#anyway i miss you abigail

[bincliff]

.

[bcrcavcd]

@sisturn complains: “why are we going grave-robbing again?” abigail drifts to wendy’s side, her brow quirked, “aren’t there other places to get rare stuff? preferably without seeing a skeleton. those give me the heeby-jeebie—”

a small blue specter rises from a nearby headstone, making a pitiful wailing sound. abigail’s eyes narrow, and she immediately puts herself between wendy and the other ghost. the deceased twin moans irritably, swatting at him; the little spirit squeaks, retreating behind the headstone. he peeks out from behind it, looking between the twins with wide eyes. his gaze settles on wendy, and he gives a tiny whine — “scary! scary! help?” — while abigail still glowers at him, practically puffing herself up like an angry bird.

"Because the others at camp are too scared to get things from here..." Wendy illuminates, seeming as completely annoyed by the prospect of coming here as Abigail was. The last time they'd come here had felt so recent, and already the adults were out of gold? It felt preposterous in all honesty, to send a child out with the specters of the world. Wendy didn't mind going there at that point, finding herself at peace with all the doom and gloom around her. That didn't make it fair, however, and she felt a right to complain about it.

However, things change once the specter appears. Usually, the only times they would appear was if they were disturbed, or the full moon was present. Considering it was the middle of the day, that ruled out the latter, and she hadn't even begun digging up the graves yet. So, what was this one doing out?

With that in mind, Wendy also notices how small the ghost seems to be. She and Abigail were only ten, and yet the latter appeared the same size as the other ghosts, so the only thought that passed her mind was one that brought her great sadness. A smaller child than even she, forced into this world and unable to live through it. That poor child... No wonder it was awoken by their presence, such a restless soul must live behind those downtrodden eyes.

He wants help... Perhaps, from her annoyed sister who had every reason to be wary. The living sister was not, though. Such a small creature, he likely couldn't hurt a fly, could he? Much more frightened of them than they ever could be of him. So, she takes that first leap and turns to Abigail, hoping that her words would be enough to calm her down. "I know we don't often see creatures that are completely harmless, but I don't think there's anything we need to be worried about here..." She replies in her normal monotone, before she turns her attention fully to the little ghost.

"It's alright... I won't let Abigail hurt you, she just gets scared for me is all," Once that focus shifts, Wendy seems to be a lot softer in her toning, something that would be odd for anyone who knew her well. Maybe it was just the fact that the child was so young. Or maybe she felt pity for his situation. In any sense, her main priority was making sure the young one felt safe, even if there wasn't much he needed to worry about.

"It's awfully strange to see one like you without some sort of disturbance... Is there something that keeps you from your rest?" It was the least she could do, offering to help where she could. It didn't mean she would be able to do it, but at the very least she could hear him out. "I don't want you to think I can do anything, but the two of us will see what we can do to help..."

[themacabrebarbie]

tag drop !

[rearranging-deck-chairs]

hang on are cougars like panthers

[stedesbonnets]

enough enough enough enough enough enough

[ravengards-rogue]

i thought of you so often.

arthur morgan x reader.

✧ tags : fem!reader (gendered language, explicit use of she/her in reference to reader), children / planning on children, generally sappiness, fluff, au where nothing bad happens to arthur hdskjsdkfhsj.

✧ wc : 2.4k (???)

✧ a/n : arthur morgan.... save me arthur morgan....also not a super original thought but i can't Stop thinking about it.

✧ synopsis : a collection of love letters, all unfinished, tucked somewhere you aren't meant to find them. oh, arthur loves you more than you knew.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

You try to keep out of Arthur's belongings.

He's owed some privacy, for one. More than that, you've never felt any reason to look into it. Arthur isn't a man of many words, though you catch moments of his introspection should you pry. He isn't stoic, neither. And above all things, he's kind. Really truly kind in a way that makes him different from other men.

You don't have any complaints about him is what you mean. Unlike the men you've loved before, there are no short-comings of Arthur that would drive you to wanting to investigate his own personal things. Especially something so personal like his journals, prior or present.

On top of that, you were there with him through everything. You were part of the gang and stayed by him when it all fell apart. It was towards the end of that that Arthur came to you near frenzied, told you his plans, his thoughts. Confided in you and no less than begged to go with him where he ran.

You loved Arthur enough to stay, and so things ended - and you ran. There isn't much his journal could tell that you couldn't surmise on your own.

It's been years now, and you've long since left that life. You live with Arthur quietly, peaceful in the moments with a garden and kitty sweet as sugar.

It's a good life. An honest, quiet one sometimes to the point of being boring. You rarely miss the action, though occasionally you'll take up a bounty just to feel alive and make some money.

Mostly though, you live as unassuming folk. No bloodshed, no wardens, no gunslinging.

Been talk between you both about having a baby, recently. Serious talk. You've made some money between here and there, and you've got a good life. You've traveled too. But it gets a little lonely, and you don't really get your fill with just Jack when John and Abi are ways away.

Before anything like that, though - you need to clear some space. Empty out some belongings and things collecting dust. Living in one place for too long creates all sorts of mess, you find. When Arthur is home to help, he does - but he's been busy lately figuring something out with Charles. Some business venture related to ranching that you know nothing about so far. They'll tell you when its ready.

Usually when you're tidying, you keep to just your things, or your shared things - but Arthur has lived more life than you. It shows in that big closet space filled with nick-knacks he has yet to toss.

You'd mentioned it to him not too long ago and he'd given you permission to go through them.

(A kiss to your forehead from chapped lips and hands holding your waist, Arthur hums in acknowledgement as you ask his permission.

"Ain't nothing I gotta hide from you. Do whatever you need.)

But like you said - you try to keep your nose out of his business if it's not necessary for you to be in it in anyway.

You weren't trying to look through his things, really. You started cleaning, worked your way to that last box. Up on a shelf in his closet, a little too high for you to reach easily. You made a misstep and dropped the damn thing. It barely missed your head as the whole thing fell open, and out came journals and papers and photographs.

You've always known Arthur to be sentimental, so none of it has been particularly surprising. A photo of wolves and him on a horse, the picture from John and Abigail's engagement. Some other scraps of sentimental value.

And then there was a journal. Not Arthur's journal that he's always using, but another you've never seen before. You know Arthur journals, seen the thing plenty though you never look unless he shows you first.

A journal with a dark brown stained leather binding, fallen open and your name scrawled out in pencil lead at the top of it.

The curiosity got the better of you, okay? Not your damn fault.

So you're thinking on it.

The fabric of your skirt is pooled out underneath you as you hold the thing in your hands, sitting down on the ground surrounded by things. You've stowed away everything else that fell out from the box after ensuring it was intact, including Arthur's journals. Everything with the exception of the one you're holding.

Some guilt eats at you. You don't wanna upset him potentially by having looked. Even if he gave you permission, looking in the damn thing is a little different. But your name was there so clearly, and well - you didn't think he wrote about you. Apart from here and there, maybe.

You hold the book out in front of you with a sigh, looking fondly at his name ingrained in the leather. You press your forehead against it with, resigning yourself completely.

"Lord forgive my pryin'," You mumble, hoping it's enough to absolve you.

Your heart feels funny as you let your fingers trace over the hard edge of the front cover, one eye shut as you start to open it slow.

The first few pages are nothing special.

A page outlining who the journal belongs to and when it was started, and some doodles of yarrow and oleander. The pages after that filled with mundane entries. About people he met or things he saw, all endearing to you. The corners of your lips tug up slightly.

You really love this man helplessly.

You flip through a few more pages, many of them blank before writing starts to appear again. Little by little, you find passages. You look to the dates up at the corner (though not all of them have one) and trace the timeline. This is from all the way back in Horseshoe Overlook.

It feels like ages ago now.

You look at a page with no date, and reading the writing in it. There's doodles of flowers and trees along the bottom of the page. The words are easy enough to make out - because Arthur has the most unusually beautiful handwriting.

There's some entries about you. At first, they all include your name in some context. Mentioned in the same way Arthur might mention Hosea or Abigail. The further you go, the less you see it. The more you become her and she.

It's a trend. The longer you read, the less there is about anyone else. Just you and all your silly idiosyncrasies tucked between pages. Something lovestruck and foolish lights its match in you.

Saw a body hanging at the tracks at Valentine. A gruesome sight. I told her about it and she laughed. Asked me to take her to see it. A strange woman, by all accounts.

You feel yourself smile a little as you continue to flip through the pages.

She joined me riding into town today. Said she had some business to attend but would not tell me any details. After, she came with me to purchase a new gun. I engraved a snake into it's handle, per her request.

Another few pages littered with drawings of delicate berries and waterfalls before you stumble across more writing. The more you flip, the longer the passages become you.

You can't tear your eyes away.

Rained today. Nothing too terrible or worth mentioning, except that she nearly caught a cold playing in it. I brought her coffee to keep her warm, but could not scold her further upon seeing her delight.

Another passage, this time written with messier hand writing. A coffee stain splatters on the white of the page.

Your heart tugs on itself. Swells about a thousand sizes. To think he wrote so much of your time together between these pages.

You read and read and read - and each passage is a little more mundane at the last. Some pages go on in vivid detail, but others are so short you aren't sure what to make of the fact he wrote them at all. As if such little details were important enough to keep in mind.

I picked a flower for her. I thought it would suit her taste. It was white with delicate petals. I did not know the name.

She wore it in her hair this evening. I find I can't stop grinning.

One passage on the next few pages, longer than the rest, catches your eye. From later in your time together, written when you were in Leymone. Near Scarlett Meadows and before the mess in Saint Denis.

After Arthur had been kidnapped.

I have gone on and on about the business with Colm O'Driscoll in many entries before this one. Yet, I find it difficult to forget. Many times I have come close to death, and still no experience lingers on my mind quite like this one. Everyone has done their best to look after me. For that I am grateful, though I do not care for being looked after. What use am I like this, I wonder? Perhaps, I should simply be grateful to be alive and in one piece, if a little uglier than I was. Alongside Miss Grimshaw and Miss Tilly, she has been by my side while I recovered. Such a carefree woman and yet I have seen her cry and weep over me countless times in the last few weeks alone. The decent man in me is apologetic for causing sorrow. Perhaps, it is the outlaw in me that feels some strange relief or satisfaction. Her fussing does not give me any grief. If anything, I find myself all the more endeared. Such a decent woman does not belong in a place like this. I hope she is able to go somewhere far away and live peacefully. I am not so shameless to want anything more. The time together we have spent, I will make sure to cherish.

Something painful and pitiful tugs at your heart. Even when Arthur admitted his feelings for you, he had started it on a similar tangent. You tell him often that you're the one who feels out of bounds with him. That a man as decent and as honest as him often feels like too much for you to have so easily.

A tear slips from your eye and you laugh at your own sentimentality, wiping it away before it can splatter onto the pages.

The further you read, the more sporadic entries become. You find that there are pages filled with sketches of you, but many of them are scratched out or half erased - like he did not find them good enough. Of your side profile, of your hands, of you pointing at a target with a gun. You feel a strange feeling of love wash over you.

Instead of concrete thoughts, you're met with Arthur's abstract. Subtle complexities and studies. There's honest tenderness in the way he sketches you and the words he chooses to caption each with. Lighter, thinner lines. Smaller doodles like stray daydreams caught onto a page.

You've never doubted Arthur in his love for you, quiet man he is - but it proves to overwhelm when presented to you in such a way.

You get to back pages. There, you're finally met with more writing. Except, instead of journal entries, there's the start of letters. You find your name at the top of the page.

Over and over. Love letters, all unfinished or scrapped. Written over and over and over, but not completed. There's tens of them at least. You've never received a love letter from Arthur before, though it's nothing you fault him for.

Now you're almost glad. You like this much better.

My darling girl My muse The better half of me, I must find some way to tell you all of what I think of you. It seems no words do it justice, I'm afraid. Still, it is in my best interest to try.

Damn that man.

When you find yourself starting to weep, you don't fight the feeling. You merely shut the book closed and set it in your lap before crying into your hands.

Such overwhelmingly happy tears. You feel off balance. If the whole world turned on its head this very minute, you're unsure you'd notice. What a decent, honest man you've come to love. What a tender one.

In the middle of your crying, you don't hear the door open or close. Nor do you hear Arthur's heavy footfall until he's in the doorway, with a voice worried half to death.

"Sweetheart, what in the hell?"

You turn your head to look at him, watching his eyes widen at your tear stained face. You clamber to your feet hurriedly, book dropping onto the ground next to you as you throw yourself at him as soon as you can.

Arthur is a steady enough man not to stumble when you do, though you can feel his apprehension. Eventually, he circles his arms around your waist. His hugs are strong. Bout strong as him and then some. An arm wrapped around your waist, the other crossed over your back all around your shoulder. Full pressure as he squeezes you tight, patting the back of your head.

"I leave you alone for a few hours. What has gotten into you, little lady?"

You pull back and and look at him, wet lashes and all, before leaning up to kiss him. Arthur meets your lips chastely at first before making a noise of surprise as you kiss him further. You use both hands to grab his face as you do, scruff scratching against your skin. His lips are soft, welcoming. He melts into the touch, so easily - blue eyes lovestruck as you pull away.

"You know I love you, don't you Arthur? More than anyone in this crazy world we live in,"

His face softens visibly. He smiles at you, touching his head to yours.

"Somehow, I do. Though, I'm wonderin' what the hell brought this on."

You tuck your face against his chest, feeling his laughter reverb through you at the way you cling to him so fervently. You sniffle as you talk.

"Found your journal. The one about me,"

He goes stiff, then silent. When you look up again, he's blushing red. He pinches his brow.

"Lord, I'd forgotten all about it,"

You shake your head.

"Ain't nothing for you to be embarrassed about. You are so wonderful,"

He pouts at you. Your heart swells. "You ain't helping with the embarrassment."

You hold him further. Hug him so tight, worried he'll disappear if you don't.

"I love you, Arthur."

"You already told me once, didn'tcha?"

"And I'll tell you one thousand times over," You emphasize, pouting at him. "Really. I love you,"

"I love you too sweetheart," His hand cups your face, thumb brushing along your waterline. "Don't cry no more. Spoils that pretty face."

"I'll try but I don't know if it's all out of me,"

Arthur laughs, pressing a kiss against your hairline. "Guess I'll just have to wipe your tears."

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

[cissyenthusiast010155]

52,54,32, and 37 on the prompt list with melissa schemmenti pls😩🙏🏼

Mommy Knows Best ~Dark!Mommy!Melissa Schemmenti xFem CollegeStudent!Reader

Summary— Reader has been best friends with Melissa’s daughter, Abigail Schemmenti, and she has always butted head with Melissa… One fateful holiday break changes it all. Anon Response— Hi hi anon!! Thank you for the request! Absolutely. This went a little dark, but also a good amount of smut. Hope you Enjoy! ♥️

Mommy… Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

#52. “Fuck… Mommy! … Oh my, I’m so sorry, it just… slipped out…?”

#54. “You can call me Mommy/Daddy if you want too…”

#32. Enemies to lovers troupe

#37. Best Friend’s Mom Troupe

Warnings: NSFW, 18+!!!, heavy smut, dark fic, fingering, strap-on riding, age gap (all legal), enemies to lovers, best friends mom, degradation, praise, smutty smut, mommy kink, degradation kink, praise kink, overstimulation, overstimulation kink, teasing, taunting, implied future smut, etc.

Enjoy (;

“Hey An’ you gonna keep that door open, right Abigail??” Your best friend’s mother shouted from the kitchen.

You rolled your eyes lightly at Melissa’s, as she insisted you call her, comment, as Abi, your bff, yelled back at her mother.

“Ughhhh Mooooooom, I’m not in high school anymore!!” Abigail yelled from her bedroom on the ground floor, “And I’m not even gay!!!”

“Doesn’t matta’!!! I am your mother, Abigail Ruth Schemmenti, and you will leave that door open!!” Melissa’s thick accent boomed through the house.

Now it was Abigail’s turn to roll her eyes, as you looked at her in apology for what she had to deal with.

“Fineeeee!!” Your best friend shrieked back, leaving the door to her bedroom ajar, before turning her attention back to you.

“It’s not like I would do anything anyway…” you grumbled in annoyance, from the edge of Abi’s childhood bed, “I don’t like you like that…”

Abigail came to sit on the edge next to, leaving against the headboard as she rolled her eyes once more.

“I know, my mom, she’s just… ughhhhh!!” Abigail groaned, squeezing her fists together dramatically in the air.

“Yea…” you chuckled, “At least you don’t have to see her much anymore… well except holidays and breaks…” you comforted her.

Abigail sighed.

“That’s true… Anyways, to you…” she said, quickly changing the topic to something more upbeat and less tension filled,

“You still banging that hot redhead…?” Abigail said in a low tone, while wiggling her eyebrows.

You looked away in awkwardness, clearly not wanting to discuss that subject. You and Abi had been friends since middle school, so she knew your cues. And Abigail immediately understood that she had touched upon a sore subject.

“No, it’s fine… It just… didn’t work out…” you muttered.

“Hey, it’s okay…” Abi comforted you, coming forward to grab your left hand on the bed, but you pulled away, so she retracted, leaning back against the headboard.

You finally looked over to your bff after a moment in sadness and embarrassment.

“Sorry…”

“Don’t be. You’re my best friend. When you’re ready to talk about it, I know you will…” She reassured you.

You gulped and then nodded. Abigail then met your gaze with a mischievous smirk, before proceeding to throw a pillow at you. The fluffy square hit you right in the face, making you yelp and look at your bff in mock shock.

“Hey!!” You exclaimed, then throwing it back, but missing terribly.

Abigail was laughing, and soon you were as well. Her laugh was always so infectious. Your best friend always knew how to make you feel better. After you had both caught your breath, you spoke,

“So, how’s college for you?” You asked.

While you she chosen to stay in Phili for college, Abigail had gone to Chicago. It was the ultimate betrayal against her mother, and you knew that Abigail needed an out. You always looked forward to holidays and breaks, because that meant that you would get to see your best friend again.

“Don’t tell my mom… but it’s so freakin’ nice…” Abigail sighed with a little giggle, leaning in close so that only you would catch her confession, “And… I met a guy…”

Your eyes widened and you smiled wide. Your eyes lit up, you were truly excited for your best friend. You smacked your best friend’s foot playfully.

“Alright!! Let’s go, Abi!!!” You exclaimed in a low whisper.

Abigail went a little red and giggled even more. She was about to delve into more detail about this new mystery man, before Melissa came into the doorway of Abigail’s room.

“Abigail, Momma needs some mozz and a couple other things for her lasagna tonight… Run to the Italian bistro that Uncle Joe runs and pick some up fresh for me?” Melissa spoke leaning against the doorframe, asking it like a question, when it really was an order.

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. Abigail couldn’t say no to her mother, especially in person. Abigail immediately agreed, and Melissa was quick to flash a fake smile and hand her daughter a list of a dozen things that would take Abi at least and an hour and a half to acquire.

“I’ll go with…” you mumbled, as Abigail got ready to leave.

Standing up and grabbing your coat from the nearby chair, you went to walk past Melissa and follow Abigail, but Melissa grabbed your arm, halting you in place.

“Stay.” She purred, flashing another one of those sickening smiles.

Your stomache flipped upside down, and your eyes widened. Abigail was at the other end of the hall, towards the living room, grabbing her keys and turning back towards you.

“You coming?” Your best friend asked.

You gulped, looking from your bff to Melissa, then back to Abigail.

“I… Actually I think I’ll stay… Help M-Melissa with all the cooking…” you stammered.

Abigail looked at your quizzically, but Melissa was swift to turn on her heels, now facing her daughter.

“No worries right, you can handle it alone, can’t you Abigail…?” Melissa cooed, batting her eyelashes at her impressionable daughter.

Abigail stammered a yes before promptly leaving out the front door. You gulped and just stood there, a little awkward. Melissa after a second then turned back to you.

“Why don’t you help me in the kitchen, hmmm babe…?” Melissa cooed sweetly.

Shivers went through your spine and the lump in your throat became apparent at the pet name, and you just stared at the woman, frozen in the moment. Then linking her arm in yours, Melissa guided you to kitchen before you could even respond.

She let you go at the kitchen island, leaving you there as her hips swayed to the liquor cabinet. She reached up and opened the cabinet, then twisted her gaze to you, a certain glimmer in her eye.

“You drink, ‘Hun…?” Melissa coyly asked, “I assume you do by the way my liquor cabinet was always raided, and Abi is such a good girl, she would never drink unless influenced by someone like you…”

Your mouth stood open as you stood frozen once more at the kitchen island counter. Melissa chuckled, pulling you back into reality and registering the dig that your best friend’s mom had just made to you. You gritted your teeth and stared daggers into the woman as her back was turned to as while she got two classes and some red wine.

She came to the other side of the counter, popping the wine cork and beginning to pour two glasses. Your heart was racing and you were fidgeting with the hem of your shirt.

“I only drink on occasion…” you grumbled, answering Melissa’s question, “And you’d be surprised at what Abi does…”

Melissa flashed you a wicked smile and cocked her eyebrow, handing you the glass filled with the alcohol. You immediately took a sip or three to try and calm your nerves.

“Oh is that so…?” She hummed, coming around the island, wine glass in hand, and linking her free arm in yours once more,

“Why don’t you tell me all about that, and maybe I won’t bust you for being a minor consuming alcohol…” Melissa teased, as she guided you into the living room.

“S-she’s my best friend… I’m no snitch…” you breathed out, your heart pounding in your ears.

Melissa chuckled and guided you to the two person love seat in the living room, sitting down next to you, and taking a sip of her own wine. You followed suit, sipping more of the red, liquid courage. It tasted sweet and expensive.

“Touché… I knew there was something about you…” she purred.

Melissa held her glass with her left hand and placed her right on your left, exposed thigh. Your eyes widened and you looked at her hand. Sparks of electricity rushed through your entire body, all ending up in the same place, your throbbing core. You gulped, turning you attention to your glass and taking some more sips of alcohol.

“Back there I heard something about a certain redhead… Why don’t you tell me about that…?” Melissa hummed, that wicked smirk back on her face, with a tilt to her head.

Her fingers started to caress your thigh, and you weren’t sure whether you deeply regretted or thanked god that you had decided to wear a skirt today.

“I… I was seeing her… but… she cheated on me…” you stammered, looking at your wine glass as your swirled the red liquid in the glass.

“Poor Cucciolina…” Melissa purred, with an edge to her tone,

Her fingers worked their way further up your thigh, you felt your pussy clench around nothing. You felt the woman’s lips graze against your ear, making your breath hitch.

“I would never do that to you…” Melissa purred in the shell of your ear.

Your stomache was bursting with feelings, twists and butterflies and knots and rocks. Your lips parted as you let out an obviously desperate whimper. Melissa chuckled darkly in your ear. Then you felt her warm mouth on your neck. Your neck immediately craned back for her access, and you let out breathy groan as she sank her teeth into your skin.

At this point you knew you regretted nothing, the pleasure and intensity was all worth it. You knew it was probably wrong, that this was your best friend’s mom. And this woman drove you crazy… you hated how she treated your best friend. She was certainly never mom of the year.

But as her mouth wandered down your neck, you knew you needed more. Sucking, and licking, and biting, and marking all along your exposed, goose bumped skin, all logic and ideas of right and wrong were thrown out the window.

Melissa, it seemed, had already placed her glass aside on the side table, and as she sucked a bruise along your neck line, her hands followed your arms and proceeded to take the glass away from you. She pulled away momentarily, making you whimper and and try to lean into her touch, but Melissa was quick to put you back in your place.

“You take what you are given… Understand…?” Melissa purred warily, the hand on your thigh tightening and threatening to leave a mark.

You sucked in a breath, straightening your back as you swiftly nodded. The woman then eased her grip to your thigh and brought your glass up to your lips, pressing and tilting it into your mouth.

“Good. Now drink up…” She breathed out, smirking as you immediately complied.

You gulped the rest of the sweet yet tangy liquid down. Melissa then set the glass aside. As some of the excess wine dribbled down your chin and neck, Melissa leaned forward, her tongue expertly licking up all the dribbled wine from your exposed skin. Your pupils darkened and blew out at the sight, your heart faltering at how hot your best friend’s mom looked while licking up the red liquid from your skin. You shivered once more at the thought of how good her tongue would feel in other places…

Melissa read your reaction like a children’s picture book. She drank in your blown out pupils, erratic breathing, goosebumps, and much more to come… Her fingers now dipped into your inner thighs, her access stunted by your closed legs. They stopped moving, teasing, and it made you want to scream. Scream at the woman to keep going. Scream at her that she was insane. Scream that this was wrong. Scream and beg her to not stop. Scream out in many expletives how much her teasing was driving you crazy. But all that came out was a pathetic whimper.

“Awwwww… Are you conflicted, ‘hun…?” Melissa mockingly cooed, her voice dripping with taunts and lust, “Can’t decided whether you want me to hate you or fuck you…?” Her voice purred darkly and lustfully.

Jolts of pleasure and electricity erupted through your core at the woman’s tone, brashness, pet name, and use of an expletive. You bit your lip as you let out a breathy gasp. The combination of the alcohol and her teasing was making you dizzy.

You wanted… you didn’t know what… actually you did. But it was too difficult to admit it to yourself. For years, you had stuffed all your feelings down, you had reverted to others to fulfill your desires. All because it was too hard to accept your desires for your best friend’s mom.

Your desires for the redheaded woman. The desire to have an older, more experienced partner. Your want to be dominated and controlled by the woman that drove you crazy. Your want to throw logic and your best friend aside and kiss her. The woman who was overbearing and controlling to your best friend. The woman who you’d imagined late at night many times when your fingers worked skillfully in between your legs.

As if Melissa knew the exact thoughts racing through your mind, she interrupted,

“You know what I think…?” Melissa cooed wickedly, pushing your legs open slowly just enough to fit her hand in between your plush thighs,

You watched her fingers attentively, as your heart pounded in your head and beads of sweat ran down your face. Melissa proceeded to lick the bead of sweat off of your face and neck.

“I think that you try so desperately hard to hate me… I think you don’t like me because of Abigail… You think I’m a bad mother.” Melissa purred, as her fingers circled patterns deeper into your inner thigh going under your skirt,

Her other hand had put the empty wine glass aside, and was now tugging at your flimsy shirt. She tugged the sleeves down with ease, and cupped your bare breasts. Your eyes fluttered shut as you let out a breathy whimper, internally praising whatever higher power that you had decided to go braless that day.

“I think you project all of this for Abigail and for your own sanity… Because it’s easier to accept than the truth… The truth that keeps you up at night. I keep you up at night…” the older woman continued to lustfully cooe,

But your eyes shot open, your hips jolted forward, and you let out a pathetic mewl, as two of her digits finally ran up and down your clothed core, while simultaneously taking your left nipple in her mouth and twisting your bus with her teeth.

“AhhHhHhh—” you choked out in a mewl, desperate and quickly meeting Melissa’s gaze as she drank you in with a wicked smirk.

If she didn’t have you attention before, she definitely had it now…

“And the truth while you can’t stand the fact of it… is that you can’t help how your body reacts to me… craves me… needs me…” Melissa darkly chuckled, her tone low and seductive by the end.

Your head was swimming and you don’t even remember when it started, but your hips were grinding against the ghost of the woman’s fingers. You let out a shuttering breath, whimpering and moaning as the redhead’s mouth started to mark up and tease your breasts. Her dark, lust glistening eyes met your desperate gaze.

“Say it, Cucciolina… Tell me I’m right. You know I am…” Melissa breathed out, while switching from one tit to the other.

“You—You’re right…” you stammered, panting, completely out of breath.

Melissa seemed to like that, because you quickly felt her two digits back on your core, sneaking around your panties, to find your semi-wet pussy.

“Mmmmm… you aren’t dripping… I’ll fix that.” She lustfully purred, growling the last part in her seductive, low tone.

Her fingers swiftly plunging into your core, your body immediately spasmed, her walls fluttering and clenching around her digits. Your hips stuttered to keep pace with her delicious assault against your cunt.

“Holy Fuck… Mommy!!…” you shrieked, your whole body exploding with pleasure as her fingers curled deep inside you over and over again.

Your eyes widened and your face went beet red at your words. Your hands were gripping the couch tight, so tight your knuckles were white. But that wasn’t your current concern…

“Oh my, I’m so s-sorry, it it just… slipped out…?” You stuttered, not able to meet the woman’s gaze in embarrassment.

But Melissa only smirked even more. Her thrusts and curls of her digits inside your pussy only intensified, fucking you faster and deeper. You groaned, really loud, as her fingers filled, stretched, and scissored your pussy.

“No apologies… you look real pretty, accepting who you really are…” Melissa cooed wickedly, “Look at me.”

Your eyes went wide and you turned your head back to the older woman. Her tongue was swirling around your right bud, and it made you cry out in pleasure once more. This only spurred the redhead on even more.

“Say my name, baby…” she commanded wickedly.

The squelching of her fingers knuckle deep in your pussy, combined with your sinful noises made the room reek of sex and lust. When you didn’t respond, a third digit slipped inside you, the older woman’s pace never faltering one bit.

“Oh Shit MOMMY!!!” You shrieked, her fingers stretching you out even further and your hands only tightening their grip on her couch.

Melissa hummed in delight, her other hand now replacing her mouth at your tits, while her mouth went to assault your pressure point. Your hips jerked up to grind against her hand, desperately seeking friction against your clit. Babbles and string of whimpers erupted from your throat, your mind now fully gone.

“So needy…” the older woman chuckled, continuing all her administrations with lust and intention, “You can call me Mommy if you want too…”

Her words sparked even more intense pleasure throughout your entire body, and you felt your hands start to wander, but your resisted the urge, part of you not being able to understand how this could have switched on such a dime. Part of you still hated her. So your hands stayed off of the woman. But your hips and the rest of your figure told a whole different story… and your moans and whimpers was all the confirmation that Melissa needed.

“Such a slutty girl for mommy, aren’t ya’…?” Melissa cooed lustfully.

The older woman pumped her digits into you with skill, precision, and speed. She watched you with intent gaze, seeing exactly what curl and thrust pattern made you moan and jolt and scream. Melissa was a quick learner, and the closer she pushed you to the edge, the better she learned the pleasures of your body.

“Oh baby… Are you gonna cum…? Need to cum for mommy so bad…?” Melissa taunted you with a dark chuckle.

Your eyes were screwed tight shut as you nodded vigorously. Your mouth fell open in a silent scream as your orgasm crashed over you. Your hips stuttered in their rhythm of grinding into the redheads hand, but Melissa kept up her pace of fucking you through your climax. Even after you came down, the older woman didn’t stop. You squirmed in oversensitive pleasure as she didn’t relent.

“M-mommyyy please…!!” You whimpered, thrashing against her in the amount of intense pleasure you felt as she drove you to your next impending climax.

“Poor little slut… Can’t get enough of mommy…??” Melissa jeered lustfully.

Your hips stuttered as they rutted against her hand. The sounds of your pussy squelching rang in your head, pushing you only further to the edge. You felt like you were being suffocated, but in a deliciously dizzy way. Your mouth was open, your tongue out as you gasped for breaths in between each precise thrust of her digits.

Right as you were approaching your second orgasm however, Melissa pulled out of you. Your eyes flew wide open and your jaw dropped, followed by a desperate whimper. The older woman’s eyes sparkled and she had a wicked grin plastered on her face.

“Hush, baby.” Melissa purred, grabbing you and pulling you into her lap.

You gasped as you felt something in between her legs. You immediately began grinding down on her bulge, your breaths turning ragged and your hands on her shoulders for support.

“Mommy wants your next high to by on my cock…” Melissa hummed with a dark edge to her tone.

You looked up from your administrations and gulped. You nodded vigorously.

“Please” you whispered, “need it… need it so bad mommy…” while grinding roughly against the woman’s lap.

Melissa chuckled and had you undress all the way as well as helping her, so that in a couple minutes, you were back in her lap, naked and ready for mommy’s cock. Your hands came to the woman’s tits and chest, playing with her as she lined you up with her plastic dick.

With a low groan, you began to sink down onto the woman, all the way to the hilt of the strap. You let out a sinful whimper, feeling full but still unsatisfied. Melissa’s hands held your hips in a firm grip, and her back arched into your touch. She tantalizingly wiggled her hips below you, making the strap-on move slightly inside you. Another desperate whimper and then groan left your lips.

“What’s to stop mommy from just having you cockwarm my dick…?” Melissa cooed wickedly.

You quickly met the older woman’s merciless gaze, desperation and begging all over your face.

“No no mommy please…!! Need it, need it so bad… mmm give it to me mommy uhhhhhh…!!” You cried out, your grip on the redhead’s shoulder and chest tightening.

In response, Melissa rolled your and her hips together, pushing her dick up and into you in one fluid motion, before pulling it partially out as her hips came back down. Your mouth opened in a silent plea, as your body convulsed in pleasure, the ridges of the toy overstimulating your tight cunt.

“Like that, pretty whore…? What mommy to give you slow, hard thrusts until you’re destroyed…?” Melissa taunted you darkly and full of lustful intent.

Melissa then continued these extremely slow yet brutal thrusts, pumping the toy in and out of your aching pussy. You wanted to cry. You wanted to cum. Every thrust was just not enough stimulation for you to cum, the woman knew exactly what she was doing. You tried to beg, babbles of pleading erupting from your lips already after the second thrust and every one after that, begging her to go faster, to fuck you rough. But Melissa didn’t listen.

“You need to learn that we do things mommy’s way, little slut… If you’re good, I’ll let you cum… eventually…” Melissa reassured you, after the eleventh tortuously slow pump in and out of your cunt.

You’d lost any and all composure. All your babbling was incoherent now, and you had tears streaming down your face. But anytime Melissa asked you if it was too much or if you wanted to stop, you begged her to keep going, pleaded with the woman to not let you off easy. Melissa’s face washed over with pride every time you cried to her that you wanted desperately for her to continue.

“What do you want, baby…? You want mommy to make you cum right…?” Melissa wickedly purred into your ear, while continuing to fuck you dumb at a brutally slow pace.

You nodded lazily, too cock drunk to say anything but slurred words.

“Pleaseeeeeee mmmommmyy…” you whined.

“Cum for mommy, honey, I know you want to… know you need it…” Melissa purred lustfully.

With one finally thrust into your sobbing pussy, the tight coil wrapped around your entire body suddenly snapped. The most intense waves of euphoria you’d ever experienced crashed over you, and you rocked back and forth in Melissa’s lap, as the woman guided you to ride her dick faster as you came.

“That’s it, such a pretty whore for mommy…” the older woman breathed out.

After a few minutes, you’d fallen limp in the woman’s lap, her cock still buried deep inside you. Melissa chuckled at how you put up a whiny fight as she took you off her cock. You didn’t like the sudden emptiness she now left you with, you wanted to feel her all over you again. Wanted to feel full and owned again.

But Melissa stood up, walking into the kitchen to clean her strap-on, and when she eventually called you into the kitchen, she promptly cleaned you up, before going back to her cooking and acting as if nothing had happened.

~~~

Melissa Schemmenti Masterlist

[margowritesthings]

A Job Well Done

pairing: Arthur Morgan x reader (f) word count: 4944 words warnings: 18+ minors dni, sexually explicit, oral (f giving), rough oral, a little choking, a touch of voyeurism, explicit language, it's pretty much a blowjob fic authors note: idk what to say... this started as a little drabble because me and my fiancé love having a little smoke together at night and.... well, here we are I guess?? i hope you enjoy you lovely lot, and if you've asked to be tagged and you're not please let me know!! I have a new system for keeping track of my taglist and I may have lost some requests in the transfer

taglist: @cowboydisaster @inkandbloodbound @counteveryfreckle @elifsukirdaghehe @reaveries @delilah-grimes @mrsarthurmorgan7 @twola@the-marsh-harrier @wildfloweroutlaw @photo1030 @luvliewriting@pine4pple-b0i *if i've missed you please let me know!!!*

You pull Arthur’s jacket tighter around your shoulders, settling into the old wooden chair while it creaks beneath you. Thanks to being in the middle of the Lemoyne swamps, it isn’t too cold despite the moon hanging so high in the sky above you, the jacket is more for comfort. From where you sit, you can see near the whole camp, watching lanterns flicker off incrementally as each member of your makeshift family retires for the night. A few of the boys stay up, drinking by the fire, their voices muffled and distant in the thick air.

It’s been a week to the day since you last saw Arthur, before he left to track a rather sizable bounty down and attempt to cushion out the camp funds, and God do you miss him. The days feel so much longer, nights so lonely you’ve considered saddling up and finding the bastard yourself just to bring him home sooner. Comfort can be found, though, in the ways Arthur’s presence has bled so deeply into your life that his physical being doesn’t even need to be here. 

His smell lingers on the jacket he left (the one he wore every day before he had to leave just so you could wear it when you missed him), that perfect mix of tobacco and whiskey and something so ineffably Arthur that you soak up every time you wrap it around your frame. 

He’s there in the routines you've built your lives around, intertwined as they are, the ones you can’t shake even if he’s not beside you. The cup of coffee in a morning, his so much better tasting than yours but you try anyway. The first morning after he left, you made two, ending up giving the extra to a very grateful Abigail to save face.

There’s a nightly routine, too. The one where you get ready for bed, then climb through the window to meet him on your balcony. He’s always there waiting with a cigarette hanging from his lips, patting his lap ready for you to crawl on. He’ll drag a match across his boot, (or sometimes the bottom of yours, if you’re still wearing them) lighting up the smoke before handing it to you. You’ll pass it between each other, catching up on your days, limbs entangled just how they should be as you watch Shady Belle fall asleep around you. 

Without him, those routines bring you comfort, grasping onto the remnants of your cowboy until his safe return. That’s why you’re sitting in this spot, pulling a cigar out of the little tin stash box Arthur left behind. Normally it’s just a cigarette, you could never survive a cigar a night and have the throat to tell the tale, but there’s something inexplicably Arthur about this brand of smokes, something you’re seeking tonight. 

You pluck a match from the tin, striking it against the table beside you, never having gotten the knack of igniting the thing on your boot as effortlessly as Arthur does, and light the cigar between your lips. The all-familiar woody essence dances across your tongue, your tired muscles relaxing from the first few tokes. 

It’s just you, the moon and the crickets as you sit on the balcony, Arthur’s smoke between your lips. You wonder what he’s doing. He should be sleeping, but knowing him he’s probably up planning, or doing exactly what you are right now. You pray he’s safe, hasn’t been gotten by the law or worse, gotten himself killed. You can’t let yourself even think about that, the very idea bringing a tremble to your limbs. To combat the sudden spike in anxiety, the next time you bring the cigar to your lips you drag in just that bit more smoke, letting it soak down your spine. Not nearly as experienced in smoking as Arthur, you cough a little, but you recover much quicker than you used to. 

Memories of that first time, of Arthur offering you the little brown stick and you nervously nodding, bring a little smile to your face. Oh, how you spluttered, Arthur giving you his drink on instinct, only realising that the whiskey burn would do the opposite of help once it was too late. You’d have been in your right mind to be embarrassed as hell, but by the way he chuckled as he rubbed circles around your back told you that he found it nothing but adorable. 

You sit there for a few minutes, basking in the precious peace so seldom found nowadays and taking a drag every now and then, the smoke riding a sigh from your lips. Your eyes slip closed, trying to shut off as many senses as you can to really connect with that smell and taste, imagining him emerging from your bedroom window to be here with you. 

He’s much less graceful than you are, often catching some part of his person on the windowsill when he climbs out onto the balcony. So many nights spent patching up little holes in his pant legs, right where that out sticking nail used to be in the frame before he ‘bested it in combat’ (i.e. pulled it out with a hunting knife and threw it ceremoniously in the lake). 

Manifestation is a powerful tool, you’ve always believed that, but you still nearly jump out of your skin when you feel a large hand grasp your shoulder just as you imagined, Arthur’s gruff, hushed whisper tickling the words “hey, sweetheart” into the skin of your neck. It takes you a second to catch your breath, heart racing from the shock before everything registers and reality sets in. 

“Arthur?”

He’s here.

“C’mere, darlin’.”

You fly out of your seat, the rickety old thing nearly splintering under the force, launching yourself into his open arms to burrow yourself into him.  Every part of him consumes your senses and you drink it all in like an addict. The smell, the real thing, much more of that Arthur essence than the whiskey or cigars, probably because he forewent breaks in his journey for those little pleasures to get back to you sooner. 

He seems to be taking you in as much as you are him, inhaling long through his nose and sighing it out contentedly, feeling whole again after so long without you in his arms.

“I missed ya’, beautiful.” He says softly into your hair, holding you tight against him, his knuckles brushing up and down the small of your back through layers of clothes you’ve stolen from him. 

“I missed you so much…” You mumble into his shirt, hardly able to breathe through the wall of hard chest muscle you’re pressed against, caring even less. 

It’s only then do you remember the cigar, forgotten and abandoned, smoking away on the table propped up on a jar lid turned makeshift ashtray. Most of the boys don’t bother with one, and neither did Arthur, until a fateful night a few months before you started dating when you first handed him the jar and told him you read something about birds and rabbits eating the butts of cigarettes. He kept the little piece of junk right next to his bedside, waiting for you to find it after that first night together. 

Arthur spots your momentary pull of attention, pulling his chest away to raise a brow down at you with a little chuckle rumbling his chest.

“Having a fancy smoke of a night, are we?” 

A cheeky little smirk- Arthur’s favourite, actually- tugs at the corner of your lips, waiting patiently for him to kiss it away.

“The smell reminds me of you…” you play coy, earring yourself that kiss when Arthur lifts you up to his height, kissing you softly, letting his world and yours fall back into place together. 

“Well I’m here now, angel. Wanna sit? Could do with a nice cigar with my girl to celebrate a job well done.” 

You’re eager to nod, heart fluttering at the prospect of getting to sit with him and hear all about his trip. He untangles from you to sit down first, patting his lap for you to crawl into. You fit perfectly together (you should do, you were made for eachother), head resting on his shoulder, legs splayed over his thighs with your arm draped over his shoulder. The cigar has gone out, so Arthur strikes a match so expertly on his spurs before shaking it out and placing his hand on the small of your back for support. You lean into him, watching him take puffs of the cigar and feeling the tiniest bit of tension leave his joints. He looks so natural with a smoke between his teeth, commanding an air of power with each movement he makes. Smoking doesn’t suit just everyone, you think, but God, does it suit him.

“We’re celebrating? You got the bastard, then?”

“Sure did,” he says, smoke spilling from his lips with each syllable. Arthur looks you over again, drinking in the dearly missed view, before kissing you on the forehead and flipping the cigar between his fingers to offer it up, “Eventually found him up in Fort Brennand, but he weren’t alone. Nearly lost a damn eye, but luckily only Woffard had to be brought in alive, so I dropped the other bastards and ran.”

You hang on his every word, your hero. You know he’s downplaying the fight, the danger of it all, but he does it so that you don’t worry every time he’s gone. It never works, and you always do, but you love him for trying. 

“Oh, Arthur, I’m so glad you’re alright…” You coo, pressing a hand to his cheek, feeling the weeks worth of stubble scratching against your palm. He nuzzles into your touch, not unlike a cat, and your find yourself keeping your hand there to mindlessly play with his hair, tipping his hat off to put on your own head. He chuckles, reaching to adjust it on you.

“Course I am, couldn’t leave you here all alone with this buncha’ fools, could I? Besides, someones gotta bring home the bacon around here, and you know Marston’s too trigger happy to bring a bounty in alive.”

“So you got the full price?” Your eyes gleam, the proudest smile on your features as Arthur nods and shifts both your weights for a moment to pull out a stack of bills and smack them on the table dramatically.

“You’re damn straight I did, baby.”

Of course he did. Arthur never fails, and God knows how much the camp needs this right now, freedoms diminishing by the day as Dutch makes more enemies and plans jobs that just seem to keep going wrong. But you don’t want to think about that right now. Right now, there is only you and Arthur, and the promise of a whole night spent with him uninterrupted. You hand him the cigar back, along with a stolen kiss, and he takes another mesmerising drag. The way he holds it, every so often tipping the ash into the first gift you ever gave him, it does things to you that you just can’t explain. It’s just a cigar, and yet you’re pressing your thighs together tight to futilely subdue the tightness coiling between them. 

“I’m so proud of you… I always am.” Unkempt locks of hair are twisted between your fingers, your face so close to Arthur’s you can pepper his cheek, temple and lips, whenever not occupied, with little kisses, Arthur’s hat sometimes tipping up against his forehead on your head. The two of you are always like this after a few days apart, unable to get enough of each other or keep your hands off one another. You shift your weight to access him better, catching his bottom lip between your teeth to press a long, tender kiss there. He hums under you, hand splaying under your jacket to grasp at your shirt. It’s seconds before you feel it, that hardening that nudges up against your thigh, prodding and reminding you just how much Arthur has missed you.

You pull away from the kiss, just enough to raise a teasing brow at how sensitive your cowboy is to your touch. He shrugs, unashamed, with that cheeky grin and those glistening eyes directed right at you. 

“What? I missed ya…” His words are accompanied with a pinch of your ass, which makes you writhe on top of his stiffness, the friction dragging a low growl from deep within his chest. 

“I can see that, cowboy… I missed you too. I missed you more.” You emphasise, nipping at his lip again and splaying your fingers across his chest. He rises to your touch, and you feel him stiffen more so under you. It takes a second of manoeuvring, but you’re soon straddling him, hovering above him like the angel he sees you to be. From this angle, with the moon behind you, you’re glowing. 

“You absolutely did not, you little siren…” He growls again, pulling at the flesh of your ass so that you’re grinding against him, the friction of denim against denim igniting you both and burning so wonderfully. 

“Oh, yeah? I can prove it.” There’s a little cock of your head, a raise of one teasing brow as you start to slide off him. He looks confused, disappointed, even, until your knees rest on the planks of wood on the balcony floor and he instinctively spreads his legs to give you the space between them. Your fingers splay across his thick thighs, and they tense under your touch, as does Arthur’s jaw. He’s starved after a week without you, clearly trying to reign in a control he’s struggling to possess. There’s no wonder, having his girl knelt before him like this. 

“You wanna take this to the bedroom?” He growls out, abandoning the still smoking cigar in the jar lid. You look up at him, peeking out from under the rim of his hat. 

“No.” You reach for the cigar, taking a few drags yourself before flipping it in your fingers just like he did and placing it between his teeth, “Finish your smoke.”

A distant laugh captures Arthur’s attention for a second, reminding you both just how close you are to the other gang members. You’re somewhat hidden by the railing, but if they looked in your direction, Arthur is fully visible from the chest up. A simple bob of your head- and you’re planning on plenty- would bring you into view. 

The look Arthur gives you when he quickly diverts his attention back from Marston and the others is downright feral, especially when your hands reach for his belt buckle. Nimble fingers make quick word of the obstruction, and you’re soon pulling Arthur’s thick, long length out from his jeans. He groans at your very touch, involuntarily bucking his hips up into your hand. 

You laugh, the sound a tempting little giggle as you tell him “Patience, cowboy…” 

He almost snarls in response, clearly having been goddamn patient enough over the last week where all he could do is fuck himself with your name on his lips and the thought of you knelt just like this between his legs at the forefront of his mind, always. 

Just as you lean in, when your soft lips trace over his rosy, swollen head, he pulls you back by plucking his hat from atop your head and throwing it to the side. He rests the cigar between the fingers of his free hand to free his mouth to speak to you.

“Need to see you while I fuck that pretty little moutha’ yours, angel…”

His words soak through you (and soak you through), and you just can’t wait a second longer, needy to have his cock deep down your throat, desperate for the burning of your lungs and the stinging in your eyes when he loses that control he so often vehemently clings to. 

Unable to wait a second longer, you run your tongue from base to tip, feeling every vein pulsing under your muscle and eliciting a deep groan from Arthur. When you finally take him in your mouth, his hand reaches to cup your cheek, following you down as you take as much of him as you can. 

“Fuck.” He groans, fingers reaching to tangle in your hair, scratching at your scalp. He’s probably louder than he should be, your eyes flickering to the general direction of the others as a warning, but they soon snap back to your cowboy, an intense eye contact burning at your skin as the head of his cock bumps the back of your throat. Arthur never takes his eyes off you, guiding you up and down his length and bringing the smoke to his lips. The tip of the cigar flares a deep, fiery orange, and smoke billows from his mouth with each laboured breath you coax from him. The way he’s sitting, fingers of one hand pulling at your hair, controlling your movements, and the other limply holding the smoke, he exudes a power many seek to master but never quite get. It makes your heart swell and your cunt throb for him, knowing on your knees before him is the only place you ever want to be, knowing only you inhabit it. 

You can taste Arthur, his salty essence leaking from the pure ecstasy you’re providing and spit pools in your throat, mixing with it and dribbling down your chin. Arthur catches it with his thumb, guiding you off his cock to push the digit into your mouth and let you suckle from it. You do, hungrily, adjusting on your knees to better take Arthur deep down your throat and-

“Arthur! That you?” 

Marston. 

For eyes widen at each other, Arthur instinctively pushing you a little lower by your shoulder to keep you out of sight. John hasn’t seen you, and you’d like to keep it that way, being in the incriminating position you are between Arthur’s legs. 

You spot the irritated sigh, the twitch of Arthur’s jaw as he plasters a fake friendliness onto his features and peers over the balcony to see his brother standing on the clearing below. 

“Sure is. Whatchu’ want?”

Straight to the point.

“We didn’t hear you get back. How long’ve you been here?”

All that tension you’ve worked so hard to dissipate comes back to Arthur’s form with a crashing force. You can almost hear his plea for just one second a’ goddamn peace, merely by the way he sighs before answering. 

“Not long, thought I’d try and sneak past you fools and get some shut eye.”

Subtle, cowboy.

Ever oblivious, or simply not caring, John continues, “How’d it go, then? You got the bastard?”

He has you pressed against his thigh to hide you from sight, cock standing to attention right beside your face. It’s too tempting, especially with a none the wiser Marston stood right below. When your tongue darts out, hovering above Arthur’s twitching, aching cock, his eyes flick down to you, warning residing deep in his eyes. You take it as less of a warning, more a challenge.

You wouldn’t.

Oh, but I would.

And you do. You lift up, just enough to fit the head of his throbbing cock past your lips and slide the whole length in. It bumps the back of your throat, but upon hearing Arthur’s strangled, poorly hidden groan, you can’t seem to stop yourself.

“Y-uh… Yeah, I got ‘em…” 

It’s impressive, how he can just about hold a conversation despite his cock being so far down your throat his balls rest on your chin. 

You can’t see John, but you can only imagine how his head must tilt and his brows must pull together at the strange response from Arthur. 

“You alright, brother?”

He won’t be.

You blink up at Arthur, feigning an innocent, near angelic expression as you inhale through your nose and push him even further into you. You hum, low and quiet, letting the vibrations pass through him. Arthur whimpers, instantly knocking any and all sounds you’ve ever heard from top spot and replacing them as your favourite in the whole world. 

“I-I’m fine. Just tired.” He tries to hint again, to no avail. His fingers are digging into your shoulder with a bruising force, that control slipping bit by bit with every passing second, every little movement. Tears prick at your eyes, that burning in your lungs you’ve been reaching for finally igniting. You’re stuffed with him, feeling so full that it’s hard to breathe. When you go to release him, to be able to gasp for precious air, you realise you can’t, Arthur’s huge hand holding you right in place with his palm flush against the back of your neck. Revenge. 

“Where’s the Mrs?”

A raise of a brow. You’re not married, but everything is so naturally right between you and Arthur that the gang just seem to have defaulted to that. It makes you beam, wanting nothing more than to be this man’s wife, the kind of wife that makes him cum down your throat while he has a menial conversation. 

“S-She’s- fuck…” When he grips harder at you, you gag around his length, tears now streaming down your cheeks and mixing with your spittle and the little bits of precum that leak out from Arthur. “She’s in bed. I-I better go check on her, a-actually.” He whimpers again, fingers now gripping into your hair to keep you in place. You’re not sure how much longer you can last like this, struggling to breathe, overflowing and, God, so wet for him. 

John sounds unconvinced. You’d giggle, if you could.

“Alright… Well, g’night, brother.”

Arthur barely manages a grunt, and you can feel his thighs tensing and twitching from the sheer effort of not bucking his hips up into you and giving the pair of you away. He stills, most likely waiting for Marston to fuck off already, before he rips you away from him and pulls you to your feet, gripping your aching jaw with force enough force to keep it open. 

“You goddamn siren.” He isn’t mad. He’s trying to be, but you know Arthur far too well, and he’s burning with a fire far hotter than mere anger. Need. 

The mischievous glint in your eye is all you can offer for response, what with his iron grip on your face, but you do manage to slip your tongue out and lick the pad of his thumb, tasting the mixture of fluids still lingering. 

It’s all getting too much, knowing what you just did and who you did it around, hearing Arthur unable to string a sentence together because of you. You don’t think you’ve ever been so turned on in your life, so desperate for a release that you’re pathetically writhing in Arthur’s hold. He notices, forced anger on his features replaced with a cockiness that only comes from knowing he’s regaining the power in the situation. 

Your cheeks tingle when he releases you, sitting back in the seat and leaning back, one elbow resting on the arm of the old wooden chair and picking the cigar back up. God, you could ride him in that chair till morning, if you thought the wood wouldn’t splinter under the force. 

“You gonna finish what you started, my little siren?” He asks, taking an especially long toke from the smoke while he waits for you to drop to your knees before him. Your cunt throbs, screaming out for his attention, but it would seem your antics have earned you punishment. 

Your knees hit the wood with a force, though an involuntary whimper escapes you, hips grinding pathetically against nothing. Arthur notices, smirking like a goddamn cheshire cat at his little wanton whore. 

“Patience, angel.” Your own words echo back to you like a slap in the face. You definitely deserve this.

The grip you had on the power in this game you’re playing with Arthur officially disappears when his hand snakes around the back of your neck, grasping at your hair and winding it around his wrist like a leash. You have to tilt your head so the tugging at your scalp is a mere burn rather than a sharp pain, but that’s just where he wants you. 

“Now, little siren, I’m gonna teach ya’ some manners, and you’re gonna finish what you started, alright? And if you’re a good girl, maybe I’ll think about getting that sweet little cunt of yours off…”

It’s all it takes, the promise of Arthur’s fingers deep inside you while he sucks on your clit just how you like it, lapping up your juices like a man starved, and the defiance in your eyes dissipates. Arthur bends you to his whim, messy, sloppy putty in his hands as he drags you onto his weeping cock. You’re all but drooling for him, leaking out of the corners of your mouth when he slips into you. Your scalp tingles with the pull, especially when Arthur involuntarily tightens his grip with a hiss of his breath. His tip bumps the back of your throat, but he doesn’t stop even when you’ve fit all of him in that you can.

“Fuck, good girl, just like that baby girl…” he groans, and when you open your eyes to look up to him, he is watching you with a gaze so intense you feel like it could tear you apart. The tension burns between you, coiling so tight the chirp of a nearby cricket could snap it. 

There’s an unspoken question in your eyes when you start to nearly choke on his length of when you’ll be released, but his eyes darken, “Come on, baby, you can take more, can’t you?” 

He seems to register your fear, but it phases him little. It seems more a challenge, really, coaxing him into rocking his hips into you, pushing you even further onto his cock until you feel it start to breach past your throat in a way you didn’t even know possible. You splutter, wriggling and writhing as you try your hardest to breathe through your nose. 

“Shh… good girl,” he coos, a ravenous look taking over your usually so lovable cowboy. You’ve pushed him, and God do you live for it. “Not much further… wanna see you take all of my cock, alright? You gonna do that for me, angel?” 

You can’t nod, but it isn’t much of a question, not much choice available with your limited movements and the way Arthur has completely commandeered your body. You’re irrevocably his, body and soul. 

It doesn’t feel possible to fit more of him in, your throat burning for relief that won’t come until Arthur is satisfied, but when he bucks his hips into you, you feel his base press against your nose. He groans hard, the noise initially from the sensation of having your throat wrapped around his cock, but when he sees the sight of you, tear stained and gagging on him, the moan is pulled out into a noise of pure ecstasy. 

“Good girl… my good fuckin’ girl.” 

His thumb rubs lovingly over your wet cheek, a sensation you cling to as the corners of your vision get fuzzy. Fuck, you’re not sure how much longer you can hold out, but you’re so desperate to feel Arthur’s spend trickling down your throat, feel him lose control and moan just for you that you’d honestly be willing to die for it. 

Your expression, complete with lust-fogged, watery eyes, and beautifully flushed skin, teases the last of Arthur’s restraint like a razor thin blade against that final thread. When it finally snaps, you’re allowed one gasp for air, before he’s thrusting back into you hard. You can feel him stiffen, even more so than before, as his hips splutter into your mouth and he starts to tumble over the precipice into that realm of pleasure that only the two of you share. 

“F-Fuck, sweetheart, I’m gonna-” But he interrupts himself with a visceral, primal groan, the vibration of it shattering the both of you. You take advantage of his practically inebriated state to regain some of your own anatomy, managing to swirl your tongue around his pulsing head inside your mouth. The hot, salty spend blooms across your tongue at that, Arthur guiding you by the cheek to bob up and down on his cock while he paints your throat white. His moans are a melody you’ll never tire of, animalistic and vulnerable all the same. 

It feels like it never stops, Arthur’s spend filling your mouth up and leaking out from the corners of your lip. You can hardly stay still, writhing your needy cunt against your own heel, desperate for a reward you’re earning when you look him in the eye and swallow it all down. Pride blooms across Arthur’s features, saturated with a love that warms you from the inside out. His thumb caresses your face softly, wiping the tear tracks as you finally release his cock from your mouth and he guides you to your feet, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then nose, then lips.

“My good girl…” He coos, barely above a whisper as you breathe each other in, both as breathless as the other. Your throat aches, your jaw burning, but you’d do it a thousand times over to experience what you just did all over again. 

“Now…” He splits the sentence with another kiss, catching your chin between his thumb and forefinger, “Get on inside, sweetheart, I think you’ve earned yourself a reward.”

[allzelemonz]

Sit Still: Arthur Morgan X Male Reader

Fictober Prompt: Day 6, Dubcon/Frottage Pronouns: he/him, Reader referred to as ‘boy’ Physical Sex: AMAB Rating: E/Smut Warnings: Slight dubcon, frottage, sex with clothes on, grinding, kissing, neck kissing, marking, low honor Arthur Morgan, dominate Arthur and submissive Reader, sleeping, slight cuddling Summary: With the whole camp noticing Arthur’s darker turn recently, Dutch sent you out to keep an eye on him.

The gang isn’t entirely sure what’s been going on with Arthur. All Miss Grimshaw told was that he’d told Mary-Beth that he’d been killing people without reason. Even Dutch is concerned, shutting himself and Hosea in his tent to talk about their son. You heard John telling Abigail not to let Jack near him for now. Kieran’s been shyer around him. Uncle hasn’t asked him for money. Something is wrong with the Van der Linde work horse, his mind isn’t as it should be.

So being alone with him is a little unnerving.

Dutch warned you explicitly before you left for this overnight job. “Watch him.” He said. “Tell me what you think.”

You glance up at Arthur. His eyes are fixed on the fire as he pokes it with a stick. He seems fine right now and he was pleasant enough on the ride out, telling a few jokes and making idle conversation. Dutch trusted you with this little ruse, a half baked job to observe Arthur’s mental state, because he knows you can handle yourself. You could fight him off at the very least, get to your horse, and you can watch him unlike Micah or Bill.

Still, your heart races.

“What’s got you all worked up?” Arthur mutters, eyes fixing on you as he sits back on his bedroll across the fire. “Somethin’ Dutch said?”

Your breath hitches but you shake it, keeping your cool. “Just cold out here, should’ve worn a better coat.”

Arthur hums, his eyes boring into you so hard you can feel it.

He just seems different, very much not himself. You know Arthur well enough to know he’s not usually the kind of man to feel so off putting. He’s an outlaw, sure, but he’s usually the type you’d feel safe sharing a camp with. Right now you have half a mind to think he might slit your throat in your sleep. But it’s Arthur, he wouldn’t do anything like that. He wouldn’t.

“Cold, huh?”

You meet his eyes for a moment, that same bright color shaded by the dark flames. They look menacing somehow, even though you’ve seen them scrunched with laughter and accompanied by flushed cheeks. You just nod.

“Suppose I am too.” He says without a hint of a shiver. “Maybe we should share, keep each other warm.”

You feel a twinge in your chest. Share? With Arthur? No doubt you’ve thought about it, cuddling up to him in his tent on cold nights at camp. And you especially thought about it when you were up in Colter. But now, with the way Arthur’s been these past few weeks, the thought makes you nervous.

“I’m alright, Arthur.”

“No.” He says gruffly. “I insist.”

You stare for a moment. Insist?

Then Arthur moves, standing and walking off into the dark. You assume he goes to take a piss, not overly concerned about his whereabouts. He’s too far away to see for a while so you give yourself time to think. Arthur Morgan… insisting?

It happens fast, hands shoving your shoulders and weight on top of you before you can do anything. You’re pinned to your bedroll and when you look up, it’s Arthur’s dazzling eyes looking down at you. He’s sitting on your legs, just below your gunbelt, his hands holding your wrists on either side of your head.

You swallow your nerves before you speak. “Arthur?”

He shushes you, soft and smooth, as he moves your wrists together so he can hold them with one hand. You don’t have the present mind to protest anyway. With his newly free hand, he unbuckles your gunbelt and you mindlessly lift your hips to let him pull it off.

“Good boy.” He mutters, his hand settling on your stomach. “Sit still fer me.”

You don’t dare move when he lets your wrists go. Arthur could kill you in a second if he really wanted to. Even if you still had your guns, no one is a faster draw than him. He shifts up your legs a little, leaning forward so his body covers yours. Your mouth goes dry when you feel it, Arthur’s dick pressing into your own. It’s hard, straining against his pants as he begins to grind into you. He hardly bothers to spare you of his weight, leaning hard into you and his arms only serving to sit beside your head as he breathes against your neck. His legs are spread over you, leaving only your own legs as a probable means of escape.

But do you want to?

Arthur’s an attractive man, usually a good one too. The Arthur you know would have asked before pinning you down, he would’ve been more gentle about it. But this… this feels good too. Arthur’s dick rubbing yours through two layers of pants has already gotten you half hard, and when you feel his lips at your neck, you become solid. Arthur groans against your skin, his hips digging against yours further and faster. He’s sloppy, needy, and you wonder why he doesn’t just shed the clothes keeping you apart.

In a way, you’re thankful he doesn’t.

“Ya feel good, boy.” He murmurs, his lips pressing wet, hot kisses along your neck.

“Arthur…”

He shushes you again, moving his head to kiss you properly. He’s warm and he tastes so deeply of whiskey you have to wonder if he’s drunk. The movement of his hips distracts you before you can think much about it. Fast, impossible good ruts that make your clothes rub heavenly against your sensitive dick. And when paired with Arthur’s rough lips on your own and the force of it all, you feel yourself getting close.

Arthur pulls away from the kiss, sitting up slightly as his hands return to hold your wrists. You haven’t moved them, you’ve barely moved at all. Only the slight jut of your hips or the squirming of your legs, nothing Arthur has noticed. He grinds down against you, a low groan coming out of him and you have to hold your own expressions in.

“Knew you’d be good.” He mutters. “Just wait ‘til I do this proper.”

You feel a hitch in your throat, then the waves over take you as Arthur ruts faster. You grind up into him and you can hear him chuckle as he leans down to suck a mark into your neck. Your vision blurs a bit as you come down. There’s a new feeling that accompanies the same heavy weight of Arthur, a wet warmth in your pants. Arthur has drooped into you, his breathing slow and steady and his arms wrapped around you. Timidly, you move your arms around him once you hear the gentle snores.

You have no idea what you’ll tell Dutch now.

[molotovgirl45]

sdv Sebastian x Reader headcanons

This is my first Tumblr post, and I thought I could start off with some simple head canons for Sebastian in year 1. Honestly part of me could see an entirely different approach, and I'll honestly do multiple of these lol. Anyways, i hope you guys enjoy this as much as I did!♡

I feel like when he meets you for the first time, he's slightly dazed when looking at you. but he doesn't really know why. It takes him a while to even realize he's attracted to you, since he isn't the most experienced with handling his emotions.

Randomly in spring, he turns on the flower dance music and pretends as if hes dancing witn you. He does it infront of a mirror, continuing to become increasingly frustrated when he can't get it right

Days before the flower dance Abigail and Sam will be hanging out at Sam's place when they realize he has a crush on the farmer, so they end up teasing him and trying to convince him to ask the farmer to be his dance partner. As much as he protests, they still end up helping him get ready and everything. Including, Abigail showing him how to actually dance and how to compliment you without sounding condescending or perverted.

As much as he doesn't want to admit it, he took hours getting ready before the dance, trying to look good for you. Robin notices him actually wanting to dress up this year and teases him thoroughly.

At the dance, when you arrive, Abigail and Sam hype him up to go talk to you as you talk with Pierre. As he walks up to you, he dusts the invisible dust of his shoulders and sees if his hair looks okay. And as he waits for your attention, he just looks absolutely breath taken. Like your beauty just blew the wind out of him.

When he asks you, he occasionally looks back at Abigail and Sam for reassurance. >///<

( this is a more game-based head canon ) You visit him so often, that in the mornings he starts to wait for you, hoping you will drop in that day. And also ends up not eating lunch in case you bring him a plate of sashimi like you usually do. When you dont it doesn't bother him that much, he just ends up missing you.

[mentally-a-slut]

Three Days (Arthur Morgan x Fem! Reader) (SMUT)

Anddddd here we are! Part two of 'Staring Problem'! This can be read as a stand alone, but if you want a suggestive lead up, then go read part one! I tried my best with this one, but I haven't written explicit smut like this in a long time, so go easy on me! Writing this also reminded me that I loathe writing in second person, so from here on out I think I'll either do first or third. I won't bore you with details here, but I'll put up a separate post updating y'all on some stuff. Anyway, enjoy, and please leave feedback! Silent readers are appreciated but leaving comments helps me get motivated to continue! Even just a one word comment or an emoji helps! - Azi >:)

Summary: Arthur's been gone on a job for three days, which isn't a new development. However, a new development in your relationship just before he left leave you wanting. But fear not, as your troubles will be soon solved!

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: unprotected PinV sex, smut, oral (f receiving), overall filth, reader is female, unedited (sorry), probably OOC Arthur but we're here for dick not character analysis!

You had always hated when Arthur went away on jobs, but ever since he left you hanging, your distaste for his long absences had grown.

You hadn't seen the man in three days, only getting a parting kiss and a heavy, heated promise as a farewell. The first day he was gone, you were mostly in awe of what had happened, wistfully going about your day and daydreaming of things to come.

The second day left you a little frustrated, the ache for him only growing with his absence. The other girls had noticed too, only making you more irritable as they teased you relentlessly for your obvious attitude change.

The third day was when you started to get worried. He'd been gone on longer jobs than this before, but you still couldn't help the nervous bouncing of your leg as you sat across from Tilly, trying to busy yourself with patching up some clothes.

"I'm sure he's fine. He's been gone much longer than this before."

Your lips contorted into a line, eyebrows knitted as you shook off the pain of the needle piercing the soft pad of your thumb. "I know. Just miss him, I guess."

Tilly just smiled and let you work in silence alongside her.

Arthur had gone to rob some stagecoach close to Emerald Ranch, along with Javier and Micah. You trusted Javier to help bring him back safely, but the addition of Micah made you nervous. He had a reputation of losing his cool and endangering the lives of everyone in a five mile radius.

Abigail had been very helpful the last couple of days. She understood every minor shift in your demeanor in the time he was gone. John was no stranger to long jobs, so Abigail knew exactly how it felt to sit idle while the men were out in danger.

John tried to be helpful, saying things about how Arthur had been bled half to death before and still made it back alive, but that only made things worse. You appreciated the effort, though.

It was getting close to evening now, the light of the sun slowly disappearing behind the horizon. You tried not to feel disappointed, knowing that if they were on the way back, they would likely stop and make camp for another night before arriving. Riding at night was never good unless they were on the way to a job. Riding back during the day was safer, and helped them keep an eye out for any witnesses or general hinderances along the way.

Just as you were about to resign yourself to your lonely bedroll for the night, the sound of rumbling hooves shook the ground under your feet.

You whipped your head around to see three healthy horses slowing to a walk near the hitch posts, each one carrying an upright, unharmed figure. You silently cursed the fact that Micah had made it back alive, but figured it was too much to hope that you'd get Arthur back and get rid of Micah in one day.

You didn't care what it looked like to the others, throwing all cares out as you rushed over to greet the man that had been haunting your thoughts for the last three days. He was just finishing up tying his big black shire to the post, taking the weight off his horse for the night, when you tackled him into a hug.

He stumbled slightly, your arms wrapping tightly around his waist as he snaked an arm around yours to steady himself. His breath tickled the top of your head as he chuckled. "Miss me?"

You scoffed and pulled your head from his chest, still gripping the sides of his jacket as you looked up at him. "You were gone three days!"

He smiled down at you and pulled you back against him, settling his other hand to cradle your head against his chest. "I missed you too, sweetheart."

All of a sudden, he withdrew, his eyes landing on the man a few feet away that was tending to his horse. "Javier!"

He turned. "Yeah, Arthur?"

"Tell Dutch me and my lady are goin' on a little vacation for a while, will ya?"

Javier nodded with a smirk, and you shrieked as Arthur lifted you onto his horse without warning. He followed shortly after, kicking his horse into a fast walk as a few wolf whistles resounded from camp.

You held onto his waist tightly as he sped up. "Where are we goin'?"

"Just into town."

"What are we gonna do there so late at night?"

You felt more than heard his responding chuckle. "Get a room."

"Oh. Oh."

The excitement that tingled through your body was electric, buzzing the whole ride there.

~~~~~~

You would have flustered at the knowing look on the hotel receptionist's face if you had been at all aware of anything but Arthur.

Arthur thanked the man before leading you up the stairs to the room, his large hand gripping yours the whole way there. You expected him to jump straight into action the second the door closed behind you, but instead his strong arms pulled you into a hug.

His arms encircled you and pressed you against him as he nestled his face into your neck. The vibration of his words against your neck sent sparks through your body straight to your core. "Thought about you the whole time."

You sighed into him, holding onto his as if he would disintegrate upon letting go. He only pulled back to gently tilt your chin up, pressing a sweet kiss against your lips.

The kiss was so soft, so filled with emotion, his fingers brushing lovingly across your cheek as your lips molded together. You were the one to lean into it, chapped lips parting and teeth nipping lightly at him.

The responding noise from him fueled your desire more, the desperate groan making your whole body ache for his touch. His hands moved from your waist to your hips, fingers bunching up in the fabric of your shirt as he fought your tongue with his.

When his rough fingers brushed against the bare skin of your waist, you whined into the kiss, arching into him. He chuckled against your lips, brushing his hands even further up your shirt and coming to a stop just under your tits.

You broke the kiss just for a moment to lift your shirt over your head, discarding it wildly behind you. You yelped as he lifted you and spun you around, walking you backwards towards the bed. You tugged him down on top of you, slipping a hand under his shirt to feel to ripples of muscle on his chest and stomach.

"Arthur," you whined, tugging at his shirt. He got the hint, discarding his shirt before meeting your lips again. His kiss was rougher this time, wet and messy as he took in the feeling of your body against his. You brought your legs up to circle around his waist, and you whimpered when he pressed his hips forward against yours, his hardened cock straining against his pants.

You tangled your hands in his hair, tugging lightly. He squeezed your hips in response, kissing down your neck and nipping at the skin on your chest.

His hands snaked around your back, undoing your bra without even pausing. He broke the kiss only when he pulled the straps down, revealing your chest to the open air. Your first instinct was to cover yourself, but he didn't even give you the chance.

You didn't have the brain capacity to be embarrassed at the sound that came out of you when he took a nipple into his mouth, gripping the other with his large hand. He groaned against you, his erection brushing against you. He was growing harder by the second, the mere sight of you arousing him intensely.

His unoccupied hand stroked down your stomach, slipping two fingers in the waistband of your pants. You nodded and begged desperately, writhing against him. "Please! Please, Arthur..."

He moved his lips to your other nipple, quickly unbuttoning your pants and ridding you of both them and your panties in one movement. His lips separated from your chest as he moved up to you, staring into your eyes with intense lust. "I'm gonna get you ready, baby, that okay?"

Your heart swelled with emotion, only intensifying your desire. Even when he was desperate with lust, he looks at you with such caring, always making sure your okay. "Yes, yes, please!"

He smiled at you before kissing you sweetly, slowly kissing down your body. You whined as his hot breath brushed your core, your head tilting up to look at him between your legs.

His eyes glittered with amusement as they met yours, a teasing finger brushing your inner thigh. It was so close to where you needed it, but so far. "You're a tease."

He chuckled, "Can't help it when you look so pretty beggin' for me."

You threw your head back and groaned, half in frustration and half in arousal. Your noise quickly shifted to a whine when he suddenly slid a finger across you folds, head fuzzy with pleasure. "So wet already. All for me, sweetheart?"

You groaned and nodded, hips shifting towards him in an attempt to get him to do it again. "Ah, use your words."

Your words were half whimpered. "Yes! All for you, only for you, please!"

"Good girl."

He swiped his finger through your folds again, this time teasing his fingertip around your aching entrance. You bucked against him when his thumb brushed against your clit, breathing coming out in short, whiny sighs. "Please."

"Whatever you say, baby."

You moaned as a finger slid into you, his thumb pressing harder against your clit. Before you could complain at the lose of stimulation when he removed his thumb, his lips connected and sucked harshly. Your moans were surely loud enough to be heard, but the pleasure that wracked your body was so overwhelming you couldn't bring yourself to care.

His finger slowly moved in and out, brushing against your sensitive walls as his tongue assaulted your clit. You tangled a hand in his hair, tugging harder than you intended. He groaned against you, making a jolt of pleasure shoot through you.

The stretch of another finger was added, making you cry out. It wasn't enough to be painful, just enough to make you stretch around him so deliciously. He pulled his lips off of you and looked down at you, eyes hungrily watching as your cunt swallowed up his fingers. You looked down at him, lips parted with pleasure as he worked his fingers inside you. "More."

He glanced up at you with a smirk, slipping in a third finger. It sent a small jolt of discomfort through you, but it was quickly overwhelmed with pleasure as the third finger pressed against the most sensitive parts of your walls. "Oh, fuck, Arthur!"

"Feel good, huh?"

"Yes! Please, please, I'm gonna cum!"

He sped up, his fingers pumping in and out of your relentlessly. He leaned back in to swirl his tongue against your clit, which made you walls start spasming around him. Your thighs tensed, threatening to close around him, but he pulled back and held your legs open.

"Go on, baby, I wanna see your pretty face when you cum."

You couldn't form any words as his fingertips curled inside you and prodded against you in a way that made you see stars. His encouraging words only pushed you closer and closer.

"Good girl, doin' so good for me." You moaned and clenched around his fingers, muscles spasming as the dam broke. Your eyes rolled back into your head as you came, short, whiny moans escaping your lips as he fingered you through it.

With a gentle kiss against your clit that made you twitch, he pulled his fingers out of you and rose to look at you. You forced your eyes open, smiling breathlessly up at him. "You okay?"

You couldn't help but laugh, pulling him in for a passionate kiss. "More than okay. That was amazing."

He smiled and kissed you again, slow and loving. You knew you could tell him you were done for the night and he would agree in a heartbeat, not even caring about his own unresolved desires. But his sweet kiss only fueled another spark, already tingling through your body. His moaned against your lips as you arched against him, legs moving to wrap around his waist and pull him against you.

He pulled away with a raised eyebrow. "You're a needy one, aren't you?"

"Only for you."

You pulled him back down, kissing him roughly and pressing your hands all over his bare skin. His hips bucked forward when you tugged at his waistband, his desperation shining through even when he tried to stifle it.

You pushed him back, catching him off guard and shoving him onto the bed. He chuckled and shifted further back, letting you swing your leg across his hips and straddle him. You leaned down to kiss down his neck, smiling at the soft murmurs of content as you nipped at his collarbone.

You reached between the two of you, unbuttoning his jeans and shoving them down. He helped you and kicked them the rest of the way off, leaving him in only his boxers. You stared down at the bulge that strained against the white fabric, a wet spot of pre cum soaking a part of it. You looked down at him with a proud smile. "I do that to you?"

His hands slid up your thighs and caressed you hips. "You do so much to me. More than you could ever imagine."

You leaned down to kiss him, pouring all your emotions of admiration and lust into it. His hands moved to your ass, squeezing as he groaned against your lips. Your hips pressed down against his. sending a shock of pleasure through you as your clit brushed against his clothed bulge.

He would have been content to kiss you like that forever, but you were growing more and more desperate with each touch. You slid your fingers into his boxers without breaking the kiss, gently stroking his cock. His reaction spurred you on, and you pushed his boxer down to release him.

You marveled at his size as he helped you discard his underwear, leaving him fully bare underneath you. He was thick, and longer than anyone else you'd ever had. Your hand continued to slowly stroke up and down his shaft, thumb smearing the beads of precum around him. You were transfixed on him, lost in the feeling of his soft skin against your palm.

"Fuck, baby, as pretty as you look doin' that, I don't wanna cum just yet."

You slowed your movements to a stop and looked up at him with a soft smile. The admiration you felt for the man beneath you was overwhelming, and you didn't know if you could ever truly explain to him how much he meant to you.

You slowly moved to kiss him again, soft and sweet. You let your hips relax against his, smirking as his hips shifted under you to gain friction. You moved your hips against his shaft, your cunt dragging against him. You continued grinding on him, breathing growing heavier as the tip of his cock teased at your entrance with each movement.

After a few more seconds of torturing him, you lifted your hips and gripped his cock, prodding him against you entrance. Before you moved, you pulled away from his kiss, sitting up and placing a hand on his chest for balance. He groaned as he looked up at you, poised above his cock, cunt dripping with anticipation.

Emotion shone in his eyes, gaze still so loving even when clouded with lust. With a sigh, you lowered yourself slightly, taking his tip inside. You knew it was going to be a stretch, so you had to restrain yourself and take it slow.

He groaned at the sight of your cunt swallowing him, even just the tip of him. You held his gaze as you lowered another two inches, fingers gripping his chest at the slight stretch. Soon, his hands gripped your hips tightly as he helped you sink down all the way, clit brushing against him as you were finally fully seated against his pelvis.

Your eyes were dark with lust, cunt clenching around his cock as you adjusted. His eyes flickered over you, rapidly moving between your joined bodies, your heaving chest, and your face. "So perfect. Take me so well."

His words spurred you to move, lifting your hips slightly and moaning sweetly as you sank back down. The pain of the stretch had completely disappeared, replaced with a blinding pleasure. You rolled your hips a few more times before rising further, speeding up.

His hands held your hips tightly, his thighs tensing as he tried to hold himself back. "Fuck, sweetheart, look at you. Swallowing me up like that."

His words only increased your desire, your hips rising and falling faster, legs lifting you further off his cock. His moaned as he stuttered out praises, hands tightening on your hips as you rose fully off him and slammed back down again. Your pace increased, his length filling you up perfectly and brushing against the sensitive spots within you.

You struggled to hold yourself as you got closer and closer, pace faltering. You whined, every breath coming out as a soft moan. "You're doin' so good baby, want me to take over?"

You managed a messy nod, and his hips immediately rose up to meet yours, hands moving your hips up and down on him. You threw your head back as your cunt spasmed, orgasm coming down hard and fast. "I'm- fuck! Gonna cum!"

"Go 'head baby, I've got you."

With his words, you moaned with your release, his cock still pounding into you as you rode it out. Your senses were fuzzy, everything covered in a blanket of pleasure. You didn't even realize he had flipped you over, your head against the soft pillow. As your vision cleared, you looked up at him, blissful smile on your face.

"You did so good, honey, think you can gimme another?"

You nodded blearily, spreading your legs further as he continued thrusting into at a ruthless pace. You were building up to another one fast, barely even recovered from your previous one. His hand rested against your throat, grounding you but not squeezing. "So gorgeous, my pretty girl. Look so good stuffed full of my cock."

You moaned pathetically, hands going up to hold his face and grip his hair. "You feel so good, Arthur, I- I love how you make me feel."

He groaned in response, slamming into your cunt even faster. "So tight for me, gonna make me cum. Where d'ya want me?" He struggled to get the question out, his voice stammering through moans.

"Inside. Fill me up, Arthur."

His hand tightened around your throat for a moment at your words, and he moaned loudly. "Fuck, you're gonna kill me."

His movements grew sloppier, fingers pressing against your throat as he pressed his lips to yours in a messy kiss. With a few more thrusts, your own orgasm came to a head, only slightly preceding his.

His groaned against your lips and your walls clenched around him, his cum painting your insides as you milked him. He fucked you through it, kiss growing softer as he slowed to a stop. He stilled inside you, pulling back to look in your eyes.

You looked back at him, lips curled into a soft smile as he rested his forehead against yours. He pulled out carefully, planting a sweet kiss on your lips to distract you from any discomfort.

He shifted to lay next to you, turning his head to look at you. "You okay?"

You smiled and looked at him. "With you? Always."

[jemichi90]

okay OP, in your recent art you mentioned that "you will explain if needed" and gave a detailed explanation of what might have happened (to Charlie and Maxwell).

I'd LOVE to hear more of your thoughts, and the "explanation" that you said you'd provide (⁠ﾉ⁠◕⁠ヮ⁠◕⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠*⁠.⁠✧

ps i really like your art.

Oh! Hello there! 👀

And yes indeed I did. Alright then, get ready for the brainrot. xD

For a long time I've thought that Charlie died and came back wrong, and in the recent updates there have been several things hinting at it.

Here is a list of the ones I can remember right now:

Maxwell says ”There's a story behind that...” when inspecting a touch stone.

After the recent update, the ”dark side” Winona can sense traces of Charlie on the touch stone, confirming it's related to her (the quotes vary).

In the Encore animated short, there is a brief flashback of Charlie with the Ancient Fuelweaver behind her, and then her Chess piece is seen falling and sinking inside a black square on the board - some heavy symbolism there, sparing us from the gory details, I guess...

In Charlie's stageplay, the doll that represents her breaks, but she's brought back to life by the Mirror (Them?) - alive but different, as she says.

And then there are things that fall more into the headcanon territory, until more evidence comes up that either proves or debunks those ideas entirely, but I'll explain those as well, since they heavily influece my art inspiration.

I subscribe to the idea that the two characters in the ancient murals represent Maxwell and Charlie themselves in their early years in the Constant (but depicted by the locals that were unfamiliar with human anatomy). Time moves differently in that world so it could have been thousands of years ago, but the two made contact with the locals and briefly improved their life through the use of Their magic – until it backfired and the entity that must have been sealed for a reason broke free. Assuming the character with the torch really is Charlie, she died protecting Maxwell from the consequences of his own mistakes. In the final mural image, only her cracked head can be seen.

Another headcanon I have comes from the fact that one of shadow Charlie's arms seems to be entirely made of shadows (curiously, there are also arm bones attached to the touch stone, although they could have belonged to a pigman too, like the heads), so I think that whatever happened to her basically shattered her to pieces, and some pieces may still be missing - like that arm. But details like this are only a headcanon for now.

This also falls in the time period between 1906 and 1910-ish, when apparently some crazy stuff happened that Klei hasn't showed us much about – yet (according to their own post some years ago). ^^

So based on all this, my idea is that Maxwell summoned the Fuelweaver (as seen in the murals), but he messed up big time and Charlie got caught in the crossfire trying to protect Maxwell. She died a gruesome death (that may have torn her to pieces even more brutally than in my drawing). Maxwell in his desperation made the touch stone in a hurry (which is why it looks so rough compared to all his other constructs), carried what was left of Charlie there, and made a deal with Them to bring Charlie back to life no matter the cost. And they did. They just didn't bring her back exactly like she used to be, and she would probably fall to pieces and die instantly if she was separated from the entity that she now shares the body with...

I think Maxwell had been able to move freely in the Constant (maybe even out of it, based on his disappearances earlier) until then, but deals like that come with a price, so he lost his freedom and became Their tool (sold his soul to save Charlie?). Or something like that anyway.

There are also the parallels between Charlie and Abigail with their connection to their special flowers, as highlighted in the newest animated video. Charlie just might be another ghost inside a flower herself, but thanks to Them, she got to keep her body, or at least a form that resembles her body.. But I prefer to think that her actual broken body is still a part of the deal, as messed up as that is. We already know that They can keep a body that should have died a long time ago alive for an eternity, thanks to Maxwell. When he was released from the Nightmare Throne and time caught up to him, he didn't just die, he turned to a skeleton that crumbled to dust in an instant..! That's some old corpse, but he'd been conscious all that time because They wouldn't let him die.

So yeah, these happy thoughts inspired that piece. I might draw more about that if I still feel like it later. :D

[bcrcavcd]

@sisturn sent for a domestic starter | Accepting

It was a bit of an ordeal, trying to find materials to make this cooking tool. The fire may have been good enough to cook meat, but making a bigger variety of food might help the girl's health in the long run, especially if they were to begin farming for more plants than just carrots and assorted berries.

Things were looking up for Wendy, because at this point, she'd finally been able to prototype the contraption, meaning that it was done... But now, came the even more difficult part, which was learning how to use it. Thinking about it for some time, she turns to Abigail, who was already nearby.

"Abigail? Do you have any idea as to how to cook any sort of meal?" she asks, never having to cook before, and finding no interest in doing so herself. She could heat things, but mixing it together was a lot different. She didn't remember if Abigail had the same mindset as she, or if she remembered anything their mother made, but it wouldn't hurt just to ask, right?

[forthelostones]

𝚙𝚝.𝚜𝚒𝚡 ; 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 ─── ⋆

⟡⋆˙୨ᥫ᭡. 𝚗𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎 𝚊𝚞 - 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚐𝚎!𝚊𝚋𝚋𝚢 𝚡 𝚏𝚎𝚖!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 ᥫ᭡.୧⋆˙⟡

synopsis: abby was a woman whose presence was becoming deeply irresistible to you. in your final year of nursing school, you toil with the idea of pursuing her — ruin what you have or enjoy what’s in front of you?

warnings. 18+ (mdni); sub!abby, domsub!abby, sexual themes, jealousy, spitting, strap-on, hate sex/makeup sex, nickname: dummy, and modern au - pre-established relation.

an: hi everyone, i appreciate you all sooo soo much. happy friday... it's getting real this entire ff is on ao3 as well x

(no y/n)

wc: 3.4k

Abby heard your door close, knowing it was time for you to leave for your flight. She froze as if you didn’t know she was in her living room listening to every move you made on the other side of the wall. Your footsteps traveled to be placed silently in front of her door and halted just as you knocked. “Abigail?” 

She concentrated on the purr of your voice vibrating against the wooden door. 

“Abby, I’m leaving, um, you probably are sleeping or — I don’t know, anyways, I left you some stuff so you could feel less alone while I’m gone. Um, it’s stuff I think you'd like. I know it’s not going to solve anything but let’s talk soon. Please.” 

You wait for the knob to turn, for the door to open and reveal the stubborn woman, anything, but it never happens. On the other side, Abby was standing with her hand on the door frame, absorbing your voice into her consciousness, missing you more than ever. She so badly wanted to open it and hold you, and assure you she was just being stupid, but she wasn’t ready for it. 

She waited a few minutes before opening the door to reveal a small tote bag heavy with glass. Abby wrapped her hand around the handle and peered out the door as if she would find you in the hallway, waiting for her. The bag was filled with an assortment of miss-match containers, housing different food items with post-its describing each one. Turkey, Mac and Cheese, Stuffing, Brussels sprouts, and Cranberry Sauce. She traced the delicate intricacies of your handwriting that she had seen many times before, but especially now seemed special. She removed the sticky paper and placed it on her dining table, placing the corresponding container above it.

In the following days Abby received every text message you sent her, she simply didn’t care to read them beyond the notification on her screen. Her anger boiled more and more, irritated at your persistence while simultaneously needing it as reassurance that you still care. 

abby, i’m sorry. let’s talk, call me please. 

hey, getting on the plane now so i can’t talk for the next two hours. 

just landed, i can call soon if that’s what you want.

all ready for bed. 

Attached was a photo she felt tempted to look at but didn’t. Her phone rang multiple times throughout the day with your name on the caller ID. She didn’t feel compelled to decline it, she let it ring until the ringtone stopped. She did exactly what she said she was going to do — study. She knew it was the one thing she could wholeheartedly commit to now. 

In the middle of studying her phone rang over five times and one notification for a voicemail appeared on the screen. She looked at your name on her phone, held a deep breath in her chest, and listened to a voice softened by tears. 

“Abby, hi. Just thinking about you and I know I’m the last person you want to hear from,” You paused. “I want us to talk. I just… I miss you.” 

Abby stopped the message and set her study materials aside, quickly pressing play again. “I miss you. I wish we were together right now. I’m going to make this right, I promise. Please, just give me some time.” 

Abby brought her fist up to her dripping nose and tightened her mouth into a thin line. The feelings that she had for you were inescapable. Her heart collapsed in her ribcage, smashing against the paper bones that felt like they were cracking as she dabbed the tears floating in her eyes. She went to all the unread messages and saw the photo of you lying in your childhood bedroom with an all-white long john set and a modest smile on your face. Your eyes were puffy, or was she imagining it? She wanted you to break apart like she was. Abby observed your grin, that revealed a more narrow sadness that she could place on her own mouth. 

We can talk when you return. 

You shuffle down the familiar hallway, bags in hand, trembling with uncertainty you quickly identified as a fear of losing Abby. Your flight left you disheveled and bubbled with anxiety, making you stop in the bathroom before calling an uber, and polishing yourself up. But no time in the bathroom could remove the dark circles under your eyes or take away the sadness you harbored.  You were fearful that if you waited a moment longer she’d forget about you — so you held your duffle and carry on, hastily knocking at a door that was once always unlocked for you. 

Abby pulled on the handle revealing her pristine appearance. Blonde hair tied into a braid, attached to the middle of her head, cascading down her spine. Her lips were moisturized, plush, pink, and waiting to be kissed. She clasped her hands in one another, arms bulging out of her black tank top clinging to her even skin. As a formality, she gestured for you to sit down as she took your bags effortlessly. After setting them down on the table she joined you on the couch, legs crossed in thick grey sweats. 

“I missed you.” You admit, inching closer to her. 

“I did too. I missed you too.” She said shyly, slightly shrugging. 

You walk your fingers to her knee and rest them there, embarrassed. 

“So, I’m sorry Abby—” 

“No, all of this is my fault. I was tipsy and out of line, I misconstrued your feelings for me. I shouldn’t have pressured you to just get rid of Ellie. Instead, I should have explained to you how much I really like you. And maybe my inexperience just made me want you even more… Like, I can’t do casual, or I mean I never had the opportunity to. I just… I wanted more with you — I want more with you. I don't wanna share you.” She ropes her pinky into yours. 

“My sweet Abby,” You sigh, cupping her jaw. “I should have paid more attention.” 

“I think I could have been more clear on what I wanted out of you, y’know out of us.” 

“I like you Abby and a part of me likes Ellie too. She’s fun and that was my appeal to her, knowing I didn’t have to get roped into something complex or serious. But I like you…so much, you’re all I could think about when I was away. I’m not used to anyone wanting me this way.” 

“I want you. I only want you.” She smiled. 

“You do?” 

“So much, I want you to be my girlfriend, seriously. Do you want that?” 

You freeze at the question, making Abby recede into herself briefly, face dropping into a premature frown.

“I don’t know how good of a girlfriend I could be to you. I don’t want to make you feel how I did that past week.” She leans closer and kisses the backside of your hand. 

“That’s inevitable, we will have times where things go the opposite of what we want, that’s okay but we need to be on the same page. Do you want this?” 

You feel a rock drop to the bottom of your stomach. 

“Abby I don’t know if I can fully say that I want that in this moment. Can I think about it?” 

“Of course you can.” 

She leaned in, using your thighs for leverage, resting her lips against yours. You melt into her sweet, strawberry-glazed lips, relishing her taste. Being away from her made a week feel like a year and you savored this kiss intending to remember it for later. Your hands come up to her neck and pull her in, pushing your tongue past her teeth and into her mouth, eliciting a moan. It was deep and from her core, exposing how much she missed you. She presses her hand on the back of the couch, the other one behind you on the arm, unfolding her legs and laying on top of you. She lifted her far leg so that it was hanging off the edge of the couch, crotch pressed against the top of your thigh, her body weight crushing you sweetly. 

Abby’s hand comes up the side of your ribs making you shutter. Her rough fingertips leave pale imprints on your warm skin. You lift your hips into her core and she moans into your left ear. A sweet blow of air and arousal fills your space causing the parting of your lips to replicate the pleasure. “I missed this.” Her raspy voice rang. 

You reach in the band of her sweats and brush her abdomen towards her clit. No panties. Her thighs were damp with sweat, her lips wet with slick and you wasted no time parting them. Abby wrapped a fistful of your hair into her hand and tugged, leaving your mouth agape from the sudden aggression. 

“Fuck me.” She demanded. 

You feel your pussy clench. Abby's change in demeanor put a bit of fear in you, knowing the woman was strong enough to have her way with you at any moment. 

“Come on. Fuck me.” 

Her hand unravels from your hair to your jaw to open your mouth. Her lips purse to expel a string of spit which you accept happily. Her lips were sloppy, smacking into yours as she stroked her clit against your fingers, hunching for more contact. You lifted her shirt up to reveal a light pink lace bralette, exposing her erect nipples. You bring your lips to the fabric, and she trembles. She removes the lace top and forces the stiff bud between your teeth, making her wince as you lean back, biting and stretching it. Her pussy left tacky, wet splotches in her pants.

“Let me get my strap.” She said, moving away quickly. You watch her firm ass switch from side to side while she marches to her bedroom. You sit up, mouth wet with desire, not hesitating to remove your bottoms.

The black harness houses a clear dildo that curved upwards, just how Abby liked it, reaching for her g-spot. She handed it over to you to strap on and laid back on the couch. Her eyes became hungry as she saw your perfect body displaying the new appendage. You walk towards her dripping with irrefutable sexual appeal before ripping off her bottoms and beginning to finger her pussy. 

“Don’t tease me. I’m already wet.” 

You climb on the couch, slipping the curved cock inside, splaying your body weight on top of her. Her skin blushed as she cupped the back of your ass, reaching to bring you closer. Her cunt filled the room with obscene sounds that made yours shake with anticipation.

“Please.” She repeated. 

“Please what?” You asked, catching her off guard amid moans.

“Make me cum.” 

Abby’s groomed fingernails dragged along the outer rim of your back. She started raising her hips and fucking against you, her grip became deadly, indicating she was close to cumming. Abby loved the sounds of your grunts in her ear, knowing the strap was bruising your clit, making you needy too. Abby’s eyes retreated into her skull but returned quickly to your sightline as you extract the cock from her cunt. The clear plastic became covered with opaque gloss, leaving Abby twitching and kneeling over. 

“Fuck you.” She laughed, short-winded. 

The strong woman laid on her stomach and began arching her back. Her smooth, florescent skin wrapped around each muscle beautifully. You rub her ass, starting from the midpoint of her back to the underside of her bottom. Abby whimpered at your gentleness only to be startled by an impulsive slap, instantly turning her pink. Your finger hovers over her lips, spreading them open like petals of a soft rose, examining how perfect her pussy is while it’s dripping.

“You really missed me huh?” 

“I did. I missed you sooo much.” She whined, completely transforming unsuspectingly submissive. You reach under her and thump her clit with your palm to which she yelps. She stretches like a kitten and curves her back even more. Another slap and she throws her head over the arm of the couch where she begins to reside at. 

Without warning you plunge your index and ring finger inside of her making your name spill out of her mouth. You curve your fingers to hook behind her pelvic bone, petting the sweet sponge inside of her. All you could think about was how she embarrassed you, ignored you until the last minute, and left your mind wondering. This motivated you to fuck her even harder, and you started to believe this is what Abby wanted all along. 

“I can—can’t take it, ple—” She struggled to form a coherent sentence. 

She reached her hand back to stop you from going any deeper. You snatched her thick wrist into your hand and pinned it onto her lower back. You positioned your leg on the cushion and slipped the dildo into her. Abby never felt so overwhelmed with pleasure. The constraints you put on her made her mentally weak, leaving her immobilized. The pain made her numb and left her humming uncontrollably. You weren’t even stroking her pussy but pounding it until the skin impacted by the strap transformed from peach to lilac. Abby’s mouth was wide open, gasping for air as a knot tied itself in her stomach. 

“Let—le— l—me, cum, I—”  

The blabbering woman stiffened as an orgasm came over her body. But that didn’t stop you from milking her cunt into overdrive. She hoisted herself up on the arm, but you refused to let her run away. Your hands came to her hips and brought her to her breaking point, again. Your name filled her cozy apartment like sweet music. You pull out, leaving her gaping and dripping, leaving a delicious view. Exhausted, you fall back on the other end of the couch. Abby rolls over, legs agape, head thrown back, chest rising and falling quickly. Her cunt was bright red and abused, just like she deserved. 

“Satisfied?” You spit. 

She lifts her head, hair disheveled, and smiles at you with a sinister grin. 

“I didn’t know I could cum that many times,” She admits. 

Her eyes darted to the cock still strapped on your hips, covered in her cum. She bent over and placed her head on your thigh, parallel to the dildo. You brush her messy hair out of her face just before she wraps her lips around it and sucks it clean. You didn’t know how attractive it could be to see her in this way, with her eyes locking into yours, moaning at her own actions, making your cunt wetter. 

“Let’s have a shower.” She offered. 

The water ran warm onto your neck and lower body as Abby’s tongue traced circles into your neck. Her wide hands wrapped around your wet waist, desperate for more of you. 

“I missed you even though…” She began to whisper. 

“Even though?” 

“You pissed me off, and made me emotional.” 

She pulls away from your ear and brushes the tip of her nose against your cheek with her tongue following shortly behind, melting into a kiss. 

“I know, you’re my needy, emotional girl.” 

You slick her drenched hair back and thumb her forehead. Her body comes forward to smash you against the cold tile with a thud. She slides her hand over your belly to your throbbing clit. “For a minute, I actually hated you. I wanted to rip you apart.” She groaned. 

“Here’s your opportunity, Abigail.” 

Abby wraps your leg around her waist to get a better angle. She hovers her lips over your mouth, teasing you as you close your eyes to lean in for a kiss. She giggles at how ridiculous you look. Then, she presses her teeth into your skin, followed by soothing kisses down to your breast. She puckers her lips around your areola, with her eyes gazing up at you, filled with fury. Just as she’s about to stick her tongue out, her fingers replace her mouth and tug on the puffy buds. You press your back deeper into the tiles as if you could sink into them. 

“Can I ask you something?” 

“Anything.” You wince while her fingers hold onto your pebbled nipples. 

“After you sent that photo, you touched yourself didn’t you?” She jerks your nipples. 

“Ah—ah, I— I did before I took it.” 

“What did you think of?” She asked. 

“You, I thought of you,” you replied. 

Her tongue slithered out of her mouth to flick your nipple. “Keep going.” 

“You… you were kissing me, all… over…” 

“Hmmm.” Her lips puckered and suctioned. 

“I just. I, Abby,” you moaned.

“If you stop, I stop.” 

“You were kissing me w—with my hands tied… tied up,” 

She moved to your other breast and sucked, causing your hole to clench around nothingness. 

“Abby, I imagined you fucking me until my legs went limp.” 

She smiled and brought herself back to your lips, kissing and biting them with no care. 

“Even at odds, I’m still on your mind.” 

She inserts her fingers into you slowly, stretching you out. You grip onto her shoulders for stability as she begins to pump in and out of you. She spreads her legs to ground herself and thrusts her fingers deeper inside of you, pounding the fat of your pussy, creating a slapping noise in rhythm with the beating shower. 

Abby bared her teeth as she increased her speed. She was grunting like she was in the gym doing a challenging set, mumbling words you were too sexually drunk to decipher. The water fizzled into a heavy steam, crashing into your wrinkled skin and creating a thick haze above your head. The humidity left you faint as Abby worked harder to make you cum with no comfort — all in her timing. Suddenly, she let go of the leg she had been hoisting up and wrapped her hand around your throat. Your moans became light and airy as you gasped for relief. 

“You’re mine. You know that right?” She declared. 

You nodded as you came up on the wave of sexual bliss. Your knees fell together, weakening as the woman continued to cockily spit at you, a side of her you never knew before. 

“I’m the only one who can fuck you like this. I don’t give a fuck, no one else will ever make you cum like this.” 

And that’s what you did, cum, with a deep primal groan accompanying it. She continued to stroke your pussy, until you caught your breath, just before she fell to her knees in the tub to lick up the mess she created. The curve in the bridge of her nose made a unique friction against your sensitive clit while her tongue slid up and down your folds. You turned the water off, and the both of you ran to the bedroom before the cool air caught up to you.

Abby dried her body and hair with a nearby towel and passed one to you. She flopped onto her mattress, with her head wet onto her jersey pillowcase awaiting your body. 

“Are you still mad at me?” You ask. 

“Nothing a little cuddling could fix. Come ‘ere.” She said. 

You straddled her waist to lay down on her soft, hot body and tucked your mouth into the crook of her neck. Abby placed her hand on the back of your neck and smoothed out your baby hairs there. She adjusted her body underneath you, unintentionally pressing her mound into yours, extracting a slight gasp from your throat. 

“You okay?” She asks. 

“Yes.” You mutter. She lifts upwards again, spreading your legs apart and exposing your clit. You look at her sly grin, she mimics you and spreads her legs open as well. You lay down onto her shoulder, breath hitting her neck, and buck your hips into her, your clit being tickled by the blonde’s low-trimmed pussy. You two perform a dance, following an unspoken choreography, pressing your cunts into each other. 

“I need you.” Abby moans. 

You guide Abby’s knees to her chest and turn so your ass is in her view, straddling her leg, spreading your slits open with your fingers, and placing your cunt onto hers — hot and needy. The wave of your ass brushing against her pussy made her mouth fall open in disbelief. Abby tucks her hands behind her head as she watches you use her pussy like a pillow and hump it freely just as she likes it. 

“Fuck, Abby.” 

Abby blushed at your words, watching your hips move like water, eyes closed and getting lost in the pleasure. 

[crownmemes]

Abigail Sentences

(Sentences from Abigail (2024). Adjust phrasing where needed)

"So, have you got a boyfriend, or…?"

"What's your name anyway?"

"Hey, no names! You know the rules!"

"You know the rules: no real names, no backstories."

"Wow, you might be the least perceptive person I've ever met."

"You used to be a cop?"

"Did he arrest you or something?"

"Wow, $20? That's cheap considering you come from money."

"You've got loose wiring. Probably a sociopath."

"Don't ever fuck with me. I will know."

"Can you promise me you're not going to let anyone hurt me?"

"I'm sorry about what's going to happen to you."

"Oh my god, you're going to be a real pain in my ass, aren't you?"

"I sort of have this reputation of being a professional."

"I don't trust any of these other guys, so let's watch each other's backs."

"You better not be fucking with me again!"

"This whole thing is a trap!"

"I don't know what you're talking about, but you don't sound very calm right now, Little Miss Paranoid!"

"How did she get out of those cuffs?"

"I don't know anyone who can pull off a trick like that. Do you?"

"Okay, what do we know about vampires?"

"Alright, let's go kill us a vampire!"

"If you put your hand around my neck, you'll lose it."

"Listen, you sit here and bleed, or you trust me."

"How many bodies are we talking? Like, two, three?"

"I've had a few centuries of experience."

"Hey, what's going to happen to me? Am I going to turn into a vampire?"

"How many of your father's enemies do you think you're going to have to kill before he loves you again?"

"What can I say? I like playing with my food."

"You know what? My offer just expired."

"Stay alert. She's toying with us."

"I always hated this room. A lot of painful memories - but it's never too late to make new ones."

"Fuck it. Bite me."

"Drink, and you'll be one of us."

"Our game ends here. I've made sure of that."

"It's a little late to be a good mom now, don't you think?"

"Well, well, well - look who came to join the party!"

"If you want to kill me, you have to drain me."

"Here’s the thing about being a vampire: it takes a long time to learn how to do all the cool shit."

"I think you should leave. It's getting awfully close to dinner time."

[squoxle]

✏ TNAIT 002: No Money, No Problem l.at fanfic

✰ pairing: nerdy!bandboy!anton x cheerleader!fem!reader | ✰ wc: 2.5k | ✰ cw: profanity, sexual themes, lgbt comments | ✰ plot: you find the perfect guy to help you bring up your grades, but he's so shy you wonder if you'll make any progress. too bad you couldn't get his cute little friend instead... [Series Masterlist]

“Dude! What the hell was that?” Chanyoung spat.

“What? Oh you mean making your wet dreams come true? In that case, you’re welcome,” Dongmin chuckled.

“Wet dreams? You’re the one who fantasizes about screwing the whole cheer squad, not me.”

“Stop acting like such a prude. You know you want it too. I saw your little buddy standing up for attention.”

“It was cold as fuck out there.”

“Right…those thoughts were pretty hot though, huh?”

“Shut up…”

“Look you just better make sure you pull your dorky ass together and text that girl before tomorrow. Unless…you’re too chicken,” Dongmin said as he began clucking like a chicken.

“God, you’re such a fucking child,” Chanyoung rolled his eyes, pulling out his phone.

Dongmin looked over his shoulder to watch him text you. “Dear my beloved personified fantasy,” he began. “I’d love to meet you tomorrow at 12 o’clock sharp to help you raise your grades while you raise that skirt,” he chuckled.

“Seriously dude, back the fuck up. I can’t concentrate,” Chanyoung sighed.

hey i wanted to text u before it got too late

i'll be at the library around 8am tomorrow morning

Sent 9:43pm

Chanyoung carefully re-read the messages, double-checking for any missing details.

"Ponytail" Typing...

"Shit!" he spat.

"What? What happened? Did you accidentally send her that video of you whacking off?" Dongmin teased.

"No...she's typing."

"Already?"

it's fine

i'll be up by that time anyway

should i...bring anything?

Sent 9:45pm

"Fuck! What do I say?"

"Gimme," Dongmin grinned as he snatched the phone from Chanyoung's hand.

yeah that sounds great

and nah ur good

just make sure u bring ur laptop...and maybe a notebook

Sent 9:46pm

Read 9:46pm

"Ponytail" Typing...

kk

gnite <3

Sent 9:46

gn

"Ha!" Dongmin exclaimed before giving Chanyoung back his phone. "Too easy," he huffed. "Now, all you gotta do is shave your balls and get ready for tomorrow," he smiled, patting Chanyoung on the shoulder.

"Shave my what?!"

"Your nuts, bro. So you can get that brain while you use yours," he chuckled.

"You know if anyone else heard the way you talk to me they'd think you were gay."

"I'm just being real with you."

"Yeah...really gay."

"Whatever," Dongmin laughed as he wrapped an arm around Chanyoung's shoulder.

"You sure lucked up, huh?" Abigail chimed as you told her about your little rendevous with Chanyoung. "I've seen him before, but I always kinda thought he was...y'know," she paused to flick her wrist, a motion you very well knew the meaning of.

"No, no. At least, I don't think so. He's just kinda shy."

"Shy? Or more into guys," she chuckled.

"Hey, knock it off. You're the one who told me to get my own guy."

"Actually, you wanted that. If I recall it correctly you said it would be weird for us to use the same guy."

"Oh...right," you blew air into your cheeks as you thought back to that moment earlier.

"Well, just let me know how everything goes for you. And remember, there's a sweet little Aussie boy named Jake who'd be more than glad to help you out," she smiled. "But beware. He's a subby little switch," she chuckled. "Cute and sexy."

"Hopefully, everything goes well tomorrow and I won't need your puppy," you chuckled as Abigail pulled up to your house.

"Fingers crossed that even if he is gay, he's at least useful."

"He's not gay."

"You don't know that for sure," she tilted her head.

"Neither do you," you tilted your head, mocking her.

"Hmm, fair enough. But you owe me lunch if he is," she smiled as you unbuckled your seatbelt.

"You're really sure about this," you laughed.

"Uhh...duh."

"Okay well I gotta go inside now before my dad eats me alive," you said as you climbed out of the car.

"Good luck, girlie," she waved as you jogged to the front door, waving back at her.

The next morning, you stopped by the ATM to withdraw 50 bucks before meeting with Chanyoung. "This should be enough for today," you thought to yourself.

"Debit Declined, Transaction Failed," the automated voice chimed as you inserted your card. "What the hell?" you spat before attempting to insert your card again only to see the same message pop up 3 more times.

"Did dad freeze my debit card?" you asked as your mom answered the phone.

"Yes, he did it when you came home late last night."

"I literally just came home from a game."

"I know, but you know how he feels about that."

"Yeah...it's fine."

"What did you need the money for?"

"Nothing, I changed my mind," you lied.

"You sure, honey? I can send the money to you a different way. Just let me know how much you need."

"No, Mom. It's alright. Really. Thanks though."

"Okay, well let me know if you change your mind again."

"M'kay. I will."

"Bye," she said before hanging up.

You needed that money right now more than anything else. However, given the current circumstances, that wasn't an option.

"Hey," you waved shyly as you sat down at a table across from Chanyoung.

"Hey," he said, so softly that you almost didn't even hear him. "So, umm...what did you want to start working on first," he asked in that same sheepish tone.

"Umm, well maybe math. It's an introductory algebra course, but I'm kinda struggling to grasp it y'know."

"Can you show me what you've been working on?"

"Sure," you stood up to move your chair closer to him. "Sorry," you apologized as he jerked slightly. "Fuck, I hope I'm not being too aggressive," you thought to yourself.

"It-it's okay," he smiled softly before scrolling through your modules. "Dongmin and his stupid big mouth," Chanyoung thought to himself.

"So, what do you think we should do first?" you asked, breaking the silence.

"Umm...maybe we could look through one of the quizzes and review the content. It'll be the easiest way to learn."

As brilliant as that idea sounded, you didn't have the time to actually learn the material.

"I'm not trying to sound ungrateful or anything, but is there any way I can get you to do the majority of the work...I just don't really have time to learn this with cheer practice and everything," you cringed at your own words, realizing just how pathetic you sounded.

"Oh, uhh--"

"I'll pay you," you blurted just as you remembered that you couldn't exactly finance this little escapade. "Well...actually--"

"It's fine. You don't have to do anything unless you want to. Let's just look at this as a friendly favor," he shrugged as his lips formed into a shy smirk.

"Huh, really?"

"Yeah," he nodded, turning back to the laptop. "You can watch me work the problems out. Maybe it'll help you learn the material," he said as you leaned over, unconsciously bracing yourself on his thigh.

You listened as he explained the process of solving each equation and watched him scribble notes in your journal. For a moment, you got lost in his eyes. You watched them glaze across the screen through his glasses.

Maybe it was his shyness, or maybe it was something else, but your heart always fluttered when he came around. That was the real reason you stumbled on your words whenever you spoke to him.

It was something about the way he bit his bottom lip when he was focused that made you want to kiss him...

"Ugh!" he groaned as you lost your balance. Your hand fell right into his manhood and you could see it all over his face.

"Oh my god! I'm so sorry," you pleaded, grabbing onto his shoulder as he hunched over in pain.

"I-it's alright...I know you didn't do it on purpose," he said, grinding his teeth together.

"Umm, do you want me to get something?"

He exhaled deeply before replying, "No, I just have to wait it out."

"I'm really sorry," you apologized again as he continued to take deep breaths, squeezing his eyes shut. You reached over to close your laptop. "We can finish this later," you said as he seemed to calm down.

"You sure?"

"Yeah. You've already done more than I would've."

"So..tell me something about yourself. Since we're gonna be hanging out a lot more often, we might as well take the time to get to know each other," you said as the two of you sat outside together.

"There isn't really much to know," he shrugged.

"What about past relationships?" this question was triggered by a sense of curiosity and the fact that Abigail was so sure he was gay.

"Well, I've never really dated anyone before," he said, looking off.

"Anyone...well did you at least have a crush?"

"Hmm...there was this one girl I liked, but she only ever saw me as a friend."

"Have you always been into music?"

"Huh? How'd you know I was into music?"

"Shit," you swore to yourself. You didn't hear this from him..

"Oh, well umm I remember seeing you in the orchestra during the first week of school," you were able to save your ass this time, but you had to be more careful. You knew more than you were letting on.

"Oh yeah. Well, actually my parents encouraged me to start playing the cello, but I grew to like it on my own. Heh, I remember one time when I stayed up all night to learn this one piece. It was really important because that would be my first solo performance in high school," you watched as he smiled thinking back to that moment.

"Well I'm sure you did amazing," you smiled.

"Ehh...that would've been the expected outcome," he chuckled to himself. "But I thought it was a brilliant idea to be Romeo before my performance and ended up forgetting half of my solo. You can imagine how that went."

"Not really..."

"Well, it's like I said earlier. She saw me as a friend. So my head was all over the place after that. I should've just waited until after the show to tell her. I was gonna do it anyway."

"Hmm...maybe," you sighed, wondering if he still had feelings for her or had moved on by now.

"Alright, enough about me. It's my turn to ask you some questions."

"Okay, hit me," you laughed at his boldness.

"How many relationships have you been in?"

"Zero. Next question."

"Zero?! How?"

"My parents are pretty strict so I wasn't allowed to date. To them, my grades are the most important thing. But there was one guy I liked. He was a little older than me, but he hated the fact that we had to sneak around all the time," you sighed thinking back to the first real boyfriend you could've had.

"Oh, well I can understand that," he said looking over to you as if he was trying to read your body language, hoping it would expose another part of you.

"So what else did you want to ask me?"

"What made you come up to me? Aside from needing help."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I've come to every game and that was the first time we ever spoke to each other. I'm just wondering if there was something that stood out," his shaggy brown hair was perfectly draped across his face, slightly peeking over his round glasses.

"Uhh...well you were a familiar face. I figured you had to be a genius if you were in the orchestra. Y'know musically inclined people are said to be more intelligent," you smiled even though you knew very well that you chose him randomly and could barely remember him on your own.

"Heh, that's what my dad always tells me," he smiled with an expression so pure and sweet you could only sit there in silence.

You felt bad realizing that your only intention of talking to him in the first place was to use him to improve your grades. Plus this little heartfelt conversation started for two reasons--1) you had to buy time to come up with another form of payment and 2) you were not buying Abigail lunch.

If you didn't need him, you honestly wouldn't have looked twice in his direction. Yes, you found him attractive, but that was it. You didn't care about his interests...

"Spill the tea! Is he gay or not?" Abigail squealed as you met up with her in the campus cafe.

"Woah, what happened to 'hey, how did the studying go?'" you laughed.

"Tell me about that after this. I'm starving and I wanna know if I'm gonna be paying or not."

"Well he told me about a girl he liked back in highschool so I think that should answer your question."

"Dammit," she swore before reaching in her bag. " Text me what you want. I'm gonna go order out stuff and I'll be right back, 'kay?"

You nodded as she walked away. You watched her blonde ponytail sway with her movements as she went up to the register. You had completely forgotten about the whole frozen card thing, so you were even happier that she would be paying today.

"Alright, now tell me. Did you suck him off or what?"

"Ugh! No way. I was gonna pay him instead, but my dad froze my cards so I'm just pretending to be his friend so he can keep helping me," this was mostly true except for the fact that you were kinda falling for him.

"Well, you can either keep doing that or at least try to get some pleasure out of it. As cute as my little Jakey is, I just need him for my grades," she smiled, flipping her ponytail. "Do you really think I care about his nerdy life?"

"I know right," You laughed.

"You just need to give that boy your homework and walk away. He's not your study-buddy he's your dorky little fuck-toy and that's it. Don't let him bore you to death with his lame-ass life stories. That is not what you signed up for girl.”

“Honestly. After he fixes my grades I’ll probably never talk to him again.”

“Yeah, until next semester,” Abigail laughed. “I’m not trying to sound like the stereotypical blonde, but I’m too pretty to use my brain. Especially when I have a body like this,” she poked her tongue out as she playfully shook her tits.

“Oh my god! You can’t do that in public,” you hid your face behind your hand.

“Oh baby trust me, there’s a whole LOT you can do in public. It’s only illegal if you get caught,” she winked. “Thanks,” she smiled as the waiter came to the table with your food.

Abby wasn't entirely wrong. You could get away with a lot in public, but someone else is always present. Another witness. Another loose end. Or maybe...a ticking time bomb. Eager to get their way at the expense of your dirty little secret.

Living a double-life has its consequences.

You were so wrapped up in your conversation with Abigail you failed to notice Dongmin who was busy cleaning a table not too far from you. How were you supposed to know he worked here part-time? Like you said earlier, you hardly even knew of their existence before the other night.

Thanks for reading the second episode of my series. [Series Masterlist]

Click this link to go to my main masterlist and stay tuned for the next episodes.

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