Sub!abby? maybe something like making her squirt?🫢
As requested 🤭 Sub Abby (Making her squirt)
Abby’s breath hitches as her eyes lock onto her girlfriend across the room. The noise around her fades into a dull hum. Every movement her girlfriend makes pulls Abby in—soft, fluid, effortless. Her lips curve into a smile, and it’s all Abby can do not to groan aloud.
“God, I want to taste that smile. I want to feel her lips under mine.” Abby pleas in her head.
The tension in her body coils tighter with every second. The soldier in her is still—trained to wait, to assess, to hold back. But all she can do now is stand there, barely able to contain herself. Her fingers, restless and twitching at her sides, ache to reach out, to touch her, to pull her close and make this maddening yearning stop. Just one step. Just one movement toward her...
But Abby’s mind doesn’t want to listen. They couldn’t do this here, all their friends were around and if she only knew how fucking desperate Abby was- No. She decided again. Not here. Not now.
She watches the way her girlfriend shifts, the subtle way her body moves with the grace of someone who doesn’t even know how badly she’s driving Abby wild. The way her hips sway when she talks to someone else. The way her throat moves when she laughs. Abby’s pulse quickens, a heat pooling low in her stomach, and the longer she stands there, the tighter the coil of desire becomes, winding through her chest.
“Fuck, I need her.” Argues her more impulsive thoughts.
Her thoughts start to blur together, raw, desperate flashes of the way her fingers would feel sliding over her girlfriend’s skin, the way she’d kiss her neck, her jawline, the curve of her back, slowly, desperately—every inch, memorising it, marking it as her own.
“She feels so good against me. Her body pressed to mine… I can already taste her. I can already hear her breath catch when I touch her. Jesus. What is wrong with me?” Abby wondered.
Abby’s body is screaming for release, and every second spent not crossing that room feels like torture. Her hands ball into fists, nails digging into her palm, grounding herself, but it’s not enough to keep the ache from spreading. Her breath comes in shallow, uneven gasps, the need for her girlfriend starting to overwhelm the edges of her control.
The thought of pulling her into a corner, of locking lips, of feeling the soft heat of her body beneath Abby’s own is consuming. Her legs feel weak, the tension in her core unbearable, but she stays still, even as her body betrays her.
“Do you need something?” Questions the other female soldier, Abby’s burning gaze on her body finally becoming too intense to go unnoticed.
“Yes I…” She lowers her head to reach her girlfriends height, whispering into her ear. “I need you. Please can we…” Surprise overtakes the smaller woman for a moment, but she flashes a confident smile and grabs her hand, leading her into an empty tent on the grounds. She let’s go of her, looking Abby up and down, clearly amused.
“You’re looking at me like how our dogs look before they’re fed in the morning. Want to talk about that?” Abby shakes her head.
“Fuck, the last thing I want to do is talk.” She exclaims, grabbing her softly by the back of the neck and bringing her into a deep, passionate kiss, tongue exploring every inch of the inner walls of her cheek. To Abby’s surprise and devastation, the woman steps back, her eyes sparkly and mischievous.
“What are you-“
“Get on your knees.” She commands in a way that causes blood to flow through Abby’s body to a point she’s sure the other woman can hear it.
“This is not how it goes.” Abby tries to say, despite the woman's tone already driving her crazy in all the right ways. “I tell you what to do, you don’t-“
“You must want me real bad.” She interrupts, taking a step closer.
“I do…but-“
“Show me how much.” Abby ponders the words a moment. The weight of all the armour she’s carried around—the pride, the walls, the constant need to be strong, to protect—is suddenly exhausting. Abby starts to feel a strange surrender stirring in her chest, something she’s never let herself explore. And just like that she’s kneeling.
“Good girl.” She coo’s. Abby blushes, kissing the inside of her thighs. “Can I take them off?” She asks softly. The woman shakes her head.
“We’re doing it my way today. You’re gonna ride my face and you’re not going to touch me until I have you whimpering and begging for it, does that sound fun love?” She questions, her voice laced in pretty power. Abby sighs. What the hell was she doing?
“Yes.” She agrees. “Yes that sounds good.”
The woman lies down flat beside her. “Sit.”
Abby stands up, removing her pants quickly, the sound of her belt unbuckling proving to be her girlfriends favourite noise. She takes off her underwear too, adding them to the pile. She positions herself carefully upon her girlfriends face, hovering just slightly above. The girl rolls her eyes.
“Really Abby? You were just looking at me like I was the first fruit on a barren wasteland but you won’t sit like a fucking good girl?” She demands, genuinely slightly annoyed. Abby blushes.
“I just don’t want to crush you, I’m quite a lot of woman-“
“Sit on my fucking face or I swear I’ll walk o-mmm…” She hums into Abby’s cunt that had now found itself in her mouth. Abby rocked her hips slowly at first, but at her girlfriends sucking and licking, had begun increasing its pace, becoming messier, more desperate.
Her moans were ethereal noises, as if she were singing the very chorus of their world. They got louder and less cohesive, the shouts of her girlfriends name transforming into whimpers and almost shrieks.
She could feel herself nearing orgasm, her stomach dancing in waves that drove her head mad, but something else stirred within her as well. Something foreign that made Abby a little nervous. Something that crashed through her and squirted onto her girlfriends face. Abby panicked, quickly rolling off of her and apologising.
“Oh my g…I don’t even know what just…I am SO sorry…” Her girlfriend just laughs, wiping her face a little.
“You squirted Abby. Holy fucking shit, as much as I love when you tie me up and pound the shit out of me if I had known your body could do this I would beg to fuck you more often.” Abby, still embarrassed, finally managed to speak.
“You do beg me, often.”
“And only now you agree. Perhaps we have to do this every day now to make up for it.”
“Will you just shut up and let me touch you now?” She asks, desperately wanting to change the subject. The woman just watches her expectingly and Abby sighs.
“…Please?”
“Good girl.”
AN: [guys I'm SOOOOO excited about the showwwwwwww]
(Yes I'm aware I didn't spell Caitlin right throughout the whole thing)
So in my opinion Cait tops- I just want to put that out there I feel like 100 percent shes in charge and Vi literally lives to service Caitlin. In saying that:
I randomly had this CaitVi headcanon that ever since their first moment in the prison Catilin will randomly ask Vi to 3at her out. The suddenness of it making Vi flustered.
For example they could just be walking down a street. Not many people around, Vi is discussing something random and interesting that happened in her day and Catilin will stop her and ask her to go down.
If they are in a public space, Catilin will still ask this of Vi, leaving her in an awkward and needy state in front of their friends as she finds ANY excuse to leave.
Catilin loves giving and receiving around equally, maybe with a slight preference for giving, (just so she can leave marks on Vi) but whenever Vi is going down on her she'll pet her head almost like a dog and Vi absolutely eats it up every time (literally.)
It was no secret that you loved Abby. You had been friends since you were children and she had always been the most loyal, caring, funny woman you could ever ask for. It was the other parts of her personality that sometimes got you mad enough to get into situations like this in the first place. Her impulsiveness, her lack of…agility, perhaps, and then still refusing to take the necessary precautions on patrol.
She frustrated you. At the very least. There were some nights were she’d caress you and care for you, after the essential multiple rounds of “stress relief” of course, and tell you, “don’t worry, I won’t be on patrol tomorrow, I can spend more time with you” only to switch places with people to get more assignments and it fucking killed you. She loved it, the life we have now where it’s normal to kill fucking monsters, even fully non-mushroom kind. You felt comfortable with it too, you supposed, and you loved all your friends and the freedom of the WLF base, but sometimes you felt like an intruder in your own relationship, like all the times where you would hang out and relax was taking away from gym time and fucking up scars.
You knew it was wrong to feel like that, she loves you, anyone with eyes can see that, but when she went out on a high risk assignment after already being gone a week beforehand and not even asking you first, that was your final straw, and instead of lashing out at her, you gave her the mercy of skipping straight to the post fight silence. A strict “no talking rule.”
Unfortunately for the both of you, the silence lingered on a little too long for comfort, and while you knew deep down you could wait, life, especially with the kind of lifestyle you lived, was too short not to spend with your own girlfriend, and your body certainly agreed.
Abby returned from the assignment and immediately sprawled herself across a lounge chair. She knocked off her shoes and grabbed a book she had read 5 times already. One of her favourite uses of down time, other than being with you. You spotted her there, rolling her stiff shoulders. Her muscles where slightly more defined from the tank top and the very light trickles of remaining sweat on Abbys body, though by some miracle she still smelled amazing, and that made the situation all the more difficult.
“That book again.” You speak with caution, the first word you had said to her in 3 days. She opens her mouth to speak but you shake your head.
“Don’t talk.” She nods, watching you with those deep blue puppy dog eyes.
Disregarding everything, you walk over to her, positioning a leg on either side of one of her thighs. Her already dilated eyes widen and she wants to talk but you stop her again.
“I said no talking.” You remind her, hips grinding ever so slowly forward on her thigh.
“Mmm…fuck.” You gasp, a small smile on your lips. She puts her hands on your hips and you’re not surprised by just how quickly Abby got on board. You quicken your movements, moaning more at the feeling of your bare legs on Abbys jeans, the feeling of your cunt, separated only by the fabric of your panties. Abby enjoyed the dress you had put on. There had been a few times you had worn this short black dress for “comfort” around the base, but you and her both knew it was for Abby’s benefit.
You continued moving, rocking your head back from the pleasure. She starts rocking her leg and god the sounds you made left Abby soaked. You revel in the sensation a little longer before you’re seeing stars and can’t avoid it anymore, grabing Abbys face and moaning into her mouth deeply between kisses, tasting her tongue, feeling her large hands on your cheek. When you finally cum you’re gasping for air, as if someone has stolen all the oxygen you previously owned before this moment. You pull away, getting off of her promptly.
“Well, um…thank you.” You blurt out. Abby’s smile is wider than the fucking universe. You laugh softly.
“You…can talk…but I’m still not fully over our fight.” You say, still catching your breath.
“I’m so sorry about everything.” Says Abby through a desperate plea. “God that was so hot I….I wanna get off so bad…”
“Oh yea?” You ask, walking back over to her and kissing her deeply again.
“As I walk away, remember this feeling. This is how I feel when you don’t allow me to come on your last minute assignments.”
“What- you wouldn’t-“
“After this we’re square.”
“Love…love please-“
“God I love hearing you beg. Thank you again for the orgasm.” You tease with a provoking smile. “Later.”
I wrote a draft for this a few weeks ago and I don’t feel as connected to it so I’m rewriting rq. Hope you enjoyyy
Warnings: 18+ Smut, oral (Abby giving) fingering, Minors DNI
As usual, a few tags for my muts: @osteologistimpostor @mitski-lovesems @vamp1reg1rrrl
Pieces of straw tickled Claras hair and face as she shuffled on the beanbag. She could feel the presence of a body not far from her. Abby yawned softly, stretching her arms and rubbing her eyes. They lock quickly onto Clara who scrambles away like a kitten from a bath. Abby doesn’t react to this, just explains the situation in a cool tone.
“Good morning.” She says with a cautious smile. Clara shakes her head, covering herself with the blanket.
“I…I…” Stammers Clara in response. Abby exchanges a soothing look. “You came here in the middle of the night.” She starts to say. “You were tipsy and looking for me. I made sure you were alright, we talked, you fell asleep, I got you a blanket and then slept here to keep an eye on you.”
“But I…” Claras head is a metal tool rattling against steel. She tries to focus on the memories and they flood a chorus of nonsense in return.
“I’m naked.” She blurts out. Abby’s face warms at this.
“Half naked.” Abby corrects. “Nothing happened between us you…were coming onto me a little, I guess…but as soon as you took off your shirt I went and grabbed you a blanket straight away.”
“Coming onto you?? I wasn’t-“ Finally, one solid memory flashes through her like a bitter plague, the taste lingering on her tongue. She had torn her shirt off for her only hours ago. Begging for some sort of affirmation. Of approval. Clara didn’t know why she needed it so much. Not just approval but particularly from Abby. She had known the girl a few weeks and already she meant more to her than any other stranger she had aquatinted herself with. Clara sighs, nodding her head in defeat.
“I am so sorry.”
“It’s okay.” States Abby matter-of-factly. “It was the alcohol. It’s fine I get the same way. All…fuck-the-closest-non-family-member-ey.” Clara laughs shortly, then her smile drops.
“Wait that’s not…I didn’t come here just because I was looking for a warm body. I wanted to see you. You know to…talk.”
Abby nods her head, fidgeting a little with her fingers. “It kind of felt like you wanted to do more than that.”
“I’m sorry. God I’m sorry. What did I do exactly?”
“Um…well you started reciting Shakespeare, so…I learnt that you’re a little English literature nerd.”
“Hey!” Clara gasps, finally laughing genuinely for a moment.
“We talked about some things and then you took your shirt off. You wanted me to tell you if I thought you were hot.”
“And did you?” Silence. For so long it felt like eons.
“Did I…what?” Abby finally pushes herself to ask. Clara shrugs, staring up into Abbys eyes with an innocent look that made Abbys stomach spin.
“Think I was hot?”
“I didn’t look. You were drunk.”
“Okay well it wouldn’t have been the first time….so” Clara steps towards her with an air of false confidence that makes even a woman of Abbys size shudder.
“I can’t discuss this.
“Oh come on. I’m not drunk anymore, it’s just an opinion, I’m a big girl I can handle it.”
“Stop that.”
“Abby-“
“Fine, fuck…yes you were hot…I don’t…” Clara stretches her hand up to Abby’s face which drops Abby’s mouth instantaneously.
“So what are you going to do about it?”
And then, the delicate fuse, unable to control it’s proximity to an open flame, burst. Abby reached for Claras arms, grabbing them over Claras head and pushing her against the barns rough, wooden walls. She kisses Clara deeply, unaware or perhaps unbothered by Claras lack of experience in anything remotely romantic or sexual, immediately pushing her tongue into her mouth and drawing both a sound of surprise and allurement from the girl beneath her.
Abby Kneels down.
“This is a bad idea.” Abby speaks, making her thoughts known more to herself than to Clara, as if trying to find her moral compass. This was not what she did. It shouldn’t be. Clara tilts her head back in anticipation.
“Abby…I don’t fucking care.” Abby nods, unzipping the skinny jeans that fit on Claras body like it had been hand crafted for her.
Finally, the jeans fall to the ground, revealing light blue panties and perfect skin. Abbys own body reacts at the site of it, and her face makes a smile of satisfaction. She pulls Claras shirt up just enough to reveal her stomach, leaving an assortment of kisses there. Then, she moves down to Claras waistline. Kissing and licking, building the anticipation to a point where Clara considered begging. She was saved from needing to, though, as Abby ripped her panties down and starting licking, unable to resist any longer.
Abby tongued her deep, lapping up the mess of all Claras sweet fantasies and desires, savouring the taste like fine wine. Gasps and gentle moans are strung from her lips so effortlessly, and when Abby finds the sensitive bundle of nerves that has Clara singing out in pleasure, Abby increases the pace.
“F…fuck mmm……..ahh~” Abby didn’t let up her movements, now grabbing onto either side of Claras body and digging her nails in. Clara extended a hand mindlessly to Abbys braided hair, gripping and tugging at it.
“S…s good FUCK- Mmm…” It was almost desperate, and Abby fucking loved it.
She pulls away for a moment and Clara looks down at her, worried Abby has changed her mind or starting to hate it.
“What’s wrong?” Clara asks, voice shaky from all her heavy breathing. Abby smiles reassuringly.
“I’m gonna add a finger mkay?”
“What?” Clara gasps out, surprised.
“I mean…I’m sure you finger yourself right?” Abby asks. Clara shrugs.
“Well sure, sometimes…I usually use the shower head..” Abby laughs at this.
“Mmm shower head, huh? Classic. Well this shouldn’t hurt, but it might just have a little bit of a sting if nothings gone up there before.” Clara listens to her with wide eyes and Abby chuckles ever so sweetly again.
“You’ll be fine. I know you can take me, sweet girl.” Clara blushes at both the name and the vulnerability of Abby telling her this with her head inches away from her exposed cunt. Abby continues her licking and eases her index finger into her.
“FUCK~” She practically cries out, not expecting to feel so much. Abby laughs into the warm, delicious space she had immersed herself in. Abby thrusts her finger hard and fast now, each moan relaxing a nerve inside Abby, slowly pushing her into a space of absolute serenity where she would happily spend the rest of her days.
She’s about to slide in another and Clara is so fucking close to completely losing herself to Abby when they barn door starts to open.
“FUCK.” Clara whisper-screams. Abby continues and god Clara want’s nothing else but for it to continue, but with her last bit of will she pulls Abby’s face away.
“Abby stop, I think it’s my…my dad.” She moans. Abby looks up at her, glassy blue eyes just as shiny as her, rather drenched, face. “Fuck…really?”
“Yes- fuck get up.” She does as she says and Clara hides under the blanket. Abby quickly heads down the ladder, meeting him as the door opened.
“Oh, Miss Anderson, you’re here early.” Addresses Clara’s father. She blushes profusely.
“Oh I um, never left. I was milking the cows in the afternoon, I filled up the water tanks and then when I got to herding the sheep it was already pretty late so I just slept here…” Abby rambles. He nods.
“That’s very efficient. We’re glad to have you. I’m not sure how acquainted you’ve gotten with my daughter, Clara but..well usually she helps on the farm but… well sure as much as I’ve tried to inspire her in the world of ranch owning I can sense her wanting to flee the nest soon. Go off to college or…to meet boys or whatever it is young adults do. Anyway, it will be nice still having the company. And the help, of course.”
“Yes Sir, I’m happy to do it.”
“Have you seen Clara at all today? She usually makes me coffee in the morning but I guess she slept in. She wasn’t in her room so I thought maybe she wandered over here. Her mum and her used to come in here a lot.”
“Oh I see…no I haven’t seen her. I wasn’t expecting you back though. Weren’t you on a trip?”
“No, just in town this time. It was going to turn into one but a deal didn’t follow through.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Um…I…can make coffee. If you can’t find her I mean.”
“Oh sure, thank you miss Anderson.”
“Oh Abby is just fine Sir.” He gives her a gracious smile.
“Abby then.”
The two of them walk out and Clara can finally remove the blanket, taking just about the deepest breath of her life. Well…that was…complicated.
Part 1: If you guys like it I can write part 2 (with smut)
@osteologistimpostor
@mitski-lovesems
A/N: Despite my VERY frequent Abby x female reader stories, I actually write original pieces too. This one isn’t an original piece- the character is still Abby, but I’m pushing outside of my comfort zone and I’m doing Abby x OC. It's also modern(ish) day Abby
So without further adieu:
Light drifted across the room, pouring onto the table where a rather unimpressed and not-very awake girl was seated. She chased the letters of the paper in her hand, paying more attention to the lack of colour more than how interesting- or rather, uninteresting- the words were.
The view from the balcony was gorgeous, it’s serenity drifting through the house and offering enough “fresh air” to cure a lifetime of hangovers. And still, it was lonely. Not the cleansing kind people often searched for when investing in large areas of land just to have 5 unneeded bathrooms with pretty tiles to be admired; but the desolate and painfully boring kind that was becoming all the more prominent to a woman new to adulthood with her whole life worth of dreams and ambitions with no aim or prospects to go about pursuing them.
Of course any talk of leaving the nest was disregarded as swiftly as it was brought up by her rather reserved, single father, who was more protective of her than anything. This was unsurprising of course. She had great beauty and wit who would be sure to have people swooning over her had she been raised in the city, and this prospect was what scared him the most.
“Good morning Clara.” Spoke a tall, scrawny brunette who grabbed the paper off of the table and sat beside her. “Anything interesting?” He questions, more to the paper than to her. The girl shrugs, using just as much energy to remain neutral as she did to bury the rather obvious deep seated resentment she held towards him. With most guilt, of course.
“Nope.” She replies quietly, getting back up from the table and walking over to the kitchen.
“Coffee, dad?” The man is unresponsive, eyes drifting happily over the page. Clara rolls her eyes.
“Coffee-“
“Huh? Oh yes, yes thank you sweetie.” Clara nods, walking over to the machine and pressing a button, the espresso machine pouring out the rich smelling liquid with a loud and familiar noise.
“Oh, I hired a new ranch hand…by the way.” Explains her father in an awkward mutter. Clara turns her head with a force which very nearly gave her whiplash.
“A ranch hand?” She exclaims, already forcing herself to believe it was just her mishearing over the sound of the coffee. Her father sighs.
“Why don’t you bring that over here?” With a pounding heart, she obeys, bringing the coffee to him and sitting in the chair in front, fiddling with her hands and noting how the two textures feel as she rubs her hand on one another. The man takes a deep breath.
“I figured we could use the help just in case you…end up going to college. Sometime soon, maybe. And I saw this girls ad so I thought…” Clara doesn’t say anything, partly due to her state of disbelief but mostly because she believes saying something will break this reality in two, and that her dad would instead, change her mind and ask her to stay forever.
“Anyway, it’s just a trial run-“ Clara leaps over and hugs him.
“Thank you dad. When does she start?” The man lets out a short laugh.
“Tomorrow.”
***
Clara had spent the morning cleaning the dishes she had put off doing last night, watching TV in her bed and chilling on her balcony naked. She had been painting something out there and had lost motivation for it recently. As for the lack of clothes, she had a tendency of spilling paint on her clothes to a point she had decided just not to wear them since she was home alone. Or at least she thought that until she heard a loud thud in the barn.
Flinching so high she almost saw the heavens, she knocks the painting, causing the stranger to reveal themself at the noise.
There she was. A beautiful, unfamiliar woman with long blonde hair braided ever so nicely down her back, black tank top revealing arms bigger than on any man she had seen, and a face so stunning Clara was blushing even before returning to the realisation that she was butt naked.
The woman immediately covers her eyes with her hand and turns away from her.
“I…I…am sorry-“
“Who the fuck are you?!” Demands Clara, picking the painting back up and hiding as best she could behind the frame.
“Uh…I’m Abby. I think your dad hired me. I take it you’re…Clara?”
“Fuck.” She says, taking a stabilising breath. “No, the new hire is coming tomorrow.”
“I decided to drive in early, I was going to start organising the barn to make it easier for myself when I start tomorrow. I’m sorry I didn’t mean to look.”
“No…No it’s my fault, I’m sorry Abby.”
“I can come back if you want to…keep painting.” She clears her throat awkwardly. “Naked.” she adds. Clara laughs softly.
“No I uh, think I’m done with that. Let me put some clothes on and I’ll come down.” Abby blushes, head still glued to the floor like the most interesting object she could fathom was there.
“There’s no need for that miss-“ Abby blurted out, but Clara had already returned to her room.
The second those doors are closed, Clara is hitting her hand over her head in dismay. Of course this would happen to her. Her first god damn impression with some tank, godess-of-a-woman stranger was that she’s some sort of farmer hippie who paints in the nude. It was only somewhat true, but regardless it made her want to move out and start a life as an actual hippie some place where no one will find her. In a scramble, she grabs a dress from one of her clothes piles on the ground. She couldn’t be sure it was clean, but it certainly looked better than her other shit. Thankfully she spotted a coat on the rack behind her door. Mind you, mildly clashy, but better than nothing.
“Abby?” She asks warily. Abby steps out of the barn, face bright red.
“Still here Ma’am.”
“Oh. Yes…good.” Clara says, mentally kicking herself at each word. Abby nods, words failing her too.
“My…dad said he saw your ad. That…you stayed with two seperate families from a young age.” Abbys expression bears much interest, allowing Clara to take her time with what she's saying.
“They kept you on for years so you must be pretty good at what you do. Why’d you decide to take this job instead?”
“Change of pace. Mr and Mrs Harkin are lovely people but, both well into retirement. It was their families farm and they had a lovely house up their when they were newly weds. Had their own jobs on the farm. I guess now that they’re older, they’re less able to enjoy the space. Plus Mrs Harkins has a lot of medicine she needs to refill and…well there ain't many hospitals nearby and if I do it every day the sheep don’t get fed and…well they’re movin in to their sons house.”
“Must have been a shame…” Clara offers, eyes drifting up and down the taller woman. Abby nods.
“Yeah. You know, I’m surprised you live out here. Most of em’ farmers are old folk or entrepreneurs.”
“My dad’s an entrepreneur. Sort of. He sells like IT to big companies. He leaves often for work trips.”
“Leaves you here? I can’t imagine many babysitters being willing to drive all the way out here when you were younger. Did you go with him?” Claras eyes soften and she shakes her head.
“My mum stayed with me. When she was alive.”
“Oh…Miss I’m so sorry.”
“Ah, don’t be. And yeah it is pretty lonely but, on the plus side, I can’t imagine painting in the nude being appropriate in whatever city you come from.” Abby laughs.
“Utah.” Claras eyes widen.
“Utah?” She nods with a smile that makes Claras whole body tingle.
“Salt lake city.” She explains. Clara nods.
Each breath that left the muscular woman seemed to ripple in the space between them, and Claras own breathing mirrored it, as if they’d fallen into a rhythm only the two of them understood.
“I hope the painting can still be salvaged.” Abby spoke after some time. Claras eyes widen.
“What?”
“Well, you kinda knocked it when you…”
“Yeah.” Clara interrupts, not needing the memory of her naked body being exposed to be rehashed. “Though I wouldn’t care if it was ruined. I’ve never been much into art. Too impatient. I paint when something drives me to. A feeling or something inspiring but, I’ve felt that less and less of late.”
“Hm.” Abby responds, examining Clara as if to squint in between the lines she had placed.
“If not art, then what? Surely a sweet thing like you has some big ambition. Art school maybe?”
Sweet thing like you. Repeated the voice in Claras head. Each word lingered in the air, thickening the atmosphere between them, drawing her in closer as if to shield her from the world. It was a delicate label, yet it bore an unexpected weight, making her feel seen in a way that both thrilled and unsettled her, like stepping into the sun after a long winter.
“Have I said something…?” Abby asks, her own nervousness becoming obvious as she talks. In truth she hadn’t expected such beauty. An old man and an already married daughter was what she had expected when Claras father had accepted the ad, not a scrawny, decently young man and his perfect fucking daughter. One who, from what Abby had seen on the balcony, had a physique that mirrored that of an angel itself.
Fuck. Thought Clara at the realisation that she had no recollection of what Abby possibly could have asked her.
“No…sorry I, what did you ask?” Abby smiles reassuringly.
“I was just asking about your plans for the future, but…well I should probably get back to work. I’ve already wasted enough time as is just gettin’ you out here and…well I shouldn’t waste your time any longer.” Clara nodded shortly.
“I’ll be in the house…my rooms just there if you need me.” She offers, stepping away from Abby this time.
***
It had been days without contact from her. Or at least, face-to-face contact. Clara had found herself on that balcony more often than ever. Waking up at dawn to the sound of tools being russled in the barn and the sheep making happy “baas” in response to Abby feeding them. She would look out and see her tending to the crops, sweat on her skin illuminated by the morning sun and bringing a colour that painted her like one of the finest artworks in creation. She had Claras mind coursing in ways that she would warrant was unhealthy. Daydreaming. Fantasising. There was a yearning that words couldn’t describe.
She wouldn’t face her though. Their first conversation had an unspoken definitiveness to it. Like they would speak only as formalities when situations required them to. Plus it’s not like Clara had that kind of confidence. No, that kind of confidence was only discovered at the bottom of a bottle of alcohol most of the time, and thankfully her dad was away for yet another weekend trip, leaving his stash of expensive bourbon unattended to.
There was some point into her night where she had stumbled her way into the barn. It was her hiding spot when she was younger. Nothing much to do on a farm as a kid other than force your parents to play games, and now Clara found it offered her some comfort. She wasn’t sure exactly what she was looking for when she opened up those barn doors. A quiet place to chill out that wasn’t the same four walls of her room? Or was it Abby? She couldn’t be sure.
Clara climbed up the ladder to the top level of the barn, heading over near the small window where a desk and a beanbag was. She clambered onto the beanbag, forming a small ball and closing her eyes. That was till the a haybale dropped, pulling an audible noise of shock from Clara. Abby gasped.
“Shit, fuck Clara?? Are you in here?” Clara simply laughs at the reaction.
“Calling me by my first name? Not very professional-profess?” She asks, continuing to stumble around. “I profess myself in banqueting to all the rout…”
“I…Miss I don’t-“
“It’s Shakespeare ‘Miss’ Anderson. You know, Cassius? Othello?”
“Oh.”
Clara’s voice, playful and teasing, had an ease about it that left Abby feeling unmoored and unsteady. She could barely keep up with what Clara was saying, but the mystery of it, the way her name sounded from Clara’s mouth, filled Abby with a raw, delicate ache.
“What are you doing in here?” Abby asks gently, walking over to the ladder. Clara shrugs.
“I live here. What are you doing in here? You know my dads away right? What if you were like a burglar who…burgled.”
“Are you drunk?” She asks, though the tone lacks any sort of accusation. Clara sighs.
“Come, look at the stars with me.” She hums. Abby sratches the back of her neck.
“Uh….well I really shouldn’t be…”
“Oh come on. You gonna leave a ’sweet thing like me’ up here by herself?” Abby laughs at her words, giving in and climbing effortlessly up the ladder.
“You can do that one handed? That’s hot.” Clara remarks. Abby just tilts her head with confusion.
“What did you just say?”
“I said that out loud?” Clara asks with a tone of genuine confusion. “Oops.” Abby blushes as she sits on the floor beside her.
“You usually get drunk like this? Just you?” Abby inquires. Clara shrugs, her smile fading a little.
“That over there, that’s Saturn.” Clara explains, shifting a lot in the beanbag. Abby looks at her, surprised.
“Saturn? You sure it’s not a star?”
“Nope. Saturn is m’most….mmm” Abby laughs, using her middle finger to push some hair out of your face.
“You’re so drunk.”
“Do you like me?” Clara asks, a rather sudden and drastic shift in both emotions and conversation.
“Well, sure Miss you seem uh, real nice.” Abby says simply.
“No I mean…you saw me. Naked. Did you like what you saw?”
“Wh- I…I wasn’t looking. Honest.” She states, parting the wisps of her blonde hair framing her face away from her eyes.
“Oh.” Clara replies, feeling the drunken urge to start bawling appear.
“Why do you care what I think anyway?” Abby asks, noting her expression and relaxing her tone as she spoke. Clara shrugged.
“I’ve been alone a lot. Thought I liked it, but…I watch all’em mmm….romances and the sit coms…never once been desired like that. Or desired…” Her words trail off, as if Clara is on the verge of sleep. She quickly snaps back into it.
“Anyway…I don’t know why I’m sayinallthis t’you. You’re…big…muscly…pretty. Sure you’ve had your fair sure of desir-ara-bles?” Abby laughs harshly at this.
“I think we should get you some water…”
“You didn’t answer my question.” Abby’s gaze softens, confusion clear.
“My apologies, Miss. What did you ask?”
“Don’t give me that. You saw me, even if you said you didn’t “look.” what’s wrong? Y’don’t like girls? Or do you just not like me??”
“Clara, it’s simply something I don’t want to talk about while you’re not sober enough to know what you’re saying. I think you’re very beautiful, but I don’t feel comfortable talking about how I…looked at your body without your consent.”
“Fine.” Clara says, unbuttoning her comfy red flannel. Abby gasps, immediately covering her eyes with her hands.
“Jesus, Miss-“
“I consent now, just look.”
“I’m not gonna-“ Abby starts to say, the corner of her eye betraying her as she sees the outline of a lace, purple bra.
“Wanna see something else?”
“NO- no just…wait here, I’m gonna get you a blanket mkay?” Abby stammers, getting up in a rush. A solid grip quickly stops her.
“I’m sorry.” Clara says. Abby smiles softly, turning to look at her face, (as well as she could) with reassurance.
“Don’t be. Being drunk alone is…well, I’ve done that once or twice should we say.” Abby says, kind blue eyes staring into Claras green. “Tomorrow morning we can talk as long as you like.”
“You’r staying here?” Clara asks, bewildered. Abby shrugs.
“If you’ll have me.”
“Yes.” Clara responds at an embarassing speed.“Though we are in a barn, don’t you want to go to my room?”
“Miss, I’ve worked here less than two weeks. What would your father think if he finds me on your bed with you?” Clara rolls her eyes.
“Fine, but you better grab me that blanket.”
“Be right back, your highness.” Abby teased.
Claras eyes drift closed in Abbys absence, hearing faintly the sound of her heading down the ladder. Even while in a state of almost sleep, she can still sense Abbys presence return beside her—the steady rise and fall of a chest, the delicate sigh of a muscular and yet still soft form settling in. A stray strand of hair slips across her cheek, stirring as she breathes, and she reaches up with barely a thought, brushing it aside before realising she’s also touched the woman beside her. Their hands meet, fingers resting in a quiet, unplanned tangle.
That’s how they wake up, too. Clara, who is usually as opposite to a morning person as one could fathom, wakes up before Abby, feeling dehydrated and disorientated. She moves to get up before feeling a body. A muscular body that builds her with the fear of the reality that she hadn’t simply dreamt of coming onto Abby while in the comfort of her bed, but rather that she had done that, and that it was rather thick, barn air she was smelling.
“Fuck.” Clara cursed under her breath, waking the other girl who calmly rubbed her eyes.
Oiled up Abby omfg. I took this photo myself and I'm fucking fiending. She could choke me, hit me, call me a good girl, her fucking slut, do anything and everything she wanted. When I tell you I opened one of my old saves and my legs opened with it. Abigial Anderson, the woman you are.
(tysm for your request, not sure if this is a new idea or reused but I hope you like it. Sorry for not posting I've had a lot going on <3)
It could be said that Abby loved her life. At least that was the impression others got from the proud smile she wore like armour around the base. She enjoyed all the privileges she got from being an amazing soldier, (and Issacs favourite.) The large room with a gorgeous view, personalised weapons, her own dog. Though she supposed what Abby liked more was the stability of it all. A regular routine of shower, coffee, assignment, gym, shower, sleep, with a few variations for messing around with Manny in the shooting range of course, or getitng whiteface drunk to a point she would be out of commission for the few days following.
It was her new friendship with you that was different. The abnormality in Abbys routine. She found she’d skip her morning meal to find you. To ask how you slept and to hear you talk about anything. It could be anything at all and still sound like the sweetest harmony only found in the most peaceful of places.
Her frequent visits to the shooting range and undefeated win streak against Manny was replaced with watching movies by your bed or sitting in your room and talking. Abby truly beleived you could talk forever and she would never tire of hearing your voice. It was this that bothered her. That kept her mind that usually flowed in a simple pattern, questioning everything she thought she knew about herself.
She thought about her sexuality a few times she supposed, though the construct of it never really bothered her. She had many friends who were lesbian, and Abby had had a few sexual partners both male and female, but she had never really had feelings for a person enough to allow it to form her identity.
That was until you stepped out of the shower. Her shower, mind you, after you had formed another bullshit excuse to ensure the two of you were close. It was a thing the both of you were familiar with. To the point you almost beleived what you were saying.
“Hey, um…it might be a hassle trying to make sure we get our gear at the same time if we’re in our own rooms, you know how the main hall can be.”
“True, yeah, everyone always wanting to make conversation. If we go in together it will save time”
“Yeah, yeah exactly…”
“Do you want to stay here?”
Which got you to where you were now. More or less.
“God I’m tired. How many infected do you that was that? 20? 25? And all stuck beneath the floorboards of that shop, jesus.” You speak softly, closing the door of Abbys room behind you both as you enter it, feeling pretty familiar with her room by now. Abby lets out a soft sigh.
“Yea it was pretty heavy. Do you need anything? A drink or-“
“Not yet, thank you, I should probably head back, I’m dying for a shower.” Abby sighs, shoulders sinking at your words. When the two of you exchange enough insignificant words to decide that you would finally stay there, Abby adds carefully.
“You can use my shower.”
“I don’t have any clothes.” You offer quietly. Abby clears her throat, feeling a sudden uncomfortableness burning through her before she managed the words; “You can borrow one of my shirts.” The thought of this is unerving. Not in a negative way, necessarily, but more a way that thrilled you and caused an irritating amount of nervousness to flush over your body in a rather aggressive wave. You consider saying no. ‘I can just put these clothes back on’ you thought, but the smell of your own clothes were almost nauseating after the assignment you two had just been on.
You clear your throat in turn.
“Thanks…” Abby nods, eyes glued to the ground. When you leave the shower after what was probably an eternity of allowing the addictive warm water cleanse any trouble you had had in your life away, you leave the shower wearing just Abbys shirt. It’s so long on you you didn’t need to wear pants, plus you were both close enough friends that you had changed around each other before. You were certain there would be no issue in having Abbys light blue tee shirt just long enough to hide the curve of your ass. It makes you look smaller, you supposed, and the shirt looked so nice on you, colour complimenting your hair, skin and eyes perfectly.
“Hey the showers…free” You say, eyes drawn to the way Abbys own are locked onto you like a hawk to prey. The contact to your body is so tense you thought she truly could shed your clothes away by just blinking her eyes.
“What did you wanna watch this time? 12 angry men or….ET?” You ask. Abbys jaw is agape. She has no intention of disrespecting you or your image, and it’s as if a part of Abby she usually kept burried beneath her had clawed itself out with the way she blatantly stared at your legs, then back at you and all the way up and down your body.
“Does it not look good?” You ask, starting to feel vulnerable. Abby snap backs into reality at this.
“What? No it looks so good on you.” Abby blurts out. You smile cautiously at this. “Thanks.” You sit down on her bed, moving over to leave her room.
“So ET…?”
“What? Oh fuck, yeah sure…sorry.” She says quickly, as if miles away. As the movie starts you can still feels her eyes on you, to the point where you’re not sure she’s looked at the screen once.
“Abby…” She puts her hands on your waist, feeling the fabric.
“I like my shirt on you…” She mutters. You body feels like it’s on fire at the feeling of her large hands and either side of you. You feel like you can’t get a single word out. Your face goes bright red. Abby moves her hands up your shirt.
“Woah, Abby…”
“Shit. Fuck, sorry…I was…in my own head I didn’t mean to-“ She quickly removes her hands your chest. You smile reassuringly at her, picking up her hands and putting them back.
“It’s your shirt Abby. You can touch me wherever you want.” Abby blushes, carefully moving her hands over your tits.
“Fuck.” Abby curses under her breath. You’re unsure how to react in the situation. If all the fantasies you had had over your friend adorned in sweat and mud from patrol or freshly glistening and smelling of god damn pine trees was just as requited as you thought, or if she too felt the eletrictiy that sent almost painful spikes down your body.
“I’m gonna do something stupid.” Abby remarks in a shroud of unnerving calm. “Promise you won’t hate me if you hate this.” The lock on her watercolour eyes intensitifed, your mouth letting out a gust of cool air at your lack of audbile words.
“Hate what?” You breathe. Abby shakes her head, as if to dismiss more than just the sentence, but anything that could ever go wrong between you.
“Just promise.” She whispers. You nod and she presses the pads of her fingers on your face in one smooth, possessive action, pushing your face into hers as she kisses you. Pulling away for a second but not long enough to gage your reaction before pushing your mouth open with her tongue and exploring it with a longing as deserved as fresh water to a man stranded at sea.
She moans into it a little, hands still holding your soft cheeks. She pulls away for a second, scanning your features for any sign of error. She found none, of course, for with all your confusion was equal parts lust as you leaned back in and let her take what she had spent so long pretending she didn’t fucking crave. Abby moves her hand down your long shirt, well, her shirt. The one that was on you, in any case, and trails along the rim at the very bottom.
She uses the other hand to snake around your neck ever so softly and pulling it towards her lips, licking and sucking all over the warm flesh there.
You let out a small moan and Abby smiles ever so proudly, her earlier awkwardness vanishing like a dream from a waking mind. Abbys hand has been on your thigh for a while, squeezing and caressing, but now it’s found it’s way where you want it the most, but Abby doesn’t touch you. She won’t until she’s absolutely sure you want it.
“And…” Abby begins, her voice seeming so much louder with the lack of conversation. “Would it be even stupider of me if I started moving my hand?” You want to laugh at just how in character of her that entire sentence was, but instead you decide not to utter a word at all, simply grabbing her hand and moving it over your clothed clit. Abby’s head rolls back at the feeling of you on her hand and if it wasn’t you, if she didn’t want to treasure you and take her time worshipping every inch of your body and perhaps claiming it in the process, she wouldn’t have wasted any time before fucking you within an inch of her life.
She pushes her middle and ring finger down between your folds, coating it into the soaking mess you had made over her. Then, with that same, cocky fucking smile, she plants it directly on your clit, almost just to prove a fucking point that, like with everything else in her life, she was good at this too.
You let out a soft whimper when she draws tight circles, her fingers reaching places you couldn’t and feeling infintely better than what you could give yourself. This fact both thrilled, irritated and worried you. You worried if this was just a one time thing, an experiment when Abby was bored. You had heard of her doing it to others, giving random girls godly head and never talking to them again or god forbid letting Owen put his 4 inch in her. Quite frankly you couldn’t accept the idea of Abby doing that to you. Your best friend who you trusted, fucking you with her fingers, treating you like a fucking saint, only to not…
“Abby…” You sigh out as she increases the pace. It’s embarassing how close you were. It had been all of what? A minute and a half? And you had been actively trying not to cum just to prove some sort of fucking point to her that not even you knew what it was. Abby lets out some sort of breathy laugh, smiling proudly at the site of you. Well, that and the sound of your wet cunt drooling over Abby as you so often did in your sleep.
“ohfuck…” You say, whole body bucking against her hand and eyes shutting fiercly when you finish. Abby kisses all over your neck, removing her fingers and licking over them.
“Mm…” She remarks. “Knew you’d taste good.”
Not entirely knowing what had possessed you, you climb onto Abbys lap, grabbing each side of her face and kissing her deeply, grinding up and down her body like it was yours to use. To own. You pull away and Abbys adorable, bright blue eyes mimic that of a deer in headlights. You move to take off the shirt she had given you, but she stops you.
“No.” Abby exclaims in a low voice. “Don’t you fucking dare….” She demands breathily, still recovering from the kiss, undoubtedly. You look at her with confusion, trying to gage whether you had crossed some sort of line, which you would find ironic from the girl who planted her fingers into you with no regard of conseuqnence.
“Gonna fuck you in it.” She explains. You nod, sighing out with an air of releif.
She lets you play out your fantasy for a while, moving across her muscular body to releive some of the tension in your pretty clit. Then, once Abby is satisfied, she reasserts the control you both already knew she had on you and she grips your hips, pulling you off of her.
“Stand up. In front of me let me see you.” Abby instructs, though her voice is lingered with a desperation so intense it could be mistaken for begging- not that Abby would be caught doing that in her life time.
You do as she says, partially because she looks as if she might break if you do not. Abby looks you up and down slowly, admiring you and commiting every detail to memeory.
“Look at you…” She says. “You are breath taking.” You want to laugh at the statement. As your best friend she compliments you a lot but, never like this. She gets off of the bed and starts feeling the material of the shirt.
“Look at this. Looks like a dress on you.” You lean in to kiss her but Abby isn’t finished.
“Fuck…you’re so…small. Compared to me, i mean.”
“Abby…”
“Fuck….it makes me want to just…fuck you so fucking hard.”
“You really want to do this Abs? What about our friendship?”
“Fuck that. God I could throw you around. Could fuck you like that. Small thing like you would probably break.”
“I’m not that fragile.” You laugh gently. A weak attempt of concealing your own arousal at her vulgar language.
“Hm.” She scoffs. “Lie down.” You comply and watch her walk over to her bathroom, then come back with a black strap.
“Jesus Abby.”
“What? You never know when your best friend is going to look like a fuckable little toy in her best friends shirt now do we?” You laugh at this and she puts her fingers back inside you.
“Ah, she’s perfect for me.” Abby remarks, settling the strap to her waist.
“Arms above your head.” You do as she asks and with one hand, one fucking hand, she covers both of your own, gripping them tightly.
“Jesus fuck. Look at you beneath me. I fucking cover you.”
“Would you stop teasing and do it now?” You ask. She looks at you, impressed.
“My greedy girl, huh?”
“Yours?” She pushes it into you, causing a loud moan straight away.
“Mine.”
“Mmmfuckohmygod…” is the noise you end up making as she found her consistent rhythm, your hips making a satisfying noise every time she hit into you. She would scan your body for signs of discomfort on occasion, her face seeming to absorb panic as she does so, but from the drooly moans slipping from your lips, it was safe to assume you didn’t want her to stop.
She puts a hand on ur neck.
“this okay?” She asks, removing it to give you a chance to talk. You nod eagerly.
“Mhm…” you say, as if caught in a distant dream. Abby laughs, putting her hand there and continuing to go into you nice and fast and hard, like you always imagined Abby would fuck.
“Please…gonna” you babble, words becoming a barely audible, strained noise with her hands on your throat. Abby smirks proudly.
“I know, I know love, you gonna’ cum?” You nod, nails digging into anywhere you can grab when she lets one of your hands loose.
“You’re my fucking girl now. Don’t let anyone touch you. You got that?”
“Mmm….mhm” you reply dumbly, feeling dizzy from pleasure.
When you finally cum, it’s a dramatic affair, practically screaming out from how good she hits all the places that drive you crazy. Abby could cum just from the sight of your fucked out face, but she doesn’t grant you the relaxing experiencing of a post orgasm. No. She bucks into you a few more times, hitting into you with a purpose, ensuring you would feel exactly where she had been. That’s when she cums herself, emitting a high pitched, soft and beautiful sound you couldn’t have even envisioned her making had you not experienced it yourself just now. She laughs at your expression.
“Oh relax, you did great.” She says, removing the strap and unclipping it from her lower waist. You roll your eyes.
“Do you at least want your shirt back?”
“Keep it. You should know by now I love you wearing it.” You flash her a curious expression.
“Because it makes me look small?” You question. She shrugs.
“You ARE small.” Abby corrects, and you chuck one of her pillows at her.
The atmosphere shifts a little and you stand up, avoiding her eyes a little:
“You said I’m yours… did you mean that?” Abby walks over to you, snaking her hands around your waist.
“Well this wasn’t exactly the way I wanted to ask but, will you be my girlfriend?” Her tone is unsteady and seeing the vulnerable, nervous side of this almost 7 foot tall unit of a woman always made your heart feel full.
“Yea.” You reply simply. “Why not.” It’s her turn to throw the pillow at you now.
“Why not? I see how it is.” She says, kissing you deeply.
“Oh and, I know you just showered but…”
“Yea…” you say, feeling the sweat and…other liquids on you as well as noticing them on Abby.
“So…round 2 then?” Abby asks, and you laugh, leading her into the shower.
A/N: Singular use of Y/N: (I’m so sorry it couldn’t be avoided this time.)
Usual story. You and Abby were close friends. Very close. Abby wasn’t particularly ashamed over the fact she wanted to fuck women, it was more she was too busy, too oblivious and too much of an idiot to realise it. She was even more oblivious of the fact she wanted it to be you.
No. Abby thought it was perfectly normal to fantasise about fucking you in nothing but her shirt. Hearing your pretty little sounds, watching your eyes roll back. She dreamt about 100 different ways she could please you and didn’t think twice about it. It didn’t help that you weren’t one to keep your sexuality a secret, either. She had heard stories from satisfied women and it made Abbys blood fucking boil. Regardless she had tried to ignore it. Spend her energy on weights, enemies, assignments. Never on you.
That was until a particular perky, slightly younger, pretty woman who Abby knew for a fact you had slept with, (she flexed about it often enough,) offered you a massage when on an assignment. Technically it was her job, I mean, the woman was on the medical team, but Abby couldn’t think of anything worse in the world.
“I’ll do it.” Abby says, the words spilling out before her mind could catch up to it. You turn to her, both surprised and confused. The others on the assignment looked just as surprised.
“What…Abby?” You ask genuinely. She sighs, knowing she was too deep into it now.
“I can massage you. I know how to…my dad was a doctor I learnt a lot about the…well you know the muscles…and whatever.” You give her a genuine smile, opening your mouth to reply before the woman says;
“No, I got it, thank you though.” Abby glares at her with such intensity you’re honestly a little scared. You’re not sure if it’s because of that reason or the fact that Abby massaging your tense muscles is a prospect that delights you, but you give an eager nod in her direction.
“You can do it Abby. Plus we have to wait for the others to get back before leaving anyway.”
Abby flushes immensely at your confirmation. She hadn’t expected you to agree and now she wasn’t sure what to say, do or think. Thankfully for her, you spoke before she had to.
“I saw a room near the front of this place. It’s already secure.” Abby attempts to clear her throat, stringing out an unusual, nervous noise instead that makes you smile softly. The group watches you walk over there, shutting the door behind you. The silence is sharp enough to pierce skin and Abby is eyeing you like the clothes will melt off with her gaze.
“Um…so where’s the pain most intense?” She asks, avoiding eye contact as you situate yourself on a couch. You roll your shoulders a little to loosen the ache in them.
“Mmm…around here.” You say, pointing to a spot to the right of your spine on your lower back. Abby lets out a nervous breath, approaching you and putting a hand under your shirt. Warm, thick fingers tracing your spine like it’s the most delicate artwork ever created.
“Here?” Abby utters in an almost whisper. You nod and she adds a second hand to your warm skin, thumb digging into the tight knot and running circles over it. You let out a satisfied sigh. Abby’s ears burn scarlet at the noise. She continues this for a little longer.
“Where else?” She asks, and you’ve never heard her voice this soft.
“All over my spine. Might need to take off my shirt.” Abbys mouth gapes at this, not that you can see it with your back to her, but you can feel her nervousness, and quite frankly it excites you.
You peel off your shirt, revealing a simple black bra. Not that she would look at that anyway if she had the chance. No, it was what was in it that excited her, but Abby respected you too much to look.
“O…kay lie down.” She babbles. You do as she instructs, lying down on the couch as she continues to work down your back and leave more satisfied sighs.
“You alright Abby?” You ask her after some time. The question takes you off guard, stopping her movements across you skin.
“What?”
“Just wanna make sure you’re comfortable is all.”
“Why would I not be?” She finally decides to say. You chuckle softly.
“Alright fine.”
“No I mean it. Why…why would I not be?”
“Well your best friend is half naked on a couch in front of you. I don’t know. If it was you I would be nervous.”
“What- oh…I mean…it’s cool. We’re friends so it’s…we’re friends.” You don’t reply to this and she doesn’t say anything either, continuing to rub down your back.
“Where else?”
“My thighs.” Abby shuts her eyes, as if to control herself. Or perhaps she believes if she shuts her eyes for long enough she will just cease to exist.
“Okay…” she says, watching you take your pants off now too. Blushing, she kneels between your legs, starting to work your thighs and using every inch of restraint to not look at your very pretty chest. Or even the way your pretty panties hug your desperate cunt. No. She’s not thinking about any of that of course.
“Anywhere…” She takes ANOTHER deep breath, which proves yet again to have no effect. “Else?” She asks. You look into her blue eyes deeply. Needfully.
“Yes.” You breathe out in desperation. Abbys pretty lips you haven’t stopped staring at since she first faced you parts as she looks at you.
“Where?” She asks, as if she doesn’t already know the answer.
You grab her right hand, bringing it between your legs.
“Here.” You beg.
“Y/N…”
“Please Abby. I know you want to and I’m so fucking tense down there.” She listens to your words, face bright red, head locked on the bottom of the couch. You sigh, continuing your plea which you know will only be a matter of time before she gives in to.
“Been dreaming bout this. Your hands all over me. Your mouth. I thought dreams were all it was but…your face before…it said it all.”
“I…want to but- well the patrol groups right outside…”
“So be quick then. Or can you not do tha-“
“Of course I can do that.” Abby defends quickly, surprised and embarrassed at what she had just said. You smile knowingly at her.
“So you HAVE thought of this.”
“Just-“ She drags her eyes over your gorgeous fucking body again, sighing.
“Fuck it.” She says, tearing your panties to the side and pushing your legs apart, tonguing your eager pussy like her life depended on it, making you gasp in shock and moan in pleasure.
“Jesus- Ab…mmm.” You couldn’t help but wonder how long Abby had wanted to do this. Her eagerness; to the point of almost aggression, simply proved this desire didn’t stem from this ONE intimate interaction. She shoved two of her middle fingers into you, curling them to your fucking core as she continued her tasting, drawing indescribable noises and in-cohesive babbling as you screamed into her, gripping her braid as she goes. You’re nearing an orgasm already and Abbys movements with her fingers is so hard and fast even the most disciplined mother fucker out there wouldn’t be able to hold back. You bite your lip a little as you finish hard on her face and Abby licks her lips like fine god damn wine.
“Shit Abby..” You breathe out in shock was she sits beside you on the couch. She smiles, her blush returning.
A/N: One thing I always laugh about is Mysarias reaction to Rhaenyra claiming vermithor. Whether that was just the actress completely in awe of Emma (which would be completely understandable) or it was intentional I’m not sure, but regardless I can imagine Mysaria and Rhaenyra genuinely being into dragon role-play.
“Oh you want me to claim you, hm?”
“Yes Rhaenyra claim me.”
“Lykiri.”
“Fuck…”
PFFT. Anyway enjoy the story.
The politics of the realm have always been a complex affair. While it is true that wars have been settled for less, it was simply disheartening for both nobles and common folk alike. Watching a family, those who are considered by many to be gods, fight over power and title.
Not only did brother fighting brother leave a distaste in the mouths of those who were forced to account for it, but it causes chaos, anguish, death, and it has been causing devastation since the crowning of Aegon.
Rhaenyra Targaryen was but one piece on a board far bigger than her, perhaps larger than her entire bloodline. Born an innocent, with her fathers smile and logic, as well as his desire to solve issues with peace, rather than with the fire that danced in her veins.
Mysaria, “white worm,” had always been a character in Rhaenyras youth. She had heard of her skill in various fields. A consort, a mistress of whisperers. She had also heard at length from various sources the extent of her beauty. It certainly enthused her uncle.
It was strange that 15 years later she would be practically kneeling at Rhaenyras mercy. This wasn’t to say she begged, however. No. Mysaria always believed her life to be valuable, even when men, no matter how old, stupid or ugly, would tell her otherwise.
A knock, one night, at Rhaenyras chambers. The hour is quite late and there is but a single guard posted at her door.
“The white worm, your grace.” The guard informs her, and Rhaenyra gets out of bed with such exertion she is worried she has strained something. A hand goes over her silver hair, putting any loose strands into the correct place in her extravagantly braided hair. She isn’t sure why she is fixing her appearance, or even now why she is so conscious of it.
“Your grace…”
“What? Oh yes, bring her in.” Rhaenyra says, her fingers still caressing her hair. Perhaps as a nerves thing.
“I apologise for the disturbance, your grace. I understand the hour is late, I would not have come if I thought it could wait.” Mysaria explains. She nods simply, her eyes tracing every inch of the white worm, as if looking for something. A reason for Rhaenrya not to trust her, perhaps, as there had already been so many people she couldn’t trust in her life.
“It is alright, Lady Mysaria. What is your news?”
Mysaria nods, her expression serious as she begins. “It has come to my ears that Prince Daemon has been sending his men on missions of great brutality. The tales of their actions grow more gruesome with each retelling, and his men...” She pauses, frowning slightly before continuing. “His men are starting to question their loyalty to a liege who makes them commit such horrors. It would not be surprising if some of them deserted.” Rhaenyra groans, her patience growing weary.
“So in fact he does not which to usurp me at all? No. My husband would rather create more enemies in my name and cower back to me like a babe cowers from their punishment. What else have you heard?”
Mysaria hesitates, her gaze flickering to the others gentle blue. “There are whispers, your grace, that the Lannister army may be preparing for battle.” Mysaria announces, the warmth of the candlelight feeling all the more hot.
"You think their movements are advancing already? A result of criston coles stupidity, no doubt, and now at the hands of prince Aemond."
“I wanted to tell you as soon as I heard. Daemon often acts quickly and without a second thought. Telling you now may give you time to consider a strategy to pursue before he conducts a new idea that will no doubt rally more enemies against us.”
A peculiar smile pulls at the queens lips at this. The smile was gentle, genuine. It offered a sense of childlike peace that brought Mysaria back to when they were younger. Simpler, potentially, though not necessarily better.
“Us?” Rhaenyra asks through a soft chuckle. “You got comfortable fast.”
“True that it wasn’t long since I was thrust into the darkness. An echo of a great spy. But when new pathways alight, I am not one to wait for the opportunity to run away with the candle.” She bobs her head in agreement subconsciously appreciating her mannerisms.
“You could have gone anywhere.” Rhaenyra reminds her, stepping closer and touching her hand. She wasn’t even sure she had made a decision to touch her. All she knew was she had stepped out and suddenly her hand was caressing Mysaria’s. Her skin was so soft and the contact was electrifying. Logically, of course, Rhaenyras own hand was warm from being under the covers of her bed, but to Mysaria it only confirmed Rhaenyras birth right, a true born dragon.
“You know, I could have had your head for that?” Rhaenyra says with a grin. Mysaria’s eyes widened with confusion before she elaborates.
“For waking me up to hear MORE disappointing stories about Daemon. He is all I hear about these days, from everyone who wants to undermine me. I hear his name more than I speak it myself as he is never. fucking. here.” Mysaria smiles weakly.
“Daemon is a…troubled mind. A character to be certain but, well.”
“His issue is he goes around taking what he wants while genuinely believing there will be no consequences. People like that shouldn’t have a dragon.” The caressing spreads to up Mysarias arm, making her gasp in enthusiastic surprise.
“He was everything I wanted when I was a child. Everything I wanted to be. Perhaps both.” Rhaenyra explained, and Mysaria watches intently, like there is no sound she would rather hear, even late at night on the edge of war.
“I was everything he wanted too. The rightful heir, young enough to…mould into whatever he wanted.”
“I do not like that he took advantage of you, but, I certainly see why he was so captivated.” The soft movement across Mysarias skin stops and she takes a cautious step back. It’s so small it’s barely noticeable.
“What?”
“I remember your father. Kind, peaceful, humorous, I see him when I look at you. But without that, you are strong, intelligent, beautiful. You are a great mother and a great queen. One who appreciates the subtleties of war. A level headed ruler the realm deserve-“
Mysarias gasp of surprise is silenced by Rhaenyras tongue as it enters her mouth. She presses her warm hands on both of Mysarias cheeks, moaning and deepening the kiss, feeling a passion unmatched to anything she had ever felt before. Those words were like honey. They affirmed her in ways she wasn’t sure she had ever felt. Always so worried about her claim, her children’s claim, the whole being-a-woman thing. Never did she have someone loyal and beautiful who would actually speak to her without hidden agendas or to disagree. No, these words were gratifying and intrigued every part of Rhaenyra.
Mysarias pretty light grey gown was the first to drop to the ground, revealing beautiful skin and curves that had been so criminally concealed. Rhaenyra smiles as her eyes familiarise herself with her body. Her perfect breasts are a refreshing sight for someone who practically had only seen the pair she, herself, possessed. The cool air hardened her exposed nipples, and at this point her head is spinning. Even so, Rhaenyra managed to pull her attention to the rest of Mysaria. Her perfect cunt Rhaenyra started to imagine she was tasting was becoming more inviting by the second. Her stomach too was an image of perfection, much like something she would see sculpted in the galleries back at kings landing.
“I’ve never…” Rhaenyra began, surprised by the sound of her voice in the deathly quiet room. It was rare for her to depict such vulnerability in these scenes. With most men she had been with, she was the one in charge. Always towering over them, taking what she wanted, using them to feel good, to feel as powerful as she was deep down. Even during her first time she was the one who instigated, never like this. Mysaria gives her a reassuring smile.
“If it is any constellation, your grace, I have never had royal pussy, either.” Rhaenyra laughs at her rather vulgar statement, feeling less tense than before.
“I want to taste you…” Rhaenyra says, clearing her throat and installing a shroud of false confidence to her words. “May I?” Mysaria nods, sitting at the edge of Rhaenyras bed and spreading her legs. Rhaenyra follows suit, kneeling in front of her. When Mysaria is in view fully now, she notices a scar through her folds which causes her to look up for reassurance.
“Will it hurt?” She questions. Mysaria shakes her head.
“My father gave that to me when I was very young.”
“Oh.” She mutters, caressing Mysarias thigh. “That’s awful. I’d understand if you don’t want me to-“
“No. I want you to. Giving me pleasure in the same place he cut seems a rather satisfactory form of revenge would you agree?” Rhaenyra smiles at this.
“I would.” She hums into her inner thighs, kissing and sucking at the skin there.
An excited gasp leaves her mouth and Rhaenyra notices the way Mysarias excitement drips.
“Need to…” Rhaenyra lets out, tone desperate. Mysaria nods. “Go for I- mmm.” Rhaenyra licks quickly over her clit and the higher sections of her cunt. The pace is eager and unrelenting, causing Mysaria more pleasure than she had anticipated from someone new to all this. Mysaria wraps her hands over her head, fingers weaving into the silver braid she so adored. Now Rhaenyra goes lower, in between her folds and all the way down to her pretty hole, tongue exploring the entrance and pulling a cacophony of noises from Mysaria all at once.
She tugs on the braid a little and uses strands that had fallen down onto her face to guide her to where she wanted, bringing her closer by the second.
“fuckfuck…so…ahh-“ Rhaenyra goes even faster, if possible, moving her head now in rhythm.
Mysaria tugs her hair tight as she cums. Her orgasm rippling through her in waves. Rhaenyra licks every delicious drop, moaning in satisfaction at her new found favourite hobby. She almost felt angry at herself for not experimenting with girls in her youth. Especially when she could have been doing this the whole time.
She stands up, smiling nervously at Mysaria.
“Was…that…um…” Her chin is glistening, like that wasn’t answer enough, but Mysaria new words of affirmation was needed right now. Maybe always.
“You did amazing, my queen.” She speaks breathily. Rhaenyra grabs her hips, pulling her in. Then she starts licking and sucking over her chest, making Mysaria gasp again. When she pulls away, Mysaria sucks on Rhaenyras neck, hard, untying the string of her nightdress as she did so.
“This alright?” Mysaria asks. Rhaenyra nods, letting out a hushed “yes.”
Rhaenyra is a sight just as breathtaking. Her smooth, beautiful Targaryen features making Mysaria flush. Perhaps she had chose the wrong Targaryen all those years back. Not that it was much of a choice.
“You must have a lot to teach me…” Rhaenyra says, feeling exposed in the cool air. Mysaria chuckles softly.
“Go to the bed and lie down. We will test the waters. See what you like.” Rhaenyra nods. Her imagination could think up many things to be certain, but at the same time she had no idea what she was in for.
Mysaria gets on top of her, legs on either side of Rhaenyras waist. Her body travels from her collarbone to lower stomach, then to her sensitive cunt. Mysaria raises an eyebrow.
“You’re so smooth down there.” She remarks. Rhaenyra laughs.
“The hair that grows there is very fine but I still like to remove it when I have the chance. You like?” Mysaria puts her middle digit onto Rhaenyras tight bundle of nerves, drawing a satisfied “mmm” from her lips.
“I like.” Mysaria agrees. Her two middle fingers continue, going a little slow just to offer the chance to revel in every sensation. Then, Mysaria curls her fingers inside her loosening walls, hitting every inch so good her eyes were rolling back.
“Y…you’re good at that.” Rhaenyra breathes out. Mysaria gives a grateful smile.
“I have been wondering something my queen.” Mysaria says, going a little faster. Rhaenyras eyes flutter.
“P..please… if we are acquainted enough for you to…put your fingers in me…you can at least use my name. Mmm…”
“I have been wondering, Rhaenyra, if it’s true about Targaryen’s being immune to fire.” Rhaenyra lets out a half laugh, half moan.
“That is meant to be legend. Though I hear some Targaryen’s truly can withstand… ohgods..ahem…um…fire.”
“And you?” She asks, removing her fingers and grabbing the flickering candle by her bedside table.
“Can you be burnt?”
Rhaenyra nods slowly, her eyes dancing with the flame.
“Some women like mixing a little pain and pleasure.” Mysaria explains, moving the candle in circular motions in the air. “Do you?” Rhaenyras gaze is deadly and intoxicating as she ponders her words.
“Perhaps…we can see.” She says, and Mysarias eyes sparkle in response, well, that and the candlelight reflecting so brilliantly in Mysarias deep coloured eyes.
“We should have a word to say if you want me to stop.”
“A word? What’s wrong with…’stop’” Rhaenyra questions genuinely. This brings another smile to Mysaria.
“Often when pleasure or pain is overwhelming us in the best way possible, we say stop stop. Even if theres nothing we would want less than to stop. A word like…tart, is an effortless distinction to put a foot on the wheel.” Rhaenyra nods.
“Tart…I like it.” Mysaria switches the candle to her left hand, putting her fingers back into Rhaenyra with her right. Cautiously, Mysaria pours the wax onto her body, making Rhaenyra shudder in pain. The combined sensation of her nearing orgasm caused her to cry out.
“Do…you need to say tart, Nyra?”
“N..no…Fuck it feels…I’ve never felt…” Mysaria nods in silent understanding, continuing to pump in and out of her.
The wax solidifies on her skin and Mysaria puts the candle down, rubbing her fingers over it, already sensitive from the burning.
“So…so good.” Rhaenyra hums, eyes shutting tight.
“I know…let it out I know you can.” Rhaenyra obeys, orgasming intensely and grabbing onto her tightly.
“What else?” Rhaenyra asks when she finally catches her breath.
“Need more.”
Mysaria is both surprised and impressed. She starts pulling off the thin bedsheet that was previously perfectly sat on Rhaenyras bed. She gives her a confused look.
“What are you doing with that?”
“This,” Mysaria starts to say as she pulls at the sheet. “Can be used for restraints. Put your arms up.”
Rhaenyra does so and Mysaria ties it.
“Have you ever experienced such intense sensations you wanted to scream and writhe around in your pretty bed, but you couldn’t move your arms at all? Couldn’t…defend yourself, almost.” Rhaenrya shakes her head, the idea already exciting her in a way she doubted was healthy.
“Remember the wor-“
“Tart. I know.” Rhaernya says impatiently. Mysaria grins at the queens eagerness and spreads her legs before climbing over them and positioning her own, wet cunt above Rhaenyras. Slowly, she rotates her hips, making Rhaenyra immediately moan in surprise. She watches Mysarias movements and wants so badly to level herself with each hand and move with her, but they remain very much bound.
“Ahhh…fuck…” Rhaeyra moans again as Mysaria goes even faster, grinding right over her clit over and over again. The sound of them sliding together, slick coating warm skin, it was a melody that would sell for millions.
The familiar, scream worthy feeling in her stomach swirled and her head revelled as Rhaernyra grew closer to orgasm, eyes rolling back, curses and moans falling out of her lips constantly. That was when Mysaria got off her, standing up in front of where she lay on the bed. Rhaenyra groans in frustration.
“Why did you stop?” She asks bitterly. Mysaria says nothing, ensuring she makes direct eye contract as her fingers plunge into herself. Rhaenyra gasps at this.
“Wh- in front of me?”
“You must have been close, huh?” Mysaria taunts. Rhaenyras eyes darken.
“Mysaria. Get back here.”
“Beg.” Mysaria says. Her words are dangerous. Status wise Rhaenyra has almost infinitely more power than Mysaria, and with men that power always translated. Never would she beg for anything. Never…
“Please.” Mysaria smile is wider than the narrow sea before she returns to her position on Rhaenyra, rocking her hips back and forth.
“Ah~ seven hells that- fuck you, don’t stop..” A mischievous look paints Mysarias eye as she obeys Rhaenyra. She wasn’t going to stop. Not even if she was begging for it. When Rhaenyra cums harshly, her hands still restrained. She expects the unrelenting pace to let up, her cunt already so sensitive.
Mysaria stands up, curling her fingers inside Rhaenyra again.
“Gods- Mysaria what are y- ohfuckstopstop mmm”
“You know the word.” Mysaria reminds her. And she does. Tart. A word as bittersweet as the ones she used to pick the lemons off of as a child. It was a lot, in truth. She had cum all over her fingers, she had her pussy soaked against Mysarias and now her fingers were inside her again. She was covered in sweat, wax and slick, whether it was hers or Mysarias she didn’t know. It would be a perfect point to stop. To clean herself and lie in Mysarias arms. But as her fingers pumped in and out, making her scream in pleasure and pain, she simply couldn’t bring herself to say the word.
“I kn…know.” Mysaria hums in satisfaction, continuing her thrusting harder now. When Mysaria finally lets up after her third orgasm, she unties Rhaenyra and kisses her deeply, tongue caressing the inner walls of her cheek. Rhaenyras hair is a mess. The braid, whatever remained of it, was over half out, with strands sticking to her face in different places.
“That was…yes.” Rhaenyra says a little awkwardly. Mysaria nods.
“Does this mean I can say I have ridden a dragon?” Rhaenyra laughs at the statement.
“Daemon is a targraryean too. Thought you were already a dragon rider.”
“That was a long time ago. I’d rather be with you any day than the father of a school of bastards who runs for the hills and makes bad choices.” Rhaenyra sighs at this. She is right, of course, but her words sting to hear.
“My sons…they” Rhaenyra started to say. Mysaria smiled brightly.
“I know. They are perfect.” She says, exchanging a knowing look that lasts long enough for the silence to spread.
“At least you needn’t worry about mothering my children, Rhaenyra. We don’t exactly have the requirements for it.”
The unexpectedness of the sentence causes them both to laugh and Rhaenyra pulls her in to a hug.
“Thank you for your support.” Rhaenyra mumbles. Mysaria nods.
Ty! I'm surprised not many people have liked this- do ya'll not watch game of thrones? Regardless it's got some spicy wlw you should check out. I'll post Abby next tho most likely
A/N: One thing I always laugh about is Mysarias reaction to Rhaenyra claiming vermithor. Whether that was just the actress completely in awe of Emma (which would be completely understandable) or it was intentional I’m not sure, but regardless I can imagine Mysaria and Rhaenyra genuinely being into dragon role-play.
“Oh you want me to claim you, hm?”
“Yes Rhaenyra claim me.”
“Lykiri.”
“Fuck…”
PFFT. Anyway enjoy the story.
The politics of the realm have always been a complex affair. While it is true that wars have been settled for less, it was simply disheartening for both nobles and common folk alike. Watching a family, those who are considered by many to be gods, fight over power and title.
Not only did brother fighting brother leave a distaste in the mouths of those who were forced to account for it, but it causes chaos, anguish, death, and it has been causing devastation since the crowning of Aegon.
Rhaenyra Targaryen was but one piece on a board far bigger than her, perhaps larger than her entire bloodline. Born an innocent, with her fathers smile and logic, as well as his desire to solve issues with peace, rather than with the fire that danced in her veins.
Mysaria, “white worm,” had always been a character in Rhaenyras youth. She had heard of her skill in various fields. A consort, a mistress of whisperers. She had also heard at length from various sources the extent of her beauty. It certainly enthused her uncle.
It was strange that 15 years later she would be practically kneeling at Rhaenyras mercy. This wasn’t to say she begged, however. No. Mysaria always believed her life to be valuable, even when men, no matter how old, stupid or ugly, would tell her otherwise.
A knock, one night, at Rhaenyras chambers. The hour is quite late and there is but a single guard posted at her door.
“The white worm, your grace.” The guard informs her, and Rhaenyra gets out of bed with such exertion she is worried she has strained something. A hand goes over her silver hair, putting any loose strands into the correct place in her extravagantly braided hair. She isn’t sure why she is fixing her appearance, or even now why she is so conscious of it.
“Your grace…”
“What? Oh yes, bring her in.” Rhaenyra says, her fingers still caressing her hair. Perhaps as a nerves thing.
“I apologise for the disturbance, your grace. I understand the hour is late, I would not have come if I thought it could wait.” Mysaria explains. She nods simply, her eyes tracing every inch of the white worm, as if looking for something. A reason for Rhaenrya not to trust her, perhaps, as there had already been so many people she couldn’t trust in her life.
“It is alright, Lady Mysaria. What is your news?”
Mysaria nods, her expression serious as she begins. “It has come to my ears that Prince Daemon has been sending his men on missions of great brutality. The tales of their actions grow more gruesome with each retelling, and his men...” She pauses, frowning slightly before continuing. “His men are starting to question their loyalty to a liege who makes them commit such horrors. It would not be surprising if some of them deserted.” Rhaenyra groans, her patience growing weary.
“So in fact he does not which to usurp me at all? No. My husband would rather create more enemies in my name and cower back to me like a babe cowers from their punishment. What else have you heard?”
Mysaria hesitates, her gaze flickering to the others gentle blue. “There are whispers, your grace, that the Lannister army may be preparing for battle.” Mysaria announces, the warmth of the candlelight feeling all the more hot.
"You think their movements are advancing already? A result of criston coles stupidity, no doubt, and now at the hands of prince Aemond."
“I wanted to tell you as soon as I heard. Daemon often acts quickly and without a second thought. Telling you now may give you time to consider a strategy to pursue before he conducts a new idea that will no doubt rally more enemies against us.”
A peculiar smile pulls at the queens lips at this. The smile was gentle, genuine. It offered a sense of childlike peace that brought Mysaria back to when they were younger. Simpler, potentially, though not necessarily better.
“Us?” Rhaenyra asks through a soft chuckle. “You got comfortable fast.”
“True that it wasn’t long since I was thrust into the darkness. An echo of a great spy. But when new pathways alight, I am not one to wait for the opportunity to run away with the candle.” She bobs her head in agreement subconsciously appreciating her mannerisms.
“You could have gone anywhere.” Rhaenyra reminds her, stepping closer and touching her hand. She wasn’t even sure she had made a decision to touch her. All she knew was she had stepped out and suddenly her hand was caressing Mysaria’s. Her skin was so soft and the contact was electrifying. Logically, of course, Rhaenyras own hand was warm from being under the covers of her bed, but to Mysaria it only confirmed Rhaenyras birth right, a true born dragon.
“You know, I could have had your head for that?” Rhaenyra says with a grin. Mysaria’s eyes widened with confusion before she elaborates.
“For waking me up to hear MORE disappointing stories about Daemon. He is all I hear about these days, from everyone who wants to undermine me. I hear his name more than I speak it myself as he is never. fucking. here.” Mysaria smiles weakly.
“Daemon is a…troubled mind. A character to be certain but, well.”
“His issue is he goes around taking what he wants while genuinely believing there will be no consequences. People like that shouldn’t have a dragon.” The caressing spreads to up Mysarias arm, making her gasp in enthusiastic surprise.
“He was everything I wanted when I was a child. Everything I wanted to be. Perhaps both.” Rhaenyra explained, and Mysaria watches intently, like there is no sound she would rather hear, even late at night on the edge of war.
“I was everything he wanted too. The rightful heir, young enough to…mould into whatever he wanted.”
“I do not like that he took advantage of you, but, I certainly see why he was so captivated.” The soft movement across Mysarias skin stops and she takes a cautious step back. It’s so small it’s barely noticeable.
“What?”
“I remember your father. Kind, peaceful, humorous, I see him when I look at you. But without that, you are strong, intelligent, beautiful. You are a great mother and a great queen. One who appreciates the subtleties of war. A level headed ruler the realm deserve-“
Mysarias gasp of surprise is silenced by Rhaenyras tongue as it enters her mouth. She presses her warm hands on both of Mysarias cheeks, moaning and deepening the kiss, feeling a passion unmatched to anything she had ever felt before. Those words were like honey. They affirmed her in ways she wasn’t sure she had ever felt. Always so worried about her claim, her children’s claim, the whole being-a-woman thing. Never did she have someone loyal and beautiful who would actually speak to her without hidden agendas or to disagree. No, these words were gratifying and intrigued every part of Rhaenyra.
Mysarias pretty light grey gown was the first to drop to the ground, revealing beautiful skin and curves that had been so criminally concealed. Rhaenyra smiles as her eyes familiarise herself with her body. Her perfect breasts are a refreshing sight for someone who practically had only seen the pair she, herself, possessed. The cool air hardened her exposed nipples, and at this point her head is spinning. Even so, Rhaenyra managed to pull her attention to the rest of Mysaria. Her perfect cunt Rhaenyra started to imagine she was tasting was becoming more inviting by the second. Her stomach too was an image of perfection, much like something she would see sculpted in the galleries back at kings landing.
“I’ve never…” Rhaenyra began, surprised by the sound of her voice in the deathly quiet room. It was rare for her to depict such vulnerability in these scenes. With most men she had been with, she was the one in charge. Always towering over them, taking what she wanted, using them to feel good, to feel as powerful as she was deep down. Even during her first time she was the one who instigated, never like this. Mysaria gives her a reassuring smile.
“If it is any constellation, your grace, I have never had royal pussy, either.” Rhaenyra laughs at her rather vulgar statement, feeling less tense than before.
“I want to taste you…” Rhaenyra says, clearing her throat and installing a shroud of false confidence to her words. “May I?” Mysaria nods, sitting at the edge of Rhaenyras bed and spreading her legs. Rhaenyra follows suit, kneeling in front of her. When Mysaria is in view fully now, she notices a scar through her folds which causes her to look up for reassurance.
“Will it hurt?” She questions. Mysaria shakes her head.
“My father gave that to me when I was very young.”
“Oh.” She mutters, caressing Mysarias thigh. “That’s awful. I’d understand if you don’t want me to-“
“No. I want you to. Giving me pleasure in the same place he cut seems a rather satisfactory form of revenge would you agree?” Rhaenyra smiles at this.
“I would.” She hums into her inner thighs, kissing and sucking at the skin there.
An excited gasp leaves her mouth and Rhaenyra notices the way Mysarias excitement drips.
“Need to…” Rhaenyra lets out, tone desperate. Mysaria nods. “Go for I- mmm.” Rhaenyra licks quickly over her clit and the higher sections of her cunt. The pace is eager and unrelenting, causing Mysaria more pleasure than she had anticipated from someone new to all this. Mysaria wraps her hands over her head, fingers weaving into the silver braid she so adored. Now Rhaenyra goes lower, in between her folds and all the way down to her pretty hole, tongue exploring the entrance and pulling a cacophony of noises from Mysaria all at once.
She tugs on the braid a little and uses strands that had fallen down onto her face to guide her to where she wanted, bringing her closer by the second.
“fuckfuck…so…ahh-“ Rhaenyra goes even faster, if possible, moving her head now in rhythm.
Mysaria tugs her hair tight as she cums. Her orgasm rippling through her in waves. Rhaenyra licks every delicious drop, moaning in satisfaction at her new found favourite hobby. She almost felt angry at herself for not experimenting with girls in her youth. Especially when she could have been doing this the whole time.
She stands up, smiling nervously at Mysaria.
“Was…that…um…” Her chin is glistening, like that wasn’t answer enough, but Mysaria new words of affirmation was needed right now. Maybe always.
“You did amazing, my queen.” She speaks breathily. Rhaenyra grabs her hips, pulling her in. Then she starts licking and sucking over her chest, making Mysaria gasp again. When she pulls away, Mysaria sucks on Rhaenyras neck, hard, untying the string of her nightdress as she did so.
“This alright?” Mysaria asks. Rhaenyra nods, letting out a hushed “yes.”
Rhaenyra is a sight just as breathtaking. Her smooth, beautiful Targaryen features making Mysaria flush. Perhaps she had chose the wrong Targaryen all those years back. Not that it was much of a choice.
“You must have a lot to teach me…” Rhaenyra says, feeling exposed in the cool air. Mysaria chuckles softly.
“Go to the bed and lie down. We will test the waters. See what you like.” Rhaenyra nods. Her imagination could think up many things to be certain, but at the same time she had no idea what she was in for.
Mysaria gets on top of her, legs on either side of Rhaenyras waist. Her body travels from her collarbone to lower stomach, then to her sensitive cunt. Mysaria raises an eyebrow.
“You’re so smooth down there.” She remarks. Rhaenyra laughs.
“The hair that grows there is very fine but I still like to remove it when I have the chance. You like?” Mysaria puts her middle digit onto Rhaenyras tight bundle of nerves, drawing a satisfied “mmm” from her lips.
“I like.” Mysaria agrees. Her two middle fingers continue, going a little slow just to offer the chance to revel in every sensation. Then, Mysaria curls her fingers inside her loosening walls, hitting every inch so good her eyes were rolling back.
“Y…you’re good at that.” Rhaenyra breathes out. Mysaria gives a grateful smile.
“I have been wondering something my queen.” Mysaria says, going a little faster. Rhaenyras eyes flutter.
“P..please… if we are acquainted enough for you to…put your fingers in me…you can at least use my name. Mmm…”
“I have been wondering, Rhaenyra, if it’s true about Targaryen’s being immune to fire.” Rhaenyra lets out a half laugh, half moan.
“That is meant to be legend. Though I hear some Targaryen’s truly can withstand… ohgods..ahem…um…fire.”
“And you?” She asks, removing her fingers and grabbing the flickering candle by her bedside table.
“Can you be burnt?”
Rhaenyra nods slowly, her eyes dancing with the flame.
“Some women like mixing a little pain and pleasure.” Mysaria explains, moving the candle in circular motions in the air. “Do you?” Rhaenyras gaze is deadly and intoxicating as she ponders her words.
“Perhaps…we can see.” She says, and Mysarias eyes sparkle in response, well, that and the candlelight reflecting so brilliantly in Mysarias deep coloured eyes.
“We should have a word to say if you want me to stop.”
“A word? What’s wrong with…’stop’” Rhaenyra questions genuinely. This brings another smile to Mysaria.
“Often when pleasure or pain is overwhelming us in the best way possible, we say stop stop. Even if theres nothing we would want less than to stop. A word like…tart, is an effortless distinction to put a foot on the wheel.” Rhaenyra nods.
“Tart…I like it.” Mysaria switches the candle to her left hand, putting her fingers back into Rhaenyra with her right. Cautiously, Mysaria pours the wax onto her body, making Rhaenyra shudder in pain. The combined sensation of her nearing orgasm caused her to cry out.
“Do…you need to say tart, Nyra?”
“N..no…Fuck it feels…I’ve never felt…” Mysaria nods in silent understanding, continuing to pump in and out of her.
The wax solidifies on her skin and Mysaria puts the candle down, rubbing her fingers over it, already sensitive from the burning.
“So…so good.” Rhaenyra hums, eyes shutting tight.
“I know…let it out I know you can.” Rhaenyra obeys, orgasming intensely and grabbing onto her tightly.
“What else?” Rhaenyra asks when she finally catches her breath.
“Need more.”
Mysaria is both surprised and impressed. She starts pulling off the thin bedsheet that was previously perfectly sat on Rhaenyras bed. She gives her a confused look.
“What are you doing with that?”
“This,” Mysaria starts to say as she pulls at the sheet. “Can be used for restraints. Put your arms up.”
Rhaenyra does so and Mysaria ties it.
“Have you ever experienced such intense sensations you wanted to scream and writhe around in your pretty bed, but you couldn’t move your arms at all? Couldn’t…defend yourself, almost.” Rhaenrya shakes her head, the idea already exciting her in a way she doubted was healthy.
“Remember the wor-“
“Tart. I know.” Rhaernya says impatiently. Mysaria grins at the queens eagerness and spreads her legs before climbing over them and positioning her own, wet cunt above Rhaenyras. Slowly, she rotates her hips, making Rhaenyra immediately moan in surprise. She watches Mysarias movements and wants so badly to level herself with each hand and move with her, but they remain very much bound.
“Ahhh…fuck…” Rhaeyra moans again as Mysaria goes even faster, grinding right over her clit over and over again. The sound of them sliding together, slick coating warm skin, it was a melody that would sell for millions.
The familiar, scream worthy feeling in her stomach swirled and her head revelled as Rhaernyra grew closer to orgasm, eyes rolling back, curses and moans falling out of her lips constantly. That was when Mysaria got off her, standing up in front of where she lay on the bed. Rhaenyra groans in frustration.
“Why did you stop?” She asks bitterly. Mysaria says nothing, ensuring she makes direct eye contract as her fingers plunge into herself. Rhaenyra gasps at this.
“Wh- in front of me?”
“You must have been close, huh?” Mysaria taunts. Rhaenyras eyes darken.
“Mysaria. Get back here.”
“Beg.” Mysaria says. Her words are dangerous. Status wise Rhaenyra has almost infinitely more power than Mysaria, and with men that power always translated. Never would she beg for anything. Never…
“Please.” Mysaria smile is wider than the narrow sea before she returns to her position on Rhaenyra, rocking her hips back and forth.
“Ah~ seven hells that- fuck you, don’t stop..” A mischievous look paints Mysarias eye as she obeys Rhaenyra. She wasn’t going to stop. Not even if she was begging for it. When Rhaenyra cums harshly, her hands still restrained. She expects the unrelenting pace to let up, her cunt already so sensitive.
Mysaria stands up, curling her fingers inside Rhaenyra again.
“Gods- Mysaria what are y- ohfuckstopstop mmm”
“You know the word.” Mysaria reminds her. And she does. Tart. A word as bittersweet as the ones she used to pick the lemons off of as a child. It was a lot, in truth. She had cum all over her fingers, she had her pussy soaked against Mysarias and now her fingers were inside her again. She was covered in sweat, wax and slick, whether it was hers or Mysarias she didn’t know. It would be a perfect point to stop. To clean herself and lie in Mysarias arms. But as her fingers pumped in and out, making her scream in pleasure and pain, she simply couldn’t bring herself to say the word.
“I kn…know.” Mysaria hums in satisfaction, continuing her thrusting harder now. When Mysaria finally lets up after her third orgasm, she unties Rhaenyra and kisses her deeply, tongue caressing the inner walls of her cheek. Rhaenyras hair is a mess. The braid, whatever remained of it, was over half out, with strands sticking to her face in different places.
“That was…yes.” Rhaenyra says a little awkwardly. Mysaria nods.
“Does this mean I can say I have ridden a dragon?” Rhaenyra laughs at the statement.
“Daemon is a targraryean too. Thought you were already a dragon rider.”
“That was a long time ago. I’d rather be with you any day than the father of a school of bastards who runs for the hills and makes bad choices.” Rhaenyra sighs at this. She is right, of course, but her words sting to hear.
“My sons…they” Rhaenyra started to say. Mysaria smiled brightly.
“I know. They are perfect.” She says, exchanging a knowing look that lasts long enough for the silence to spread.
“At least you needn’t worry about mothering my children, Rhaenyra. We don’t exactly have the requirements for it.”
The unexpectedness of the sentence causes them both to laugh and Rhaenyra pulls her in to a hug.
“Thank you for your support.” Rhaenyra mumbles. Mysaria nods.
Warnings: Cunnilingus: (A Receiving) Face riding (receiving) Fingering (receiving) Choking, praise and degradation, n!pple stuff, scissoring, str@p on, vibrator, spitting, squirting, face fucking (w strap), restraints
You and Janine had travelled as far out of WLF territory as you could, hiding out in an old pub. You had bolted every door using some tools and supplies you had found. Janine was recovering well, but the drugs would have her passed out for hours and it was too risky carrying her as you might need to use stealth or your weapon.
You held her hand and watched over her as she rested. The two of you would need food soon and your people would be worried soon.
***
Abby couldn’t stop thinking about the interaction she had with you. The fact you had slipped in and out of WLF bases, something Abby hadn’t even thought possible with the numbers, was something she couldn’t deny impressed her. You were beautiful too, which Abby was sure the others would blame her sympathy on.
“Can’t believe you let that girl go.” One of the soldiers complained. “Isaac will be-“
“Breathe a word of it to Isaac and see what happens.” Abby threatens, irritated by everyone by now. They make a hum of agreement, respecting Abbys judgement.
“Let’s bring this stuff back to Isaac”
***
The next day you and Janine were almost out. The two of you were taking down clickers and all kinds of infected and moving efficiently. That was till what was left of her arm got infected. She lay there, barely conscious when a bunch of Seraphites rolled through the area, looking for ‘sinners.’
“We have to go back to the hospital.” You tell her, shaking her awake. “Fuck..fuck I’m not a fucking doctor I…I don’t know how much I was meant to give you or…or where…fuck, fuck!” You exclaim. She smiles, her eyes barely open.
“Just leave me.”
“Fuck you.” You say, tears threatening to pool in your eyes. “I’m not leaving you. We’ll go back.”
“WLFS are all over, they won’t be as lenient as our blonde little hero from before.” You sigh. You know she’s right. The WLFS are some of the most trigger happy soldiers you had come across, but as long as you could slip in and take the medicine, all she had to do was leave with it, your fate didn’t matter. It never did.
“Wait here.”
***
Abby has been sitting (rather impatiently) in one of the wagons for some time now. She rolls her eyes when she realises it was Manny their driver had been waiting on.
“What are you doing Manny? You went on an assignment yesterday.”
“So did you.” He rebuts quickly. Abby sighs.
“It’s just a simple exchange. We’re securing the last of the hospital supplies, Carter and I have it-“
“There’s talk of triple the numbers of scars, Abs. I’m happy to help, just let me.”
“Fine. But only cause I’ve wasted enough time waiting for you.” She says with a smile. Manny smirks widely.
“I knew I’d convince you.”
They ride in silence for a while and Abby replays your interaction in her mind. The way your pretty eyes looked back at her so fucking gratefully. The way you were so determined to help your friend, even at the mercy of a group of armed soldiers.
“What is it?” Manny questions, noting her silence. She shakes her head dismissively.
“No, nothing just… nothing.” He doesn’t say anything further, but his eyes say it all, eventually drawing the info out of her like he always managed to do.
“Just, met someone that’s all.” Manny’s eyes light up and she’s immediately shaking her head.
“Not…like that. An enemy of sorts. She wasn’t one of us.”
“Oh…so she’s-“
“No.” Abby clears her throat. “She’s not uh, dead.” A smirk comes across Manny’s lip and Abby glares at him warningly.
“Don’t you dare.”
“Was she hot?”
“Fuck off.”
“Well why did you spare her?”
“I don’t know! Just- just drop it.”
“Alright. Alright.” He puts up his hands in surrender. “But she was definitely hot.”
°°°
Abby, Manny and Carter had returned with remaining supplies and were travelling out of the hospital when they heard their walkie talkie activate.
“We have reports of scars all over the hospital perimeter.” The voice over the walkie-talkie warned. Abby and Manny exchange looks.
“We’ll have to reroute.” Manny decides. Abby nods.
“Agreed.”
°°°
So…the hospital was a no go and the WLF base was even less plausible. Your own base was too far and the other areas had too many infected for one person to clear. Your only chance was the wagon. You sighted one wagon straying off route, but you didn’t want to kill three people who weren’t even attacking you. You would find a way to stop the wagon without hurting them.
°°°
You had armed a mild explosive on the trucks path. It caused two of the wheels to flatten, causing a harsh stop.
Amidst the chaos, you creep behind the truck and take one dump the contents of one of the containers in your bag and bolt for the trees.
“Okay…we’re not that far, we’re gonna have to walk, let’s just grab the supplies.” Abby instructs, walking behind the boot of the car. She freezes, looking at Manny wide eyed.
“Uh, didn’t we have 2?” She asks. Manny walks over and sees only one of the crates.
“Fuck. How is that possible? We haven’t even been anywhere!”
“Must have been when we were stopped. They must be close.”
“Scars?”
“Nah. Nah they would have killed us.”
“Well who, then?” He asks, and thats when a familiar flush reaches Abbys cheeks.
“Maybe that same girl?” She asks, kicking the dirt slightly in an effort to look away.
“Why would sh-“
“I’ll be right back.” Are the last words Abby says before sprinting into the woods after you.
You, on the other hand, head to where your friend was lying in the grass.
“Still with me Janine?” You plea, opening the box of supplies. She gives you a faint grunt.
“Here. Antibodics, rubbing alcohol, some bandages um…” You hear a snap on the ground behind you and quickly turn, only to realise you are in the scopes of a very familiar, very intimidating soldier. You clear your throat.
“…Hi-“
“I let you both live and this is how you repay me??” She questions, hitting you with the back of the scope. You put your arms up in surrender.
“Were the last supplies not good enough for you hm? Had to go steal from me directly? What’s next, gonna take the clothes off our backs too? Our weapons.”
“No, Abby, it…” Her eyes widen at the use of her name and heat rises to your cheeks.
“It is..Abby right?” She nods slowly.
“But we’re not on first name basis.” She rolls her eyes at your blank expression.
“It’s Anderson. Abby Anderson.”
“Fine, well do you think I wanted to go back, miss ‘Anderson?’ Look at the state of her.”
Abbys cold demeanour subsided and replaced itself with a sympathetic gaze. She sighs.
“You were meant to use the rubbing alcohol first, and the antibiodics go in the arm, not the direct wound. Then you bandage in strips..” You smile softly at her.
“Are you a doctor, miss Anderson?”
“Stop calling me that.”
“You said no first names-“
“Well-“ Abby couldn’t deny the way her name, any version of it, messed with her head when it was your lips that said it. ‘Miss Anderson’ also brought an unusual sensation in a place Abby certainly couldn’t afford to be experiencing it.
“Just…don’t call me that either.”
“Fine, Abigail?”
“Fine.” She answers back, faster than a bullet.
“Will you help her?” Abby laughs at your question. She looked so pretty when she smiled. The sound was beautiful too, even in mocking.
“The nerve to ask for my fucking help after I defended you, only for you to go and steal from me again.”
“I had to look out for my friend. Once I know she’s got a shot, you cn take me away from here, or shoot me. You can do anything you want.
“You are so fucking irritating. Give me the shit, but you’ll be repaying me for it.”
“Deal.” You agreed happily. She went to work on your friend, effortlessly bandaging and applying different things.
“She’ll be alright now, but she can’t be in contact with dirt or water on her arm. Plenty of rest will be ideal too for faster healing.
“Thank you Abby- I mean Abigail.” Abby flushes hard, looking away.
“Whatever.” A chorus of snarls and distant clicks sounded and you look at Abby with genuine fear this time.
“I’ll take her, you know how to shoot right?”
“Yes.” You reply simply, grabbing your gun from where you had holstered it. “But stealth is a better idea, we don’t want to draw more of them.” She glares at your suggestion.
“Fucking stealth? Where would we even go?”
“I saw an opening to a sort of cave back there, next to an old bakery.
“Good. Let’s fucking move it.”
***
And that’s how you got where you were now. The door, (or door adjacent) was secure, your friend was asleep on a thin blanket and you and Abby were sitting on a couch.
“Guess this was someones hideout before infected started coming in from the town.” Abby said, rolling her shoulders back when she removes her backpack. You nod.
“Sorry for separating you from your friends.” You say hesitantly. She lets out an exasperated sigh.
“It’s fine.” You look at her shocked and she elaborates.
“We were right near the base, my friends will take the supplies back and then get some more men to come after me. Knowing Manny though, he’ll probably be searching for me himself the idiot.”
“He clearly cares about you.” You utter, cracking your fingers and adjusting into the couch more comfortably. She nods.
“Your friend is lucky to have you too. I don’t think I have anyone I’d sneak across scar and infected territory for.” You shrugged.
“That’s surprising. I thought maybe you had a boyfriend you’d risk it all for.”
“I don’t have a boyfriend.” She explains. The silence makes you worry you have made it awkward before she adds. “Or girlfriend.”
Suddenly the room feels 100 degrees hotter, particularly a place in between your legs as you watch the way her long braid adds to her pretty facial features, her voice making her that much more angelic. More than that, though, her abs made her look like a statue chiseled from stone, a work of art by the selfish gods who brought this situation on in the first place.
“I still need to repay you…” You add cautiously, moving slightly closer to her. Her eyes look into one of your own, then down to your lips, then the other eye.
“What do you propose?”
°°°
When you had said you would do anything, you hadn’t expected to be on your knees for Abby, a possessive and notably larger hand pushing your head onto her clit so that you’re practically drowning in her pussy. When she finally grabs your head, pulling you up for a deep breath, you managed a choked
“Taste s’good….” Before shes burying you in herself again. A mixture of need, desperation and want driving her. She knows your beautiful, she knows she wants you, but its her body that’s yearning for it, and the way Abby is practically talking to her cunt as you eat it tells you everything you need to know.
“Come on, comeoncomeoncomeonfuck” She cries, thrusting into your face. She cums harshly, her slick leaking into your mouth as you continue sucking her dry. “Good, Abs?” You question, taking deep breaths. She smiles. “Hm. Take off your shirt.”
“Abby Janine is-“
“Janine is fast asleep and I have had enough of your smart mouth for one day. Show me your pretty fucking tits.”
“Yes Abby.” Are the words you’re less than proud of as they slip out of your mouth like butter. You take off the shirt, and she smiles widely at the view.
“Good girl. The bra now too.” When you unclip your bra, she doesn’t even take a moment to look at your now exposed chest as her lips are sucking on your sensitive nipples.
“Ah- fuck Abby what are- mmph” You moan as she nibbles ever so slightly. She pulls away and just looks at you for a bit, as if trying to take a photo of you with her eyes. Remembering every feature.
“Such a fucking slut for me. Moaning before I even touch you.” You blush at her words, knowing she’s right.
“You’re such a pretty fucking thing. We don’t get pretty sluts like you where I’m stationed.” She says, grabbing you by the hips and returning your tits to her face. She sucks in between your tits, leaving a dark mark there after sucking for a long time. Then, she does the same to your neck.
“Abby that’ll mark-“ You begin to argue, and she shuts up your complaint by stuffing her index and middle finger into your mouth. For some reason, that was the hottest thing you had experienced, which had you questions many things about yourself.
“What have I told you about that mouth hmm?” She teases. “Fucking bitch.” She pulls your mouth open with those same fingers and spits into your mouth. This simple act gets your so horny it’s practically dripping down your legs, but you try to contain any inch of your self respect that remains. Then, with no warning, she puts those same, saliva-coated fingers into your underwear, teasing you by occasionally pressing down on your clit but mostly just going down and up.
“Please…” She ignores, you, gathering the slick that pooled down to your thighs.
Finally, she gives in, rubbing tight circles over your eager clit. You let out a loud moan and quickly check to see if Janine heard that, but thankfully she was still out cold. The rubbing continued, nearing you dangerously close to the edge.
“F…fuck~” She smiles confidently at your words.
“I know baby.” Now she’s curling her fingers inside you, hitting the gummy walls of your G-spot and making you hum out in ecstasy.
“Gonna…” You moan so beautifully Abby can’t stop smiling. “Gonna cum-“
“Don’t tell me…show me.” Your body immediately obeys her as your warm cum soaks her fingers.
“F…fuck” You whimper, eyes shut tight. She smirks.
“You’re a squirter?” She questions quietly. You flush hard.
“Sometimes. When I haven’t….in a while.”
“Well consider me flattered.” Abby teases. “Pass me my bag.” You do as she says, heaving over her heavy backpack and placing it in her large hand. She opens it up and unzips an inside pocket, picking out an unusual shaped pink vibrator. You laugh when you see it.
“Now why would you bring a vibrator on patrol?” You ask in between laughs. She smiles in response.
“I have a roommate. Don’t want him finding or even worse using my shit on one of the many girls he brings over.”
“Ew…Would he do that?”
“I mean I would hope not but there’s part of me that wouldn’t be surprised.” She says, laughing now too.
“So gross.”
“Here, let me put this in you.” She says, spitting on the vibrator.
“This part goes inside.” She explains, pointing at a long, thin section. “And this part goes on your clit.” She adds, pointing at a small circular section.
You nod, looking back at Janine again.
“Never been fucked with my friend in the room before.” You mumble. She chuckles softly.
“But that’s where all the thrill comes from. Put it in, that’s the way.” She says, enjoying the view of the pretty pink vibrator disappearing into your tight hole. She turns it on to the highest setting, then adds the circular part to your still very sensitive clit.
“Wow…good girl. That’s my good fuckin slut hm? Takin it so soon after I made you cum so hard like a fucking sex toy hm?”
You moan, squeezing your thighs together at the vibrating sensation.
She puts her hand over your neck, not squeezing yet. The possessive feeling of this makes you moan harder, well, that and the feeling of your clit and g-spot being stimulated at the same time.
“Gonna squeeze, you okay with that?” She questions, her voice surprisingly gentle.
“Pl..ease” You moan, eyes going crazy at the feeling of the vibrator.
“If it’s too much just tap anywhere on my body twice m’kay?”
“It’s not going to be too much.” Your reply quickly. She laughs.
“Such a fucking overconfident slut.” She says, squeezing as she says this.
You’re already close again, the overstimulation hurting just enough to feel fucking amazing. Abby squeezes slightly harder when she notices the pleasure in your eyes and now you’re releasing said pleasure all over the vibrator. Abby smiles, reaching into you and pulling it out, turning it off.
“How’d you like that?” She asks, and you’re still catching your breath, seeing fucking colours behind your eyelids at this point.
“S…s’good.” You breathe. She nods, pouting sarcastically.
“Mmm…seems like you’ve mostly been having all the fun, which is ironic since you’re the one who owes me.” She announces. You look at her wide eyes, waiting for whatever she’d suggest next.
“Come here.” Abby demands, though her words are pointless as she’s gripping onto your bare waist and pulling you into her. Abby sheds any extra layers of clothes she had on, allowing you to gape at her bare figure for a moment, particularly her soaking pussy, all pretty and ready for you. She lifts your legs carefully, lining your clits together. You gasp at the contact, immediately craving the friction she was yet to give you.
“Ever done this before?” She questions. You just gaze at her wide eyed, practically giving her your answer for her.
“Put your arms on either side like this, then rock your hips in a circular motion till that pretty, desperate fucking clit of yours feel good mkay?” You nod, still gaping. She smiles at you, then starts moving her hips, setting the pace. You follow her lead, having trouble adjusting to the new sensation at first but then almost fucking melting when you do.
“F…fuck…Abb-“
“You feel that?” She questions, moving a little faster and moaning with you. You nod enthusiastically.
“Yes. Yesyesfuck.” Abby would laugh if she wasn’t already indulged in her own pleasure, both of you nearing your orgasm with every roll of your hips. The sound of your wet cunts moving together, the feeling of how fucking warm it was was something you couldn’t even dream of, and yet here you were.
“Gonna cum.”
“I know baby…me too, cum with me baby.”
“Fuck…Abs- mphhh.” You shut your eyes tightly, coming undone on her and dripping down her thighs. Abbys expression is very satisfied and she gives you a moment to recover and revel in the feeling. But only a moment.
“I have one other thing in my bag. Want to see?”
“Abby…” You say, already feeling so fucked out. She just smiles.
“There’s no getting out of this.” She says, reaching into the back and grabbing out a long black strap.
“W…you’re gonna put that in me?” She laughs, nodding.
“Don’t worry, we’ll take it slow. Well- perhaps not for long, but it won’t hurt, trust me.” You nod hesitantly.
“Here, our safe word will be ruby, okay?” You nod, giving her a comforting smile. “Ok.”
She attaches the strap to her waist.
“Okay baby, open your mouth, I’m gonna very gently fuck your face okay? Is that okay?” You look at the large strap, then back at Abbys beautiful fucking face. That face was dangerous. It could get you to do anything.
“Okay.”
“Tap twice remember?”
“I’m gonna be fine.” You say, and she nods, putting the tip of it into your pretty mouth.
“Mmm wow you look pretty like this. Gonna push more okay, deep breaths.” She instructs, pushing your head down further onto her cock.
“Mmm fuck you’re making me horny as a mother fucker right now. Just a little more you can take it. It’s okay if you gag, just 2 taps mmm?’ You nod, taking a deep breath and pushing almost the whole thing into your mouth. She gasps.
“Fuck, can’t take this any longer, lie the fuck down. Need to fuck you.” She tells you as the pulls your legs apart. She grabs her belt off the floor.
“Can I ask you something?” Your curiosity is peaked at her words, just as your fear is when you see her with the belt. Fear and thrill perhaps, who could tell?
“Sure.” You say, thought your voice was anything but sure. Abby laughs.
“Can I tie your feet together with this?” You let out a sigh of relief.
“Jesus. I thought you were gonna beat me up”
“Really? Wow…”
“What I mean look at the size of your arms!”
“I’ll have you know I built this muscle by working out. At a gym. Like a normal person.”
“Well how was I to know?” You say, laughing back now too. “And yes…you can.” She nods, binding your feet with the belt so your legs are stuck in a butterfly position.
“Mmm, I like this, nice and spread.” Abby remarks. She then lines herself up with your pussy, inching the tip into you and grunting when she feels how tight you are.
“Don’t get fucked often?” She questions, and it’s more of a thought than a direct question, but you answer regardless.
“Not too many fish in the sea when half the ocean is your enemy.”
“Touche.” She says, pushing more in and getting a satisfied gasp from you.
“What about her?”
“Who Janine? She’s like my siste- fuckthatfeelsgood.” Abby laughs at your answer.
“Wish you were a WLF. Stealthy, pretty, we’d get a lot done with you.” Abby rambles. You smile.
“I’m flattered.” She has the whole thing in you now, it stings a little but in the best way. The look in her eyes is asking your permission, which you respond with an eager nod and suddenly Abby is moving up and down. She fucks hard. Just like you imagined she would when you first saw her, and fuck if it wasn’t the best thing you had felt you weren’t sure what was.
“F…faster~”
“Uh-uh, no, you don’t get to demand stuff from me beautiful.” She says, gripping your throat.
“Once I start going fast you’re gonna beg me to slow down, but I’m not fucking going to, so for now be fucking grateful and take everything I give you, hm?” You nod, already feeling amazing with your neck being squeezed how you loved. And then, just like promised, Abby starts moving faster…and faster…until you’re crying out and your heads rolling back in pleasure.
“F…fuckohmygod.”
“Mmm…what did I tell my girl hm?”
“Fuck, Abby-“
“Fucking take it.” Becomes a repetitive sentence as you near another one of your countless orgasms. Finally, after she’s stretched you out and fucked you in ways you hadn’t imagined you’d ever experience in your life, she eases you off her soaked strap.
“H…happy now?” You breathe out, still clinging onto her back like a fucking koala. She smiles.
“Almost. Sit on my face and your debt will officially be repayed.”
“Oh my- Abby I’ve finished like 6 times or-“
“7.” Abby corrects. “And I don’t fucking care. I want you to ride my face like you fucking mean it. Hold onto the back of the couch for balance if you want, but you and your friend aint leaving till I taste you.” Your face flushes crimson. “Alright.” You eventually say.
And there you were, riding Abbys adorable little nose bump like it was a seat and bucking your cunt in and out of her mouth. She squeezes your thighs tightly and you’re so fucked out that when you cum, you squirt all over her face. When you remove yourself from her, your slick is dripping down her chin and her mouth and Abby is left with the most beautiful expression you’d ever seen. You blush, cleaning off her face with your hands as best you could. She smiles approvingly.
“My cute girl, cleaning off her mess for me.” Even your ears are red at this point. You quickly put your clothes back on and she pouts when you put the bra back.
“No…let me suck them again.”
“Abby they’re already bruised from-“ You know by now that complaining makes no difference. Plus, when someone makes you feel that good, there’s no point in arguing anyway. You unclip the bra again, revealing your perky tits once more. She smiles widely, taking them both into your mouth and sucking. When she’s finally satisfied, you both put back any removed clothes and sit next to each other on the couch.
“Well…this was fun.” Abby says with a smile, putting her stuff back in her bag. You nod in agreement.
“I…would have to agree. And thank you, for Janine.”
“Sure. What’s one less med kit?”
“Thanks.”
“If you ever feel like doing stupid shit like this again, I’ll mark the routes I take on my map, maybe we can meet somewhere.” Abby says, and your eyes and face lights up. She laughs.
“Miss me already?” You shake your head defensively.
“Course not.” You reply, handing her a map and pen. She circles a few areas.
“The building next to the library over here, the coffee shop over there, this restaurant, and this apartment are all off route, we can meet there sometime, I do assignments pretty much all week. You seem to have a thing for scouting, I’m sure you’ll find me well enough.” You nod.
“Bye Miss Anderson.”
“What have I told you about calling me that?”
“What are you going to do about it?” You reply with a smirk.
No guys this isn’t part 2, sorry to disappoint and I swear I am writing it, but for now, I’m just thinking about shy Abby.
Yes I’m very passionate about Abby not being a sub most of the time, but can we imagine Abby who gets secretly turned on by praise. Praise from you is next level too, of course, and perhaps is the reason she’s been taking on extra assignments from the moment she’s met you, just for a chance to hear “you did great work today.” (It was definitely the reason.) And now that you’re aware of it, you use it to your advantage.
Abby heads back from the shooting range with Manny, grin wider than the earth as she hugs you tight in celebration.
“I beat him by like 10 fucking points.” Abby exclaims. A provocative smirk touches your lips as you lean in to her ear.
“I’m so fucking proud of you baby.”
“I-“ Abby practically freezes, pushing her legs together slightly as she pulls away from the hug.
“Thank you.” She says, sounding more serious now.
“She carried both our weapons back too.” Manny says, and Abby’s still not making eye contact with you, her cheeks bright red.
“What a gentleman.” You tease, walking towards her again.
“And such a good girl.” Abby sighs, grabbing you by the wrist and leading you off.
“Hey I thought we were going to hang out with-“ Manny’s words are quickly made irrelevant by Abbys quick dismissal.
“Change of plans.” Abby says, walking with you quickly.
“Got something else I want to be victorious in.” She mumbles. You smile at her words.
“You look so fucking pretty Abby, claiming me like this” She doesn’t say anything, but she sure as hell thinks a lot of things, most of them unholy.
She’s going to be the fucking death of me.
A/N: (can we talk about the picture on the right, that scene where Abby's like "is now a bad time" so softly gets me. I would never leave you for Mel my sweet girl.
