfect record by falling asleep in class.

Who cares about the perfect record?! You should be worried for your life!

"And what is that stupid noise, anyways?" you muttered, grumbling and getting up to inspect the source. Another stone hits the window, making you jump slightly. You walk to the window and open it, narrowly avoiding a stone that was thrown your way.

"Sorry!~"

Wait. You'd recognise that voice anywhere.

It's Ran.

"What are you doing here? How did you even get my adress?" you half yelled, not wanting to wake up your parents.

"You shouldn't sweat the little things. Come downstairs." he was smiling calmly, but you still couldn't tell if he was threatening you. Actually, is that his motorcycle parked next to him?

"You should probably put on a jacket too. It's real cold." he added on, and you nervously closed the window, quietly sneaking downstairs and putting on a jacket. Your pyjamas are not the most presentable, but you really don't want to test his patience right now.

You met him outside. What is he going to do to you now?

"Get on." he pointed to his bike, catching you off guard.

"Not without a helmet, riding a motorcycle without one can be really dangerous and you could lose your life." you couldn't help but bring up safety regulations. It's in your nature.

"I told you, don't sweat the details and just sit down." he completely ignored you, pushing you in the direction of the bike. You complied, sitting down on it awkwardly, not sure what to expect. He doesn't seem violent...

He sat down behind you, revving up the engine and just driving off without a care in the world.

"W-Wait!" you were shocked at the speed, grabbing onto him by instinct and missing the way his lips curved up at that.

"Where are you taking me?! I never consented to this!" you had to yell over the sound of the engine, shutting your eyes. He was right, it really is cold when you're riding on a motorcycle.

"And you know what I didn't consent to? That kiss." he replied and your face scrunched up a little, cringing at the not so distant memory. "But that's fine, because that means you're mine now."

"Huh?!" you finally opened your eyes, looking up at him. His expression was a little hard to make out since the only thing illuminating it was street lights that you were speeding past. Is he even following the speed limit?

"I value my sleep, you see. And that little stunt you pulled made me unable to fall asleep. So I figured I might as well give you a little visit." he placed a hand over you protectively, making you worry about your safety even more.

"Who would have thought the top of the class good girl would fall for me?" he looked down at you.

"I did not fall in love with you! It was a dare!" you shot back.

"Oh well, doesn't matter. You're my girl now. And that's that."

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melrodrigo · 6 months

Text

my hair

Wednesday Addams x Fem Reader

Summary: Wednesday lets you braid her hair.

Word Count: 1.1k

A/N: I don’t think I used any pronouns, so it’s gender neutral really (at least i think so, i can’t rmb) inspired by none other than Ariana Grande’s ‘my hair’. happy halloween 🎃!

“Wednesday.”

The name tumbles out of your lips as easy as the flow of water on a steep channel, and you wonder how a simple word like a day of the week has turned into such a gratifying one.

“Wednesday, Wednesday, Wednesday.” You mumble mindlessly, combing your fingers through her jet black hair.

She makes a tiny huff of annoyance as she stirs in your arms.

She knows you have a thing for words, whether it be big love confessions or simply saying her name throughout the day, which is a thing she’s been trying to get better at, for you. It’s hard, but she’s morphed into the phase of getting used to your soft words and whispered endearments. She bites back the tiny part of her that wants to ignore them, instead letting them seep into and have their way with her.

You ruffle her hair fondly, but not too hard, well aware of how sensitive your girlfriend is about her hair.

It’s something you’ve come to learn about Wednesday, through your many years together.

She does not like her hair to be touched. She also famously doesn’t let anyone else but you touch it.

Admittedly, it only makes you want to touch her hair more.

You nudge her slightly, murmuring in her ear that you guys have to get up for class.

“Ms. Thornhill is going to be so pissed when she finds out I spent the night again.” You say mindlessly, feeling Wednesday tighten on top of you.

She’s still only a second before she’s sitting up straight, rigid, a classic Addams family stance.

“You did sneak in, didn’t you?” She asks.

You roll your eyes, nudging at her to loosen up a little.

“Yes, Wednesday. I attempted to sneak in. She, however, was waiting right outside your dorm room.” You recount, from just the night before.

She turns to you, eyes squinted.

The sight of you makes her heart do a little dance she wasn’t aware it could do. She’ll never understand it, the way you make her dull black heart race. It beats to the melody of her favorite symphony, fast paced and rapid.

Your hair’s a little ruffled, cheeks a little red, while you sit at the head of her bed in your best matching pjs.

She ponders about your words just a moment before she’s speaking again.

“Good. She should know that you’ll be sleeping in here for the rest of the year.” She says, finally.

You grin, childlike.

She purses her lips and makes the decision before she regrets it.

“Do my hair?” She asks, almost more of a command than a question.

You have to keep yourself from practically jumping off her bed in excitement. She’s never asked that before. You try to act nonchalant as you think about it.

Wednesday knows you better though, and she can already tell by the sparkle in your eyes that you’ll say yes.

You could never say no to your girl, after all.

You nod eagerly, following Wednesday out the bed and over to her desk like a love sick puppy.

“Enid better not come in and see this.” Wednesday grumbles, reaching over to grab her hairbrush, one as black as obsidian.

“It would be better than when she came in last night while we were-“ Wednesday squeezes your wrist tight, a sign to shut up, and so you do.

She takes a few rubber bands out her beloved spider shaped box, one you’d given her as an anniversary gift, and places them in a single file line.

You gulp as you realize what you’ve signed up for.

She turns to look at you expectedly, speaking with her eyes.

“Okay..braids.” You whisper underneath your breath, trying to remember how to braid hair.

To her credit, Wednesday doesn’t say anything the whole while you do her hair. Not a complaint about the way it looks, or how you’ve done it.

But you aren’t that dumb. You see through your girlfriends expression in seconds. And you’re self aware, you know you haven’t done the greatest job.

It’s not horrible, by any means. But it’s just not the Wednesday Addams picture perfect braids.

One side is noticeably looser than the other, and it looks more like a loop than a braid.

“Are you finished?” Wednesday inquires, about to get out her seat.

You push her shoulders down softly, and tell her you have a special surprise.

You pull out a set of dark blue bows, tiny compared to her long locks of hair.

“Absolutely not.” She says the minute you show them to her, shaking her head to affirm her statement.

You pout, giving Wednesday your best puppy dog eyes, but her face remains impassive.

“Just one?” You plead, playing with the tips of her braids.

Wednesday lets out a soft sigh and begrudgingly tilts her head so you can put on the bow easier.

“Love you so much.” You whisper, pressing your hand to her cheek lovingly.

You better, she thinks.

“Now, I believe we need to attend class in five minutes. You’ve already made me soft. Don’t make me unpunctual too.” She says, the edge coming back to her voice.

“Wait, are you actually gonna go out like that?” You ask, a little shocked.

“Going to, y/n. There is no such word as ‘gonna’.” She says, and turns on her heel out the door, sure you’ll be hurrying after her in minutes.

Everyone stares at Wednesday as you both enter the class. You’re not late, but everyone’s there already. They size up your girlfriend, questioning gaze apparent as they take in her hair.

“Um..Wednesday?“ Enid sounds from the back of the class, “Why does your hair look like that? And are you wearing a bow?”

You flush pink in embarrassment. Was it really that bad?

One look at you and Wednesday decides she has to once again come to your aid when she clears her throat, directing all attention back to her.

“My hair is normal. And I quite like the bow.” She says, in a tone of voice that indicates that that’s the end of the story.

Wednesday keeps her hair like that the rest of the day. Not once does she touch it, or take it out, even with random inquires coming from all the students at Nevermore.

That evening, you catch her grumbling before you enter her room for your nightly kiss on the cheek, words muffled by the door.

“Love has made me so feeble.” She mumbles dejectedly.

You push open the door, pretending you didn’t hear what you just did, and give her just a slightly longer kiss than you normally would, happy as a clam.

#wednesday addams #wednesday addams x you #wednesday addams x reader #jenna ortega x reader #tara carpenter x reader #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega #mine #fanfic #soft wednesday

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mochinomnoms · 2 months

Note

i know in the leech family that its a running joke that the mc is their cleaner shrimp and i cant help but think when its finally the leech parents turn!

Imagine mc and the leech family are going out to do some family bonding and the mc causally picks off some lint or hair off papa leech or mama leech and their mood just instantly brightens :D They go like “thank you dear! Is there anything else on me?” And the parents are just spinning around happy because their child-in-law is doing shrimp things with them! (Meanwhile jade and floyd are off to the side being like “what about me D:<”)

also may I be 🪸 anon or 💫 anon?

YEEAAAAH FAMILY SHRIMP!!!

I think it's a very sweet idea! Whether it's just one of the twins or both that you've gotten involved in, they both enjoy your fretting and picking at them. Floyd most often gets your attention, as he's always getting up to stuff and messy. However, he's more prone to scrapes from basketball and burns from cooking at the lounge, so he gets lots of attention from you. Floyd loves it, he loves being taken care of for once, instead of being feared or seen as a big bad eel. He needs loving too! He needs to be treated tenderly and kindly. Floydie just wants to be loved, and who better to do that than you?

Jade on the other hand will just get dirty when hiking and foraging, but rarely get any scrapes or cuts. He might bruise here or there depending on how it went, but over all you're more likely to need to clean stray twigs, leaves, and dirt for him. In fact, you'll find Jade approaching you after his extensions, every single time, asking for your assistance. Maybe join him in the bath and help him clean up? As his cleaner shrimp? Pretty pleeease? After all, the caretaker needs some caring too sometimes.

When you eventually get introduced to the family and properly fit into your place with the Leeches, with an appropriate shrimp merform! Papa and Mama Leech are just happy that their boys have such a sweet partner. You further solidify your spot when they learn about your “shrimp” tendencies. They think it's so cute! So imagine their delight when you start tending to them like you do their sons!

Papa Leech will often find himself get into...”scuffles” after work. Normally, the family doctor would be available to patch him up, but they were already attending to a patient of theirs. Here comes their resident shrimp, offering to patch him up! You babbling about Floyd and how he always got hurt from his activities at school, so it wasn't a problem. At this point, you're practically a pro! Papa Leech has stars in his eyes, though, he has the cutest child-in-law!!! And you've been doing this for his boys, for free??!! Screw Floyd and Jade if they ever break up with you (like they'd ever would) cause Papa is keeping you in the family for the foreseeable future. Not only are you convenient, but you care for him like family, he'd be a barnacle to let you go. If you're not already married to his boys, prepare yourself, cause he's already organizing the engagement and wedding. No, he did not ask his boys beforehand.

As for Mama Leech, she's been repeated described as a worrywart, and overly cautious, especially regarding her family. I think that, since you weren't brought up in the family like her boys, would be prone to keeping you at her side. If Papa and the twins are off for “work” then you can find her snatching you up for some mother-in-law time to keep you nice and safe! This is when she gets her own version of shrimp tending, via you doing her hair and makeup! She does love dressing up and looking pretty, and is delighted when you start brushing through her hair with your fingers, braiding it and softly applying her lipstick. It's been so long since her boys were little and played dress up with her! But here you are, so sweet and soft and gentle with her! She's now become attached, if you so much as try and leave the family, Mama is sobbing and begging you to stay, while also strangling her sons for what ever they did wrong (she knows they did something the little troublemakers).

I'd say that the twins only get mildly jealous, after all, the more time you spend with their parents the less they get with you! And you're their partner!!! They suppose they should be happy that you get along so well with their parents. Except Floyd. Floyd wishes to monopolize your time and will hide you away with Jade in a dark coral nook. He called you Shrimpy first, it's his right!!!

(I will dub thee 🪸 anon!! welcome!)

#mochi asks #twst #twisted wonderland #jade leech #floyd leech #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #jade leech x reader #floyd leech x reader #leech parents #sweeties!!! the best in laws!!#🪸 anon

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gracieheartspedro · 7 months

Text

Trash Talk

abby anderson x fem!reader

description: you and abby anderson go waaayyy back, and she can't stand you. after being distant for years, you can't help but pick on her and get under her skin. you can't help yourself. maybe it's those god damn arms and that cute smile she makes sometimes. so, why not try to bully her enough so she will take you to bed?

word count: 7.1k

warnings: MINORS DNI! this is 18+, nsfw, smut, wlw, some slight bullying, threatening of one's life, murder (reader kills scars), use of guns, dom!abby, fingering, eating out, shower sex, use of a strap on, dirty talk, abby calls reader tons of names, major teasing!!

author's note: first abby one shot. let's goooo! lemme know what you guys think. I really liked writing this and I'm down for any requests for abby or ellie!! love you guysssss <3

“Are you the one braiding your hair every day or do you have some pretty girl do it for you?”

Abby’s head spun over how dumb your questions had been all afternoon. Luckily for her, you were being quiet up until this moment.

You are propped up beside her on the back of the jeep, your rifle slung across your lap. You were itching to get a rise out her today, it was fun to watch her eyes roll into the back of her head.

She cocks her gun, her eyes trained forward and away from you. She’s always on edge when you’re out on patrol. Her furrowed eyebrows and tense shoulders made your relaxed and at ease body language look unjustified.

“I braid it myself,” Is all she says. You train your eyes to watch her muscles flex as she inspects her gun closely. You contemplate your answer, do you ask if she can braid yours next or do you ask if that’s how she got those insane arms of hers.

You don’t make a decision by the time Manny slams on the breaks, unexpectedly. Abby’s body flies into yours, sliding across the bench and crashing into your side. You wince, snapping your head forward to the road.

“We got company, chicas!”

You duck when the first shot hits the steel of the car. Abby grabs your waist, dragging you down onto the bed of the SUV. She didn’t want your death on her hands, knowing Isaac would never forgive her for losing his best gunner. You roll away from her grasp, propping your rifle forward where Manny is driving.

Scars on horseback surround the road in front of you.

They are easy to take out when they are high up, for you at least.

“Manny, duck your head!” You holler, glancing back at Abby who’s hand is still somehow on you. She looks conflicted, her gun still loosely in her grip.

You prop your gun up, aiming at a older man on the closest horse trailing the jeep. He has a bow, which doesn’t move as fast as your bullet. You ease into the trigger, taking out the guy with a head shot. You didn’t have time to think about your reasonings for killing the guy, you never had the time to think about it. You knew that these men would kill Manny, Abby, and you, if they had the chance, so you guess the proper reaction is a bullet to the skull.

You hear Abby yelling something but your ears are ringing at the sound of you taking out each Scar one-by-one. You don’t even let them get behind the SUV, knowing they would be getting a better shot at you. Once the last one flies off the back of their horse at the impact of your bullet, you sit up.

You realize that Abby hasn’t fired a single shot.

“I think we have a flat tire! I’m gonna pull off when I find cover,” Manny explains, his voice loud over the sound of the ringing in your ears.

Abby sits up beside you, gripping the side of the bench with her left hand. She gets a good look at your completely unfazed face and it pisses her off. You never had a moment to second guess your actions and you never had an honest reaction to killing upward of 7 men. You were always stone cold and even. You weren’t always like that. You used to have some life left in your steely eyes. At least, that’s what she thought.

You were disassociated from the entire world when put in any situation that could be deemed “dangerous”. It’s almost like a completely different person took over your body. Your reactions were not your own. But when you finally came to, your bones would vibrate with anxiety and adrenaline. You were just a master at disguising it because you didn’t want everyone around you to see you as weak. You can never be weak, again.

Even if Abby took out that many men, which she has done before, she still walks away with a small inkling of guilt written on her face. You don’t even quiver at the sight of violence and death, not that she sees, anyway.

But it does eat away at you. You’re plagued with nightmares if you can ever even find sleep at night. Most nights are spent curled into a ball, staring off into space, praying the walls will just cave in and suffocate you. You hardly eat most of the time, the thought of munching on food makes you nauseous.

Manny pulls into a familiar warehouse that’s usually a stopping point for one of your patrol routes. The jeep is jittering, chugging forward with a scraping noise. You stand up when it completely stops, jumping down from the side. You sling your backpack over your shoulder and your gun strap across your other.

You watch Abby jump down after you, her impact on the ground loud. She stares at you with this annoyed look on her face.

“What’s wrong, baby girl? Mad you didn’t get a shot off?”

Your tone makes her ball her hands into fists.

“Can you shut your fucking mouth ever?”

Manny chirps in quickly after she says it, “Ay! Quit it you two!”

You bow your head, “Yeah, Abby. You need to blow off some steam. Gettin’ all worked up.”

Manny slaps your shoulder lightly, gesturing you two to get inside the warehouse. You knew you had to clear it before you settled in to discuss the next game plan. You stand there watching Abby strut towards you, her eyes scanning your body up and down.

She is only a little bit taller than you, but she’s built like an ox. When you two were acquainted, she was about your stature. Now that she needs to prove herself, she bulked up and became even more hot.

“You’re lucky Isaac needs your ass, because if were up to me, I’d send you straight to the Island and watch them pick you apart.”

Her voice is vicious and you could tell she was pissed at you for teasing her. It only made you smile in sick pleasure. You craved getting under her skin.

“Love it when you talk dirty to me, Abs.”

She ignores your comment, knowing exactly what you were trying to do. You were doing it so well, too.

You three creep inside the warehouse, stalking around the open area, ensuring there’s no one nearby to sneak up on you. Your running low on ammo, but you didn’t want to ask Abby for a new magazine. She would bitch you out for not grabbing an extra. With that in mind, you sling your rifle across your back and pull out your pistol. You cock it, which interupts the silence you three had been settling in.

“A pistol?” Manny questions, quietly. You nod slowly, discharging the magazine to make sure you had a stacked shell.

You huff, “Yeah, I’m out of hallow points for the rifle.”

Abby stops in her tracks, “You forgot another magazine, didn’t you?”

She wanted so badly to be right, especially when it came to you fucking up. You stare at her as you shove the magazine back into the grip.

“Eat my ass, Abby.”

She laughs, watching your face fall as you cock the gun again. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Manny grimaces, “Please, stop, you two. Let’s get this place clear and then figure out what we do next.”

Manny was right. You and Abby separate, both of you trailing up some stairs to the extended area of the warehouse. You check every corner on your side, ensuring no one will be sneaky and catch you all off guard. Once you all decide it’s clear, you meet up at the staircase Manny is walking down.

Manny was a good friend and a rare hookup. You had slept with him a couple times and while he was always a generous guy, he never made you cum. He always joked that it was because you liked girls better, and truthfully, he may be right. He was handsome but he never really did it for you.

Abby, on the other hand, you and her went way back and she did it for you. Before becoming Isaac’s favorite, you were pretty good friends with her. You two sat together in “school” and she taught you how to make someone pass out by putting them in a headlock. You had confided in her about your past and she was the only one who truly knew everything. You genuinely liked her and wanted so badly to tell her how you felt. But once Isaac took interest in your skill set, he trained you vigorously with his top men. You had no time for anything anymore. It pissed Abby off so much, for some odd reason. You’d think a friend would be proud that the head honcho took interest in you and wanted to make you better. But instead, Abby took it as a personal jab and started ignoring you. When you confronted her, she told you that she was too busy for friends. That, of course, didn’t stop her from having a whole ass friend group without you. When you befriended Manny, he told you that Abby only saw you as competition.

So you became even better. Not wanting to repeat the same mistake, you kept everyone at an arms length and avoided getting close with anyone. It made you withdrawn, and eventually, you realized you were not meant to be a friend to anyone. You were made to be a killer.

“So what do we do now? Go back or go to our assigned checkpoint?”

Abby’s training her eyes on Manny and Manny only. She refuses to even glance your direction. You turn your gun safety on and tuck it into your waistband.

“How far do you think we are from the checkpoint?” You question, crossing your arms across your chest.

“Too fuckin’ far,” Abby responds, still not looking at you.

You smirk, “Perfect, then let’s do that. Maybe Abby can get her finger on a trigge-“

Before you can finish your sentence, Abby’s reaching out and pulling your body towards her by your shirt. You don’t even flinch, your body just flies forward as she finally stares daggers into you. You like being this close to her, it makes the hair on your arms stand up.

“I swear to God,” She’s gritting her teeth, “If you don’t stop fucking around, I’ll kill you with my bare hands.”

You press yourself closer to her. Her fist with your balled up shirt grazes your boobs. Manny doesn’t say anything, just rolls his eyes, anticipating your response. You like this game. The one where you tease Abby and she becomes enraged by your words and eventually it comes to a tipping point. She’s always just thrown something, her manhandling you was new.

“I’d love to see you try, sweetheart,” You mutter, your face millimeters from hers, “I don’t think you’re remembering what our body counts are and who’s surpassing the other by a fucking landslide.”

“I’d love to add you to mine, that’s for damn sure,” She responds quickly, eager to one up you. You giggle at the double meaning that comes to mind. You would like to be on her body count list, for sure.

“Stop it!”

You both shoot a look at Manny who’s nudging you two apart. Abby unhands your shirt, and you step backward away from her, tripping a bit over some broken concrete. She looks you up and down with disgust.

“You need to stop acting like you’re better than everyone else,” She grumbles, ignoring Manny’s pleas for a truce.

“You need to stop acting so serious all the time! Get a grip, I’m just fuckin’ with you.”

“I said stop! I knew you guys hated one another but I didn’t know this was gonna be a who’s dick is bigger competition. You both need to relax!”

Abby’s face is twisted and you hated that you found it attractive. God, you wanted to fucking hate her.

Abby crosses her arms, flexing them right in front of you. She notices your expression change. She knew you had a little crush before, but she thought that feeling was long gone. She shoves the small inkling of optimism that you may still feel that way down.

Manny speaks up again, “We should just head back and tell Isaac we will head back out tomorrow morning. It’s going to be dark in about an hour. It’s too risky.”

“Agreed,” Abby tightens up her folded arms, “If you wanna go out by yourself, you can do that. We can tell Isaac you went awol.”

You smirk at her suggestion, “No, I want to be there to tell him you can’t pull your punches. Be way more satisfying to watch you squirm.”

“I’m glad everyone was okay,” Isaac says, his deep voice dropping an octave, “I’ll get more guys to go with you tomorrow morning. You three get back here at sunrise, okay?”

You clear your throat, “Want me to run through how to shoot a gun with Abby before we ship out?”

Manny huffs, “Come on, dude.”

“I think she’d benefit from it,” You say matter-of-factly to Isaac. You can feel Abby’s gaze burning into you. She’s leaning against the door frame, while you are seated in front of Isaac’s sprawling desk. You always felt like he only sat there to seem more authoritative. To you, he was just a man.

“Play nice, little one,” He stands up from his rolling chair to stand in front of your manspreaded legs, “You still need to prove to me that you’re loyal. Don’t think I forgot about the incident at the hospital last week.”

Your stomach drops while Abby’s ears perk up.

“What happened at the hospital last week?”

Her voice is eager, which only makes you angrier. You adjust yourself in your seat, sitting up straighter.

“She refused to kill a Scar,” He explains, teetering over you, “She shot a Wolf instead.”

“He demanded I gut a child in front of her mother. I am not going to do shit like that.”

Isaac chuckles before slamming his fist down on the table beside him, “You can and you fuckin’ will. If I get any more push back from you, I’ll get Anderson here to take you out herself.”

You stand up quickly, avoiding everyone’s gazes. You want to throw your knife into his throat, but you know that wouldn’t end well. You didn’t want to have to be on the run again.

Being humiliated in front of Abby and Manny made you feel sick. You hadn’t felt shame in so long, not even when you were reprimanded last week for shooting that guy between the eyes. You were lucky he was just some new recruit and had no family back at the Stadium. Isaac spared you because he needs you. You’re a good asset.

“We clear?”

His voice bounces off the wall. You don’t say anything, you just nod slightly and storm out of the office. You hear the door slam behind you as you swiftly walk towards the staircase. There’s men loitering in the hallway, waiting for Isaac to tell them to go kill another Scar. Pathetic, you thought.

You start to think about how didn’t want to face Abby and Manny tomorrow, but you knew better to ignore direct orders. Maybe a shower would rinse off the disgusting dirty feeling that plagued your skin.

“Didn’t know I was workin’ with a traitor today,” Abby says from behind you. You’re in the community bathrooms, cursing that it’s even a thing because you knew some shit like this would happen. You thought since it was midnight, you wouldn’t have any company. You were, of course, wrong.

Abby has her towel draped over her broad shoulder and a small container with her soaps. You were just about to strip down and take one of the spickets on the tiled wall when she interrupts your routine.

You swallow hard, not in the mood to argue with her. Even if there’s no one around, you don’t feel like entertaining anymore.

“‘M not a traitor. I just don’t kill children.”

You had very limited morals, but you drew the line at children. You remember what it was like to watch your friends get picked off by raiders when you were a kid. You remember being horrified hearing the screams of their mothers. You remember the innocence being stripped from you. You can’t stomach the idea of killing someone who has no control over their life or the decisions of others, so you don’t.

Isaac showed no mercy to any Scar, but you did and he was trying his very hardest to beat that out of you. The only reason you were stuck on the patrol with Manny and Abby in the first place was because he knocked you down to more minor runs and not the intense ones you were on before. It was your “punishment” for disrespecting authority. You were lucky to even have your head after killing that guy in front of other Wolves.

Abby grumbles something inaudible.

“You remember when we were forced to watch those daycare kids after not doing our morning mile?” You reflect, thinking back to easier times with Abby, “Imagine one of those innocent kids being gutted by a machete and it’s your own hand doing it. If a child is going to die in the name of some stupid land, I don’t want to be the one holding the weapon. Isaac can have sociopaths like you to do that.”

“Me? The sociopath? If I’m remembering correctly, they gave you the nickname Heartless after your run through on the East side a couple months ago,” Abby’s voice is venmous, “You are the top Scar killer right now. You kill and you don’t even flinch.”

“I kill people who try to kill me,” You grab the hem of your top, pulling it over your head, “I need to protect myself. And whoever I’m with. I’m not given a choice.”

“Was that guy trying to kill you? The one you shot between the eyes?”

You’re silent. She poses a good question, a question you don’t have a good answer for. You turn to face her, and the first thing you realize is her braid is becoming unraveled. You purse your lips, racking your brain for a response after being distracted. The only rebuttal is a question, something that has eaten you alive ever since it started.

“Why do you hate me so fuckin’ much?”

She cocks her head to the side, “Are you serious right now?”

Deep down, Abby never hated you. She was jealous of you. She wanted everything you had. She couldn’t stand seeing someone be better than her, especially a girl she liked. And you did everything so well. She harbored a secret crush on you for a while, even when she was with Owen. She hated that she liked you and you were leaving her behind to advance up the ranks. She only wanted your attention, truthfully. Now, since she distanced herself from you, everything you did ate her alive. While poking fun at her was your way of flirting, Abby reeled over it every night before bed. How could you be so mean?

“We were friends, Abby. I told you about my family. I told you everything, and as soon as I got in with Isaac, you iced me out. Told me you didn’t need friends,” You huff out, “I knew that was a lie then and I know it’s a fuckin’ lie now because you have friends. Lots of them. Why couldn’t I be your friend?”

“Because I can’t be friends with you!”

Her voice is high pitched, almost shaky. You take a step forward and for once she doesn’t step away from you. You’re in her space, your hip bone millimeters from her hands. Your eyes are trained on her reaction, which is just her eyes averting away from you.

“Why can’t we be friends, Abs?”

You reach up, grabbing her messy braid softly. She flinches a bit, easing into the idea of you touching her. It’s been a long time since you were this close to her without her resisting. She still won’t look you in the eyes. Your fingers travel down her mousey braid until you’re trailing her collarbone and wide shoulders. As your digits trace her bicep, she finally looks at you for a moment. The tension is palpable, your question still hanging in the air.

“You’re impossible,” She murmurs, her eyes flicking away again, “And you’re despicable. You think you’re bett-”

“Cut the shit,” Your hand stops right at her wrist and you wrap your much smaller hand around it. You know the real reason she won’t be your friend, it’s written all over her face, “You hate me because you want me, Abby. You always have. Almost as much as I want you.”

“Want is a strong word,” She chirps, “I was in a relationship when we were friends. I had Ow-”

“Don’t even say his fuckin’ name,” Your free hand tilts her head back toward your gaze. You hated that fucker for messing with your Abby, “Can you just indulge me? Admit that the reason you’re pissy with me is because you want me between your legs?”

You can feel her tense up, her jaw going slack.

“Nah, don’t think that’s what I want,” Her voice finally changes. It’s more sultry, the tone shifting with the conversation. She shakes out of your grip, bringing her hand up to your chin, “Think I need to teach you a thing or two. Shut that stupid smart mouth up for a minute.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah, you’ve been a fuckin’ bitch and you need to be taught a lesson,” Hearing the words come out her mouth has your core clenching with anticipation. She’s silent waiting for you to agree, but you just stare at her with a smirk. “Do you need me to show you here or do you want me to show you in your room?”

“Why not yours?”

“Because Manny is there. Unless you want to give him a show like the slut I know you are.”

She makes the hair on your arms stand up. She scans your body as you contemplate your options. This is a moment you’d been waiting for, so you can’t fuck it up. You finally have her exactly where you want her.

You can’t be caked in dirt and grime when she’s devouring you, right?

“I need a shower,” You mutter. It catches her off guard. You swallow before continuing, “I think you need one, too. So, how about we take our showers and then you can walk me back to my room.”

She doesn’t even say anything, just begins stripping off her tank top. She’s sporting a black sports bra underneath and my God, does she look good in only a bra. You have seen her in a bra before, but never with a six pack and huge arms like she has now. She smiles at your gawking. She shoves off her cargo pants, leaving her just in her underwear and bra.

You finally come to your senses and start stripping as she walks over to one of the shower heads and turns it on. She looks excellent from the back, too, you think.

“We don’t have all night,” She groans, watching you slowly start undoing your bra, “Hurry up before I change my mind.”

You walk towards the shower head next to the one that’s running for her. She pulls the hem of her bra up and off, revealing her full chest to you. You follow her lead, undoing the back of your bra and letting your breasts free. The water is soaking your feet and you still have your underwear on. It’s almost like a competition as to who can break first and touch the other, and it wasn’t going to be you. You shimmy your underwear off, tossing both your bra and panties to the pile outside of the shower.

“Jesus Christ,” She howls as you let the water take over your body. Her eyes are glued to your chest, “It’s like they got bigger.”

You sneer at her comment, “I could say the same about you in general.”

“Yeah?” She slips off her underwear, leaving nothing to imagination anymore. She caves first, creeping into your stream of hot water with you and wrapping her large arms around your waist. Chills shoot up every part of your body when her lips dip down to leave open mouth kisses on your shoulder blade. Her hands trail upward from your hips to your stomach to your tits. You watch in disbelief when her massive hands take up most of your boobs. She cradles them in her palms before massaging you tenderly. You’re already a moaning mess, pushing your ass into her crotch.

“Let’s get you clean since that’s what you want,” She drops your boobs before reaching out for her soap. She starts to lather herself up before her hands return to your buzzing body. You let her hands wander, coating you in her pine soap. You didn’t care for the scent, but it smelled like her and you always wanted that scent on your body.

She manhandles you a bit before using your arm to twist you around to face her. She’s staring down at you, her pupils dark with desire. You realize her hair is still in a braid and resting on her bare shoulder. While she continues to rub you down, you grab the end of her braid and start to undo it.

When her wavy hair is released from the hair tie, you realize how long it is now. No wonder she keeps it braided, it must get in her way.

“May need to rebraid your hair,” You mutter, your hand still dancing around her decolletage.

“I’ll just have you hold it up while I eat you out.”

You smirk as she focuses her attention on pinching and tugging on your hard nipples. You ogle her, unsure how you got here. Earlier she was threatening to kill you, now she’s toying with your body and leaving you the wettest you’ve ever been. She backs you into the water, having you rinse off the suds.

“Abby,” You finally catch her gaze and her lips are pursed in concentration. She looks at your expression and then it finally happens. She kisses you, feverishly. You almost slip on the wet floor as she aggressively pushes you back against the tiled wall. Luckily, her arm is completely enveloping your hip, keeping you stable against her. Your bodies are wet and burning with desire, eager to touch every inch of each other. Abby pulls away, catching her breath.

“We need to speed this part up, I need to fuck you.”

You chuckle, wrapping your arms around her neck, “We are having fun though, aren’t we?”

She shakes her head, “Rinse yourself off, no more back talk.”

She pulls away from you, quickly showering herself. You don’t even wash your hair like you need to, you just watch her lather her body up, slowly circling your clit with your middle and pointer finger. She does not even realize what you’re doing until you are moaning in her direction.

“You’re a dirty little girl, aren’t you?”

She pulls your hand away from your sensitive nub, using you as leverage when she gets on her knees. She’s staring up at you, pulling you forward by your ass. She looks too good at this angle.

“Please, Abby,” You beg, wanting her to devour you whole.

“Hold my hair, baby. Just like I said.”

She nudges your knees apart, her face centimeters from your dripping core. She uses her long fingers to spread apart your pussy lips, soaking in the fact that she was the one who made you this wet. You reach down, pulling her long locks upward to get them off her shoulders. When she creeps in closer, her tongue is extended outward. As soon as it makes contact with your slit, you throw your head back, your hand full of hair loosening. She works her tongue around your pussy, pressing forward even more. She has her full face in you, her nose poking your clit every time she moves her tongue and lips.

You’ve never been eaten out like this before. She’s a starved woman, begging you to feed her your sweet juices. Your knees feel like they could give out at any moment, so you grip onto her shoulder to balance yourself. She’s switching between slurping and sucking, her mouth working magic on your senstive pussy.

Just when you think her head can’t get any better, her fingers enter the equation. She slips her long fingers between your slit, finding your hole after exploring for a moment. She guides one finger into you, then two. She’s groaning into you, watching your body twitch under her touch. She’s fucking you so fast, you can feel yourself teetering over the edge. She switches up her moves, flicking her tongue on your clit and fucking you slower. It sends you into bliss, your mouth agape as you stare down at her pressed against your core. You cry out, trying your best not to let your legs surrender to your weight.

“Yes baby,” She watches you fall apart, her finger tips swiping over your clit fast, “That’s right, cumming apart on my tongue. That’s so hot.”

Your vision is hazy, but you can still make out Abby as she stands up. Her hands rest on your waist as she brings you into a ravenous kiss. You’re still in a daze from your orgasm as she shuts off the warm water behind you. She’s guiding you out of the showers, bringing you back to your clothes and towel. She helps you by wrapping your towel around your center.

“You okay to walk back to your room?” She questions, watching you shakingly dry yourself off.

You chuckle a bit, “Why? Do you want to carry me or something?”

She gives you a smug look, “Do you need me to?”

You want to smack the expression clear off her face. The freckles that litter her face scrunch in a teasing manner, which makes you melt a bit. You continue drying off before you throw back on your pants and shirt. You would be taking them off within the next two minutes, anyway, but you had to make it through the main hallways.

Abby does the same thing before she gathers all her belongings and waits for you. As you rake your fingers through your hair, she jokingly starts tapping her foot.

“Can you relax?”

She shakes her head “no”. You roll your eyes, grabbing all your things and leading the way to your room.

Abby knew your room would be better because you were graced with a room all by yourself. Courtesy of being Isaac’s top dog.

You were vigilant about keeping a clean suite, always making sure your limited belongings had a place. You did not have people in your room often, so you were a bit nervous to have Abby Anderson in your room.

She trails behind you closely, grunting every so often to indicate her impatience. Once you're outside your room, you unlock it with the key around your neck. It was easier to keep it on your chain, you hated stuffing your pockets with loose items.

The cold air hits your skin. You were known for keeping a cold room. You always ran hot at night and you refused to sweat. When Abby walks into your suite, she starts to laugh. You lay down your towel and undergarments.

“What’s so funny?” You ask, your wet hair sticking to your shoulders.

“You haven’t changed at all,” She grumbles, tossing her stuff in a pile beside your front door. The comment takes you off guard, simply because you spent years trying to be someone different.

“Why do you think that?”

“You are still so Type A,” She’s bounding towards you, stopping centimeters from your still-orgasm-dazed body, “You always run hot. It’s fuckin’ freezing in here.”

She’s cowering over you, her hot breath getting closer to your face. Before she can kiss you, she averts her head to the crook of your neck.

“You still smell of lavender,” She kisses your pulse point before continuing, “And you need attention or else you’ll die. You thrive off pissing everyone off.”

“Especially you,” You practically moan as she continues to kiss your throat. When you say that, she lifts her head and stares down at you. She’s so symmetrical and beautiful. You loved seeing every freckle, every wrinkle of her nose. The fullness of her pink lips.

“Especially me, that’s right.”

She pulls you in again, this time using her large hands to push your ass forward, capturing your lips as you melt into her grip. You move fluidly with her direction, peeling off your clothes again and frenching her when her lips slip open. Your tongues battle but you fully submit when she slowly bites down. She’s hungry for more.

You grab onto her forearms, tugging her towards your full size bed in the corner of the room.

You always kept your blinds drawn, not allowing the large windows to expose your personal space. You’re silently thanking the angels for your obsessiveness because if someone spotted you and Abby right now, it would somehow get back to Isaac. He would have a cow if he found you two messing around. That’s too much of a distraction and you need to focus on the “mission”.

Well, right now your mission is to make Abby cum.

You two fall on the bed, her hands still resting on the curve of your ass. She groans when you pull away from her lips. You tug at her shirt, gesturing to her to rid herself of her clothes. She obliges and she’s finally naked in your bed. You could die happy.

You were too caught up in her touching you earlier, now you want to feel her. When the cold air touches her nipples, you notice them stand at attention. You practically fall into her chest, latching your mouth onto her tits, sucking the skin. She moans out, her hips reacting by pressing forward into you. You swirl your wet tongue around her areola, teasing her sensitive nipples.

“God damn,” She whimpers, her hands exploring your hips. You use your teeth, nibbling slightly as you pull away from her one boob. She falls onto her back, releasing you from her grip. You crawl on top of her, straddling her waist with your thighs. You press your slick entrance on top of her mound, dragging it back and forth, teasing her.

“You want me to touch your pretty pussy with my mouth?” You ask, resting your hands on her abs. She was so built, just tracing the outline of her 6-pack made you quiver.

“God yes.”

Her voice is deeper, her pleasure taking over her vocal chords. You grind down on her before you shimmy down her legs and settle between her thighs. You lay on your tummy, lining up your face with her middle.

She’s dripping, her entrance waiting for your fingers and mouth. You loved returning the favor, especially for women. You got off on hearing a woman chant your name as you alternate between licking and sucking. It would always boost your ego, but now that it’s Abby in your bed? You’ll be satisfied if she’s the last one to ever get in bed with you.

She talked a big game about “teaching you a lesson” but here you are, shoving your fingers deep inside her and fucking her with your tongue. You smirk at the thought, watching her face twist in delight. You swirl your tongue around her sensitive throbbing clit. You were fed off her reactions, your eagerness to make her feel good increasing the more she cried out.

You wrap your lips around her clit as you’re three fingers deep, fucking her steadily. As soon as you start the suction on her pussy, Abby is falling apart on your face. It’s a quick reaction, which gives you a bit of an ego boost. You watch her stomach flex, her jaw clench, and her mouth let out a guttural moan.

Once she catches her breath, you slide off the bed, heading to your side table. You open the drawer, searching for the one thing that Abby could use to teach you a lesson.

You pull out the black strap on you found a couple months ago at an abandoned sex store downtown. You haven’t used it yet, but you did make the effort to clean it before you tucked it away. This seemed like the perfect time for it to shine.

You show Abby, her eyes lighting up with excitement. She snatches it from you, giggling as she stands up.

“It’s like putting underwear,” You explain as she messes with the strap. It was like a thong with a dick attached. Very advanced technology.

“It’s perfect,” She whispers, sliding it over her massively thick thighs. Once she gets it on, it’s kind of silly to look at. Seeing Abby with a massive cock made you chuckle, but instead of following your reaction, it’s like it gave her a newfound attitude.

It’s like a switch goes off. Instead of slowing down after an orgasm, like you, she manhandles you and grabs your biceps. She tows you up to her naked body before she pins you down to the bed. She plants herself like a tree between your legs, the large silicone dick nudging your inner thighs. You still can see her glistening core through the straps.

“I need to watch you come apart again,” She explains as she holds the cock in her hand, “Wanna watch you cum over and over again.”

Her hair is messily over her shoulders, so when she leans down to stare down at the dick sliding between your folds, it falls in her face. She tucks it behind her ears, but it still drifts down her chest. You circle your hips, sighing at the feeling of the ridges of the dildo against your sensitivity.

“Fuckin’ hair,” She fusses. You giggle a bit, watching her throw it back over her shoulders. You nudge her shoulder, using some force to pull her over your body. She leans down, her hair falling onto your face.

“I’ll hold it for you, just make me feel good,” You murmur, using both hands to gather her hair. She gasps as you tug on her locks. You use some of the leverage you have to position her even closer to you. She reaches between your bodies and coats the cock in your slick. As soon as she teases your entrance with it, you pull her hair back. It sends her over the edge as she eases the dick inside you. It hurts a bit, so when she draws back you tell her to coat it in her saliva. She does what she’s told, spitting into her free hand a couple times and covering the appendage with it.

Once she eases in again, the stretch feels better with the lubrication. Your thighs want to clench so bad, but the way she’s resting on you, you have no way to. She draws in and out of your pussy, grunting at the impact.

It feels so good, but part of you wishes you just had her beautifully long fingers inside you.

She moves your hands away from her hair and throws her head back, tossing her blond hair back. She props your legs up, plowing into you. You’re crying out, your ears ringing with the sound of your own heartbeat.

“God, I need you to cum, baby,” She mumbles, kissing your knee as your body starts to vibrate. The cock is hitting you in all the right spots, but you need more. You reach down, using the pads of your fingers to stimulate your clit.

“Please don’t stop!”

It riles her up more, her pace quickening with every gasp. She pushes your fingers away, replacing them with her own. The pressure she applies sends your body into overdrive. Between her moans and the physicality, your orgasm hits you like a train. She fucks you through it, mumbling phrases like “that’s my good girl” and “yes baby, give it to me”.

Once it’s over, it feels like your heart may beat out of your chest. She pulls the strap out and stands up beside your bed, shoving it off her hips. You watch her closely as she props the item up on your side table. She’s careful not to mess with any of you meticulously placed knick knacks.

“You good?” She asks, her voice cracking a bit.

She wanted to say more, but as she looks at you all fucked out on your bed, she feels a pang of guilt. She should not be indulging in this type of stuff, especially when you’re going against the cause. Abby had it made here, she can’t risk anything.

“‘m all good, Abs. Do you wanna stay?”

She shakes her head negatively.

“I think I’m gonna head back to my room. We gotta be up in a couple hours.”

You notice she’s being cold, which sends you into a spiral. You want to reassure her, but you know deep down she’s already made up her mind.

You clear your throat, “Well, we can at least wake up together.”

“No, I don't think that’s the best idea,” She explains as she finds her clothes across your bedroom. She lays them on the bed beside you as she starts to dress herself. She has this look of concern on her face. It makes you physically ill, knowing it’s the face of regret.

“Well, I guess we are back to square one.”

She throws her shirt over her head before she’s gathering up her things and practically running to the door. You want to pick up the dildo and sling it at her head. You can’t believe this.

She reaches for the door before turning around to face you, “Guess so.”

PART 2 is HERE

#abby anderson #abby anderson smut #abby anderson x reader #abby tlou #abby from tlou #abby tlou smut #tlou x reader #abby anderson tlou2 #the last of us #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson x you #abby the last of us #abby x reader #the last of us 2 #gracieheartspedro

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yonch · 3 months

Text

it's been 15 years and you can see better than ever

(design notes under the cut) (there are spoilers)

ok this got really long. here you go

sif:

ditched the cloak. it was collecting dust in their closet until recently, but they realized they don't need to cling to their grief so much anymore. someone else will need it more soon.

ditched the eyepatch. the prosthetic eye is a labor of love designed by isa, as is literally everything else they're wearing.

they cut their bangs finally and started braiding their hair back so it wouldn't obscure their vision as much anymore.

they like darker/tighter clothing and prefer function over form but unfortunately their gay ass boyfriend keeps treating them like a dress up doll so they're stuck wearing waistcoats and a fancy cloak. (they don't mind. it's designed to look like loop.) they keep flowers in their many pockets to give to people.

they're a woodworker in their free time. they don't usually talk about being any sort of savior so he just becomes sif the guy who's really good at carving birthday presents for people and also tags along with isa to charity parties and fundraisers

41 year old 5'1" they/he absolutely zero intention of Changing. bonded to isabeau. they adopted a kid who leo or i might post about some other time i think. her name is estelle.

isa: i'm not taking credit for the design that's by my friend @fembard /@leoweooo. i'll include his design notes

isa dresses mostly for comfort, he doesn't like wearing stuff that might get stained or ruined when he's dyeing clothes or chasing stelle around in the mud or something, all his fashion sense goes into his handiwork

he Changed a few more times over the 15yrs, eventually settled. picked up she/her pronouns again on the side but was never really able to ditch the name isabeau and he kinda ran out of names anyways...

kept the long hair, kept a few inches in height, very happy to fulfill the role of male (space) wife

can't ditch the kimono jacket it's the piece de resistance. odile influence and Wisening Of Age means its made with a little more knowledge of ka buan technique but still very clearly an Isa Design. the fabric is imported silk sif!!!!!!

39 year old Tall with a capital T he/she "i swear i'm not a weeaboo i'm just really into ka buan fashion" vaugardian indie clothing designer in your area help support this man in his attempts to use his family members as living advertisements for his brand

mira: with design input from @jastertown thank you my friend

i took a lot of inspiration for the sparkly, sheer fabric on her dress from euphrasie. she's not head housemaiden yet because she doesn't feel like she's ready but everybody knows it'll be her

speaking of inspiration. she's been taking a lot of fashion cues from a certain lady in dormont that she thought was kind of scary, but it turns out she's very nice? they're besties now.

she got rid of the earrings for a little bit but then she realized she just liked how they look on her. so now they go ding ding! it's for her and nobody else, and that's how she likes it.

moved her ornaments to her skirt because they ding ding more often there. her necklace also jingles with merriment.

38 year old she/her advanced cisgender+ legend who's realizing that people are trying to get her to be the pope but all she really wants to do is write yaoibait fiction that looks like it came straight off of ao3

odile:

my glorious hag. she started shrinking about 3 years ago. all those years of bending over books has finally caught up to her. her hips are fuuuuuucked. but she has a sick cane that sif carved for her so everything's okay

she was already pretty comfortable and settled in her sense of style when she was nearing 50 so i don't think she would change much. darker clothing maybe. ditched the high-waisted pants for some looser slacks.

she's started writing a familytale of her own. the only person she's told about it is bonbon, who caught her up way past their bedtime, and scribbled all over one of the pages. she'll pass it on to sif when the time's right, after she's written down everything she can remember about their family.

64 year old she/her wasian researcher recovering from hernia surgery who's getting really into things like "political activism" and "body craft law reformation in ka bue" and "making sure people aren't sourcing their hrt from back alleys"

bonnie:

prefers to go by boniface these days. it's cooler. more mature. please stop calling me bonbon that's a nickname from when i was 10 guys c'mon guys ugh fine frin you can still call me bonbon but not around my girlfriends ok (nobody calls them boniface except for odile)

speaking of which they have 3 butch lesbian girlfriends. this got established as a joke but i think they have it in them. they're still young!!!!!!! they should be at the club!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

they traveled for a while with everybody but eventually settled down back in bambouche to start a little family owned restaurant with nille featuring dishes from all over the globe. people travel from all over to get a taste of boniface's good eats... bambouche is bustling. (they have a few recipes that are sourced from the country. they meet people every once in a while who find something achingly familiar about it, and they usually direct those people to jouvente to get in contact with frin.)

26 year old they/them "i dont know how tall i am but i'm taller than za" chef cooker whose restaurant keeps lighting on fire because this time i swear nille i can figure out how to do cooking craft i swear i wont explode the kitchen this time please i promise

loop:

ok. this is where lozy gets to just talk about what he thinks happens post game. i think they stick around for way longer than they really should and follow the crew around on their travels (mostly invisibly) because they're sooo fucking scared of change they're sooo scared and they're so scared of their wish fucking up beyond belief. they're kind of incapable of aging or dying in this body and theyre like permanently 26 which is what spurs them to finally move on.

i think they go back to their timeline eventually after making a Brand New Wish to "go back to their real family." alas the universe leads and we can only follow. and it turns out loop has actually made a real family in stardust's world also. this is my justification for why they can pop in between sasasap and isat worlds without much repercussion. i think they're always permanently loop shaped in isat but i imagine they can probably go back to their original body in their home timeline... might design that later. who knows. i'm fucked like that

i just think they deserve a chance for their own happy ending you know. isat's a game about how it's never too late to communicate and how you shouldn't punish yourself forever and ever. and i think theyve punished themself enough you know.

ok tank you for reading if you read this far. it's really big and long so i would understand if you didn't. but i hope you liked it. thoughts appreciated. here's a little something for the people who read all the way through.

#isat #in stars and time #siffrin #siffrin isat #isafrin #isat game #postgame isat #loop #isabeau #mirabelle #odile #bonnie #boniface #spoilers are only under the read more #my drawings #etoile tag

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tvgals · 10 months

Text

‘ BARBIE WORLD ! ‘

the spider teen group w a black barbie reader !!

MILES MORALES —

he was stunned that he pulled you to say the least

imagine when he took you home..

you and miles stand outside of his parents apartment. “and make sure you don’t call them by their first names, they hate that!” miles tells you, biting his bottom lip when he sees you knocking on the door. “i know, miles. i’m not disrespectful!” you giggle, hearing the door unlock. you’re met face to face with a brown skinned woman with her curly hair braided, laying on her shoulder. her face seems to light up when she sees the two of you. “miles!” she beams, engulfing him in a hug, when she pulls away and turns to you, she brings her hands to her chest and smiles. “and you must be y/n! miles talks so much about you!” she says, you smile and look at miles, his face flushed with embarrassment. “these are for you, mrs morales!” you grin, handing her the bouquet of azaleas. “for me? thank you so much!” she thanks you, softly grasping the stems and welcoming you two in. you see miles’ dad sitting at the table, scrolling though his phone. “dad!” miles blurts out, waiting to get his attention. once he looks up, his eyes go wide. “who’s that?” jeff asks, looking around the room just in case this was some prank.

“dad, this is my girlfriend y/n.” miles sheepishly grins, you sending a happy wave his way. jeff stares for a moment. his awkward, teenage son, was able to get a girlfriend like you? no way! “jeff, don’t just stare at the poor girl!” rio laughs. this was gonna be a long night .

HOBIE BROWN —

he loves it

the opposites attract always gets me !!

hobie watched you as you struggled to put on your favorite pair of pink chunky heels onto your feet, your annoyed groans ringing out the room. “baby!” you yell out into the apartment, hoping your boyfriend would just walk in and put your shoe on for you. you think for a second. you’ve worked multiple engineering jobs as an intern, you’ve studied multiple languages and worked many jobs, and you’re currently letting a shoe disrespect you? hobie walked in and bit back a smile at your determined face.

“love, let me help-“ hobie is cut off with a stern, “no” from you, putting your manicured hand up to stop any movement from him getting closer. “princess, just let me help.” hobie chuckles, crouching onto the floor next to you. “no! i can do it by myself. i am a strong, independent woman!” you sputter out, pushing your foot into the shoe. “bam.” you say, looking at hobie’s smiling face. now onto the next shoe.

PAVITR PRABHAKAR —

he lovessss your style

definitely helps you with makeup

“pavi!” you call out to your boyfriend, who was casually hanging off of a web from the ceiling. “yes?” he calls back to you, flipping onto his feet and walking into the bathroom where you were applying your false lashes. “baby, will you go to the mall with me?” you ask, fanning your hand in front of your eyes to dry the lash glue.

“of course! why would i say no to a pretty girl like you?” pavitr says, walking behind you and resting his chin on your head. “pavi, i need to talk to you.” you say, your tone serious and solid. pavitr gets worried, he’s never heard this tone from you like this, not so..strict and firm. “oh no…what is it?” pavitr mumbles, trailing his hands onto your waist, now moving his head to rest in the crook of your neck.

“it’s very important, like i’m talking end of our relationship if you say the wrong answer, important.” you warn him, pulling lipsticks out of your makeup bag. “now you’re scaring me.” pavitr chuckles. “what is it?” you look at him through the mirror and hold up two lipsticks, “rose red or like a light pink?” you ask, turning to actually face him. “jeez, y/n! you can’t scare me that way!” pavitr giggles, dramatically holding a hand over his heart. “but definitely rose red.”

GWEN STACY —

gwen watches you style the wig on the mannequins head, walking over to take a better look. “what are you doing?” she asks you, watching you shimmy the hair curler from the dark brown wig. “styling my wig for this party tomorrow. wanna help?” you ask, inviting her to sit down in the chair in place of you. gwen sits down and you hand her the curler, placing your hand on top of hers.

“so you gotta put the hair into this little part right here and hold it there for like…eight seconds for looser curls. that’s how i like mine.” you shrug, watching her face contort in concentration. when gwen let’s go, a perfect curl emits from the curler, you smile and give her a hug.

“see? you’re a natural!”

TAGLIST ; — @venusluvslove @kisminarii @xricly @ohsanghoe @conniesbbymama @6olar @cupids-soul @sza-luvrrr @gobblethiskitty @lovedsolana @maniacvell @stellabunniii @theyfwkayla14 @radicaledward55 @bbytamaki @princess-hellokitty @hellomyearthlings @eva7ari @draculara-vonvamp @jared-oranges

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xo-cori · 7 months

Text

it’s all a game to me anyway

pairing: abby anderson x fem!reader

summary: pining after athletes is never a good idea. that is, unless you’re good at getting your way.

warnings: smut (MDNI), hockey!abby, reader is lowkey a womanizer, choking, the knee thing™, thigh riding, power dynamic switcharoo, no aftercare but in a hot way

a/n: inspired by “music to watch boys to” by mother lana 🙏 if you’re a buff girl named abby anderson who plays hockey pls hit my line immediately. also read pt 2 here!!

“How’d you get in here?”

In any other scenario, her tone would’ve offended you. At least, you would’ve pretended it did. But this is a very special case; you’ve got Abby exactly where you want her, only because you know she feels the same.

It all started a few months ago during your first week of college. You’d developed a reputation around the school pretty quickly– you tend to pick girls up for a night just to leave them in the dust. It’s fulfilling, until it isn’t. Until you move onto the next, getting better and better at pretending you’d fallen head over heels just to take someone to bed. Now, just starting your second semester, you’d climbed up the social hierarchy pretty quickly, and you’ve been eyeing somebody in specific. After playing your tricks with half of her teammates, of course.

You stand in the empty locker room with her as she packs her bag. You can tell she’s fresh out of the shower and had just finished getting changed. You wonder if you could’ve sped this up by walking in a bit earlier.

“I snuck in,” you shrug. “Just noticed you never came out with your team– I wanted to say how sorry I am that you guys lost. You’re the captain, right? You could spread the message.”

Her eyes meet yours and she’s obviously unimpressed. “I could, but I won’t.” She quips.

You tilt your head. “How come?”

“Well, you’re… acquainted with most of them. Tell them yourself.” She says, setting her bag down on one of the benches so that she can face you. Her dirty blonde hair is still damp and, now that you think about it, this is the first time you’ve seen it out of that signature braid she always wears– and you’ve seen a lot of her.

It’s become a habit to show up to every game, every practice, intently watching her command her team and skate around on that ice like her life depends on it. You don’t know how hockey works. You honestly couldn’t care less, but you have more than enough reason to watch it, and you have your music to keep you company.

“Someone’s jealous.” You observe, taking a long step towards her.

Surprisingly, she doesn’t make any attempt to create some distance. She just raises her eyebrows at you. “Are you fuckin’ kidding me? You think I’m jealous?”

“Sounds like it.” You wrestle with a smile, not wanting to blow your one chance at this by pissing her off too much.

“Oh, really? And what’s there to be jealous of?” Abby questions, even if she has a pretty good idea what the answer will be.

“The winning team,” you take another step, “and… y’know, the fact that half of your team has had a turn with me. Not you, though. Not yet.”

The way her jaw tenses up makes your chest swell with pride. “Not yet?” She repeats. “You think I want a turn?”

“If you didn’t, you wouldn’t look at me the way you do. You like it when I watch you all practice, because you know I’m just watching you.” You tell her.

Abby knows there’s no way to argue with that, no matter how much she’d like to. She looks for you in the bleachers and, when she finds you, subconsciously makes a point of holding that eye contact. You always have both of your headphones in. You’re always looking her up and down, licking your lips like she’s nothing but a freshly prepared meal to you. Honestly, it makes her confidence skyrocket. She’s secure in her capabilities, but a little boost never hurt.

“Athletes like being watched. That’s kinda the whole point,” she replies, “doesn’t make you special.”

“But I am special.” Another step forward. At this point, you have to tilt your head up to keep eye contact. “I’ve gotta be. You know what I want, but you’ve never told your coach to make me fuck off.”

That’s true, too, Abby thinks. She’d never admit it, though. “Maybe I should.” She says.

“You won’t.” You grin. “Not until you get your turn, at least.”

She’s the one to take the next step forward. You can feel her breath fan across your face. She doesn’t trust her voice to speak; her hard exterior slowly crumbling under the heat of your gaze.

So, she grabs you by the throat and leans down to catch your lips between hers.

You gasp, shocked that she’d be the one to take the initiative. You weren’t even sure if she liked girls, and here she was, already shoving her tongue past your lips, which you happily accepted. Her chest presses to yours as she backs you up against one of the lockers. You opt to ignore how hard your head hit the metal, given how preoccupied you are by the way she grabs both of your wrists in her other hand and holds them above your head.

Then, she pulls back to look at you. You aren’t the one in control and you know it. Oddly enough, you kind of like it.

“Is this what you wanted?” Abby rasps, shoving her knee between your thighs and pressing up right where you needed her, causing you to let out a pleased sigh.

“Yeah,” you nod, “just didn’t think you’d be so easy.”

She finds it ironic that you of all people would call her easy, but she decides not to linger on it. Instead, she slightly tightens her grip around your throat, reveling in the way she only needs one hand to make your breath stutter. The lack of air gives you a head-rush and you find yourself grinding down onto her thigh. Normally, you wouldn’t let yourself be reduced to a submissive mess, but you’d been pining after her for months. You’d do whatever it takes to get her head between your legs.

Abby kisses you once more, totally ignoring the way your hands struggle against her grip only because you kiss her back with a fervor she’s never felt.

“Look at you,” she murmurs, “fucking yourself on my leg like a dog.”

You whine at the lack of her lips on yours. “I want you so bad, Abby– been waiting for this forever.” You admit, which is just another ego boost for her.

She lets go of your wrists and pulls your arms to wrap around her shoulders. “Go ahead, then. Make yourself cum like this.”

You’re taken aback by the demand. Is that even possible? Hell, just to impress her, you’ll make it possible.

You slowly get yourself into a rhythm, rolling your hips into hers, thighs trembling as you hold yourself up simply by her shoulders. Her muscles flex beneath your hands and it only makes you moan louder. Your head falls back against the locker once more, giving Abby an opening to dive into your neck. She kisses, licks, bites any skin available to her, leaving little marks and bruises in her path. Something for her to gawk at later when you show up to practice (because she knows you will). Her hands hold you by your waist, fingertips digging into your flesh so hard that it hurts.

It only takes another two minutes until you feel your climax boiling somewhere deep inside of you. Your legs are just barely working anymore and your hips move with an untamed rhythm, shamelessly seeking any pleasure you can get. “I’m close,” you whimper, “please, please let me–”

Before you can finish your plea, she’s grabbing onto your hips and holding you still. You groan in frustration, balling your hands into fists and whacking them against her chest. “You fucking bitch!” You whine, only made angrier by the shit-eating grin on her face (plus the way she isn’t phased at all by your punches).

“Sorry,” Abby says, moving in so close to your face that your noses are nearly touching, “just needed to vent all this frustration. You know, since I lost the big game and all.”

She presses another kiss to your lips, and you reach up to grab hold of her hair, trying to deepen it as much as possible. She doesn’t struggle at all to pull away, though. You’ve never loved and hated someone’s muscles so much.

“Let me make it better.” You breathe, trying to move one of your hands down between her legs but she quickly grabs it to restrain you. “Please, I’ll– I promise, I’ll make you forget about that stupid game.”

“That’s not a very tempting offer,” Abby sighs dramatically just to get a rise out of you, “don’t wanna be sore for practice tomorrow.”

You scrunch your nose in thought. Is that an invitation? It has to be. She knows you’ll be there regardless. You stare deep into her eyes with a fury, but this only seems to amuse her.

She lets go of your hips and steps away from you. “See you then.”

You remain pressed up against the locker, lips kiss-bitten and legs shaky. You don’t even want to think about what your neck looks like. Abby grabs her bag from the bench and doesn’t even spare you another glance before walking out of the same door you came in through.

Fuck this, you think. Two can play at that game.

#the last of us #the last of us 2 #abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x you #abby anderson x fem!reader #abby anderson smut

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undiscovered-horizon · 7 months

Text

"Finnish polka" - Ivar the Boneless x Reader

SUMMARY: After helping one of the northern Jarls, the Lothbrok brothers attend a celebratory feast. There, they're faced with a tradition of warriors catching flower crowns that belong to young women. How surprised Ivar is when you almost shove your crown into his hands.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 2.1k

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Ivar is tired.

Of course he's glad that Jarl Thorstein came out victorious. And that his brothers are fine. Still, he feels weary as the adrenaline leaves his body. His legs start to ache. Ivar downs the rest of his mead in hopes it makes him a little more deaf to his mood.

The upbeat, bright music fills his mind like an obsessive thought. His heart beats to the rhythm tapped by the feet of dancing women. They spin, jump and run around with flower crowns sitting atop their heads. How the wreaths remain immovable, he can't quite say.

Ivar is also angry.

As the local tradition entails, when the song ends, all the dancing young maidens will throw their flower crowns to the crowd. Whoever catches it, is believed to be the girl's lover chosen by the gods. However, whether the couple indulges and trusts gods' judgement is a different story. But if the wreath falls to the floor, the girl is said to remain unmarried for the next five years.

Ivar knows the chance of him somehow catching one of those is near zero. He's sitting quite far from the dancers. Even if he did catch it, he's disillusioned about the imminent dissatisfaction of the flower crown's ownert. Not only is he disabled in a way that almost entirely excludes him from fighting but he's also infamous for his ruthless nature and vengeful heart. Hardly a man who invokes desire. Still, some naive piece of him remains hopeful that maybe he's wrong. Maybe he can be terrible and loved all the same.

He shakes those weak delusions away from himself before they sour his mood further.

His piercing eyes have been following one of the dancers for the better part of the song when he catches himself. Her movements look effortless even when the musicians pick up the tempo. Clearly, she's done this dance one too many times to have any doubts about what she's doing. Joy beams from her in a way that makes her appear almost shining. The wreath on the top of her head is mostly green with white and red flowers. It makes Ivar think of the woods surrounding Kattegat; it makes him think of home.

Ivar leans toward Oddleif, one of the Jarl's men, who's sitting next to him.

"Who is she?"

Oddleif looks at Ivar out of the corner of his eye. He scoffs, takes a large sip of his drink and only then decides to answer:

"If you're thinking of catching her flower crown, don't." His blond braids dance slightly as he shakes his head. There's a hint of laughter hiding in the back of Oddleif's throat. "Half of the surviving army wants it."

"I have no care for flowers," Ivar lies through his teeth. "They have no use. They wilt and die and soon no one remembers them. I am simply curious about her."

"Her father is the blacksmith. You might have seen him in the battle, swinging that damned sledgehammer." Ivar silently nods. He remembers that man - tall as a pine tree and wider than a stable. The blacksmith invokes respect even when he's not decimating enemies like a troll equipped with a tree trunk. "He said once that he'll let any man marry his daughter but only if he can lift an anvil. Tried it once myself. Not that I had any success as you can imagine." Oddleif laughs bitterly and continues drinking. His eyes are glued to the dancers but Ivar knows that right now, the two of them are admiring the very same girl with a flower crown like a forest.

The melody continues to quicken. Despite being out of breath, you don't want it to end. Your feet ache but they do not falter nor do they stumble. It seems that their muscles know the dance better than your mind. There are a dozen girls dancing with you but you do not see them. Not really. They appear worlds away from you and the song of bagpipes and strings.

And then appears he.

A slouched, dark figure flies before your eyes as you're doing another pirouette. The man simply sits there, in the corner, but his presence is overwhelming. Or so you think. He does nothing and yet he tears his way into your microcosm of quick footwork, turns and lively polka.

You recognize him. Of course you do. Many whispers, equally frightened and amazed, have spoken of him. You have believed in all of them until the moment you met his gaze for that split second. Right then, somewhere between blinks and breaths, you renounce every gossip you've ever heard about him. A voice in the back of your head, a trickster or an oracle, nags at you to learn the truth yourself.

When the lively, fast melody comes to a stop, you find yourself shaken awake from the thoughts about Ivar the Boneless. The end of the song seems somewhat abrupt to you as you've been letting your fantasy run wild without paying much attention to what's going on around you. Dancing the last part purely by the memory of your muscles. The moment musicians stop playing, a small crowd begins to form in front of you. Men of different class, age and ancestry reach out their hands. Each one of them is more determined than the other to catch your wreath. They start to yell something but considering that the inside of the long hall is awfully loud anyway, you can't make out any words. Reading their lips, you can only tell when they're exclaiming different variations of your name.

They're only pushing towards you, shoving each other away. You keep taking steps backwards but the distance you create with each step is quickly shortened with the men calling out to you. You knew there would be many of them in front of you but never assumed that many. Instead of somewhat flattering, the siege is terrifying and imposing.

Looking for help or advice, just something that will ease your tension, you silently look around the long hall. Your gaze falls on the same slouched, dark figure. Strange peacefulness washes over you when his eyes meet yours.

The dim candlelight seems to bend around Ivar, making his corner appear darker than anywhere else in the long hall. He's simply sitting there. Maybe he's not interested? But the way he's staring at you shows nothing if not burning curiosity. The sons of Ragnar aren't know for their patience. No, they're said to take whatever they want the moment their desire sparks. Despite that, the youngest of them, and arguably the most famous, appears to be waiting. But for what exactly?

The fresh pine needles prick your skin. You furrow your eyebrows. Your gaze falls to the wreath and then comes back to Ivar. Could it be...?

It isn't much of a throw, really. You toss the flower crown towards him without looking anywhere else but into Ivar's eyes. Without as much as blinking, he catches the wreath with ease as though he has been prepared for that. Low murmurs hit your ears but quickly the sounds of disappointment fall silent as it's made clear who caught your wreath. Despite their initial determination, the men who had been reaching out to you suddenly disperse like fog does in the early morning. They knew better than to get under the skin of a Lothbrok. Especially that one.

"I believe this belongs to you."

Ivar is holding up the wreath. Despite his words, he makes no effort to offer it back to you. His eyes are bright and glistening, the corner of his mouth is tugged ever-so-slightly upwards. He appears amused.

At first, it was nice to finally sit down after dancing for what seemed to be hours on end. But now, when you're facing the consequences of your spur-of-the-moment decision, the tension sets in once more. This time, however, it doesn't feel threatening. In turn, the nervousness is somewhat welcome like the jittery state before a surprise is revealed.

"If I wanted to keep it, I wouldn't have thrown it," you answer in a light tone.

"And why should I keep it?"

The blue eyes study you for a moment. It's a strange feeling - you can't help but think that the longer you are in Ivar's presence, talking or not, he's reading your mind and soul. He stares at you in a way that tells you he already holds all the answers but wants you to confirm them.

"It's said to bring good luck." You shrug your shoulders. "Until the wreath wilts and dies, Freya and Freyr will look after you."

Ivar looks at the flower crown again. Only now, when he's holding it, does he realize that for a flower crown, there aren't many flowers. A few sandworts and poppies, yes, but the wreath is made mostly of evergreen plants. It might take weeks until the crown wilts.

The microcosm seems closed again. Now it's not you and the bagpipes but you and him. It's strange and it's new but it's not threatening. It's not the kind of presence a man of his infamy should have. Or perhaps you've simply fallen for his honey trap.

"Why did you throw it to me?" Ivar tries to make the question seem unimportant, just curiosity brought to light. But he can't quite convince himself that he doesn't care. There's a hint of something vulnerable and genuine when the words roll off his tongue. It's easy to miss like a dandelion clock carried away by a gust of wind.

You wish you knew the answer yourself.

"I don't know really," you say honestly. "Perhaps it was one of the gods that threw the flower crown for me." You make a pause. Ivar's face is unreadable. "Or perhaps I have no interest in urgent, desperate men."

Ivar chuckles. A deep shadow is covering part of his face, making him appear kind of sinister. For a moment, you question whether he's laughing with you or at you.

"And what exactly makes you think I'm not urgent or desperate?" he continues. You notice his smile is growing wider. That glint of amusement in his blue eyes has changed in mischief. "What if I'm worse than all of them? You surely know who I am."

"Of course I do, Ivar the Boneless," you drone the words. In a barely noticeable fashion, he clenches his jaw when you say his name. It makes him feel a strange, burning sensation in his stomach but Ivar is left unsure whether he likes it or detests. "The whispers of your ruthless character are unending."

"But you're not afraid?" he asks with both disbelief and suspicion. A girl with a flower crown doesn't necessarily strike him as fearless in any way. Or this whole strange situation is a little too good, too dream-like, for him to accept it at face-value.

Ivar's smile falters when your face takes on a confident, maybe even arrogant, expression. He's taken aback.

"I'm a woman of the North," you say while leaning towards him on the table. The distance between your faces shortnes. "The only person I fear is my own reflection."

The sudden closeness makes Ivar inhale sharply. The strong smell of pine needles fills his nostrils. For a moment, his imagination runs wild but it's not his fault - he has no grasp on it:

How those big eyes glistened in the semi-dark of the long hall as you were staring at him. Your smirk, somewhat challenging and beckoning him to push on. Then, the smell of conifer that shakes all senses awake. His fantasy leaves the northern snows and travelles to forests, to him brushing pine needles from your hair and your naked, flushes skin smelling of evergreen trees.

But quickly his shaken awake, to his utmost displeasure, by you:

"Well, if you don't want it, I suppose I should take it back, no?"

Your hand unsurely reaches out for the wreath in Ivar's hand. He's quick to pull his arm back.

"It's bad luck to take back gifts," he states plainly. In an act of nonchalance, Ivar is playing with the wreath, spinning it around his finger. "I should like to keep it."

Sometimes you come back to the night you've met the infamous Viking, when you're rendered sleepless while he's calmly breathing next to you, getting the rest he desperately needs. How funny all of it seems - that a flower crown in bloodied, merciless hands could lead to having a genuine crown on your head. Maybe you were right, after all, and it really was the hand of one of the gods that threw the wreath for you.

#vikings #vikings series #vikings tv series #vikings fanfiction #vikings imagine #vikings x reader #vikings ivar #ivar x reader #ivar lothbrok #ivar the boneless #ivar the boneless x reader #ivar the boneless fanfiction #ivar the boneless imagnie

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wifeofnatasharomanoff · 22 days

Note

could i request a mob nat oneshot from that universe seeing nat as a mom to her kid? it says we have a kid and it doesn’t need to be overly fluffy or anything… just curious what this badass mob boss looks like as a mom

HAPPINESS

WARNINGS: a bit of violence, gunshots, cute family moments, brief angst, fluff

RELATIONSHIP: natasha romanoff x f!reader

a/n: lol me after not posting for months 😅

AU: Darkest Nights

You wake up to the sounds of laughter in the bedroom, turning, you notice the side beside yours on the bed is empty. Where were the noises coming from? You sat up on the bed to see Natasha on the floor, a batman action figure in her hand and a toy car in the other. Her red hair was up in a loose braid and you could barely see the front of her face properly, but the one face you did see was a baby boy. Well – not really a baby more like a toddler. Except he wasn’t turning two for another few months. His chubby, rose-tinted cheeks were puffed up and small but loud giggles erupted from him. Natasha heard rustling from the bedsheets and looked up at you to see that you were already up. “Did we wake you up, babe?” she asked, her eyes were on you but she still kept her focus on the baby, making sure he wasn’t putting anything he wasn’t supposed to in his mouth. Some toys they make for babies are too small, Alex was teething and liked chewing on his toys sometimes.

The corners of your lips curled into a smile, “No,” you chuckled, moving your hair strands away from your face. “It’s past 10, I was bound to wake up by now.” You reassure her. “Oh, good – I mean, it’s just you looked peaceful. For once.” you narrow your eyes as you throw the blanket that was draped over your body off yourself. “And who’s fault is it that I’m never at peace?” you retorted, getting up from the bed. She winced, “sorry, krasivaya.” you laughed at the sarcasm that lied beneath her words and lightly threw a smaller pillow from the bed towards her. “Jerk.” she caught the pillow and set it next to her, “c’mere, baby.” her arms were long enough to reach up to your hips while you were folding the blankets. Alex squealed, his stubby little hands moved up and down in agreement. “See, even our son wants mommy to play with us.” Natasha said, her hands grabbed onto your hips and pulled you to the carpet on the floor. “Natasha!” you shouted, playfully shoving her hand away, as she burst out laughing, the baby didn’t know any better and laughed along with her.

“You’re unbelievable. I hope you know that.” she smirked at what you had said before responding, “I think I’m believable enough, how else is–” you interrupt her, “whatever you’re going to say, don’t say it. I’m positive it isn’t appropriate.” Natasha’s hand rested on your shoulder, “Okay, I’m not that bad.” she paused, “maybe.”

“Momyy!!” Alex mustered up a word, sliding his mini spiderman toy over to you. “You want mommy and mama to play with you, lovebug?” you smile, grabbing the toy and giving it back to him. He nodded. “Alright, you can be little spiderman, mama will be batman and –” you turn to Natasha, “what will I be?” you ask. “And mommy’s barbie!” she excitedly says to the boy as she hands you a barbie doll. “A happy family, aren’t we?” she cupped your face before pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “I’m barbie? Seriously?” she grinned without a thought, “no, you’re prettier than barbie, baby.”

“You’re such a sweet talker, darling.” you turned your attention back to Alex, dramatically gasping before speaking once more. “Oh my goodness, where's spiderman’s car?” the baby gasped as if he was missing a car, “oh look! There it is!” you gave the car to Natasha before Alex got the chance to grab it from you.

“Oh, no! Batman stole your car, spiderman. Go steal it back from him!” you accused Natasha and pointed at her, immediately, Alex crawled over to her and started to lightly punch her, in a poor attempt to get his car back. Which of course, didn’t do much to her at all. “You can’t have this car, it’s mine now, spiderman!” Natasha took the car in her hand and raised it up in the air to where the boy couldn’t reach.

The sound of glass shattering pulled both you and Natasha away from playtime. “Natasha, wh—” you heard it again, except this time you saw the window beside your nightstand break. “Get the gun under the bed and take Alex.” her voice was stern, as if she was ordering you. Your eyes widened as fear crept up your spine, “Natasha, what was that?” you heard it again, but this time there wasn’t any glass to stop the noise, it was clear that it was a gunshot. You pulled a box from under the bed and took a pistol out, grabbing Alex into your arms, you slowly stood up to not gain attention from movement in the bedroom. “Darling, I– where will we go?” unshed tears pooled in your eyes as your bottom lip quivered, “as of now, go to the bar. Look for Yelena, and she’ll know where to take you.”

You gently touched her arm, “Are you not coming with us?” she shook her head, “it’ll cause too much commotion, they’ll know you’re with me. I’ll find you. I’ll find you both. Don’t worry, baby.” you blinked back the tears to stop them from dropping, “Nat. you said this wouldn’t happen, you promised that they weren’t going to find us… I thought we were finally getting back to our normal lives!” she pulled the both of you close, kissing your forehead, cheeks, the top of the baby’s head. “I know, I’m sorry, baby, I’ll fix this. I’m so sorry, I love you both, so much. Trust me, I’ll deal with them and we’ll come back together before you can blink, krasivaya.” Natasha kissed your lips once more, “I love you.” she wiped away your tears, “don’t die.” the smile you had faltered for a moment when you said that, knowing that there could be a possibility that for an instance something could go completely, and terribly wrong. “I won’t. C’mon, you know me better than that, baby.” you let out a dry chuckle at her trying to lighten the mood. “Go. I’ll be back.” Natasha’s protective hold was gone, you simply nodded. Another gunshot could be heard from the other side of the house, you didn’t want Alex to cry so you covered his ears. “I love you too.”

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #natasha x y/n #natasha x you #natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #mob boss natasha romanoff #roza answers <3

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thisismeracing · 3 months

Text

Heartdresser | LH44

― Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x braider!reader ― Warning: mentions of a brother, social media au mixed with regular writing, tooth-rotting fluff, fem!reader (she/her); - 2.8k words + social media setting. ― Summary: When Lewis finds himself just a couple days away from a racing weekend and without his usual braids he desperately searches for suggestions of available hairdressers in the area. As the saying goes, love can come from the most unexpected places, and Lewis is about to discover that this is, in fact, true. (based on this request)

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Being a Formula One Driver had its perks, from obvious and big things such as traveling everywhere to not-so-obvious and small things like having your hair stylist travel to you when you needed them. After becoming an adult and famous, it took Lewis a couple of years to come to terms with his hair, how to style it, how to take care of it, and how to embrace the texture and volume. He felt finally whole when he reached that point, one where meaningless comments on the internet wouldn’t make him rethink his path, goals, and achievements. Of course, comments hurt, but being comfortable with yourself helped, and that was something Lewis learned.

Now, his braids were part of him. The hairstyle being associated with his image in the blink of an eye. Something that made him feel handsome, and connected with his roots. Something that seemed to help other young black boys around, who started to see themselves as stylish and handsome too.

That’s the main reason why he was so frustrated when his braider called him to tell them they couldn’t make it to Las Vegas. And the thing with braids is that it's not only a style that connects you to your roots, and makes you feel comfortable, it is also a hair protection style. Though Lewis doesn’t tell people he has superstitions and somehow it is true, part of him feels like he races better when he’s feeling himself in all senses of the word. This means having his hair in the braids he’s been looking forward to for over two weeks is something important to him.

So in the heat of the moment, he decides to look for help on Twitter.

“Hi, you must be Lewis,” you smile, extending your hands, and the man in front of you takes it in with a grin.

“Hey, good afternoon,” his grip is still thigh yet soft on your hand. “Yeah, it’s me. Thank you for having me on such short notice.” He’s handsome and polite in all the ways one should be to be considered perfect, and you start to understand why your baby brother was drawn to admire his persona outside the tracks.

You shake your head with a chuckle, “It was actually my day off, but I had no problem fitting you in since it meant Dee would get to meet you.”

“Oh- honesty is something I find hot,” he chuckles and adds a grin for good measure, all while looking straight into your eyes and you can’t help but laugh.

Add funny to the list of things Lewis Hamilton seems to be.

“Who’s Dee, by the way?”

“It’s Aiyden, my little brother. I call him Dee,” you explain before adding, “He’s finishing a Chemistry project with a few friends at school. He was tempted to skip but gave up after a pep talk on how school is important, and I would take forever doing your hair just so he could see you.”

Lewis nods while you explain, and then he’s chuckling just like minutes ago.

“I don’t mind waiting for him with you,” he winks.

You’re not sure if he’s being friendly, funny, or flirty, but any of these F words coming from the black guy in front of you are surely making your heart skip a beat.

“You can sit here while I grab everything,” you point to a chair in front of a big mirror and Lewis does as said.

“Your hair looks fire,” he comments, watching from the mirror while you go through the small saloon gathering the packs of hair and combs you would need. “Did you do it yourself?”

“Thanks,” you stop just for a second, smiling when your eyes meet. “And yeah, I did it just last weekend.”

“You look even more stunning with this style,” and just like that he has you giggling again. “I mean it. I saw your profile picture and I was convinced you couldn’t get more beautiful, and then you opened that door with a smile and these amazing braids and I was like wow.” “You’re a funny one.”

“I’ve heard some women like their man funny, is that your case? If so, I’m ready to get into stand-up comedy.”

You double with laughter, shaking your head and biting your lips to keep the funny noises inside.

“Same style you’ve sent me the picture?” Lewis nods. “Any addition or preference?” you ask, starting to section his hair, and he answers no while making himself comfortable on the chair.

And even though you joked about taking forever just so your brother would catch Lewis, you ended up really taking forever because the driver in front of you would joke around and give you flirty comments and you couldn’t help but stop to laugh. The style he wanted was fairly fast, and his curls weren’t that thick, but still, you two did a small snack break when he ordered from a vegan bakery downtown. He was a fun guy to talk to, you came to learn that pretty quickly, which only added to his face card, which certainly was never denied.

It was one of the best sessions you’ve had in a long time.

You were just finishing the final touches, adding water to boil, and cutting the small strands coming off the braids, when the bell over the door rang, announcing your little brother’s arrival. He has an incredulous expression on his face watching his idol sitting on the chair of his sister’s salon.

“Hey man, how was the chem’s project?” Lewis asks and Aiyden turns around to the door, doing a small victory dance and, probably, the most hideous expressions to conceal his eagerness and happiness.

You and Lewis laugh.

“Omg, hi, Lewis!” He finally walks to you, shaking hands with Lewis. His eyes – big orbs gleaming with excitement.

“Aren’t you gonna say hi to your sister, young man?” with your hands on your waist you furrow your brows in the direction of the curly-haired boy who smiles, engulfing your body in a big hug. You hug him back before tapping his back and fake complaining about how he was crushing you.

Aiyden had just turned fifteen, but his love for sports seemed to help him defy your DNA and grow more than your family’s average size. He was almost reaching your height, and he sure was stronger than you, but he was still just your baby boy.

“These new braids are lit, man! Told ya my sister would make it happen,” Ayiden, who still has one of his arms around your shoulders, tells Lewis with a proud smile.

The driver moves his head confidently checking his hair in the mirror, “She was a great braider, and even better company, to be honest.”

Yn rolls her eyes playfully before going back to the water and mentioning for Ayiden to take a step back. She dips the ends of the braids into the water, waiting for a bit before taking them off and draping a towel around Lewis’ broad shoulders.

“So, your sister mentioned a chem school project. How was it?”

And just like that Ayiden and Lewis are talking non-stop while you tidy the salon, watching their interaction with a fond smile. The Brit was attentive to your brother, always ready to listen rather than speak, always engaging, and making Ayiden feel comfortable to share whatever he wanted to.

He probably had no idea, but that was an easy way to get to your heart. Ayiden was your treasure, and the fact that Lewis was treating the boy as if he was his little treasure too only added to the list of things you found amazing about him.

“...right, Yn?” Dee asked and you snapped out of your daydream.

“What?”

“Lewis just invited us to the Vegas GP, I said we were going, right? Please, please, please,” he pleaded in front of you with his two hands together as if in prayer, and you bit the inside of your mouth.

“Sunday?”

“No, the whole package, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday!” he explained excitedly.

“It will be fun, c’mon,” Lewis tried.

“You have school on Friday.” You reasoned, but Ayiden was quick to explain that Friday wouldn’t be until 6 pm. “You’re the one asking Kali to get my appointments from Saturday,” pointing a finger to your brother you accepted, knowing that your friend and coworker, had a space on Saturday for a hair or two and wouldn’t mind covering so your clients wouldn’t be hanging out to dry. Still, she would probably huff and yapp before accepting. That was something that Ayiden would now deal with though, so you were all good.

Ayiden jumped up and down the same way he did when he was ten years old asking you to get him a new pair of soccer jerseys, and you accepted. It was endearing.

You talked for a few more minutes, Ayiden got his picture, and just like that Lewis was saying his farewells. This time he didn’t shake your hands, rather hugged you and you couldn’t help but breathe in his scent and relish his warmth.

“See you on Friday, guys,” he waved, showing off his perfect set of teeth.

“See you, man!”

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yourinstagram had to drive the kiddo to school today or else he would stay home choosing his weekend outfits lol (traffic is a bitch btw, so if you can avoid downtown, pls do!)

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youngdee why would you expose me like that

⤷ yourinstagram I'm your older sister, ofc I'm gonna act like a mom ❤️😘

lewishamilton nice fit, ayideen!

⤷ youngdee thank you, man! 😎

⤷ fan4490 OMG KJSDKGJSKG

charleslechair she looks so cute

⤷ charleslechair scratch that I just went through her pics

⤷ charleslechair she's hot

⤷ charleslechair and super talented

wolffmickey so its confirmed, she's the braider?

schumachinho *on my knees begging* pls, do my hair too, yn, pls pls 🧎🏾‍♀️🧎🏾‍♀️

yourfriend I spent an hour on traffic today in a road that usually takes me about ten minutes 🫠

yourfriend2 bruh, ayideen is getting bigger and bigger, I feel OLD 😭

Friday rolled around quickly and you got to watch the total amount of fifteen minutes of practice 1 before all hell broke. Ayiden explained everything to you along with the whole controversy going on with the LA Gran Prix, which you were just a tad aware of. Lewis wasn’t able to spend much time with you guys that much was expected, but whenever he found a few seconds he would pass by, ask if you guys were ok, if Dee was having fun if there was something he could do, and just overall being the goofy Lewis he was during the appointment. Ayiden seemed to find the flirtatious glances and lines funny, and so did you, except this time it felt a little more real because you were sure a few people around overheard some.

It was an amazing night, you made friends with a couple of people from the crew, and Ayiden had the time of his life meeting a few other idols, and almost started hyperventilating when Hamilton told him he would take him to meet Charles Leclerc on Sunday.

Saturday was even more of a rush, you almost didn’t see Lewis, but he texted before and after quali. So when Sunday came you were still trying to navigate the whole paddock thing, but a bit more comfortable about it. Aiyden was still acting as if it was his own version of Disney land and it was his first day discovering the adventure world. You were loving it for him, of course.

“Nice outfit,” Lewis whispers right beside you, catching you off guard and making you jump in surprise. You were in a corner, just texting a friend, and checking your next few appointments while Ayiden went to meet Charles and you thought Lewis would be there until he came back, but it wasn’t the case.

“You’re sneaky,” you chuckled, straightening your instance and looking into his face only to notice he was already staring at you.

“You look cute when you’re focused,” he winks, before adding, “and when you’re scared too.”

“You look cute when you joke like this,” throwing back at him you didn’t expect for his brows to furrow in confusion.

“You think I’m joking?”

“Aren’t you?”

Lewis giggles. He giggles and you can’t help but smile with the sound and the way his lips part while his eyes squint. “I’m not.”

“You’re not?!”

“I think you’re pretty and smart, and talented. I was genuinely flirting with you,” his explanation makes your insides turn in giddiness, and as if it wasn’t enough Lewis smiles, eyes glued on yours before he asks: “Wanna go on a date with me?”

“A date?” You repeat trying to let the idea sink.

“A date?” This time it’s Ayiden’s voice and you turn alarmed, expecting to see a confused and jealous brother, only to find him with the biggest grin ever.

“Yeah, a date,” Lewis smiles briefly to Ayiden, before staring back at you, waiting for your answer.

You blink still unsure. Fair enough, he was hot, educated, smart, and he checked all the boxes, but that wasn’t any guarantee of a successful relationship, or fling, or whatever he had in mind. And also, his lifestyle wasn’t something you were used to. How would dating him work when he’s often traveling around to drive?

“C’mon, don’t overthink it, Yn.” Ayiden comes to help, standing beside Lewis and the Brit chuckles. “It’s THE SIR Lewis Hamilton,” he points, and this time Lewis laughs.

You bit your lips, not helping but letting a smile escape.

Lewis is in front of you, hands in his pockets, big brown eyes watching you, and the smallest smile gracing the corner of his plump lips. He looked great. And as much as you wanted to deny, there was a vibe going on.

You take a deep breath, smirking at him, “Get yourself a podium and we’ll talk about a date later.”

Ayiden’s eyes widened.

“Did you forget how quali went?! It’s gonna be hell to get a podium, almost impossible,” your brother tries to reason, but Lewis shakes his head, extending his hand to which you clasp in yours.

“Deal,” the driver smiles. “I’ll get you a podium.”

Lewis squeezes Ayiden’s shoulder and winks at you before disappearing into the garage to get ready for the race.

“One more reason why he’s the goat, see? If I were you I would go on a date with him even if he didn’t get a podium.”

You laugh, “For the few things I saw, he likes the challenge. Let me indulge him.”

“You’re crazy.”

“And he’ll get a podium.”

“It’s very unlikely, but I won’t deny the possibility. It’s Lewis after all.” Your brother leans on the wall beside you. “And it looks like he wants this date bad.”

“What makes you think this?”

“C’mon, he’s been flirting with you nonstop since the hair appointment.”

“I genuinely thought he was joking.”

“You can be so clueless sometimes,” your brother rolls his eyes playfully and you slap the back of his head.

“Watch it, young man, I’m still the oldest.”

And you were still right too, because hours later Lewis impressed everyone by getting third place. He kept everyone on the edge of their seats along with Charles who did a brilliant race, and just like that your brother was grinning devilishly your way because now you had a date with no one other than Lewis Hamilton who happened to walk into the garage just as you were handling a water bottle to Dee after he ran to watch the ceremony as if his life depended on it.

Lewis was smiling brightly at you, sweat mixed with champagne, but you couldn’t help but grin right back and lace your arms around him, taking him by surprise.

“I’m all sweaty, sorry,” he whispers, his tattooed hand flatting on your bag and bringing your body closer.

“It’s fine. Congrats on the race.”

“Congrats on the race, man!” Ayiden hugs him too and Lewis smiles, eyes still trapped on you. When your brother lets him go and stays rooted in place looking from you to Lewis you trap the laugh inside, and roll your eyes fakely, pointing for the young boy to give you both some privacy.

“So, looks like I scored myself a date, huh?”

You nod, taking a small step in his direction and trying to keep your hands from tracing all the small details on his face from this up close, “You sure did.” Your eyes were now on his lips, and Lewis grinned.

“Can I ask you something?”

“You already have a date, what else do you wanna ask me?” You’re teasing and he knows it because this time he’s the one to take a step in your direction. The tips of your shoes are touching, and you can hear the rustling outside, but it’s just you two in the corridor, and you hope it stays like this for just a little longer even though you knew he had an interview in a few minutes. His company and attention are something you enjoyed having.

“With how many dates do you find it ok to kiss someone?” His playful tone is there, but his expression makes your knees almost buck. “Can we count practice, quali, and the race as dates?”

And just like that he has you laughing and grabbing his neck to close the distance and smash your lips in a very much-awaited kiss.

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yoursername best date night ever 🤍

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────── ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: Hi! I hope you guys liked this piece! <3 I wanted to add a huge shout-out to C (my coffee emoji anon on Tumblr) for proofreading this (Ily, C!)

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polakina · 10 months

Text

intensified senses

pairing: miguel o'hara x reader

rating: explicit

outline: being highly recommended by his lieutenants, miguel decided to recruit you into the spider society. wary of you at first, he kept a distance. but you were persistent on getting through the cracks of his stony exterior

warnings: cursing, fluff, eventual smut, miguel being a sarcastic bitch, pining, flirting, masturbation (male), blindfolding, sensory deprivation, blowjobs, unprotected sex, riding

requests are open! hope you enjoy, petals <3

masterlist

He watched you from afar at first. Crouched from a high tower, dressed in inconspicuous clothing and hiding in plain sight. You came highly recommended. Jess and Ben spoke rather fondly of you, of your loyalty, bravery. You took care of your neighbourhood, of your city. And you were damn fucking good at it.

Miguel didn’t see it. He looked at you with a rather cold stare as you perched from a rooftop, your headpiece laid beside you as you looked out towards the streets. You crouched there with a bagel in one hand, iced coffee in the other. Your suit was all yellow, like the sun. The spider on your chest a deep orange. The sunset made it shine brightly. A pretty amber in the light. Miguel just sort of scowled at you.

“What do you think, O’Hara?” Jess came through on his earpiece, crackly, but clear enough to understand.

“She’s…you think that she could join the society?” He asked incredulously. “She’s a kid!”

“She’s actually similar in age to you, just with a better skin care routine,” he heard her chuckle lightly.

“That’s funny,” he responded coolly. Sarcastically. As he usually did. But he trusted Ben and Jess’ judgement, and to be fair, he was trying to expand the spider society further. So perhaps you would be an ample addition, in his eyes.

You knew someone had been watching you for a while. You felt eyes on the back of your head. For what reason, you weren’t sure, but they didn’t pose a threatening feel. So you let them be.

It wasn’t until you felt their presence behind you that you felt that something needed to be done about it. You heard his footsteps quite a fair distance behind you, and the hairs on the back of your neck stood up straight. He was big. Very big. Putting your headpiece back on, you stood up straight and kept looking ahead of you. It was only when you felt him get a little closer that you sent your webs in his direction. You heard him grunt as he was webbed to the rooftop door, stuck in place.

That’s when you turned around to face him. Glad that your face was covered, he wasn’t able to see the look of surprise on your face. The way your eyebrows raised or your mouth fell slightly open. Goddamn. He wasn’t exactly what you had expected to be following you all these weeks.

Dark curly hair. Reddish eyes. A waistline that would put any model to shame. The man was built like a brick wall, but with a face carved from a God or something. You blinked back into focus, not letting him distract you right now.

“Who are you?” You asked, trying to conjure a sort of authoritative voice to not seem so young. Or small. Which you were in comparison right now.

“That isn’t important right now,” he said, struggling against your webbing. “I need you to come with me. I’m recruiting you. That’s the reason I’ve come to find you. Not so we can chitchat and braid eachother’s hair.”

You laughed a little. Miguel ignored how his heart leapt a little at how pretty it sounded. “Wow you’re really good with your people skills. Has anyone ever told you that?” You walked a little closer to him, still hesitant. “Unless you tell me exactly who you are, and exactly what you’re doing in my city, I’m not going anywhere. And by the time that webbing’s structure decomposes enough for you to break free, you won’t find me again.”

He just sighed at you, rolling his eyes out of impatience. “Okay, I’m over this.” talons protruded from his hands in replacement for his fingers, and he sliced through your webbing. Shit, you put so much effort into that webbing too. He sauntered towards you, hips swaying as he looked down at you with a deeply disinterested glare. You backed up until your legs hit the edge of the rooftop, pinning you between him and the ground below. You could have just jumped. Leaned back until you fell from the roof and swung through the streets, far away from him. But you couldn’t. It was like you were frozen in place. “You’re coming with me. One way or another.”

You stepped up onto the ledge, almost as tall as he was now. “As much as I’d love to come back to what I assume is a cute little lair, I’m going to have to pass.” You fell backwards off the ledge and watched his eyes widen as he went to reach for you, but he wasn’t quick enough. Clearly his spidey senses weren’t kicking in today.

You fell, looking towards the ground as it got closer and closer to you.

But you never did reach it.

It was a blur, a flash of coloured lights blinded you for a few moments. There was a pressure on the back of your neck, as though someone had grabbed you harshly, penetrating skin from the pain it inflicted.

Instead your body collided with a solid stone floor. Hard. you felt somethin crunch as your body hit the ground, sending shooting pains through your entire arm. Blinking your eyes a few times, you adjusted to the bright fluorescent lighting around you. Screens were put up on every wall, a large computer sat atop a much larger desk was raised above you.

“What the fuck?” You whispered, pushing yourself off the ground. Turning slowly in a circle, you tried to gauge where you were, until you came face to face with him again. “You! Where the fuck have you brought me?” You started swinging at him. You don’t really know why. It was a defense mechanism, you guessed? But you swung at him nonetheless. Pointless as it was, it made you feel better.

He just huffed and shook his head, batting away your hands and feet as they came at him, as though they weren’t even hurting him. It wasn’t until he grabbed your wrist which you injured, feeling the dislocation in the bone. You hissed in pain, trying to pull away, to no avail. He said nothing, just snapping it back into place and your cry echoed throughout the room.

“Asshole!” You cried out, turning away.

“You’re welcome.”

“I wouldn’t have even been hurt if you hadn’t have kidnapped me!”

“I told you I was recruiting you for something.” His voice was so plain, so boring, so calm. Not a smidge of emotion or humanity in it.

“You could have asked nicely! Maybe explained the situation before…teleporting me to your shitty office,” you breathed heavily.

“You didn’t give me a chance. This was the only way.” He turned towards the desk, making his way up to it. You followed, rolling your wrist to alleviate the pain.

“So why am I here? And who exactly are you?” You walked to the desk, taking a seat in the chair and spinning in it until his face became blurry. You came to a sudden stop when his hands fell hard onto the arm rests, his face inexplicably close to yours. You held your breath as he scowled down at you.

“Get. Off. My. Chair.”

“Who. Are. You.”

He rolled his eyes. But it wasn’t he who answered your question. It was a woman. “Miguel, you’re back! And you brought company. So this is the Lemon Spider? I expected something…different.”

“Lemon Spider? That is not my name,” you chuckled, looking over to see a blonde woman on the screens.

“Well, LYLA is my name. And Lemon Spider suits you, so Lemon Spider is your name.” She smiled, her grin was big and bright.

“And you’re Miguel? I’m glad someone finally told me.”

Eventually Miguel explained why he’d brought you to him. The Spider Society. Hundreds of spiders from hundreds of different alternate realities protecting the canon events and ensuring nothing disrupted them. His lieutenants had recommended you after close observation of how you handled situations within your own universe. You were small but quick, good at getting in and out of places that others couldn’t fit. You had heart. You never acted out of anger, or revenge. Only when someone needed you, needed your help.

It was a noble cause. One that, of course, you would have signed up for yourself if Miguel hadn’t first brought you here against your will. The man really needed to work on his people skills.

Months later, you had worked your way up the ranks. A valued member of the society. Even Miguel was impressed. Not that he ever showed it. You’d even met some other spiders. Pav and Hobie being the ones you were closest with whenever you got a chance to see them.

But Miguel was always the one you wanted to see the most, but you tried to keep that your own little secret.

“So…how ya been?” You asked, spinning on the desk chair once again as he leaned over the desk beside you. He rolled his eyes once again, but his mean demeanour had slightly softened with you around over time. Even LYLA had noticed it, once asking him if he did in fact begin to soften towards you. She earned a low growl in response and never spoke of it again.

“Busy.”

“As always,” you huffed, looking at the same thing he was, a screen with a lot of maps and circles and colours…you understood none of it.

“Shouldn’t you be working? Doing spidey stuff?” He asked, looking over at you, his eyes softening at the way you looked up at him. He brushed it off quickly though.

“My canon events are safe,” you assured. “Besides, I’ll be notified if anything canon related or otherwise is affected or in jeopardy. So until that happens, I have a clear schedule.”

He just looked away, scanning activity on the screen. “Well, that’s great,” he mumbled under his breath, sarcasm lacing his tone.

“Come on, I’m great company,” you smiled up at him.

“Uh huh.”

You sighed, leaning back in the chair, putting your feet up on the desk. “Well, you’d prefer me over Hobie, at least.”

He grunted, pushing himself off the desk and turning towards you. Grabbing both your ankles, he yanked them off the desk, pulling you closer to him, your legs either side of his body as the wheely chair rolled swiftly towards him. “Look, as much as I love the cute little attitude you seem to have,” he leaned closer towards you, his cologne filling your senses. “I have work to do. And you’re a distraction. So either be quiet, or go elsewhere, okay?”

Words escaped you. And Miguel realised exactly what he’d just said. He also realised he’d essentially caged his body between your thighs. You gazed up at him, he noted a little surprise in your eyes, as well as something else. But he couldn’t put his finger on it. Letting go of your ankles, he stepped away. You stood from your chair.

“Well, I wouldn’t want to be a distraction now, would I, O’Hara?” You asked, a little smirk playing at your lips. You patted his chest and walked away.

He hated that he watched you leave, completely ensnared by you as you left the room.

You stayed at the base that night, knowing that Miguel had his room set up there, a few doors down from the meeting room. You planned to go back to your own dimension, but it was quite boring back there right now. So you hung out in the meeting room, suspended upside down from the ceiling. Tracking the activity of your own city, you were met with absolutely fuck all. No activity. No spikes in crime or anything altered on your own timeline.

Sighing, you dropped down to the floor, preparing to go back to your own timeline. You would have said goodbye to Miguel, but you weren’t exactly sure he wanted to talk to you right now.

Just as you were about to leave, you heard something. Your ears perked and the hairs on your arms stood up. It was coming from Miguel’s room. You shouldn’t have inspected, it wasn’t your place. But your feet took you there anyway. Outside his door, you pressed your ear up against it, listening intently. At first you thought he was communicating with someone. LYLA, perhaps. Until you heard something else. Groaning? Grunting, maybe. But then you heard moaning. And he was saying something. Your name. Your hand covered your mouth so that he wouldn’t hear you. But he sure as hell would have sensed your presence. Wouldn’t he?

You stepped back, knocking into the wall behind you. His noises halted almost immediately. Hearing his footsteps approach the door, you backed away quickly, but he opened the door before you were completely out of sight. His pupils were blown wide, his shirt discarded and his chest glistening slightly with sweat.

“I thought you’d left,” he said, his voice low, gruff.

“I stuck around, kept an eye on the screens for a little while,” you admitted. It wasn’t a lie, for the most part. “Thought you would have heard me, or known I was still here.”

He cocked his head in confusion.

“Spidey senses? I always know when someone’s around,” you smiled. But he shook his head in disagreement.

“I don’t have those. Wasn’t bitten by a spider, you see,” he revealed, and your eyebrow quirked. “How long have you been stood out here?”

Your heart dropped. “Um…not long. Was just about to leave anyway, so you get back to…whatever it is you were doing. I’ll see you around, O’Hara.”

You turned to leave until his voice stopped you. “Or you could…stay?” You didn’t turn around at first, but you felt him come up behind you. Close. Very fucking close. His heat radiated onto your back. “I’ve been cold towards you, I know that. I haven’t meant to be.”

“So why have you been?” You spun on your heel, almost stumbling as you came into contact with his bare chest. But his hand on your waist caught you.

“If I let myself enjoy your company as much as I do, I’ll become distracted from my life’s work,” he let his head drop.

Confidence suddenly overtook you and you placed a hand on his cheek, tilting his head back up to look at you. “Sometimes a distraction is what you need to be able to do your job.”

He chuckled. The first time you’d ever seen him do that. “You saying I do my job wrong?”

“I said sometimes, O’Hara,” you smiled. “But maybe a distraction is what you need right now.” Taking his hand, you led him back to his room. You expected him to pull away, but he didn’t, he followed. Miguel shut the door behind him and your eyes adjusted to the dimly lit room, the only light source coming from his desk light. His hands found your waist from behind you, his breath on your neck.

“A distraction sounds pretty good right about now,” he purred in your ear, kissing your neck softly. You melted into his touch, your legs becoming a puddle. He kissed down your neck to your shoulder and you turned your head, letting your lips meet his in a gentle kiss.

This was the gentlest you’d ever seen him. Usually his walls were up, and he was cold and distant from everyone. But here…here he was entirely exposed. To you. You walked him slowly to the couch in the corner of the room, the backs of his knees hitting it before he sat down, his hands pulling you closer.

“You said you don’t have spidey senses, right?” You asked, standing before him. He looked up at you expectantly.

“What are you getting at here, princesa?”

“Just something I want to try.” You pulled the thick ribbon from your hair that tied it up in a bun whenever you were out of your suit. Your hair fell down to your shoulders, falling in front of your face.

“Oh, we’re trying things? So early on?” He joked, a small smile in his voice.

“Oh shush, I think you’ll like it,” you held the ribbon in front of him and he realised what you wanted to do. He nodded, his trust put in you. Covering his eyes, you tied it around the back of his head. “Just have a little faith.”

“In you, I do.”

You knelt before him, so thankful he was just in sweatpants. You weren’t very good at handling belts. Wrapping your fingers around the waistband of his sweatpants, you felt him tense up lightly. “Easy, O’Hara. Just relax, okay?”

You looked up to see him nod. Smiling, you continued, pulling his sweatpants down to his ankles. He’d opted to go commando under those pants, and you stifled a gasp at what awaited you beneath the fabric.

Shit. you knew he was a big guy…but you didn’t expect him to be that big of a guy. Miguel’s cock sprang out of its confinement, hard, long and thick. For a moment you worried yourself that you wouldn’t be able to take all of him. Or even…most of him. But you were too pent up and needy for him that you pushed past it.

Wrapping your hand around the base of his cock, Miguel shuddered at your touch. He didn’t want to admit it, but it had been a while for him. Having only his own hand to work with, he couldn’t fathom how good it felt to be your hand instead.

But fuck, the second he felt your mouth envelope his dick, he couldn’t stop the moan that escaped his throat. You loved it, the raw feeling behind his groaning and whimpering. Taking him further in your mouth, you sucked slowly, deeply, your tongue circling the tip so his legs tightened under your hand where it laid, resting on his thigh.

You felt his hand travel to your head, fingers entangling in your hair and gripping it with a firm hold. He didn’t push, he just held you there. The more of him you took, the tighter his grip got. His panting and moaning was like music to your ears.

“Shit…shit…” he breathed, raising his hips up off the couch, his dick pushing deeper down your throat. He was about to come, on the verge of it, you could feel it. His head fell back against the top of the couch, his teeth gritted against each other as he felt the precipice of his orgasm fast approaching. “Wait, wait, wait.” He spoke quickly, racing through his words.

You did stop. Pulling away and looking up at him. “Are you okay?” You asked, worried you’d gone too far, too fast.

“I’m fine,” he panted, head tipped towards the ceiling. “But…” Miguel pulled down his blindfold so it hung loosely around his neck. He gazed at you, his eyes coated in a thin sheen, glossed over. “I’m not gonna be the only one who gets to feel this good though.” He pulled you up and onto his lap. You felt his dick twitch beneath you as your face was ever so close to his, inches away from one another. “So now it’s your turn, princesa.”

Miguel smirked, his hand sliding down the front of your pants, gliding under your panties and came into contact with your bare skin. Your breath shortened as his fingers drifted down to your pussy, already soaked from the moments previously, and he smirked at the wetness he felt there. “Already this wet, hmm? Guess it’s not going to take long for you to be able to take me, huh?” He was so smug. So confident. In any other instance you’d find it annoying, but right now you couldn’t have found it more attractive. All you could muster up was a quiet, desperate please.

He smiled, pushing a finger deep inside you and pulling a soft moan from you. God, he could listen to that on repeat for the rest of his life. Moving his finger in and out at a quickened pace, curving his fingertip to hit that sweet spot you could never reach yourself, he felt you clench around him, your eyes begging for more when your mouth couldn’t form the words. He happily obliged, adding a second finger. The palm of his hand grinding against your clit with the added pressure of his fingers fucking you was driving you to the edge quicker than you thought possible.

He knew it too. Your eyes rolling back, your hips shifting to rock with the rhythm of his fingers inside you. You were close.

“You want to come, angelita?” He asked, his words dripping with want, with need. For you. He watched you nod frantically. But he slowed his fingers, his other hand gripping your jaw gently, but firmly. “On my fingers, or on my cock, hmm?” He saw the way your eyes lit up at that proposal. “Oh, honey. I think I already know what you want.”

He didn’t even try and take off your pants, he tore right through them instead, his talons scraping against your skin, but never breaking your skin. Throwing your torn clothes across the room, he lifted you up so you hovered above him. Miguel grabbed his cock by the base, running it along your pussy, soaking the tip with your wetness.

Words escaped you and your mind went numb when he first pushed his cock into you. At first it felt overwhelming, the size of him frying your senses and fogging your head. Only at about half way in, Miguel started to feel resistance, and the look of shock and the overwhelmed tint in your eyes showed him why. “Just relax, conejita. You’re taking me so well,” he whispered, one hand on your thigh and the wrapped around your back.

His praise and encouragement cleared your clouded thoughts. You nodded, taking your time and sinking lower and lower until you reached the base. Letting out a deep breath, you gave yourself a few moments to adjust. Miguel smiled up at you. “Atta girl,” he mumbled, a smirk on his lips. He shifted his hips, rising up into you, purposefully grinding his dick up into your soaking pussy. Fuck, he loved the way you bit your lip to stifle your noises as to not make too much noise. Not that anyone else was here anyway. He wanted to hear you.

You started rocking back and forth on his dick, the tip hitting something devastatingly sweet every time and it sent shockwaves through your entire body. You wrapped your arms around his neck, nails scratching into his back, digging crescent shaped indents into his skin as you rolled your hips quicker and quicker. Miguel’s hands both found their way to your hips, guiding your movements and controlling your speed. His head dipped down as he kissed your neck, taking your skin between his teeth and biting gently, sucking deep marks into your neck.

His lips trailed down, passing your collar bones, down your sternum to your breasts. His tongue circled your perked nipple before he sucked identical purple marks into your breasts, kissing along to the other breast as he did, giving the same treatment to both.

Mumbles and whimpers fell from your lips, flooding the room with your desperation for Miguel’s touch, for Miguel’s praises, for Miguel’s hands all over you. His fingers dug tighter into your hips, grinding you against him hard, his cock reaching the perfect places inside you to make you squirm, to make you cry out his name.

“You gonna come for me, princesa? Hmm?” He asked, a smidge of cockiness in his tone. He was good. And he knew he was good. You couldn’t deny it, not knowing that even though you were already so overwhelmed by the size of him, mixtures of pleasure and pain that balanced one another out perfectly, you couldn’t deny that you weren’t already craving more of him.

But the second he started raising his hips to meet yours, you lost it. Your head fell against his shoulder, and his lips attacked your neck, pressing soft kisses there, biting gently. His hand drifted between your bodies, putting pressure against your clit with his thumb. That’s when your body began to unravel, your senses skyrocketed. You gripped the back of his neck so tightly as you felt your orgasm growing closer, your thighs shaking and your movements started to falter in both speed and momentum.

Miguel sensed it it too, his hands on your hips becoming the sole thing after a point, that kept you grinding on his cock. He was close too. But he held out with all of his focus. Wanting you to come for him first. Needing you to. “Come on, honey,” he purred in your ear, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Be a good girl and come for me.”

You couldn’t hold it in anymore. You let out a small cry, Miguel’s name playing on your tongue. Your orgasm washed over you. It wasn’t gentle either, like it usually was whenever you touched yourself. This was powerful. This was like a tsunami. It tore through you, electrifying your veins and causing you to clench hard. Your thighs caged him, closing tighter around his body as you clung to him. You bit into Miguel’s shoulder, hard enough to draw blood, but it didn’t stop him from fucking up into you. He didn’t stop. Not until your orgasm had finally satisfied the both of you. Your body collapsed against him, your chest heaving as you tried to regain all of your breath, filling your lungs to their capacity.

“You okay, conejita?” He asked, raking his fingers up and down your spine, kissing the side of your head. He chuckled lightly as you just nodded, a quiet groan all you could muster up at an attempt for words.

You lifted your head, leaning back to look at him. A gasp escaped your throat as he shifted beneath you once more, his cock twitching. “You didn’t…” Your words trailed off as you looked fown for a split second.

Miguel shook his head. “No.”

“Why not?” You asked, a mixture of curiosity and a little embarrassment lacing your tone.

He smiled, leaning back, running his hands up and down your thighs. “You think I can only last one round, honey? I’m offended,” he laughed jokingly. Your eeys widened a little, and you were slightly concerned you wouldn’t be able to handle more right now. Not if it was as good as that. “Don’t look so afraid, baby,” he whispered, lifting you and your legs wrapped around his waist. He carried you to the bed on the other side of the room, laying your down gently, your head settling comfortably into the pillows as he climbed on top of you, his body between your thighs. “I’ll be gentle, I promise.”

You huffed a soft laugh. “Miguel, I don’t think you know the meaning of gentle.”

He matched your soft laugh with one of his own. Rolling his eyes, he leaned even closer to you, your lips almost touching. “I’ll try to be gentle. At first.” His eyes darkened in the dimmed room and your heart beat just a little faster. “But don’t think it’ll take me more than five minutes to fuck you into this bed until all you can do is scream my name.”

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