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celtic-crossbow · 8 days

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Blood Ties Chapter 28

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore; Pregnancy stuff - bodily fluids, etc.

A/N: Still worried about Daryl's character in this, but I guess I will probably continue to do that since this is a situation we haven't seen him in during these seasons. Anyway, game on.

Two days. Three centimeters. Nothing really new other than a few small, quick contractions that were nothing more than a tightening of your belly. Daryl stayed close, mainly venturing outside only to smoke or relieve himself, and, of course, he accompanied you when you needed to go. At that very moment, you were lying propped up on a mountain of pillows that everyone had given you. Daryl was sitting cross-legged by your feet, sharpening his knife.

“Do you think something’s wrong?” You asked, pulling your bottom lip in between your teeth. The archer looked up and studied you, looking back down at the whetstone before shaking his head. The sound of the blade sliding against it made your skin crawl. “Can you—stop that please?” He sighed but sheathed the knife and tossed the whetstone onto the top of the things in his bag. He hadn’t been speaking much which concerned you. You watched him scrub a hand over his face before keeping it there and propping his elbow on his thigh. “Daryl, what’s wrong?”

“Nothin’.” His voice was gravelly, tired even, but not unkind. You knew he had slept, or had at least been lying down with you while you did. “Ya hurtin’ or anythin’?” He still had his face covered.

“Mm-mm. Thumper’s awake though. It’s Cirque du Soleil in there.” His hand finally moved to smooth back over his hair, leaving the shorter pieces askew. “Hey.” His eyes met yours again, worry evident and overflowing. “Come over here?” His left hand clenched into a fist but then flexed open again. Daryl got to his feet, taking a single step toward you before bending down to press a kiss into your hair.

“Gonna have a smoke. Right outside if ya need anythin’.”

You watched him go and sighed, turning your attention to your stomach. “I think you’re scaring your daddy, Thumps. Me too, a little bit, if I’m being honest.” The baby hadn’t been as active over the last 24 hours, but Hershel had reassured that it was normal for movement to decrease in the last part of pregnancy. “I don’t know how good of a mom I’m gonna be. I didn’t exactly have a shining example. And your daddy—he’s gonna really need our patience, kiddo. Shit, we’re both gonna need patience.” There was the smallest ripple beneath your palm. “We’re flying blind here.”

Sounds of a scuffle on the porch had you sitting up straight in a flash, eyes wide and darting.

“Daryl?”

He staggered in the door—walker blood on his arm and his knife—before gaining his footing and bending to grab your boots. “Gotta go!” He was calling for the others while helping you get ready and grabbing up what blankets he could to stuff into the second bag. You could hear the moans and scratches and thumps just outside the wall. “C’mon, just leave the rest. We gotta move.”

You nodded, leaving the remaining blankets, pillows, and your sweatpants. It would be freezing in just your leggings but as long as you were alive, then you couldn’t really complain.

Daryl threw one of the bags on his back—along with his crossbow—while you shouldered the other bag. Knife in one hand, he took yours in the other and was pulling, the first of the herd of corpses tumbling into the house, slimy fingers grasping so closely that you felt the tug on your hood before they seemed to have lost their grip.

Everyone was sprinting out the back, Rick waiting until you and Daryl had passed to follow and pull the door closed behind him. The truck was blessedly close. Daryl was pulling the bag from your shoulder and opening the door simultaneously, letting you climb inside while he tossed both packs into the back and rounded to the drivers side. You had the key ready and in the ignition, your heart rate slowing the moment his foot hit the gas.

“Y’okay?”

Catching your breath—winded by fear and exertion and well, the extra weight of the human growing inside your belly—you looked over just in time to see him take his right hand off the wheel, flex his fingers as they moved just the slightest distance toward you, and then place it right back where it started.

“Yeah.” You answered breathlessly, swallowing and nodding. “Yeah, we’re okay.” He relaxed a little. His next question would have been about Thumper, so why not ease his mind quickly? “Are you okay? The one outside, before you—”

“M’alright. Ain’t bit or nothin’.” He mumbled, dragging his left thumb over his bottom lip before he began chewing on the skin there, thickened from all the scarred wounds he had given himself, small as they were. He was anxious. He had every right to be. You could go into labor at any moment and another temporary home had been overrun. It had been months of this shit. Run, run, run, and—for a change of pace—run again.

Hand steadying your belly, you twisted in the seat to look behind the truck for the headlights of the van. When you didn’t see them, you swiveled back to check the side mirror, finding it easier to watch in that position. There was nothing but the soft red glow of the truck’s tail lights. “I don’t see them.”

“They’ll show an’ we’ll pull off. Come up with somethin’.” His eyes slid over to you and back. “Can’t keep ya out on the road.”

You couldn’t disagree. You could feel your ankles swelling inside your boots. Your pelvis and hips ached, your lower back felt strained. Your stomach was tightening in a small contraction. You were just highly uncomfortable and more than a little tired. Your head fell back against the headrest, eyes closed. You must have dozed because when you opened your eyes, the truck was still and Daryl was gone.

“Daryl?” You quavered, grabbing the dashboard as you slid to the edge of the seat to be able to survey the surroundings. It was too dark. You could barely see inside the cab itself. “Daryl!” Just as you grabbed for the door handle, the driver’s side door opened at full tilt and the archer peered inside.

“M’right here. Y’okay?”

You exhaled sharply, not even realizing you’d been holding your breath. “What’s going on? Why’re you out there? Are the others here?”

Daryl looked over his shoulder, tapping his fingers against the top of the door before turning back toward you, looking at the seat instead of meeting your eyes. “Nah, they ain’t here. Ain’t seen no sign’a ‘em.” You could see the same worry you were feeling reflected in his posture.

“What will we do if they—” You couldn’t say it. You just couldn’t. Why did the world just insist on taking everything?

“Do whatever we gotta do.” Daryl sniffed, looking over his shoulder again. He was thinking the same thing you were. Neither of you knew the first thing about childbirth. You turned to get out of the truck, an ache in your lower back while your stomach tightened in a contraction making you wince, your fingers wrapped around the door handle. “Stay in the truck.” Your hand fell away but the pain remained. It wasn’t unbearable and after a moment, your muscles loosened. The pain in your back remained but lessened. “Y’alright?”

“Mhm.” You answered quickly. Laying back against the seat, you blew upward to move an unruly hair from your face. You were so tired but you couldn’t sleep, not while your partner was standing outside the truck alone and keeping watch. It wouldn’t even do much good to try when there was no comfortable position you could find with your back twinging. Still, you found your eyelids drooping. When the truck rocked the slightest bit, you didn’t startle. A warm hand wrapped around your shoulders and pulled, and you let yourself be guided to lie on Daryl’s thigh.

“Get some sleep.”

With a hum, you turned to face his stomach so your own could rest upon the seat. His hand settled on your ribs.

“I love you.” You mumbled, already halfway gone into slumber. The last thing you felt was his fingertips graze along your jaw.

It was daylight when you next opened your eyes, the taut skin of your stomach pulling uncomfortably tight while your back spasmed. The contractions themselves were merely annoying while the pain in your back was constant, made worse when your muscles tensed. Grimacing, you glowered at your belly. “Good morning to you, too.” You were no longer pillowed on Daryl’s thigh, actually alone in the cab. You made it up to an elbow when you heard voices. Familiar voice.

“You sure you’re alright? Y/N alright?"

“She’s sleepin’.”

You had to grab the steering wheel to haul yourself upright, opting for the passenger door. Carol was the first to see you and sprinted in your direction. You stood still and let her come to you, your ankles just too swollen and sore to move more than necessary. Once reaching you, she wrapped her arms around your shoulders with a little less enthusiasm so as not to jar you.

“I’m so glad you’re okay. When we didn’t see the truck—”

“I know. I was freaking out when I couldn’t see the van.”

She brushed your hair away from your face once she let you go. “We had to go around the herd and then figure out which direction you two went.” You smiled, but it was a weak attempt. Your back was still aching. “Are you okay?” Behind her, Daryl was watching you. You wondered if he was hearing anything Rick was saying.

You waved her off. “Yeah, I’m fine. So, what’s the plan?”

“Heading South, I guess? I’m not sure. I mean, the main thing is to find somewhere safe enough for you to have that baby. Lori won’t be far behind. A few weeks, at most.” Her eyes dropped to where your hand rested on your stomach and then back again. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah.” You nodded. “Go see what’s going on. I don’t really feel like walking over there. I”m just gonna wait in the truck.” After a moment, Carol acquiesced, calling over her shoulder for you to yell if you needed anything. You waved your hand over your head and let it fall to your back, pressing in on where the ache continued. Maybe it was time to tell Daryl something else was happening. Opening the door, you lifted your foot from the ground when you felt something gush from your opening, wetting your underwear and leggings. “Oh, great. And now I pissed myself. Way to go, Y/N!”

You left the door open and stepped back so you could reach into the truck bed for your bag. You’d have to change but you really really did not want to tell Daryl that had just happened. He was your partner and you were pregnant, so he’d understand but you were sure to get a ya did what now and that would just make you feel more embarrassed. Maybe you could call Carol over and she could help you out of the soiled clothes and hide them until they could be washed.

Standing on your tiptoes, you grabbed the soft handle of your bag when it happened again. Less of a gush, but a noticeable flow. That’s when reality roundhouse kicked you in the teeth.

Oh shit.

“Hey, Daryl.” You kept your tone even, unalarmed even if you were being absolutely ravaged by panic inside. You left the bag and lowered back down to be flat on your feet. Daryl’s boots were loud on the pavement but at a slow stride. Good. You hadn’t terrified him.

Yet.

“Yeah?” He noticed where you were standing and glanced into the truck bed. “Need your bag?”

“Well, yes and no.” Your abdomen tightened again, still painless, but aggravating the cramping in your back to a new level. With a hiss through your teeth, you knew you had his full attention without even looking at him.

“S’wrong?”

You were staring at your feet, expression pinched with pain and concentration while you persevered through the episode. Why the fuck did your back hurt? All too soon, Daryl’s boots were right in front of yours. “I—I think my water broke.” When you could finally think past the throb that was slowly ebbing away into the continuous ache, you raised your head to find him staring at the ground. And then your pants. “What?”

“Ain’t there supposed to be—I dunno—a lot?”

“How the hell should I know? You think I give birth on a regular basis?” You snapped, immediately murmuring an apology.

“Ya sure ya didn’t just—”

“No, I didn’t piss myself.” More fluid trickled from within you, a miniscule amount but enough to be noticed. “At least I think I didn’t? I mean, I was expecting more of a whoosh. Like Noah’s Ark level of liquid, you know?” And then you were silent. And so was he. You stared at one another, each waiting for the other to say something.

Daryl cleared his throat. “M’gonna—gonna get Hershel.” He turned but barely managed a step before he stopped, looking back over his shoulder. “Or I can stay here? Do ya need me here?”

“Just get Hershel. I’ll be fine for now. Can you get Carol too, please?” You watched him nod, noticed the tick in his clenched jaw, the way he was tapping each fingertip of his right hand against his thumb rhythmically. He was freaking out. And as you felt more liquid soaking into the fabric of your underwear and leggings, so were you. You were wet all the way down past your knees.

“Daryl said you needed me.” Carol’s voice brought your head up, your expression triggering the worry that took over her own. “What’s wrong?”

“I think—I either really had to pee or my water broke.” You shifted from foot to foot, carefully keeping your thighs apart. You had never felt so humiliated in your entire life. If your father could see you now—well, honestly he’d probably be laughing and saying take it easy, peanut, it’s just some wet pants.

“It’s okay.” Carol soothed, encircling her arms around your shoulders. “Anything else going on? Contractions?” You nodded. “How often?”

“I don’t know. Like maybe every half hour but my back is killing me. It just—it hasn’t stopped hurting since it started last night.” She was listening so intently that it made you nervous. “The contractions don’t hurt, but man, they make the back pain fucking horrible.”

Carol smoothed your hair and took your face in her hands, giving you that sweet Carol smile. “Sweetheart, I think that your water did break and that you’re in labor.” You felt your eyes widen and your breaths coming quicker. “It’s okay, just breathe. Daryl’s on his way over with Hershel.”

Daryl came straight to you, the nervousness surrounding him so strongly that it made your chest tighten further. He didn’t say anything as he usually did when you floundered over your responses. When Hershel asked permission to examine you then and there, you began to fidget.

“I guess there’s not much of a choice, is there?” You lamented, looking to your partner. His head was down and he was trembling. You’d have to talk to him later when there was no one else around.

“I’m afraid not.” Hershel could see you were anxious. His soft spoken words were proof enough of that.

Daryl climbed into the cab first and helped you in, letting you rest your head on his thigh while Carol pulled off your sodden leggings and underwear. The examination was quick, much to your relief.

“As far as I can tell, it was indeed your water breaking. We have no litmus paper for confirmation, but the source of the fluid appears to be from the vaginal opening and not the urethra.” You knew this would happen eventually but that made it no less terrifying. “You can likely expect the contractions to become more intense, closer together as you dilate. They may or may not be painful as we talked about. Daryl, you’ll need to time them.”

“Okay.” Was all he said, quiet and contemplative. Hands at your shoulder blades, he helped you to sit up.

“Rick,” the vet called out, “we need to find somewhere safe and fast.” The deputy jogged over, looking quizzically between all the faces. Carol quickly occupied the old man’s place with fresh clothing from your bag, covering your lower half from view. “Y/N will be giving birth soon and needs a quiet, safe enough place to deliver.”

“These are likely to get wet too, but you can’t ride around in soaked clothing. Beth and Maggie had some pads, so I thought maybe they could help, too.” You nodded robotically. This should be the happiest experience of your life and all you could feel was an overwhelming sense of foreboding. What if you screamed during the birth and brought down a herd? What if the baby cried too loud? What if something went wrong? What if? What if? What if?

Carol helped you get dressed and situated in the truck while Daryl looked over a map with the others. You watched him from the side mirror, smiling when you saw that he could barely focus, continuously glancing toward the truck. You could feel the beginnings of another contraction, the twitching inside before your stomach would tighten and you’d need to breathe through the pain in your back. It still wasn’t unbearable but it was enough to coax a whimper from your lips. Right in the middle of the episode, there was a gentle tap on the window. Lori was looking through the glass sympathetically, waiting patiently until you could use the window crank.

“How’re you holding up?” She asked, reaching in to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

You saw no reason to lie. “I’m terrified.” Wringing your hands over your belly, you sniffled in an attempt to hold back the tears. Crying wouldn’t solve anything. “I don’t know what to expect. The pain, you know. What if I cause someone to get hurt because I can’t take it? What if something’s wrong with Thumper? What if—”

“Hey, hey, hey.” Her hand landed gently on your shoulder and you lost the battle with the tears that were demanding to fall. “Everything you’re feeling is normal. Well, as normal as it can be in a world full of the walking dead. It’s all going to be fine. All things considered, you’ve handled this pregnancy like a warrior. I have no doubt that you’ll get through bringing that baby into the world just fine.”

You wiped at your face almost angrily. “Really?”

“Really.” She smiled, looking as if she were going to say something else but her eyes moved to somewhere behind you. She squeezed your shoulder. “It’ll all be okay. We’re going to be leaving soon. We’ll find a safe place.” Another glance behind you and, holding her smile, she walked away.

You were rolling up the window when the driver’s door opened and Daryl climbed in, shutting the door behind him. “Ya doin’ okay?” His voice was just as shaky as he was.

“I’m okay.” You kept your expression soft and reached for his hand. He let you take it. “Are you okay?”

“Mhm.” He squeezed your fingers and pulled his hand back to start the engine and take hold of the shifter but he didn’t move it.

“Daryl?”

“M’scared shitless.” You blinked for a moment before quickly dismissing the shock from your expression. “Dunno what m’doin’. Dunno how—what m’s’posed to do to help you.” He was staring straight ahead, carefully avoiding your gaze. It was obvious that wasn’t easy for him to admit.

“Hey.” He ducked his head but he didn’t look at you. “We’re both lost here, but we’ve made it this far.” With a noise of effort and discomfort, you scooted across the seat. The movement had him looking your way with a quick turn of his head.

“What—quit it ‘fore ya—”

“Shut up.” You wrapped a hand around the back of his neck and pulled him forward for a kiss. It was difficult to hold the position you found yourself in, your back singing with pain, but you both needed the comfort, the closeness. When you separated, you kept the hold on his neck and pressed your forehead to his. “We’re in this together. ‘We’ll handle it’, remember?” Clearing his throat, he waited a moment before he nodded, his forehead bumping yours.

The van pulled up alongside the truck. With a last kiss to his forehead, you slid back across the seat and slouched to take some of the pressure off your back. Daryl nodded to Rick and then pulled off the roadside and followed behind the others.

“That one actually hurt.” You breathed, rubbing a hand over your belly as the pain faded. You’d been on the road for about three hours, stopping at two homes, both with too many dead wandering too close by. Daryl glanced up at you and then back to the watch he had balanced on top of the steering wheel.

“Last one was ‘bout 21 minutes ago, this’un was ‘bout 52 seconds.” He sat the watch on the seat by his leg and switched hands on the wheel, resting his left elbow on the window panel so he could rub his thumb back and forth across his lip while he obviously chewed the inside of his cheek.

“So they’re lasting about the same amount of time but they’re definitely getting closer together.” Shifting in the seat a little, you hissed at the twinge of pain in your back. “God, my back is the worst part right now, but if it doesn’t get any worse than this, I’ll be golden.” You were very doubtful you’d be that lucky but one could dream, right?

“M’sorry.” Daryl mumbled from behind his thumb.

Your brow furrowed, your head shaking back and forth in confusion. “Why are you sorry?”

“M’the reason you’re goin’ through this.” He cleared his throat sharply, biting into the side of his thumb with more vigor than you’d ever seen before.

“Last time I checked, I was a willing participant in the creation of this tiny human.” You chuckled, attempting to lighten the mood. There was a dense fog of tension building inside the cab, one you intended to disperse as quickly as possible before it could soak into either one of you. “This is our baby, Daryl. We decided to do this together.” You started to reach for him but thought better of it for the moment. “We’re going to do this together.”

He looked over at you, glancing back at the road every few seconds. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

You shook your head and smiled fondly. “If the baby is as quiet as you are when they’re upset, then we won’t need to worry about them attracting walkers.” You had meant it as a joke but the archer immediately blanched. “No, Daryl, I just—shit, that was the worst. I’m sorry.”

“Babies cry. How—what—”

“We’ll deal with it when we have to deal with it. Right now, let’s just focus on actually having a baby, okay?” That was enough to at least have him lapse into silence with a nod. You watched the sky darken, knowing two things: there would be no shelter before dark and the vehicles would soon need fuel. Daryl must have been thinking the same, his eyes darting down toward the dashboard. His thumb was hovering in front of his mouth, a smear of blood on each.

“Gonna have to camp tonight.” He swallowed so hard that you saw his throat working. “They’re gonna hafta go lookin’ for fuel.”

“You’re not—”

“I ain’t goin’ nowhere.” The conviction in his tone filled your chest with warmth, even if he didn’t look at you. You couldn’t express your appreciation before another contraction began to build.

“Fuck.” You breathed, holding the side of your belly with one hand while the other reached for the dash. Daryl didn’t need clarification, just reached to pick up the watch. Your back screamed while your stomach tightened and cramped, pulling a whimper from within you that you couldn’t seem to stifle. Breathe, idiot, you told yourself. In through the nose, out through the mouth. It wasn’t the worst pain you’d ever felt, but it still fucking hurt. Seconds felt like hours but soon enough, you could feel the pain ebbing away, your body relaxing. “Christ.” You fell back against the seat, completely wrung out.

Daryl was still holding the watch, glancing between it, you, and the road. “Minute an' four seconds, last'un was 19 minutes ago.” Before you could comment, the truck sputtered and jerked. The archer was barely able to get it onto the side of the road before it died. He flashed the lights to signal the van, the brake lights illuminating the road ahead as Rick turned around. Daryl’s hands dropped to his lap, his head bowed to stare at them. “Gettin’ closer together.” He almost whispered.

“Yeah.” It was all you could think of to say. “I am not having this baby on the side of the road.” Even as the words left your mouth, you didn’t believe a single syllable.

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gotchibam · 8 months

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Commissioned piece for AuryBorealis!

#artists on tumblr #fear and hunger #marina #pokemon #hattrem #ninetales #shiny ninetales #commissioned piece #gotchibam arts #thank you sm for commissioning me!! ;w; <3 #got excited abt this comm bc I just recently got into f&h x)#btw I still find it so funny that ppl call it funger for short?? it sounds so silly lol #even tho the game is very very far from that...........#anyways!! idk anything abt marina since I haven't seen termina yet #but I love this choice of pokes for her :3

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drawnfamiliarfaces · 1 month

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i... wrote a smol fic (っ´▽`*)っ

also!!!!! If you haven't seen it - shoutout to first ever published fic in Ninja Showdown/My Immortal Soul tags - Lustrous Red by @missadmyre !!!

#ninja showdown #my immortal soul #first ninja x chase young #rc9gn first ninja #first ninja #rc9gn #chase young #xiaolin showdown #randy cunningham 9th grade ninja #rc9gn plop plop #well i say smol fic.... but those 4k words felt very long.#i did say i was going to direct my energy into writing >.> and now look at me ive gone insane #no actually dont look at me im just gonna go cry over my 20k words of rough drafts for like dozen ideas that are now going #to haunt my every waking moment like JESUS i woke up today and literally wrote out 1k words of an idea for a modern au for those two TToTT #its literally an au where its a meet cute turned meet violent and first is randy's sorta dad and chase wants to adopt omi #not to mention a different AU where its an epic mystery adventure AAAAAAA someone heeeelppppp meeeee #also. its been a month but im still staring so intently at missadmyre's fic hoping for another crumb. like thank you sm for the food!!!!#ive literally been rereading it several times after i went insane about it on my main blog and im still slurping at it like a starved perso #Ive been collecting my ideas like a dragon but after reading that fic i was like: I WANT TO READ MORE FICS ABOUT THEM #but i dont wanna be a whiny baby&beg others and be annoying about it. So i put on my big person pants and was like f it WE R WRITINg NOW #so i dont care how bad my writing will be. we gonna be balling on those ideas and YES it doesnt make sense im just v rambly rn

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bizarrescribblez · 4 months

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OMGGGG HAPPY NEW YEARS SELF SHIP TUMBLR HURRAYYYYY :))))

Since its gonna be the new year soon, I wanted to do a silly fun question + a way to show everybody your ships + JUST AN OVERALL LOVE/GUSH FOR THE SHIPS YOUVE HAD THIS YEAR :))

So reblog and show off art of your ship you made this year that you feel proud of/love a bunch! It can either be one you did or commissioned art! :) if you don’t do art, reblog and show off your blorbos of 2023/your blorbos just to gush before 2023 ends ^_^

[pr0shippers dni!!]

#THIS SOUNDED SM FUN TO ME i hope i didnt word it weird or anything #basicallyjust rb with blorbo/self ship love ^_^#self ship #self ship community #f/o community #self shipping #fictional other community #s/i x f/o #self insert x fictional other

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ivystoryweaver · 11 months

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Decadent chapter 3

prev || Fic Masterlist || My Masterlist || next

Summary: You and Miguel can't keep your hands off each other. Will he be able to tell you the truth about himself?

Pairings: Miguel O'Hara from the film Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse x female reader

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings/notables: NSFW 18+, cursing, p in v, masturbation, oral -m and f receiving, mention of a period, but just a mention. (non period) Blood, violence, numbness: reader is partially paralyzed and not in control of the situation for a bit. sex is consensual but the paralytic is not. nor is the biting/feeding. Miguel is a bad boy. You've been warned. not beta'd

PREVIOUSLY on Decadent...

"Talk to me, Miguel," you softly ordered, halting your motions. You needed some feedback.

"Fuck, don't - don't stop," he husked, his hand joining yours to jerk him off. It took him a little bit longer than the first time, but as his warmth coated your hand, running down your wrist, you realized that working with Miguel could end up being a lot of fun.

Every day at your new job was an adventure - a mind-expanding, challenging, thrilling, orgasm-inducing adventure.

Miguel did not sacrifice one moment of work in the lab, nor behave in any way as if he'd been inside you on a daily basis.

But just like the first time, once you were back in his office...

Pretty much every day for the last two weeks, he needed you to "come over here and look at something," - which would inevitably end up with you on his lap. He really did have things to show you, but they varied in range, from deep, scientific hypotheses, to deep, frantic thrusts of his cock inside you.

Miguel loved for you to ride him, sitting on his lap, at his desk. Seeing how he appreciated your legs so much, you made sure to wear a skirt and the sexiest possible panties. He had a shredded collection of them in his desk drawer, and he'd already gifted you several new pairs.

So you were this girl now: working a challenging, fullfulling job in your dream field, while also letting your boss fuck your brains out.

Lucky you.

"Fuck, Miguel, fuck!" You gasped as he gripped your hips, roughly dragging you back and forth on his lap. Gripping the edge of his desk, you pushed your ass back to meet him thrust for thrust, bouncing and moaning the way he loved.

While he lived to work you up slowly and get you all needy and begging beneath him, when you were on top, he knew you liked it fast.

He had, a time or two, added the slightest bit of super speed to his hips rabbiting up into you, drawing the most obscene little noises out of your pretty mouth. He hoped you hadn't noticed the odd things about him yet - how he would never finger you, fearing his talons would slice you. How he would fuck you so fast that he might as well be your personal vibrating fuck toy.

Or how he never kissed you.

God, how he wanted to. But no. You had clearly seen his fangs by now since they weren't retractable like his talons, but he couldn't risk hurting you. And if he cut your tongue - fuck - he couldn't even dwell on how the mixture of your tongue and your blood would taste inside his mouth.

He had to control himself. But, with each day that passed, with each time he spread you across his desk and worshipped your gorgeous body - he wondered if he had the strength to keep his fangs out of your supple skin.

You came suddenly, your cries of pleasure shamefully loud. Feeling Miguel slowing inside you, you managed to lift up off his lap and turn around, kneeling in front of him.

"Baby, what are you--oh shit..." he gasped as you took his slick, coated length into your hot mouth. You had been on your knees for him before, sucking him relentlessly until he came.

Then it evolved. Instead of quick fucks on his lap, with your skirt bunched up around your waist, Miguel started asking you to strip for him. You found that the slower and more deliberately your pulled your clothes from your body, the more desperately he fucked you.

Being stark naked in his office became this unexpected thrill for you. Sometimes you would work that way -not in the lab -never there. But you would arrive in the morning, give Miguel a little striptease and promptly sit down at your desk wearing nothing but high heels.

His newest thing was to give you instructions. He would coyly mix questions about work with sexual requests and commands.

"Tell me what you think of this article..." blurred with, "spread your legs for me."

Miguel liked to give you instructions while you were naked. "Show me your pussy... touch yourself... play with your nipples..." and one day he folded his massive arms over his chest, leaned back in his chair and said, "Crawl to me."

Without hesitation, you eased out of your chair, completely naked, and slowly started crawling toward your boss on your hands and knees. You thought he would demand that you suck him off, but instead, he rewarded you.

Spreading your naked body across his desk, he kept his fangs safely behind his lips - and with no sucking whatsoever, he used his tongue to wring two orgasms in a row from your soaking wet cunt.

You could die happy - really, you could. Miguel O'Hara - genius, sex god - had fucked you with his tongue.

You were fully aware that a "relationship" like this was probably a bit supernova, and would likely run its course. Miguel would eventually get bored of all the sexy games and move on to his next source of entertainment. It might even get weird, but you felt like you would be able to keep your professional relationship in tact.

And in the meantime, you were having the time of your life with the most gorgeous man you had ever laid eyes on.

Sure enough, one day, Miguel was different. As soon as you walked into his office, ready to lift up your skirt and show him the royal blue, cheeky panties he'd given you - he held up his hand and told you to stop.

"Don't - not today." He never explained himself, except to say he wasn't really feeling well. The two of you remained fully clothed and then headed to the lab for a completely normal day of work. At the end of the day, he offered a weak apology.

"Don't come in tomorrow," he ordered, avoiding looking at you. "Actually...take a few days off. I need some time to think."

Okay, that offended you.

"Miguel, if you want to get more work done, I understand that," you explained, wondering if he thought all the fooling around was interrupting the research. "You don't have to send me home."

"I don't recall asking for your input," he all but snapped. "I don't care what you do. Work from home. Just don't come in the rest of the week."

Narrowing your eyes, you decided to keep your mouth shut. You were not going to get emotional in front of him, even if he was being rude. You left without another word.

Miguel had never felt more like a monster, nor more disgusted with himself. He was growing rather attached to you, and you still didn't know what he was. The problem was...he smelled you. Your monthly cycle was imminent. He'd never had a problem like this around other women, but it had been a while since he worked so closely with one.

Repulsed by his own anatomy and thoughts, he slammed his fist into the nearest wall, leaving a gaping hole. How was he supposed to get any work done with a brilliant mind like yours if he couldn't even handle your womanly body doing normal things? He knew the answer. You were the perfect one - he was the monster.

Fuck.

This wasn't going to work. He couldn't send you away for a few days a month. What kind of misogynistic asshole would he be? Apparently, the kind who would do what he just did!

Reaching for his phone, he sent you a message.

'Hey, I'm really sorry about today. I was an asshole. I wasn't feeling very well. You can come in to the office if you want to get your work done. I'll be out of town for a couple days. We can talk then, if it's okay. Sorry again.'

He was both relieved and nervous to read your reply.

'Thanks for letting me know. If I did something wrong, please just tell me. I can handle it. Are you sure you're okay?'

It took him an hour to figure out a response.

'It's not you. You're doing amazing work. And I love the time we spend together. Can I make it up to you when I get back? Have dinner with me.'

You freaked the hell out. Was Miguel asking you out? And where was he going for the next few days? If it was a work trip, why didn't he tell you about it? You supposed he might explain a little more when he returned.

The big night arrived. Miguel actually sent a car for you - to bring you to his home. You were expecting dinner in a nice restaurant, but as the car pulled up to a posh skyscraper not too far from the office, you realized Miguel lived here.

To your delight and surprise, he met you in the lobby, smiling warmly as you entered the building.

"Hi, you look incredible," he sweetly complimented, taking your hands and kissing your cheek. "Come on, I'm on the top floor."

Of course he was.

The two of you took an elevator up a few floors - then got out and switched to a private elevator which was operated by a key. An attendant greeted Miguel and was promptly dismissed so the two of you could ride up to the top floor alone.

"This is all very you," you commented, feeling your stomach flip-flop as the elevator zinged upward.

"Is that a good or a bad thing?" He questioned, narrowing his eyes playfully.

"I'm still deciding." Shrugging one shoulder, you winked at him.

Dragging his bottom lip between his teeth, he inched closer to you. "You still mad at me?" He stared down into your eyes.

Batting your eyelashes, your nose wrinkled with a cute smile. "I'll let you know."

The elevator doors gave way to the penthouse, and Miguel offered his hand to lead you into his home.

If this were another man, you would have felt this momentum - this film-style, rush-off-the-elevator and fall into one another, kissing wildly thing. But Miguel never kissed you. And he didn't now.

You were tempted to yank on his arm and pull his lips down to yours, but something made you stop, feeling hesitant to be rejected this early in the evening.

"I hope you like Mexican food," he chirped, leading you to his gourmet kitchen.

"You know I do," you grinned, "considering how many empanadas and tamales we've eaten."

You paused, taking in the incredible spread before you, "Holy shit, Miguel, did you make all this?"

"No," he laughed, "it's mostly catered, but I did make the empanadas," he opened the fridge and produced a clear, crystal pitcher, "and - the margaritas."

"Oh my god - if these are any good, I just might have to marry you," you teased, as he reached for a glass with salt around the rim.

The two of you ended up eating at the kitchen island, sitting on bar stools, making a mess of the spread of Mexican food and enjoying a few margaritas each.

"How did things go while you were out of town?" You politely asked, and you could have sworn he stared at you for minute as if he had no clue what you meant.

"Oh, yeah...uh...it went fine," he finally answered, taking a long drink as if needing a moment to think. "Sorry again about that. It was...unexpected."

He was totally lying. He didn't go out of town, he was just avoiding you. He felt like an idiot. But that's what tonight was for. He was going to try to tell you the truth. Or maybe break it off with you? He wasn't sure, but he couldn't do that to you again - punish you for being a woman and having bodily functions.

"It happens," you shrugged, reaching for your drink for a little more liquid courage. You had a lovely buzz going and you were honestly ready to jump on top of Miguel. "I missed you though."

Your eyes dipped down as you waited for his reaction.

"Me too," he quietly admitted, reaching for your hand. "That's why I wanted you here tonight."

You thought he would elaborate. Or if he had no intention of talking, it was the perfect opportunity for him to kiss you, especially with the way he was staring adoringly into your eyes.

Maybe you mistook adoringly for hungrily - because he slid his long fingers under your dress, up your inner thigh. Okay, maybe he missed your body more than your actual company. Either way, you weren't going to complain if you could spend the night with this gorgeous man inside you.

"You're wet," he murmured, brushing his knuckles over the lace of your panties, beginning to rub up and down deliciously. "You're always wet and ready for me."

"Yes," you panted, arching into his touch. He teased you for a moment longer, then abruptly pulled his hand away, pulling a whine of protest from deep in your chest.

"This way, baby," he softly instructed, reaching for your hand and leading you up a winding staircase. Your heartbeat quickened as he led you into a luxurious den - spacious and decadent, with a roaring fire.

"Holy shit," you marveled, taking in the half dozen shelves filled with books, the expensive-looking paintings and antiques scattered around the room. "If this is one of your moves - it's a good one."

Miguel chuckled, the corners of his eyes crinkling in delight. "I don't bring anyone here, sweetheart. Just you."

A thrill zipped through your body. Even if he was lying - even he brought other women here - you were more than happy to be the focus of his attention for the night.

"Now, why don't I get comfortable," he chimed, easing down into an oversized leather chair. Leaning back, he spread his legs, thrusting up slightly as if putting himself on display.

Wondering if he wanted you to join him, he gestured to your body. "Take your clothes off."

Biting your lip, you eased into your office routine, thrilled at the thought of a private striptease for Miguel, in his home.

Deciding to stretch it out a bit, you pulled one thick strap of your dress off one shoulder, pausing to lock eyes with him, making him wait just a moment before pulling down the opposite strap. Your dress had no zipper - it was pretty form-fitting. So you started to push it down over your breasts, pausing as the material pooled around your hips.

Shifting his own hips, Miguel stretched one arm out on the back of the chair, his eyes fixed on your lace-covered tits.

Pausing just a moment longer - just to feel like you had a little bit of power - you finally turned around, giving Miguel a generous view of your ass as you pushed the dress over the swell of your hips. It dropped to the floor and you leaned all the way over, showing off your lace thong as you pulled the dress off your feet.

"Stay," he ordered, wetting his lips at the sight in front of him. The thin slip of lace barely covered your pussy and left your round ass bare for him.

Bracing yourself on your fingertips, you obeyed, your body folded in half - ass on display.

"Get on your hands and knees."

You thought he would join you - maybe fuck you like this, but he wasn't done giving orders.

"Turn around and crawl."

Fuck. Something about his new crawling command made your pussy quiver. You quickly complied, slowly crawling toward him in your lace bra and thong, noticing the huge bulge in his black pants.

"Good girl," he purred, his eyes flashing wildly at you on your hands and knees for him.

After ordering you to stop, he asked you to take off your bra. "Want to see those pretty tits," he almost growled. "Play with them for me."

You did as he asked, grabbing two handfuls of your breasts and kneading them, putting on a show for him, before rolling your nipples tantalizingly.

"That's it, baby," he panted, reaching to stroke his hard length over his pants. "Look so pretty for me."

"Don't you want to touch me, Miguel?" You pleaded, working your breasts and rolling your hips downward temptingly.

Damn you were breathtaking. Miguel unfastened his pants and slid his hand inside to pull out his cock, needing some friction.

He ignored your question, instead demanding that you get your panties nice and wet for him. You rubbed your panties up into your center before removing them and making sure they were sopping. Reaching for them, Miguel draped the soaked lace over his cock and began to jack himself off.

A really embarrassing sound left your mouth at the sight. This brilliant man was filthy and you could not get enough of it.

"Show me your pussy," he commanded, his voice strangled as he pumped his cock with your panties around it.

Leaning back on your elbows, still on the floor, you spread your naked legs wide for him.

"Use your fingers," he panted, "and fuck yourself."

"Miguel, I want you," you begged. "I'm so wet, baby. I need you so bad."

Disobeying his command, you closed your legs and got on all fours again, crawling toward him.

He almost came at the sight. But you weren't listening to him.

"I told you what to do," he warned, halting the motion of his hand on his cock.

"I don't want to," you pouted, reaching up from the floor to place your hands on his thighs. "We're not at work - you can't tell me what to do."

Growling, he tossed your panties aside and grabbed the nape of your neck, yanking your head forward. "I'm nice to you at work, muñeca, but this is different."

"Prove it," you challenged, a little on the bratty side. "Because I'm getting bored over here by myself."

His crimson irises flashed angrily. "Bored? And what is it that will keep you from being bored?"

Reaching for his cock, you used both hands to twist it almost painfully, causing him to hiss in pleasure. "I want you to fuck me."

Pushing your hands away from him, he kept his grip on your neck with one hand. Standing up, he used his free hand to push his pants and underwear down to his knees.

"Oh, I'm going to fuck you," he darkly whispered, using one hand rub the tip of his cock along your cheek and then over your lips. "Show me your tongue."

Peering up at him expectantly, you complied, the heat between your legs pooling and beginning to drip as he laid his thick, heavy length on your waiting tongue.

"I'm going to give you what you want, baby," he lowly purred. "I'm going to fuck your face until you cry for me."

Snapping his hips forward, he thrust his cock to the back of your throat, making you instantly gag on his tip, which made him groan in pleasure.

"You're gonna take me - all of me - and show me you're my good girl," he ordered, fucking your mouth deeply...steadily.

Ignoring the plush rug burning your knees, you struggled to breathe in through your nose, hollowing your cheeks to make it good for him. Tears burned your eyes as he hit the back of your throat again.

He growled at the mess he was making of you, but there was a small part of him that wondered if he would push you too far. You hadn't been quite this rough with one another in the office. Loosening his grip on your hair, he slightly slowed his thrusting when he felt your soft hands reaching around to grasp the round curve of his ass. Then you pulled him hard down your throat, sucking and swallowing so deliciously that he almost came from that one motion.

If Miguel wanted to be rough with you, then you would be rough right back. He was going to fucking pay for it later though. You wanted some things from him too.

Ramming him back into your face, you worked him fast and deep, moaning against his cock until you felt him wet and hot on your tongue. You drank him down, your pussy fluttering at the animalistic noises you'd managed to pull from him while he finished.

Pulling off his softening cock, you wiped your messy mouth with the back of your hand, taking a moment to catch your breath.

Your eyes flickered up to his fucked out expression and you held his gaze, standing up, ready for the next round.

"My turn," you purred, taking his hand and pulling him toward the plush leather chair he'd first sat in. Easing down, you spread your legs. "Get on your knees."

Still reeling from the life-changing things you'd just done with your mouth, Miguel huffed out a laugh. "Funny."

Narrowing your eyes, you closed your legs and crossed your arms over your tits. If he was going to deny you, then he wouldn't get to gawk.

"You fucking heard me, Miguel," you warned. "It's my turn."

Feeling a little apprehensive about eating you out, he decided to remind you, "I thought you wanted me to fuck you."

"Yeah, I do," you teased, "with your tongue."

You spent the next several minutes in absolute heaven. Miguel wasn't about to deny you. Something about you bossing him right back had him hardening again, quickly.

Being careful with his fangs, he dragged his tongue up and down your slit, toying with every fold and crevice, teasing you, tasting and relishing you. You had expected Miguel to eat pussy like a demon, but this slow sampling thing was making you feral.

What started as begging words descended into the most desperate, filthy sounds that had ever emanated from your throat, ever. Flattening his tongue, Miguel pressed hard on your clit, moving side to side before rapidly fluttering the tip. The change of motion and the faster pace made you come instantly.

Somehow, your first orgasm only made you hungrier for him. It hardly relieved any of your desire for him to completely ruin you all night long.

Sliding your fingers into his dark waves, you turned his head up to face you. "I want more," you desperately whispered, easing off the chair and shoving him down onto the rug. Pushing his shirt up his ripped abdomen, you stopped as your fingers toyed with his nipples.

"Get out of these clothes and fuck me."

"So bossy," he smirked, rolling you over and laying you on the soft carpet. Ripping his shirt over his head, he enjoyed the sight of you licking your lips at his rippling muscles. Shedding the rest of his clothes, he eased back onto the chair, preparing to pull you backward onto his lap like usual.

Safer that way.

He could tell you wanted him to kiss you, but maybe you could go a couple rounds and blow off some steam before he tried to confess to you why he hadn't.

"Come down here," you purred, stretching your hand out to him. "Lie down with me."

"You like giving the orders, don't you?" He smiled at you and decided to join you on the floor.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you inched your body underneath his, allowing your legs to fall open. "I want to see your eyes while you fuck me," you admitted to him, your gaze flickering to his mouth.

His tongue darted out to wet his lips before he could even think about trying to control the signals he was giving you.

Easing up just a little, you pressed your lips to his, reaching to ease his stiff cock inside you.

"F-fuck," he whispered against your mouth, shifting his hips to sink into you fully. "Always feel so good around me, baby."

"Kiss me," you begged, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him deeper.

This was such a bad idea. But he kissed you. Just your lips. Slowly fucking into you, he pressed his mouth gently to yours. Then he nibbled your top lip before switching to your bottom. It all went to hell when you slid your tongue inside his mouth.

His first instinct was to roughly push you away, but he managed to sit up, his back hitting the chair and his cock still inside you. You eagerly shifted to this new position, easing down in his lap to ride him, letting out a soft whine as the two of you rocked back and forth.

"Feels so good, Miguel," you gasped, twisting your beautiful body, your tits bouncing as you moved a little faster.

Strong hands slid up the curve of your back as he took a nipple into his mouth, careful to lick rather than suck. You moaned, gripping his hair and fucking yourself down on him harder.

He switched nipples, pulling the most deliciously desperate sounds from your mouth. But once he eased back to look at you, you pounced. You kissed him hard, gripping the sides of his face, slowing your thrusts as your tongue plunged into his mouth.

Then the tip of your tongue ran across his fang and sliced open.

His eyes shot open as the warm, metallic taste of your blood filled his mouth. Gripping your hair, he sucked hard on your tongue, his hips fucking up into you at a rapid, bruising pace.

Everything he was doing had turned suddenly rough, but you were into it, moaning into his mouth as he sucked your tongue. Then you felt his other fang slice into your tongue and Miguel growled like an animal into your mouth.

Letting out a little whimper at the sting, you thought maybe he'd just gotten carried away, when he ripped his mouth away from yours and buried his face into the crook of your neck.

"Taste so fucking good," he darkly growled, fucking you so hard and so fast you could barely think straight.

You started to say his name when you realized he was licking your throat. Your brain short-circuited when he kissed you there. You felt like a limp rag doll, unable to keep up with his wild bucking.

A sudden pain zipped through your body as you realized Miguel had bit you. Hard. You had noticed his sharp teeth before. They looked like fangs, but you just assumed they were very prominent canines.

You were wrong. They were definitely fangs because now, Miguel was drinking your blood. He was actually sucking blood out of you.

You should have been afraid. You should have been disgusted. But your body simultaneously ascended to a euphoric bliss and began to go strangely numb. You were coming - it was the strangest, wildest, best orgasm of your life. But at the same time, you felt as though you had been drugged.

Miguel was sucking and sucking and growling and fucking - he finished inside you, and by then, you couldn't even feel his warmth. When he pulled away, his eyes were wild and glowing bright red, matching the blood - your blood drenching his chin.

You felt so weak, so limp in his arms - strangely safe but never more vulnerable. You wanted to reach up to touch his face, to somehow connect with him in some way, or to calm his eyes, which were franticly scanning over your body. But you couldn't move your arm.

Realizing you were somewhat paralyzed, you let out a little whine of desperation, and started to feel afraid.

"Shhh, shh, it's okay," Miguel soothed, cradling you close and rocking you in his arms. "It's okay, you're okay."

Your eyes burned with tears but you could barely feel them roll down your cheeks.

Miguel should have felt awful.

But as you laid there, limp in his arms, crying for him, numb and bleeding from your throat - he'd never seen a more perfect sight. What he wouldn't give to fuck you again, just like this.

He knew he was a monster, and that he was never going to see you again after this night. But just for a moment, he allowed the beast to revel in the madness.

Scooping you up in his arms, he carried you down the hall to his bedroom, a thrill spiking through him as you whimpered in fear.

"You were such a good girl for me," he whispered, laying you down and brushing his fingers across your cheek. "I'm going to take care of you now."

He left the room just long enough to get a couple of damp cloths - one to wipe up the mess between your legs and one to clean the bloody wound on your throat. Just the sight of his spend leaking out of you and your blood dripping from the punctures in your neck made him hard - again.

That was the thing about regenerative powers and superhuman stamina. He was always ready to fuck.

The animal in him wanted to climb on top of you and take your limp body, listening to your sweet whimpers and drinking and drinking until he'd had his fill. His gaze roved over you hungrily as he reached to brush one hand over your breast.

But as your beautiful, desperate eyes flickered up to his, he wanted to be more for you. He wanted to be human again. "I'll get you some clothes," he said softly.

When he returned, he was dressed in a pair of black joggers, his mouth clean of blood. Lifting your body up, he slid a soft t-shirt over your head. Then he slid a pair of his boxer shorts over your legs. They were hilariously big, but it would signal to you that nothing more was going to happen between your legs.

Lifting you up a little, he pulled the covers out from under you before tucking you in gently. He eased down beside you and reached for your hand.

"The numbness you feel will wear off soon. I'm going to get your things. If you feel tired, you can sleep. I won't bother you." He sighed, realizing how badly he'd fucked everything up. Nodding to the bedside table, he added, "There's a phone if you want to call for a car. Whatever you want to do is fine."

Giving your hand a final squeeze, he stood and turned to leave the room. Hearing a distressed whimper, he turned back. "It'll wear off, I promise."

He was right. In a few minutes, you could start to feel your fingers and toes and your tongue didn't feel like sandpaper. But with the returned feeling, you distinctly felt the sharp stab wounds in your neck.

Miguel returned with your dress, handbag and shoes and set them on a nearby chair, before placing your phone on the bedside table.

"M-Miguel," you managed to whisper, your fingers twitching as you tried to reach for him.

Seeing your distress, and hearing his name on your lips, brought him back to reality. The guilt he felt was crushing, but he deserved it. He was an animal and he had hurt you.

"I won't bother you again, sweetheart. Just rest, okay?" Then he turned to leave.

You said his name again, making him halt.

"Stay."

@deputy-videogamer

next->

#miguel o'hara #decadent fic #miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara fanfic #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x f!reader #miguel o'hara x you #spiderman across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse #spider-man: across the spider-verse #sm: atsv fic #sm: atsv #spiderverse #oscar isaac fic

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beardedjoel · 10 months

Text

closer | part two

joel x f!reader. non-apocalypse au

series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3

chapter summary: a few flirty run-ins and near-intimate moments with joel lead you to make a decision to progress things to the next level with him. 5.6k words.

warnings: 18+ MDNI, age difference (joel is 42 and reader is 25), porn with some plot, mostly just flirtin’ together this chapter and ONE (1) KISS, reader is described as having hair that can be brushed back or wrung out, reader wears a bikini

a/n: i think i’m going to post one chapter here per day until i’m caught up with my ao3 posts so expect more on the way! <333

You head outside into the warm afternoon, taking a break from unpacking around your parents’ house to go swimming in their pool. You have just a longer t-shirt covering up your bathing suit, and you plop down on the edge of the pool, dipping your feet in and feeling the cool water lapping against your lower legs. You turn your head and casually scan Joel’s yard, not seeing him around. He’s likely at work, you decide, considering it’s a weekday. Although he’d been home yesterday during the day, so maybe he had a varied schedule? You start cursing yourself for going so deep in thought about the man’s work schedule for fuck’s sake. You have got to stop obsessing. You decide to try and think about something else, picking up your book from next to you on the ground and reading for a bit, kicking your legs absentmindedly through the water

When it finally gets too hot to focus on the words on the page, you pull off your shirt, discarding it onto the lounge chair nearby. You slide yourself into the pool, feeling the immediate, pleasant relief of the water over your hot skin. You lazily swim a few laps, cooling off, dunking your head under the water. You push back up to the surface, smoothing your hair back and clearing the water from your eyes. When you open them and blink a few times, you see Joel outside in his backyard again. He’s got a gray shirt and basketball shorts on, and you quirk an eyebrow as you’re reminded how fucking good he looks in active wear. You immediately feel a fluttering panic in your stomach, unsure if he’s seen you or if you should address him first. After your conversation yesterday you’re not sure where you two stand, if it’s okay to chat whenever you see him. You don’t have to wait long before he looks in your direction, and you know he’s spotted you once you lock eyes from afar. He walks towards his side of the fence and gives you another one of those gorgeous, lopsided grins.

“Well hello again,” Joel calls to you. You swim up to the edge of the pool closest to him and place your arms out onto the concrete to anchor yourself up a bit out of the water.

“Hi,” you call back, nervously paddling your legs in the water. “Er, how are you?” you ask awkwardly.

“Doin just fine, darlin’, yourself?” he replies, leaning a hand on the fence now. You sort of hate how he’s just cool as can be when he speaks to you, and meanwhile you feel like your insides are churning, barely able to get a word out.

“Um, good, I’m good.” You want to die from embarrassment - how are you so incapable of holding a conversation with this guy? You’re fun, you’re charismatic, and you’re friendly god damn it, you remind yourself silently. You also remind yourself that you’re currently in a bikini, and a rather skimpy one at that, something you could use to your advantage. You pull yourself out of the pool, sending water dripping all over the ground below you and wring some of the water from your hair. Joel’s expression changes noticeably from what you can see at this distance, his eyebrows raising as it looks like he’s fighting to keep his eyes on your face. Maybe you’re able to break his cool facade after all.

“What’re you up to?” you ask, approaching a bit closer, then settling yourself on one of the lounge chairs nearest to his yard. You see his eyes dip down to your chest, then back up to your face. Does he think he’s being sneaky, or know you can see and just doesn’t care?

“Just lookin’ to take care of the yard, water some plants, got off work early today,” he replies, and you nod.

“What do you do… for work?” You wring your hands together a bit, a nervous habit.

“I’m a contractor, so we take care of buildin’ what needs to get built, stuff like that,” he explains.

“It’s all coming together - the gate latch, the cabinet, the random work hours,” you reply, giving him a small smirk. He returns it and cocks his head, seeming to realize you’ve been noticing his schedule. “Do you… want any help? With the yard?” you ask, finding it easier and easier to embolden yourself around him since the ice was finally broken yesterday.

“Nah, sweetheart, you just enjoy your time over there,” he says pragmatically.

“I could just… keep you company then? If you don’t want me working too hard,” you smile sweetly at him. The smile undoes him and he chuckles, shaking his head a little, finally figuring out that you’re not taking no for an answer right now.

“Alright then, come on over.”

Joel knows this is a bad idea, but he finds himself saying those words anyways, inviting you to spend time with him. He groans internally seeing you stand up from the lounge chair, your body on full display in that tiny fucking bikini, simple and black with a high cut bottom, revealing more of your legs and hips than he’s sure he can handle. He steps away from the fence and awaits your arrival, seeing you put back on your long t-shirt and wishing you wouldn’t, wanting to get a closer eyeful of that swimsuit. It’s probably for the best though, if he’s going to get any work done - he can’t be distracted ogling a young girl like you anyways.

Unfortunately for him, when you walk along the side of his house and into view again, the t-shirt just skimming the very tops of your thighs, it’s almost worse - such a tease to be so close to revealing your ass to him. He sighs quietly, resigning himself since he was the one who agreed to you coming over in such an absurd outfit. As you walk past him to grab a chair to sit on, your sweet scent drifts by, something floral with a hint of chlorine and sunscreen - you smell like summer personified. Shit, he thinks, lingering on it a little too long, wishing he could bury his face into your neck and breathe it in, the thought eliciting a twinge from inside his shorts.

Joel continues trying to get some work done, pulling the hose from where it’s coiled near the house and watering the garden. You grab a chair from his patio set nearby and sit down, perched on the edge of it, anxiously watching for a few moments. Joel can feel your eyes on him again, and he tries to focus on the flowers he’s surely overwatering by having his mind scrambled by you, trying not to peer over at your thighs looking so inviting.

“You’ve lived in Austin long?” you suddenly blurt out, not sure where to begin the conversation now that you’re here.

“Mhm, my whole life,” Joel replies.

“Family here?” you ask, hoping you’re not being too invasive.

“Yeah. Mostly just see my brother, Tommy, though.”

“I’m an only child… always wished I had a brother,” you muse in reply.

“Sometimes you’d wish you didn’t,” Joel chuckles, and you crack a smile. He looks over as it’s happening and he loves the sight, seeing you grin at something he said. Your heart skips a beat as his eyes lock with yours for that split second before he diverts his attention back to his garden.

“You’re the oldest then, huh?”

“You guessed it,” he says. “That obvious?”

“All my friends with younger siblings have that same tone when they talk about them,” you say with a little laugh. Now that you’re easing into conversation and it feels more natural, you feel your body loosen a bit from the stiff posture you’d been sitting in. You pull your legs up and sit cross legged on the chair now, leaning back a bit more to get comfortable. Joel feels his body have the opposite reaction, stiffening next to you. He sees you sliding your legs into this new position, the t-shirt riding up further on your hips, revealing the black bikini bottoms below it. He clutches the spray gun of the hose a little tighter to try and get out some of the building tension.

You both chat casually, keeping it strictly friendly as you learn a little bit about each other. He asks about college, seeming impressed that you have your Master’s degree and a “fancy” job offer lined up, as he put it. You find out that he loves his job, but it was more out of necessity to get into construction, as he didn’t have the funds or motivation to attend college at the time, and now he feels it’s too late to go back. He wants to know more about Chicago, since he’s never been, and you want to know all the places he’s traveled to, which are far and few between. You feel an ache inside of you to take him anywhere he wants to go, and explore those new places together. You learn he really likes football like any typical Texan man, and is surprised when you admit you don’t really understand the rules much to this day. It’s just not really your thing, you tell him, and he replies that you’ll have to watch a game with him sometime and see if you still don’t enjoy it after that. The way he so casually says it stops you for a moment, thinking about how he’s basically trying to make plans with you right now, and you feel your stomach flutter at the thought of being alone in his house with him, watching football, even if you couldn’t care less about the sport.

It’s easy and fun, talking to Joel, and you suddenly realize you don’t know what you were so afraid of before, aside from him still being the most devastatingly attractive man you’ve ever laid eyes on. Once and a while, you still find yourself getting tripped up on your words when he looks at you for a little too long, or you catch his gaze climbing up your legs once again.

You realize you two have been talking for over an hour, and a thick layer of clouds are rolling in. You glance up at the sky, pointing it out to Joel.

“Looks like it should blow right over,” he comments, squinting upwards, and as if the sky was listening with perfect comedic timing, you feel several raindrops start to hit your face. You arch an eyebrow at him and giggle as the sky starts to unleash on you two, rain suddenly pouring down. Joel laughs and throws his gardening tools on the ground, then quickly jogs in your direction, grabbing your hand and pulling you out of the chair. He doesn’t let go of it, dragging you along as he heads for his covered patio. You’re giggling the whole way, feeling like you’re living in some kind of dream, the touch of his warm, rough hand on yours sending a fuzzy feeling into your core. Once you two are under the awning, he drops your hand, but you can still feel your skin buzzing from his touch.

“Oh my god,” you say, trying to catch your breath as you laugh, doubled over.

“So much for all the work I just did, huh?” Joel says, hands on his hips as he stares out at the rain soaking his already watered garden. You can’t help but linger your eyes on him a little longer than feels appropriate, seeing his t-shirt stuck close to his body from the rain, and the way he’s pushing his dark waves of wet hair off his forehead, slicking them back. You shiver at the sudden change in temperature from the rainstorm combined with your lack of clothing, and Joel notices, turning towards you.

“Hang on darlin’, let me grab you a towel,” he says, before retreating inside of his house. You hoped he might invite you in to dry off, but know that might be a stretch to think he’d offer. As he walks back over to you, despite your crossed arms trying to warm your body, he can see your nipples, hard and pushing against your white shirt, soaked and sticking to every curve of you. The outline of the black bikini underneath the wet shirt almost does him in completely, and he sucks in a breath to try and calm himself. He’s holding a striped beach towel as he walks up next to you, and to your surprise, he wraps it around your shoulders for you. You give him a wavering smile as his hands brush along your shoulders, sending what feels like an electric current down your spine. The towel smells fresh and clean, but also kind of like you’d imagine him smelling, the scent of his home lingering on the fabric. You try to breathe it in without being too obvious.

“Thanks,” you mumble as you wrap the towel around yourself a little tighter, trying not to look at the ground. Suddenly, you’re back to being terrified of speaking to him - the way he looks when he’s wet from the rain, the unreadable gaze in his brooding eyes that you don’t want to mistake for desire, the distance between the two of you being so small right now. You so desperately wish you could read his mind - if he just thinks of you as a friendly girl next door, or anything more? Could an older guy like him even find anything of merit in someone like you? Someone inexperienced and painfully shy around him? You think you just might be able to gather the courage to move a little closer, test the boundaries, when a loud boom of thunder rumbles through the sky, causing you to jump, sending your body shivering even more.

“Jesus,” you breathe, clutching your chest. Joel has instinctively put a hand on your upper arm, and he chuckles.

“Easy now,” Joel purrs, smirking down at you. “Lookin’ a little tense, there.”

“S-sorry, guess I’m feeling jumpy. Just the storm.”

“You’re shakin’ like a leaf,” Joel comments, and his hand, still on your arm, rubs it through the towel, attempting to relax you and warm you. Your eyes widen slightly, this is the most you’ve ever been touched by him, and despite the chill wracking your body, your core begins to heat up, stomach turning slightly in anticipation. That look in his eye that you’ve been trying to read is back, looking down at you, scrutinizing you, turning you on.

“I-I’m okay,” you say, teeth chattering.

“Oh, look at you, why don’t you come inside, warm up?” he offers, and while it’s music to your ears, for some reason you hesitate, the back of your mind pulling at you for some reason. Shit, you think, remembering what your brain was trying to remind you of. It’s getting close to when you’re supposed to pick your dad up from work. Your parents have been carpooling with his broken leg leaving him unable to drive, but you’d offered to help out today so your mom could run some errands. You quickly debate just throwing that out the window and going inside with Joel, knowing that’s just not the type of person you are.

“T-that’s awfully nice, I really want to, b-believe me,” you say between still chattering teeth, hoping to plant a little seed in his mind with the words, “But I’m sorry, I s-should probably head out. I have to go pick my dad up, with the broken leg and all that, he can’t drive,” you tell him reluctantly, trying to make sure he can see the disappointment on your face.

“Sure thing,” he says, getting slightly closer to you, setting your nerves even more on edge. “That’s a real shame, but thanks for comin’ by today.”

His tone has a million suggestions behind it as he closes the gap between you, and you nod, feeling your breath coming out more nervously now. You’re close enough to breathe his scent in, full of sweat and rain and dirt, so fucking sexy, and you feel a tingling pull at your core traveling downwards. Joel can see your chest heaving slightly under your shirt, and it takes everything in him not to tear it off of you, carry you inside of his house, and unleash all the dirty thoughts he’d been having about you. Instead, he settles on a little smirk, stepping the tiniest bit closer, and when you don’t back away, but instead seem to lean into it, he lifts his hand and thumbs your chin, holding it tenderly for a few seconds with a stroke of his fingers.

“Stop by anytime, okay?” he says, and you stare wide eyed, trying to will your voice to come back to you as your lips sit parted in surprise.

“Y-yes, okay,” you finally manage to say, and Joel backs up a few steps. “Sounds good.”

You wave to Joel and then rush off, taking a deep breath to settle your sudden nerves at the encounter you just had with him. The rain has mostly let up, but you’re still soaked, so you decide to change before leaving. When you go into your apartment, you peer out the window that overlooks his backyard and see he’s still outside. There’s a small chance he’d notice, but you decide on a whim to undress in front of the window, untying your bikini top with your back turned to Joel’s view and letting it fall. You bend down to pull off your bottoms, trying to turn your head just enough to see out the window without being obvious, and sure enough you think you see him looking in your direction out of the corner of your eye. You smile deviously to yourself, giving an unnaturally long few seconds with your body on display before putting on a top, underwear, and shorts and leaving the room. The entire drive to pick up your dad, you commend yourself on your bold move, despite your cheeks burning at the thought of it.

You spend the rest of that evening in your own space, not feeling up for interacting with anyone, especially your parents. The encounter with Joel from today has you feeling wired, stressed, and most of all, exhausted. You can’t tell if he’s just playing around with you like his little toy, or maybe he just touches people’s faces to be nice? The thought sounds stupid to even you, and you half laugh to yourself before sighing, your frustration growing. You barely want to consider the other possibility, the risk of being disappointed feels too high, but maybe… just maybe he’s actually interested in you? No other reason or motivation or intention behind it, maybe he really is interested. You try not to think too hard about it, but end up lying awake in that half dozing state most of the night, your stomach in knots, wishing you had the guts to ask what he’s feeling and simply be bold for once in your life. The sun begins to come up, shining golden early morning rays of light through your window, and you groan into your pillow at the sight of it, feeling defeated.

Your brain is fried, having barely gotten a few hours of actual sleep last night, and you’ve finally decided to get up and get on with your day. Your parents left you with the task of taking Benny on his quick early morning walk so they can spend more time getting your dad ready for work, which is a bigger production than usual with his leg cast. You yawn, opening the front door, still in a pair of soft sleep shorts and a cropped t-shirt - you figure it’s just a quick jaunt around the block at an early hour, so who cares what you look like?

Once you open the door, Benny jolts forward, something he’s never done before, and the leash slips from your hand in your sleep deprived haze. “Shit,” you mutter, starting to call after him. He’s immediately dashing over towards Joel’s house, and you chase behind him, trying to catch up. Caught up in the panic of the moment you don’t even see that Joel is outside, rolled underneath his truck doing some work on it, jeans and boots sticking out of the side. Benny is rushing over to greet his new friend, and in his over-excitement he jumps onto Joel’s leg, startling him. You’re just a few feet away when you see it all happen, and cringe when you hear Joel holler curse words after his whole body jumps underneath his car. He’s starting to push himself out from under the truck when you finish running up, breathless. You snatch Benny’s leash, finally getting a hold on him again.

“Oh, god, shit, are you okay?” you cry out, looking down at Joel, your eyes wide and scanning over him. He groans slightly, putting a hand to his head and sitting up. When he catches sight of you, standing above him, his expression changes, your favorite lopsided grin coming to his face.

“So you’re the culprit,” he says upon seeing you, and you can’t help but roll your eyes a little, despite feeling a flutter inside at hearing his gorgeous southern drawl.

“I’m sorry,” you say sincerely, “He doesn’t usually do that, I think he just likes you,” you gesture at Benny, unable to help cracking a smile at his unbothered demeanor right now.

“S’alright, buddy, I’m happy to see you too,” Joel says, scratching Benny’s side while he pants in Joel’s face, tail wagging wildly. Joel’s other hand comes off of where it was holding his forehead, and you can see that there’s a gash actively bleeding onto his face.

“Shit, Joel. You’re really hurt, you’re bleeding,” you say, your mouth open in shock. “Let me help you.”

“Nah, that’s okay, I can take care of it,” he replies, trying to wave you off.

“No, come on, it’s my fault anyways. I know my parents have a first aid kit.” You offer him your free hand, and mutter a quick “please,” to him accompanied by pleading eyes. He caves, taking your hand and letting you help him up with a grunt. He follows you back to your parents’ place, and you’re too deep in helper mode to even really think about the fact that you’d just stayed up half the night thinking about the man you were now inviting into the empty house with you.

You offer Joel a seat in the living room, and rush off to grab the first aid kit. He’s leaned back, legs spread wide on the couch, and for the first time today, you’re noticing him in that way again. You have a brief desire to climb onto that lap and straddle him before you force yourself to just fucking focus.

“Okay, okay, where is it,” you mutter to yourself, digging through the first aid kit while you stand in front of Joel.

“Still in your pajamas?” he says, an eyebrow arched as he studies you closer, taking in your very tiny sleep shorts. Joel feels a satisfaction at seeing the blush color your cheeks as you see him inspecting the length of your legs stretching down from your shorts. Despite his head pounding, he finds he’s feeling a stirring in his middle, traveling downwards to his crotch at just how close your ass is to hanging out of the fabric. He fights internally to not let his thoughts begin to run away with him, but when he catches sight of the sliver of your stomach poking out from under your t-shirt as well, he knows he’s entering dangerous territory.

“I’ll have you know, it’s only seven thirty in the morning,” you quip back, before pausing. “Hey, wait, stop distracting me - this is a medical emergency,” you chide with a hint of humor in your tone, furrowing your brows, and Joel chuckles in response. You’re moving around anxiously, pulling out supplies from the first aid kit, feeling guilty that he’s hurt because of you and wanting to fix it as quickly as possible.

“Slow down, darlin’, you’re the only one havin’ an emergency,” he jokes, low and gruff, and you crack a shy grin, leaning forward to inspect the gash on his face. Now that you’re stopping to look more closely, you see the sheen of sweat still remaining on his forehead, the smudge of oil on his cheek from working on his car, how scruffy his hair looks. The sight of that alone is enough to make you slow down and soak it in, carefully pressing a piece of gauze to the wound and cleaning it.

“Is that okay?” you ask gently, catching Joel’s eyes and softening your gaze. You almost falter, being this close to his face and looking into his eyes at the same time, butterflies popping up in your stomach again. Now that the adrenaline of the incident is fading, you’re nervous as hell, and your hands are shaking a little bit. Joel’s whole body is right there, practically underneath you, looking perfectly rugged…and sexy and… manly. Fuck. Focus.

“Just fine,” he smiles, as if he can read your exact thoughts right now.

You pull out a hydrogen peroxide wipe and begin dabbing around the cut with it. “Sorry,” you practically whisper as Joel sucks in a breath at the stinging sensation. You gently hold his head still by the jaw with one hand while placing a small butterfly bandage over the cut. The feel of his jawline and beard under your fingers is hard to ignore, and you fight the urge to sink your fingers further, cupping his whole cheek.

“Okay, looks good,” you say quietly, moving to take your fingertips off of where they were resting. Joel’s hand reaches up, touching yours, a gentle request to leave it in place.

“Thank you,” he says softly, his eyes now full of kindness and appreciation, studying your face. “Such a sweet girl,” he adds, throwing a little smile your way. You feel yourself flush warmer, finding you like the pet names he gives you more and more every time, the way they make you feel weak in the knees, make your heart rate pick up a little bit. You breathe out slowly, realizing just how close your faces are now, and Joel’s hand covers yours a little more aggressively, wrapping his fingers around the back of your hand to your palm. The sensation causes your breath to hitch, and you can’t be sure, but you feel like Joel is leaning closer now.

Your head is buzzing, you want this so badly, but you feel like your heart is going to leap out of your throat. You move without thinking, without reason, and place your lips onto Joel’s, fluttering your eyes shut. A shaky breath comes out of your nose as you kiss him, your whole body trembling. It’s a rather chaste kiss, but you try to deepen it despite your nerves and feel Joel beginning to reciprocate. His lips feel warm and inviting and perfect, just as you’d imagined dozens of times. You dare to open your mouth a little more, sliding your tongue along his. He groans a little, returning the movement with more urgency. His hand is still holding yours, but his other one reaches forward, brushing your ass. You’re so strung out, so anxious and wound up that the touch surprises you, causing you to yelp and pull back.

“I- I’m so sorry. I’m s-sorry,” you blurt out, putting a hand over your mouth. Joel’s hand drops from yours and you step back slightly, just enough that the tension between you two evaporates quickly. “Oh my god. Sorry, Joel, I just -“ you’re full on panicking, trying to explain yourself while Joel stands up to meet you in your tizzy.

“Hey, hey, don’t worry, it’s alright,” he says soothingly, putting a hand on your shoulder. You feel tears wanting to prickle behind your eyes and quickly blink them away, cursing yourself for being so stupid. “Maybe too much, huh? Sorry if I overstepped, I wasn’t sure… maybe I read ya wrong,” he says kindly, his head cocked a little bit, and it couldn’t be the furthest thing from the truth.

“No, Joel, it was - it was fine, I just - ” You stammer and search for words, wanting him to understand that you want him so badly it hurts. You ache for him day and fucking night, and now you messed up and he’s got the wrong idea, thinking he took advantage of you or something. All those thoughts rush through your head lightning quick, but you’re unable to verbalize it to him, your mouth giving up on making complete sentences right now.

“Relax.” He looks into your eyes sincerely, trying to catch your gaze, but you’re barely able to reciprocate, feeling so embarrassed. Your cheeks must be the most red hot they’ve been since you met him, and you feel the sting of the tears threatening again. “I’m not worried about it, promise.”

“Okay,” you say, finally looking up at him, defeated.

“Listen, I gotta get to work, already a little late as it is, but don’t you dwell on this, pretty girl, okay?” Joel says, squeezing your shoulder before removing his hand from it.

You nod and swallow the lump in your throat. “Okay, I’ll try.”

“I’ll still be ‘round, don’t worry,” he says, and you feel a glimmer of hope rush through you. Maybe all is not lost, you think as Joel shuts the door behind him.

Fuck. That’s the only word running through Joel’s head as he barrels down the road in his truck, already worked up because he’s about to be over twenty minutes late to work.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He has no idea what to make of that encounter with you, his mind reeling from the roller coaster of emotions you both experienced. He knew he shouldn’t test it, test those boundaries, with someone so much younger than him. What did he expect, that you would want to be with some old guy like him? He couldn’t really even read exactly what had happened in your living room - was it just a moment of shyness, or something more? Had he really read you that wrong the last two weeks - all the staring, the looks you gave, maybe it was nothing. Maybe he’d been so desperate when he saw your pretty smile that he made it all up.

Joel tries to shake off those thoughts, knowing they aren’t helpful right now. There was no way he’d imagined all of it, every stolen glance you’d given him, the way it felt like you’d been the one to initiate the kiss today. Maybe he would just back off, let you come to him - he certainly couldn’t be the creep who kept pursuing a relationship with a younger girl if she didn’t want it. You could be so shy that he wasn’t sure if you’d even push him away if it wasn’t what you wanted. As he pulls onto the job site, rushing to grab his things out of the car to start his day, he makes up his mind. It’ll be on you, he will give you some time to cool off, think things over, and you could both go from there. Joel swipes a hand down his face as he walks up to the half built new clothing store they’ve been working on, stepping over the frame and spotting Tommy.

“Hey man, where the hell have you been?” Tommy rushes up to Joel, looking concerned. He knew it was very unlike Joel to be late for work, let alone without a call.

“Sorry, got caught up,” Joel replies gruffly, pointing to the cut on his head. He’s grateful he had an actual excuse, not just that he was delayed due to pining after and kissing his neighbor’s daughter at 8:00 in the morning.

“Sheesh, brother, that looks like something got you good. What happened there?” Tommy chuckles, peering closer at Joel’s forehead.

Joel grunts, not willing to share every detail of the story. Maybe his brother would understand, but he didn’t feel so sure about opening up to him about it yet, the creeping fear of judgment coming in. He still hasn’t figured out your exact age yet, but he knows it isn’t anywhere close to his.

“Just somethin’ dumb. Workin on my car. Damn neighbor dog scared me and I hit my head,” Joel says, settling on this condensed version of the story.

Tommy cracked a smile. “That all that’s got you in such a lovely mood?” he teases.

Joel frowns back at his brother, warning him. “I’m fine,” he replies curtly, brushing past Tommy, getting a raised eyebrow and shake of the head from his brother. Joel feels the much needed urge to focus on getting to work, not on the way your lips felt, or that tiny bit of your thigh he’d gotten to feel, or the memory of you changing in your window the other day, none of that. Work, Joel reminds himself, only work, trying to banish you from his mind for a while. Unsurprisingly to him, he lasts about ten minutes before all hell breaks loose in his mind again.

#thank you sm for all the love on the first chapter wow!!!!#fic: closer #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanficiton #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader

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narislvr · 4 months

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Thinking about a 27dresses!au with reporter!ellie x bridesmaid!reader.

"What was the theme? Humiliation?"

ᝰ.ᐟ Despite being the top writer for the celebrity marriages portion of the magazine she works for, Ellie was far from a believer in the concept of marriage or love in general.

That's why she finds you so interesting. You who was a bridesmaid for two weddings at once, running back and forth from the two receptions and thinking that no one would notice, but she did. Really, she didn't get why you would go to great lengths for weddings that weren't even yours. In her point of view it was just... stupid, and yet somehow, endearing.

Considering she had a deadline to uphear to, (and not because she had any sort of 'love at first sight' feelings) she strikes up a conversation with you, playful banter, and her flirty charm, as she decides to base her next piece about the pretentious yet charming bridesmaid she just so happened to encounter.

── TLDR: I just want to write the dresses scene with Ellie realizes she might be falling for the hopless romantic who is her complete opposite as she photographs each and every one of the 27 dresses on you and listens to the story behind them all. ♡ (pls let me know if this sounds interesting. I can't stop thinking about this)

#ellie williams au #ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie williams x f!reader #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams tlou #tlou ellie #romcom au #27 dresses #ellie x reader #yall i love romcoms sm

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pawified · 7 months

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owner!blade x puppy!f!reader. nsfw — sfw , fluff ﾉ sleepy puppy!reader ﾉ blade being the sweetest evr ﾉ reader is very mean whn she is woken up ﾉ princess + baby + darling as petnames ﾉ ! !

it's the middle of the day, half past 3:30 pm and you still haven't woken up from your nap.

All this morning you kept drifting off to sleep at random. at the breakfast table , standing up brushing your teeth, doing house chores, the list goes on and on — Blade noticed how tired you looked, dark circles , puffy face along a frown all morning.

by your request, you asked blade if he could put you down for your nap now and although it's only 11:00 am, he said yes. As he was walking upstairs with you in his arms, you fell asleep immediately.

once he got you to the shared bedroom, he laid you down grabbing the covers and tucking you in, you whine "kiss too." a pout sticking to your lips. Blade does nothing but laugh, "how could i forget."

once he gives you, your much needed kisses, he heads back downstairs to watch tv. — Now that half of the day has gone by, blade has errands to run, which means waking you up.

Blade makes his way up the stairs and towards the bedroom. Once he is in, he sees nothing but a ball of blankets and a tiny hand sticking out. He makes his way around the bed, he sits next too your sleeping frame "darling, it's time to wake up now." he says softly as he is stroking your head.

You swat his hand away. "go away!" voice groggy from such a deep sleep. you snatch the covers back over your head and turn in the opposite direction.

Blade lets out a soft laugh, instead of listening to your request, he pokes your side "come on, sleepy head. time to wake up!" You say nothing, still trying too sleep.

He pokes you again, this time successfully managing to annoy you. jumping up from the bed, pressing both palms into the mattress with a frown that cause lines in your forehead, Blade taking notice "if you keep frowning like that, those lines will be permanent." with a smug look, flicking your forehead.

" WILL YOU QUIT IT!" you say, smacking his chest. He laughs, grabbing your hands. "okay, okay. i'm sorry sweet girl, but come on time to get up" He says so softly, staring at you with so much love.

Blade heart is full so full that he feels tears welling up into his eyes. He takes in every detail of you. your hair is messy , face still puffy , dried drool on the side of your mouth and little yawns escaping your mouth every once and a while. He thinks you're so beautiful.

you look at him with big doe eyes, your head is tiled to the side, "what's wrong rennie?" your voice is quiet, but you say it like your voice is dripped in honey, Blade feels like his heart has stopped.

it's moments like this where blade wishes time would stop, he wants nothing but time too stop and freeze both of you into sweet, loving moments like this.

"nothing, princess." His voice is warm and inviting, "I just love you so much."

#˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆#𝑏𝑙𝑎𝑑𝑒 ℎ𝑜𝑛𝑘𝑎𝑖 — ♡ ᵎ #blade honkai #cryin i luv blade sm #blade x reader #owner!blade x puppy!reader #f!reader #blade x female reader #honkai star rail

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mggsv · 10 months

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Interrogated

suspect afab!reader x aaron hotch hotchner

the way this popped into my head should be especially illegal in so many ways. eat up hotchies ily <3

summary: As a suspect taken in for questioning it’ll be reasonable for the interrogator to be inside the room with you..instead hes outside watching you while you touch yourself

warnings: masturbation, unplanned public sex act, slight edging, slight degradation (from reader to self)

not proof read !

When he first walked into the room wearing that suit you couldn’t tear your eyes off of him The way he stared at you so intensely..like he could break you in one touch. It struck a match inside of you- that fire you couldn’t put out. Agent Hotchner, Hotch they called him. It almost wanted you to be guilty-you weren’t-but man if you were would he…

You weren’t sure. “I’m innocent.” you spoke clearly to him. you knew the rest of his team were watching. Your thighs rubbed together as you tried to keep your composure, but man was it hard…Hotch took notice of this of course, it was his job after all. “witnesses put you at the scene.”

“I live there.”

“Then why wouldn’t you be a suspect?”

“You tell me it’s your job.” There was a faint of a smirk on his lips before he stood, walking out of the room. There was a slight wet spot poking at your panties. Your sex thrived, it craved. You look at the glass window, staring at your own reflection before your eyes trained on the silver table and your thighs that tried to stimulate your wet cunt.

you weren’t sure how long you were in that room, agents going in and out asking you the same thing- you figured after the cute one Reid came in they finally realized you were innocent. You thought about Hotch and his gaze. You were practically leaking by the hour..

Your hand grazed your thigh- thank the stars you wore a skirt, you spread them slightly, just enough for your hand to rub your swollen clit through the thin wet material. You bite your lip to hold in the moan. Your finger grazes your nub again, pressing down to feel just how much you throbbed..how much you wanted “Hotch..” you moan out silently, pulling your panties to the side. Your finger dipped into your sex, whimpering at how wet your were- how wet Hotch made you.

It was embarrassing to say the least. Getting off in an interrogation room, knowing that someone could be watching you. Would they take you in? Look at you like you’re down right crazy yes- but they can’t arrest you.. you hoped.

“H..Hotch- Fuck.” you hated holding back your moans; you hated limiting how loud you could be. Your head was laying on the table while you fingered your cunt. Three fingers in you were losing your mind. Your eyes were rolling, your other hand thumbing your clit..you imagined his tongue lapping at you like a dog and water. You saw him fucking your throat while you came over your hands like a pathetic slut. You saw him bending you over on this table and devouring you while you cried to him about how innocent you were.

The thought alone made your body twitch and your legs shake as they closed around your hand, your orgasm strong. You whimpered and panted, clenching your toes.

Suddenly the door opens, and he clears his throat. You couldn’t look up, your fingers itching for another orgasm- your sex leaking for his cock.

“You’re free to go.” Hotch says, but the door closes. “But i’d like to do some follow up questions just in case..”

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siriuslygay1981 · 18 days

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Word count: 1,818 | Jegulus

Regulus was a weak weak man, how he became so feeble minded, he'll never know.

His eyes unconsciously trail over to the mop of brown hair that rests against the arm of the sofa. It had to be uncomfortable, he was sure the gryffindors neck would hurt for the rest of the day. He resists the urge to be soft and go get a pillow or something ridiculous.

Regulus slowly put his book down, not bothering to save his page, he didn't see the point. He probably wouldn't be back to finish the book anyways, which was a shame he had just gotten to the part where she rejected his proposal.

"You are mistaken, Mr.darcy, if you suppose that the mode of your declaration affected me in any other way, than as it spared the concern which i might have felt in refusing you, had you behaved in a more gentlemanlike manner…” he had murmured the words softly as he read it, careful not to speak too loudly with the faintly snoring boy next to him.

James had long since fallen asleep, his once gasping breaths now slow and even. James had somewhat acted how he expected when discovering the wretched truth..but he had surprised him in still staying. With the dark mark he knew he wouldn't make it out of this war alive..no matter what side won because he would not stay by the mad man he once idolized and the light side, as many called them, would surely never accept him, nor he them if he was honest. It was too much to get into so late in the war, he had chosen his side and he had no choice but to stick with it. He couldn't just switch sides as if this was some silly kids game.

He knew how the tattered book ended, he had read it a total of three times already. He remembers the first time, the late nights spent under his covers behind the closed curtains of his bed. Night after night he spent reading the pages, enraptured by the words that glided right off the page and pulled him in.

He remembers all the feelings that came with it.

The nights spent reading it had him longing for something, at first he couldn't place it but he knew what it was the second time around, the realization making him almost physically ill. He wasn't alone the second time through.

James would softly read the words to him as he swept his fingers gently up and down his arm leaving goosebumps behind and an aching burning need deep in his bones.

James didn't know how much power he had over Regulus, it was absolutely terrifying.

Sometimes it felt like he was bursting at the seams with the affection he held for the older boy

One night, as James was reading a chapter aloud, his hand absentmindedly running along his chest, he started to get closer to a certain passage.

Regulus’ already thumping heart seemed to speed up and stutter, his ears tuning into the deep voice.

He wasn't sure if he could handle james saying these next words, he gulped and looked up to the gryffindor who turned the page softly and continued. He glanced down at Regulus with a small smile, his voice lifting slightly.

Regulus let his eyes trail over the exposed skin before him. He trailed his eyes across the bump in his nose, his long eyelashes, his full lips, slowly trailing down to his throat and back up to the brown eyes he knew so well. He inhaled the scent that surrounded him, some earthy scent that always seemed to cling to the boy, like damp earth, sleekeazy’s, his cedar scented body wash.

His hearing tuned in again as if it knew the words were coming up

“You have bewitched me body and soul,-” he could hear James’ breath hitch as he read the next words, his mouth opening and closing before he continued to the next line

“and I love” he sounded breathless and Regulus could not for the life of him take his eyes off of him, his whole body attuning to James. He could barely exist in the same room with the stupid lovely boy, his heart raced, his mind blanked…he was a fool. A fool who just like the rest of Hogwarts, fell for the mischievous grin and large ego.

“I love, I love you.” his voice was husky and Merlin and Morgana both, Regulus was gone. He felt like he would physically spontaneously explode. Like all this…this thing inside of him was going to burst and he felt so overwhelmed, so full, he felt as if he was bathing in sunlight, the heated rays warming his body and heart. Anything James wanted…Regulus would do.

“And wish from this day forth never to be parted from you.” James paused, his eyes not leaving the book.

It was silent, tension filling the air.

Regulus slowly reached up for the book and immediately let it fall out of his hands and onto the floor, his body twisting as he sat up and removed his head from James’ lap. James frowned at the loss of contact but he zeroed in on regulus as he sat on his knees next to him.

Regulus reached forward his finger brushing against James’ cheek, like James couldn't help it, he sighed in content a shiver wracking his body.

Regulus let a small smile grace his lips, he never got over how responsive James was.

He cupped his face and rubbed his thumb over the beauty mark near his eye without really thinking about it.

James’ mouth parted, his eyes opening and staring at Regulus as if he was the only thing that mattered. He's sure neither would have noticed if the world was ending around them.

James leant forward, one hand coming up to grasp Regulus’ wrist

“Reg-”

He cut his memory off abruptly, he couldn't do this now. He softly lifts James’ feet off his lap and stretches.

He makes quick work of his last ends to be tied up. His mind drifted away and back as he wrote. He had to force himself to focus, begging himself to just get this over with. Dwelling on it longer than he had to only brought pain.

To the Dark Lord he starts, his hands trembling terribly.

I know I will be dead long before you read this. He resolutely didn't look at the sleeping form of James, he didn't dare let himself think of anyone else either.

but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret. I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can.

Strong all consuming rage filled him. He had to do this. He was doing it…but he still hated the bastard. Regulus forces himself to calm down before he continues to write

I face death in the hope that when you meet your match you will be mortal once more.

Gulping he dips his quill in some more ink before signing off.

R.A.B.

Angrily…he hopes the dark Lord figures out it was him….beneath that he hopes he never finds out.

He lets the note dry before shoving it into the fake locket and standing up. The heavy metal sets against his chest as he inhales a shaky breath. It burns against his skin, his heart thumps wildly.

“You have bewitched me body and soul” he murmurs as he kneels in front of the sleeping boy's form. He brushes a strand of hair out of James’ face, his heart aching as James’ nose scrunches up

“And I love…I love..i love you. And wish from this day forth never to be parted from you.” he murmurs the last bit almost sardonically

He stands up, ready to leave and meet his end-

A hand grabs his wrist as he turns causing him to gasp at the unexpected contact.

“Are you really trying to leave after confessing your love to me?” a incredulous raspy voice asks

Regulus purses his lips and begs the blush on his face isn't noticeable

“I don't know what you mean Potter” he almost cringes at how obvious he is.

He clears his throat and turns back to the now awake man

“Let go, i have places to be..” he tries to sound stern but it sounds weak to his ears

“No, i don't know what you plan on doing but I know you…and I know that you are about to do something stupid..i also know you will not be going alone.” James stands up slowly his hand never leaving Regulus’ wrist

“I'm not taking you with me, James.” he whispers

He keeps his face blank, his eyes hard, he tries to sound stern. His voice wavering betrays him though.

He's afraid.

James softens slightly but shakes his head and grabs both of Regulus’ hands

“I'm not giving you a choice. You're not going alone”

Regulus glares at James and tugs his hands free, suddenly very angry.

“I'm not giving you a choice James Potter, i'm going.” he gulps at James’ expression and barely stops himself from reaching out

“Kreacher will be with me, i won't be alone.” he adds because he's weak

“Not enough-” James says harshly “That's not enough. I'm coming with you.”

They stare into each other's eyes neither wanting to back down. Regulus scowls, his eyebrows pinching together. James stays still, determined not to lose. Regulus was surprised at James' determination, usually he would have given up by now. Giving into Regulus’ harsh gaze, not wanting to push Regulus away or make him upset.

Regulus goes over a dozen stunning spells in his mind as James stares at him both pleadingly and sternly He crumbles for a moment, his face scrunching up in despair.

“Please.” he whispers hoarsely

Regulus is a terribly weak man. His walls crumble to the floor, his heart clenching painfully. Against everything he knows he should do…he wants to agree. He likes to think it took him longer than a split second before answering.

“Ok”

the word is out of his mouth before he can fully decide but by then it's too late. He's sure it would've ended this way no matter what he did, James potter made him a weak man and it shows. Mostly when that blinding smiles hits regulus and his knees almost give out

He lets out a shaky breath, his eyes glued to the brightly smiling man in front of him.

“But if you don't do as I say…I'll stun you and tie you up before leaving you in the forbidden forest-” he spits out viciously

James just brushes one of his curls out of his face tucking it behind his ear, a soft smile on his lips.

“Alright..” he murmurs

His hand stays there unreasonably long, neither notice.

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owl-biscuit · 8 months

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Methinks they're kinda cute

The idea of Marcoh carrying around Olivia to help her up the stairs or get her out of danger sounded really cute though ashdaksdhf i couldn't help but draw it

Obligatory ship doodles

#fear and hunger termina #fear and hunger #fanart #f&h marcoh #f&h olivia #marcolivia #marcoh x olivia #funger #my art #owlbiscuit #i love them sm

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rustyaffection · 1 month

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haven’t posted here in a while so here’s a quick doodle of me and my husband i made a couple days ago!! he’s all i’ve been able to think about lately <3

#the pose is a bit stiff- sorry. i haven’t had the energy to draw much of anything really blehh #just wanted to sketch smth out cause i love sal sm..#i wanna be more active in the selfship community + reblog other people’s stuff n all that. but i’m so tired 24/7 #plus i keep forgetting i have this blog lol #╰┈➤ ❣️ // like real people do #╰┈➤ ✏️ // my art #f/o x s/i #f/o community #selfship #selfship art #selfshipping art #self insert #selfshipping #sal looks really off here for some reason ignore that #romantic f/o #i love being able to use like 500 tags it’s so fun #part of me wants to use the main salad fingers fandom tag but i’m not sure if people would like that very much 😭😭#i should've made his head a bit smaller but it's okay ig

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bizarrescribblez · 3 months

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Oh hell no who hit wakebun with the TV Girl beam!!!! 💙🩷 (aka alan knows me but i dont know him/the times we spent together in aw1)

#IMSO BOUGHGGHHGHHH OVER THIS DRAWING #its been sm fun drawing alan wake self ship stuff sorry guys #🐺🐰 down the rabbit hole #self ship #self ship community #f/o community #self shipping #self ship art #fictional other community #s/i x canon #s/i x f/o #self insert x canon #self insert x fictional other #alan wake #my bad alan wake community for using your tag im too excited ☹️

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ivystoryweaver · 11 months

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Decadent chapter 2

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Summary: Your first week on the job with Miguel

Pairings: Miguel O'Hara from the film Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse x female reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings/notables: AU story. 18+, cursing, smut, p in v, masturbation, handjob, it gets messy, workplace nonsense, use protection people! a brief moment of throat squeezing. not beta'd we die like everyones uncle ben... mentions of blood. a mention of violence and death

PREVIOUSLY on Decadent...

Squeezing his eyes shut, he shook those thoughts from his head. It was next-level annoying to have super powers at his disposal but still feel like shit half the time.

Blood was the key.

But in sustaining his body, he felt he was losing his soul.

He smelled you coming off the elevator.

New blood.

Fuck, he was hungry. He should have just fed last night. Then he wouldn't be distracted by--

"Miguel, your new assistant is here," LYLA chimed.

Miguel nodded to the hologram figure of his artificially intelligent assistant. "Thank you, Lyla. Send her in."

"I hope you're not attempting to replace me," Lyla voiced. "My capabilities are--"

"Yes, yes, I know," Miguel huffed. "She's not here for that. She's working on her doctorate and needs some practical--"

"Experience. Yes, I'm aware."

"Do not interrupt me," Miguel chided. "Just...send her in."

Miguel was a man who had no trouble getting a date. He didn't hire you for your looks. But damn if you didn't take his breath away as you scurried into his office, dressed to kill.

"Mr. O'Hara," you cheerily intoned, smoothing your sleek suit before extending your hand. "What an honor to meet you in person."

"Pleasure," he smoothly returned, taking your smaller hand in his while minding the retraction of his talons. "I've been anxious to meet you. We have a lot of work to do."

He shouldn't have touched you. Miguel rarely touched anyone unless he needed something specific from them. The blood temptation was too intense, and between talons and fangs and super strength - well it was better to just not bother.

Outside of the bedroom, he was sure he hadn't even hugged or held anyone since his daughter died... Better that way.

So the soft skin of your hand, so confidently extended - the gentle squeeze of your fingers as you smiled up at him beautifully - it made him jerk his hand away abruptly.

His eyes, which you noticed were dark red? in person, roved freely down your figure as if sizing you up, rather than checking you out. As his gaze returned to yours, you wondered how he managed red irises. They had looked light brown on your video call.

"You have excellent taste, but I’m afraid you’re overdressed," he voiced, turning his back to you as if he were busy with 100 other things. "I think you'll find that the work we do lends itself to a lab coat and goggles. I’ll see that you get some."

"Of course, sir," you swallowed, shifting uncomfortably. So much for a first impression. You would just have to impress him with your mind instead.

Hearing you call him sir sent a jolt of desire through his body.

You were a little caught off guard by the pierce of his crimson gaze as he turned back to you - and by the massive span of his broad shoulders. He was far more handsome in person, but you quickly reminded yourself that you were here for his brilliant mind.

"Let’s take a look then, shall we?"

Your first day in the lab completely blew you away. Miguel's intelligence somehow exceeded his good looks, and the two of you fell into an easy rhythm. He admitted to you that he had hired you because of your specific theories on genetic coding an gene splicing.

"I've read all your papers," he admitted, "and studied your coursework, all the way back to high school."

You were floored. You might as well have been an aspiring songwriter hearing that their favorite artist wanted to record their song and sing it as a duet.

What Miguel didn't tell you was that he was looking for someone specific. Someone with your intelligence and specialties, but someone...pure. Someone uncorrupted by mega corporations, or too much success or money. Someone young and eager, whose ideas on genetics lined up with his own. He needed someone to eventually help him get rid of his affliction.

He didn't want to drink blood anymore. He didn't want to be Spider-Man anymore. After all his dark deeds, after losing his little girl - he only wanted to see if he could ever be human again.

Unfortunately...or perhaps fortunately, the mutual attraction between the two of you filled the air with questions for him. He could see the effect he had on you, and he was pretty certain that resisting the softness of your smile, the angles of your face - the curve of your body ... it would be a losing battle for him.

He wanted you.

The two of you didn't last a week.

Longing gazes lingered, hands "accidentally" brushed. Complimenting one another's intelligence finally led to remarks that really weren't quite suited to the workplace.

You weren't an idiot. Suspecting Miguel had likely slept his way through his entire staff, you assumed that giving in to this burning in the center of your chest (and between your legs) would make you a name on a very long list. But you were a modern woman. You could fulfill your desires without it reflecting on the quality of your work. Hopefully Miguel would feel the same.

The tension while working together became unbearable and you really started to believe that relieving that tension would actually help your progress in the lab.

The thing you loved most about being around Miguel was that, inside the lab, he was all business. A reputation for being demanding and condescending aside, he really did treat you like an equal. He listened, he challenged you and he did not flirt or make anything personal. In the lab, there was only the science. You felt free to express your ideas without feeling inferior or objectified.

In his office, however, his desires were quite clear - a little more each day.

"You look stunning today." Your third day.

"Come take a look at this, will you?" Your fourth day. He beckoned you around his desk, prompting you to lean over to peer at the screen he'd been studying. Your side pressed against his thickly muscled arm. Your face was close enough to brush up against his cheek. What you wouldn't give to climb across his lap and sink your fingers into his dark waves.

"I thought I told you not to dress up." Your fifth day. You wore a skirt and explained to him that you could still dress professionally under your lab coat. You liked to dress nicely and, honestly, you wondered how he would react. His scarlet stare fixed itself on your legs the entire day.

"You're so beautiful I can't think straight." Your sixth day. Miguel had thought that he would get your gorgeous legs off his mind by draining a criminal over the weekend. Today he was well fed, but it did nothing to lessen his desire to have you. If you planned to tell him to fuck off, or otherwise reject his advances, he'd rather know sooner rather than later. The tension was killing him.

"How do you think I feel?" You fired back cheekily. "I have a thing for shoulders. And dark hair. And jaw lines."

"I have a thing for legs," he darkly responded, easing out of his office chair and stalking toward you. "Can't stop thinking about how yours would feel wrapped around me."

"Can't stop thinking about how you would feel between mine," you shot back as he rushed forward, scooping you up to do just what he said. Your back hit the wall with a thud as he pulled your shapely legs around his waist, pressing himself against you.

"Best not to tease me like that, hermosa," he growled, pinning you in place with his hips while pushing up your skirt, his thick fingers caressing your thighs.

Hooking your heels into the round shape of his ass, you rolled your hips against him. "I don't tease when I want something this bad."

"Fuck," he gasped out, your delicious body writhing in his arms - your beautiful eyes just begging him to take you. "Better be sure, baby." Even as he asked for permission, he helped you hop down just long enough to yank down your lace panties while you pulled open his pants.

Shoving things out of the way and pulling him free, you let out a little whine at his sheer size. Grasping his hand, you guided his fingers to your center, rubbing your wetness over his knuckles.

"I'm sure," you panted.

"Careful," he chided, swiftly pulling his fingers away. He hadn't exactly explained his retractable talons to you. They wouldn't hurt you as long as he concentrated on keeping them down. But as you stood there, flushed and panting, soaking wet, he wondered if he would be able to keep his concentration in tact.

Frowning, you peered up into his ruby eyes. Didn't he want this?

"Come here," he breathed, lifting you right back up to where you started, but this time, as he pulled your gorgeous legs around his waist, he used one hand to guide his hard length between your wet folds - rubbing himself up and down, just feeling you. Shuddering at how hot and wet you felt on his tip, he somehow managed to control himself just a little longer.

Pushing the tip of his cock over your clit, he felt your wetness mingle with his. He grinned wolfishly as you hissed in pleasure.

"M-Miguel, god, please," you moaned, the sound of it sending desire thundering through his body. Lining his cock up with your center, he pushed inside, all the way in, and stopped.

Your body was suspended there against his office wall, held in place by his hands gripping your thighs and his thick cock shoved up inside you. But he didn't fucking move.

Your hands gripped his muscular arms, attempting to pull yourself forward, or use gravity's advantage to plunge you down - something to feel some friction.

"Wh-what are you--"

"Look at me," he darkly ordered, squeezing your hips to almost a painful point.

You complied, but he still didn't move - his scarlet stare burning you alive as his thick, dark hair tumbled across his forehead carelessly.

"This is how I feel between your legs," he gruffly teased, reminding you of your flirtatious words from several moments ago. "Tell me what it feels like."

God, you felt like an insect caught in a spider's web. If you only knew how apropos that analogy was.

Pressing one strong hand to your lower abdomen, he pushed down firmly. "Tell me," he growled, his playful disposition dissipating.

"Just like I imagined," you panted. "Thick. Hot."

He groaned.

"I feel so full of you, Miguel." You squeezed your inner thighs against his torso, using that leverage to manage a small thrust.

How he was able to hold his shit together was beyond you. He hadn't even fucked up into you yet and you were about to come, mostly clothed, against the wall.

Pushing the hand on your abdomen up over your breast, he squeezed, then moved all the way up to your throat. He didn't apply pressure, but just the thought of it made you moan again.

"Love the sounds you make, hermosa. I'll make it good for you," he darkly whispered, giving your throat the faintest squeeze. "But I'm so bad for you."

Letting out an embarrassing whine, your head thumped back against the wall. He was driving you insane.

"What do you want?" you pleaded, digging your heels into his ass impatiently. "You want me to beg?"

"I just want you to understand," he purred against your cheek, his hot breath making you shiver with want. "I want you to be sure."

No. You weren't going to beg. Not today.

"Then let me down off this wall and I'll show you I understand." You stared right into his glowing eyes, locking your arms behind his neck. If you had to push him down and ride him hard, you would. But you had to have him now.

Apparently, he agreed.

Easing both hands back down to your thighs, he began to fuck you...slowly. You found his sudden switch so tender that you were sure he would kiss you...but he didn't. Instead, he breathed hotly on your ear.

"Wanted this...you...from the first second you walked in that door."

The rate of his deep thrusts quickened slightly - the power of his solid body and thick cock easily bucking you like a doll.

"Gonna try not to hurt you. Want to fuck you so hard," he panted, every jolt of his hips, juust a little deeper, faster.

"Please." Now you were begging. You didn't care. "I want you to. I need you to."

You thought, then, that he would start mercilessly pounding into you, but he didn't. Pulling away from your ear, he gazed down into your eyes, loving the way your lips fell apart as you gasped for air. If only he could kiss you. But his fangs were not retractable and he could really hurt you. No, kissing was something he never, ever did.

Kissing was for lovers and no one could love him. Not the real him - the spider. The monster.

So he buried his face in your neck, pumping just a little faster.

Mistake. Fuck, your blood smelled good. He jerked away quickly, deciding it was better to stare down at you and watch you fall apart, rather than tempt himself with his mouth on your throat.

He was right about working you up slowly, going a little faster and harder with each thrust. He was pretty sure you would be expecting him to hammer you into the wall, but he wasn't a college freshman. He knew how to make your beautiful body fall apart.

The two of you had worked up a delicious pace, bouncing together against the wall, the sound of slapping skin and harsh pants music to his ears.

Just a little more speed, and a slight tweak of his hips to see if he could just find the perfect spot...

"Yes, yes, Miguel, right there. Right there," you gasped, gripping his solid biceps once more as you started to bounce wildly.

"Knew you would look so pretty like this," he growled, pushing the palm of his hand down over your mound. The force of his length inside you combined with the heel of his hand roughly rubbing just where you wanted pressure made you shriek in pleasure.

"Don't stop," you begged, heat flaring up your torso and over your neck, punching gasps and whines from your throat. Buzzing, searing, thrilling pleasure twisted through your body, until a wave of rapture pulled you under like a rip current. Pleasure surged through every part of you, from your fingertips down to your curling toes.

Miguel had expected to work you up and watch you come before he finished, but he wildly underestimated how your tight cunt would feel gripping him as you came. He gushed inside you before he could even think to pull out, groaning at the wet mess the two of you made together.

Pulling out of you suddenly, he turned away and stuffed himself back into his pants, leaving you there - skirt bunched around your hips and the heat of him slipping down your inner thighs.

"Shouldn't have done that," he voiced aloud, reaching down to grab your panties as some sort of weak offering. "We have to be more careful."

You thought he meant the sex. Or perhaps the noise you both made.

But he knew he shouldn't have done that. Not without you knowing the risks of who - what - he really was. His...genetic material was not something to mess around with.

Grabbing your panties out of his hand, you shoved your skirt down, feeling a little foolish. You knew this would just be a bit of fun for him - a quick fuck with new assistant - but you didn't expect to be scolded the moment he finished inside you.

Whatever. At least if felt good.

Seeing he had made you uncomfortable, Miguel reached for your arm. "You can clean up in my private bathroom," he said softly, nodding toward a small door you'd yet to go inside.

Rolling your eyes, you did just that, feeling humiliated. Oh well. You had really put yourself in this position.

As soon as you shut the bathroom door, Miguel sighed, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes. He had hoped that giving in to the sexual tension between you would make things easier. It was inevitably going to happen at one point or another anyway. He thought maybe he could just douse the spark you two shared.

Being inside you was gasoline on a flame.

You exited the bathroom a few minutes later, your irritation thinly cloaked under the sheen of professionalism. Without even looking at him, you rattled off a few questions about a hypothesis you'd been thinking through.

If Miguel wanted to be all business, then you would oblige.

You amazed him - how easily you could switch modes from vigorous sex to brilliant hypothesizing. It was just as enticing as your gorgeous legs or beautiful mouth.

He couldn't concentrate - it was the first time you had been all business and he had been distracted. Well, did he want to work or did he want to play? Maybe the two of you should head to the lab to get some real work done.

"What are you staring at, Miguel?" you impatiently huffed.

"You," he quickly and openly answered.

"Why? I thought we 'shouldn't have done this'," you quoted him.

Then he understood.

"Wait, no. Come here," he beckoned you over to his desk, where he was seated.

You hesitantly complied. "What?"

"I'm sorry," he apologized, peering up at you. Reaching for your hand, he pulled you to stand between his legs. "I wanted to do...what we did. I never want to stop doing it," he confessed. "I just...I should have talked to you before I...finished like that."

Ohhh. That's what he meant. Well, fair point.

"You're right," you agreed, raking your fingers through his dark hair. "I guess we got a little carried away."

He rested his forehead on your stomach, pulling you close. "I didn't mean to, I...you felt so good. So fucking good." Pulling back, he gazed up at you hungrily. "You have no idea the things I want to do to you. The things I could do." His strong hands had wandered from your hips around to trace the curve of your ass.

"Even now, I want to...already...again."

Without asking, he roughly turned you around, using his hands to push your skirt up your thighs - again - while pulling you down on his lap. With your back to his chest, he spread your thighs wide, slowly starting to thrust his hardening length against your ass.

"Miguel," you whispered, completely ready to be putty in his hands. So much for getting work done.

He growled in frustration, but you took it as desire. The two things he wanted to do right now were difficult for him - he wanted to kiss your neck and finger you until you came. He needed to show you how good he could make you feel, but he couldn't. Not like that.

If his mouth went anywhere near your neck, especially while he was hard, he wasn't sure he could continue keeping his fangs from piercing your soft skin. Or his talons safely retracted. He was used to the things he couldn't, or shouldn't do to a woman, but you made him want to do exactly those things. Even the thought of laying you across his desk and eating you out was too dangerous - not until you knew more about the creature he was.

Obviously, he found ways around these things from time to time, but there was no way he was going to risk hurting you. If he somehow scared you away...well that was just not an acceptable option. Not professionally, and now he was starting to think he didn't want to lose you on a personal level either.

"I want you to touch yourself," he finally whispered on your ear, "while you bounce on my cock."

All you wanted to do was turn around and kiss him hard and then give him what he demanded. You wanted to ride him until he came inside you again.

But he held you in place.

"Show me," he purred, pulling your panties aside, deviously using one talon to slice them free of your body.

You moaned, thinking he had ripped them.

Rubbing your ass against his erection, you slid two fingers between your folds, making a show of masturbating for him. "I'll show you, Miguel. I'll show you what I do in bed at night when I think of you fucking me."

"Oh fuck," he growled, pushing you over on the desk long enough to shove his pants back down. Reaching for your hips, he gripped you firmly, pushing you down on his cock.

Letting out one of the little whines he already loved to hear so much, you did not do the slow and steady game he had played with you up against the wall.

Obediently, you rubbed firm circles over your clit and started to bounce.

Gasping, Miguel had to restrain himself from shredding the rest of your clothes with his talons. Instead, he worked open the buttons of your blouse and pulled it off your arms before unclasping your bra. Your breasts sprang free, bouncing freely as you worked yourself over his cock, there in his lap. Your fingers returned to your clit, pleasuring yourself.

"Look at you, using me like this," he panted. Hooking his chin over your shoulder, he watched your little show. Sliding his hands up your soft stomach, he fondled your tits, rolling your nipples carefully between his fingers. "Take what you want, baby."

Putting on a show for him made you fucking feral. Gripping the edge of his desk with one hand, you leaned slightly forward, vigorously riding him, and furiously rubbing yourself. It only took you a few more seconds to come on his cock, panting and moaning his name.

Miguel dug his talons into his thigh to keep from joining you - determined to feel you tight and wet around him. He let you finish and felt you go limp in his arms - biting his lip as he stilled his hard length inside you.

Remembering what he had just explained to you, you eased off his cock, shifting over to his bare thigh. He groaned as your wet pussy and slick thighs soaked his leg.

"Let me take care of you," you panted, sliding one arm behind you, up into his dark curls, while the other hand eased over to his hardened shaft. Teasing the tip with your thumb, you felt his breath on your cheek. He hissed when you moved your hand down to his balls, toying with them with your fingertips.

A string of Spanish curses fell on your ear as you dragged your hand up and down, twisting your wrist and rolling your thumb over his tip deliciously.

"Talk to me, Miguel," you softly ordered, halting your motions. You needed some feedback.

@deputy-videogamer

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#miguel o'hara #decadent fic #miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara fanfic #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x f!reader #spiderman: across the spiderverse #spider-man: across the spider-verse #sm: atsv #sm: atsv fic #au spiderverse #tw blood #miguel o'hara smut #spiderverse

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yourlocallygrowngay · 5 days

Text

Pearl in Unworthy Hands

(3268 words) by yourlocallygrowngay

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Relationships: Molly O'Shea/Reader, Molly O' Shea/female reader

Characters: Molly O'Shea, Dutch van der Linde, Uncle (Red Dead Redemption), Reader

Additional Tags: molly x female reader, angst (obviously. have you played the game), also very much fluff, my girl gets spoiled, as she should, never enough lesbians, molly leave that old creep, molly gets stolen away from dutch, by someone who truly loves her, Kissing and making out, Drunken Kissing, molly discovered the wonderful world of kissing women, Lesbian awakening, or bi awakening (see it however you want), reader is strong, and kinda butch, but i left her vague so you can project on her

Summary:

Sick and tired of seeing Molly being mistreated by Dutch, reader decides to take matters into her own hands, much to Dutch's dismay.

Beta reading, title and prompt by @red-dead-bisexual. Thank you sm for your contribution!

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There was just something so enchanting about Miss O’ Shea. Nobody else at camp seemed to attract your interest in the same way. You sneaked glances at her, lying in your cot in the humid mornings, one eye open to watch her lace up her boots, brush her gorgeous red locks and put on her favorite necklace. She was the boss’s prize, an untouchable jewel, much like the ruby nestled in gold above her chest. And yet, Dutch Van der Linde didn’t see it that way. Not anymore: they fought every day, multiple times a day, and he refused to listen to her pleas.

“Dutch, I just want to help you!” she cried, exasperated. Her eyes were glazed and widened, trying to get his attention. But he didn’t see her.

“You want to help? Then JUST. BE. QUIET!” the leader’s harsh words cut deep through her. You could see it by the way she let her expression fall, tears silently streaming down her freckled cheeks.

You watched, boiling with rage as he stormed off, leaving Molly sitting in their tent, head in her hands. You wanted to make her feel better, because she didn’t deserve this. Such a beautiful, sweet young woman should be revered, the ground she walks on worshipped, her body and emotions treated with utmost care and gentleness. You resented Dutch deeply for subjecting her to this treatment. It’s true, that was a rather stressful period, having to move once again to escape the Pinkertons, still breathing down the gang’s neck. But that didn’t justify his behavior at all.

To make things worse, the other girls didn’t seem to like Miss O’ Shea very much, always talking behind her back and turning her away when she tried to vent to them. Apparently, she was “a society lady now, too high and mighty for the likes of us”. You didn’t care. If given the chance, you would’ve given Molly everything she wanted, at the cost of stealing from the President or die trying. You were completely, utterly in love with her.

But you were a woman. A poor one, at that. You could not, in fact, give Molly what she wanted. And yet, a small yet stubborn part of you kept trying to get her to see you. Maybe… just maybe, she could accept the comfort you’re willing to give her.

One evening, you gathered up your courage and walked up to her. She was standing alone on the pier, watching the lake. She rubbed her arms and shoulders, freezing in the chilly evening breeze, her shawl not doing much to shelter her from the cold. Everyone else was around the campfire warming up with a drink, or in their cots fast asleep.

You approached from behind, clearing your voice avoid frightening her, placing your warm coat on her shoulders. She turned towards you in surprise. She looked otherworldly bathed in the moonlight, her braid and the strands that framed her face painted silver.

She smiled warmly. “Thank you.” You blushed softly, thanking your lucky stars that it was too dark to notice.

“Don’t mention it, Miss O’ Shea.”

“Ugh” she rolled her eyes. “I’m so sick of being Miss O’ Shea to you all. Please, call me Molly.”

You loved hearing her speak, her thick Irish accent music to your ears. Her voice was just as lovely as she was, deep and velvety, and you wished you heard more of it. You granted her wish, making her feel at your same level as she visibly relaxed her shoulders and her features, her lips curling into a coy smile.

“So, Molly, what are you doing all alone in the cold?” you asked, watching the stillness of the lake. The other woman sighed, moving her gaze to the water as well.

“I’m not wanted there.” She stated coldly. You could see her stiffening up again under your coat, putting on a mask to hide her hurt feelings. You could see right through her. You had observed her mask slipping on and then off, depending on who she’s with. More often than not, Molly kept the act up to appear strong and unbothered. But the recent problems with Dutch had weakened her spirit, and you caught her looking sad more often than you’d like.

Unfortunately, that was true. People didn’t like her at camp. They all kept their distance, be it for her demeanor, or the fact that she was Dutch’s. Maybe she didn’t see it, but Dutch was so possessive that the men preferred to stay away from her, not wanting one look or word directed at her to be misinterpreted.

“I’d want you there.” You replied before even realizing what you said. Molly turned to look at you, puzzled. What could possibly make you want to hang out with her? She wanted to know why.

“It’s not fair that you’re always by yourself.” That was the best you could come up without admitting you liked her. Molly nodded knowingly, a bitter smile on her lips.

“So it’s pity, then.” something in your words confirmed her suspicions: you just felt bad for her. Oh, look everyone! Look at poor Miss O’ Shea, all alone and miserable! That’s what she deserves, for pushing everyone away! The recent events had chipped away at her self-esteem, so much so that she was completely blind to appreciation. Everyone disliked her, so that must have meant she was the problem.

You raised your hands, rushing to correct her. “O-of course not! Miss… I mean, Molly, I just wanted to spend some time with you. That’s all!” Fuck. This wasn’t going very well. You hanged your head, anticipating her telling you to leave.

But she didn’t. Instead, she crossed her arms, looking at you with one tilted eyebrow.

“I mean, who wouldn’t want to be with you?”

“Dutch, apparently.” She surprised herself with her own words. It was like she could no longer control what came out of her mouth. She turned back to the moonlit lake, her voice unsteady. “He doesn’t love me anymore. Maybe he never did.”

As Molly cried softly, you stood there with an aching heart. It was painful, seeing the woman you loved suffering, but it was even more painful to see her in this state because of a man. You wrapped her in your arms, half expecting her to throw you off the pier. Instead, she hugged you tight, clinging desperately to you as her tears kept falling, wetting your shirt. She nestled her head in the crook of your neck as you rubbed her back, trying to relieve her pain for a brief moment. You heart was racing, and you thought it might’ve exploded. She was so close you could smell her perfume, a sweet, flowery scent that suited her so well. You closed your eyes, taking in the moment, memorizing it for the tougher times, when you were away from her.

You two slowly separated after what seemed like ages. Her makeup was ruined, charcoal and eyeshadow melted on her cheeks, but you still found her as lovely as she always was.

She coyly thanked you and rushed away to her tent, wiping the color off her face. You stood there, watching her go, seemingly unable to move. A gust of wind made you tremble, but your coat was still on her shoulders.

Molly came up to you the next afternoon, as you were trying to untangle the fishing line of Kieran’s fishing pole, muttering all sorts of swear words. She timidly greeted you and handed you the coat, her cheeks slightly flushed.

You dropped what you were doing so fast when you saw her. That day she was particularly gorgeous: her hair was all done up into meticulous curls that cascaded onto her shoulders and her green corset blouse hugged her body perfectly, giving you some nasty thoughts you hastily tried to shake off. That was not the time to think about Miss O’ Shea, that pretty green blouse on the floor of the tent, mapping the freckles on her body with your fingers…

“Hey, are you still there?” she waved a hand in front of your face, bringing you back to reality.

“Sorry. What were you saying?”

She clasped her hands behind her back, a hint of a smile on her red lips. She wanted to thank you for last night, for… keeping her warm.

You fondly remembered your hug. “It was my pleasure. How are you doing today?”

That familiar sadness briefly returned in her green eyes. “A bit better. I think… no, it’s not right for me to ask” she waved off her idea, beginning to walk away. You gently grabbed her arm and invited her to tell you what she meant.

“Please, tell me. If it’s something I can do, I’ll gladly do it.” you smiled reassuringly and Molly looked down, biting her lip in hesitation.

“Would you… maybe… take me to Rhodes?” She explained that she was tired of being confined at camp and would appreciate a change of scenery. “I know it’s a lot to ask, you’re always so busy…” she looked down at the messy tangle of fishing poles on the sand.

“I can always ask Uncle to do it. Wouldn’t hurt him to work for a change!” you exclaimed, in his direction. He jolted awake from his alcoholic slumber and glared at you. You picked up the tangled mess and threw it at him, then beckoned Molly to follow you.

“Hey, you’re the new one! It’s you job!” Uncle tried to protest, but you and Molly were already approaching your horse, a white Roan Nokota named Cloud, ready to take off.

“Hi, sweet girl!” you greeted her, giving her a snack and petting her long neck. Molly watched intently, admittedly jealous of the treatment the horse was receiving. Oh, how she wished for you to call her that…

‘Don’t be ridiculous now, Molly. She will never see you that way’, she reminded herself, her smile disappearing into her thoughts.

“Here, let me help you get on” you offered, carefully picking her up and hoisting her onto Cloud’s back. Then you climbed in the saddle and took the reins, guiding the horse to the dirt road leading out of Clemens Point.

You rode silently for a while. Molly was too busy feeling flustered, thinking about her secret crush sweeping her off her feet with ease, a moment she kept replaying inside her head. She stared at your broad back, at the exposed, toned arms coming out of the rolled-up sleeves, and daydreamt of being lifted and tenderly kissed by the strong woman who came to her rescue when everyone else abandoned her. She imagined your soft lips on hers, smudging her lipstick, getting it on yours too and making such a mess, and she didn’t care. She dreamt of you retiring to your tent, undressing each other, getting so close you could hardly breathe, the mere thought already making her breathless.

“Are you okay back there?” you yelled, spurring the horse on. Yeah, she was more than okay. She’d never been that okay in her life. This felt like an adventure, like a well needed distraction, like… the start of a new chapter, maybe.

A few minutes later you both arrived in Rhodes. It wasn’t the best place to hang out, but it was the only city that was close to camp. Besides, you didn’t need a fancy place to have fun. You were determined to make Molly have a great day.

You helped her down and she kept her hand in yours, refusing to let go and lacing her fingers with yours. You asked where she wanted to go first.

“Mh…” she thought, swaying your joined hands back and forth and smiling like a child inside a candy shop. “Let’s go to the general store, maybe they have clothes there!”

Molly tried on so many skirts, blouses, vests and accessories and wanted your opinion on each and every one of them. You obviously told her she looked amazing in everything, and she twirled to show off her skirts, laughing, and you giggled at her unbridled joy. You could get used to this, you thought to yourself. Seeing her this happy was like a wholesome balm for your heart.

Her white ankle boots were becoming red from all the dirt, but she didn’t care, because she was with you. And you were away from camp, away from all the worries and frustrations. She was having so much fun, way more than she ever had with Dutch. He always spewed senseless poetry and sappy compliments at her, only ever concerning her looks. They all felt like recycled phrases he used to woo the ladies. But you didn’t, no: when you complimented her you were direct and genuine, and you saw her as a person.

Molly admired you as you browsed the weapons at the gunsmith, emptying the chambers and examining the quality of the materials. She thought you looked so attractive brandishing shotguns and revolvers like a natural gunslinger, and she knew you would gladly use them to protect her. She felt so safe with you by her side, and so grateful you decided to take her with you.

The saloon was you last stop. You ordered food and drinks and talked for hours as you indulged, sitting at the counter, feeling like the only people there. You downed your third shot, hoping to get the courage to reveal your feeling to her, but the words would not come out. You just settled on enjoying the moment with your dear Molly, savoring these last few moments of freedom with her.

You were both getting quite drunk, losing your restraints and getting closer to each other, both physically and emotionally.

“You know, I don’t even love Dutch anymore…” she slurred, throwing the shot glass behind her back. You laughed at the smashing glass and nodded exaggeratedly at her words.

“Fuck Dutch Van der Linde!” you yelled, raising your now empty bottle of beer. You two began chanting this phrase like a mantra until you could no longer speak, the hilarity getting to you and making your stomachs hurt.

“Okay, that’s enough for you two” the bartended warned, shooing the both of you away from the counter.

“Fine, Mister, we’re taking off!” you screamed way too loudly, making him wince.

“Yeah, thank you for the fine night, kind sir!” Molly added, grabbing your arm and dragging you out of the saloon.

“Hey! That’s the wrong-“the words died in the bartender’s mouth as you opened the back door. At least you were out of his hair for the night.

“Ugh, I don’t want to go back” Molly confessed, slumping against the wall, following the last carriages leaving town with her eyes, gaze filled with melancholy.

“Me neither. I wish this day would never end” you sighed, the booze making you way too honest.

“Let’s just stay here for a bit.” She took your hands and pulled you close to her so that you were pushing her against the wall of the Parlor House.

“What are you doing?” you asked, incredulous as she placed your hands around her waist and hers around your neck. You faces were so close all you could do was whisper, your voice trembling as your heart raced in realization.

“I want you to kiss me, miss” the redhead pleaded, looking up into your eyes with an angelic expression. There was something else behind those jade eyes: sadness, desire, maybe a little bit of shame. But not an ounce of guilt.

“We’re not supposed t-” you protested, but you shut your eyes and you could feel Molly’s breath on your lips and her breasts rest against yours. Suddenly, it didn’t feel so wrong. How could it be? You were about to kiss the person you loved. Were you so stupid to let the fact that she was a woman stop you?

‘Not a chance’, you thought. Next thing you knew, you were leaning into the kiss, letting yourself go and savoring her over and over again, until you were tasting everything, from the whisky she drank to the lipstick she wore, now smeared on both your open mouths as you desperately made out, an invisible force keeping you glued to each other until you could no longer breathe and regretfully had to pull yourselves apart. Enough time to get some air in your lungs and you were already all over each other again, Molly’s hair in you mouth and your tongue in hers, your desire growing more and more as she emitted little moans of delight, totally lost in a pleasure the likes of which she never experienced before. It was nothing like kissing a man. No, this was better! You were softer, and you tasted amazing, and your grip didn’t bruise her hips. Her mind was opening to a world of new possibilities, and she wanted you to guide her through it.

“We should go… Dutch will be worried” you exhaled, breathless, and Molly’s disappointed gaze drove a knife through your heart. It hurt you to stop, too, but you couldn’t stay there all night. You couldn’t give her what she wanted in the back of Rhodes Parlor House. You wanted to do things right by her.

“We’ll go out again. I promise” you lifted her face upwards to gaze into her eyes and caressed her cheek. She smiled sadly and nodded. “You promised. I will remember you did.”

You got on Cloud and she took the both of you home. The trip was silent, but hopeful. You two had each other now. It was going to be difficult and painful, but you were ready to do it all for Molly O’ Shea, and she felt the same. Before you rode back into camp, Molly helped you wipe her lipstick off your face with a handkerchief and you walked the rest of the way to make as little noise as possible, sneaking in more kisses while you were in the thick of the brush, already dreading having to sleep apart. You both greeted Lenny as you came in and Molly rushed to bed while you hitched Cloud up.

As you walked to your cot, you saw Dutch standing in front of their tent, glaring and following you with his eyes. You approached him, the rest of the alcohol left in your body giving you the guts to face him.

“Good evening, boss!”

Dutch blinked a few times, incredulous. “First of all, it’s the middle of the night” he growled. “Secondly, what were you thinking, bringing Miss O’ Shea out of camp?”

“She needed a day out, Dutch. I don’t know if you noticed, but she’s been miserable here.” You chose not to hide the passive-aggressiveness in your tone. You had enough of this fool.

“She could’ve gotten hurt!” Not that he cared. This was his way of telling you to back off from his property.

“I was there, and I was armed.” you replied sternly, gripping at your gun belt.

Dutch sighed and turned to see Molly sleeping peacefully in her cot, a big smile on her face. Then turned around and shot you a venomous look. “Don’t you dare tell me what she needs. That does not concern you, miss.”

“It will, if you keep neglecting her like that.” you replied, threatening him back. You walked away while that pathetic man stood there, seething in anger and storming off like a moody toddler. Now he had competition and, oh boy. He did not like it.

#molly o' shea x reader #molly o'shea #rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic #molly o' shea x female reader #f/f fanfic #molly lovers rejoice #stealing my girl #i wanna see her thriving i love her sm #my beautiful wife #check this out on a03 too if you liked it #appreciate all the interactions on there #and on here of course #ao3 fanfic #ao3 link #ao3 writer #rdr2 fandom #rdr2 community

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