Hi!!! I read your Isabela fics and OMG you write so well girl! The one where Isa comes out was so good 😭😭❤❤
Do you take requests? If not it's totally cool but it is depressing that there are only 2 works on your acc when your writing is that good 🖐
Hii. Thank you for reading my fics 💜💜 the thing is that I have been a little more focused on other things, so I haven't had the time or motivation to write lately. You're more than welcome to leave a request, and I will try my best to get to it and write more again, but I can't make any promises 😬
⟼ summary: you and isabela sneak away from the party to have some... tension-relieving time together. when you come back down, you both go about your own way and do a different kind of bonding.
⟼ tags: smut, explicit sexual content, mature language, kissing, begging, strap-on, slight dacryphilia, riding, sub!isabela, cursing, established relationship, hurt/comfort, no aftercare, bc it's a quickie, but reader is a little sad, fem!reader, coming out, pepa & reader, implied homophobia, implied past abuse, isabela & reader, pet names, protective pepa, mama bear julieta, etc. 2.2k words
⤿ “Oh, yes,” She pants, purple dress rustling as she moves. Isabela is straddling you on her bed, hands perched on your shoulders as her nails dig painfully into your skin. She’s breathing heavily, a thin bead of sweat sliding down the side of her neck, and her trembling hands move to cup your face, tilting it upwards for a messy kiss.
You let out a breathless chuckle, lifting your hips rhythmically to meet her, and you feel her legs tremble slightly. Her arms wrap around your neck, hugging you close as her mouth drops open, using one hand to grip the backboard as her hips roll a little harder. It's her favorite strap, after all, she knows how to ride it perfectly. She searches for her favorite angles, leaving her breathless as she clenches her jaw tightly.
“Please,” She pants desperately, and your hips snap upwards to meet hers, following her pace. A sob of relief breaks through, and her thighs shake as waves of pleasure start overwhelming her every sense, feeling her skin tingle as a familiar jolt of weakness climbs up her spine.
“There you go,” You whisper, one hand sliding down between you to draw tight circles on her clit. When she jolts, your free hand clamps over her mouth, muffling the loud, broken squeal that rips out suddenly. Her eyes roll, forehead landing on your shoulder as she rides out the rest of her high, breathing heavily. When she finishes, her body weight presses against you, groaning quietly.
“Shit, okay,” She sighs, sighing sharply as she lifts herself from your lap, using her knees. The purple strap slides out with a slight bounce, and you watch it glisten below the lights, soaked with her juices. Her cheeks are still red, flushed from exertion, and sweat makes her glisten. You love her like this, your beautiful girlfriend. You wish you could have her like this at all times. You hope one day she'll let you show the world how you worship her.
“I love you,” You murmur, cupping her cheek. Her chest burns hot, as it always does when you're tender with her, and she kisses your cheek, smoothing down her dress.
“I love you, too,” She mumbles shyly, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. “We should… go down now. My family's probably wondering what we're up to…”
“Yeah,” You sigh, standing as she shifts away from you. Your fingers unhook the strap around your hips and thighs, tossing the used toy into a drawer to clean later before buttoning up your pants. When you turn around, Isabela is right behind you, reaching out to fix your hair as she stares up at you.
“You look pretty when you're a mess,” She murmurs absently, standing on her toes to kiss your lips. Your hands make home on her hips as she cups your face. Usually, after sex there's always time to bond and relax after. But not today—and this is why you only accept quickies when she's too frustrated to handle it herself.
“Thank you,” You whisper. Her eyes soften at the ends, and she looks a little like how her mother looks at her.
“I promise that after the party we'll have time to just… be. Together. As always,” She says quietly, thumb stroking your cheek. You hum, leaning down to kiss her head.
“I know,” You smile. “I'm a big girl, Isa. I can handle myself.”
“I know, baby,” She smiles sadly. “I just… I know you hate not having me close after our… activities. I promise I'll make it up to you.”
“Nonsense,” You chuckle, kissing her button nose. “You don't owe me anything, my love. I'll hold you when you feel like you can tell your family about us. And I will never rush that.”
You share one last kiss before sneaking out of her room. You both move separately for some time, Isabela heading to the kitchen to help her mother while you stay with Pepa to entertain Antonio, who seems particularly fond of you. You're unsure as to how you charmed the little man, but you're certainly not complaining.
“You’re great with kids, you know,” Pepa says, nursing a glass of champagne as a sun appears over her head, watching her youngest son sit on your lap, his small hands holding your fingers tightly.
“I certainly don't know where I got that from,” You joke softly, laughing. “I don't have a lot of experience with them other than some of the ones in the village. I guess this hombrecito just has good taste, huh?”
Antonio giggles as his mother's sun brightens.
“He does!” She says, reaching over to pinch his cheek. You smile down at the boy, before a laugh resounding through the air catches your attention. It’s Isabela's—you know it by heart. Your eyes find her in the kitchen, seeing her mother kneading dough and bumping her hip against her daughter’s. Your throat closes up as Isabela tilts her head, a small dimple showing on her cheek as a result of the smile.
Fuck, she's pretty. She's beyond pretty. She's breathtaking, and utterly divine. She looks so in her element with her mother, standing comfortably.
You wish you could give her that.
“So,” Pepa starts, making you snap out of your trance and shoot your eyes back to Antonio, smiling softly at him as he buries his face into your shoulder. “What is… this thing with you and Isa?”
Your face burns, heart dropping, “Wh-what? What thing?”
Pepa raises a brow, lips twitching into a smirk, “...you know. The thing. The heart-eyes, and faraway staring. The yearning.”
“I don't know what you're talking about,” Your cheeks burn, watching Antonio's eyes droop. “We're friends. She's my best friend. I'm not… yearning. I just watch.”
Pepa sighs, “Ay, mi nena. It isn't uncommon to fall in love with your best friend, you know?”
You turn to look at her, “...I'm a woman.”
"I can see that," The redhead deadpanned, rolling her eyes and quirking a single brow. "Yearning is expected from women. It'd take a very romantic man—like my Félix—for yearning like this. It has a certain ache that not many can carry."
Your eyes return to Isabela, covered in flour. It does ache. Loving her from afar, in the shadows, unable to comfort her in public, hurts like hell.
“Have you told her?” She asks softly. “She looks at you differently. There’s something there. But when women are afraid, they hide like hell. I can't see if you won't let me.”
Your heart pounds, breathing out, “She knows. She knows, and we…”
“Oh!” A rainbow glows above her head as she smiles widely. “Oh, mi vida! Really? How long!?”
You press your lips together, “...about a year.”
“A YEAR!?”
“¡Señora, quiet!” You hiss, cheeks red as you look around. The music is loud, but you don't want to risk anyone overhearing. You're already risking a lot by telling Pepa. You don't even know why. Perhaps you're beginning to drown in the weight of the secret.
“What… an entire year?” She whispers, eyes flashing sadly. “Oh… sweet girl. All this time…”
Your breathe out, “It's really okay. I understand how she feels more than anyone. I'm in no rush. I just wish I didn't have to… be restricted to loving her from afar now that we've confessed.”
Pepa reaches out, setting her glass aside and taking your hand between both of hers, “I know, querida. You're… very strong. What about your family? Do they know anything?”
You cringe, “No. Thankfully, they're dead already.”
She gives you an unamused stare.
“What? They weren't very nice people,” You mutter with a nervous giggle, making her laugh in disbelief.
“They wouldn't have approved?” She asks softly.
“No, they wouldn't have. Except they wouldn't have stopped at just verbal communication. They were more of a… “actions speak louder than words” type of family.”
“Dios mio,” She mutters. “Then it's a good thing they're dead or I would have rained hell on them.”
You laugh softly, sitting in silence for a few more seconds, “Does it truly not bother you… that we're both women?”
Pepa sighs through her nose, a defeated smile etching her lips, “No, sweetheart, it does not. It has never bothered me, and it will never do so in the future.”
“Oh,” You whisper. “Thank you. Dolores knows, by the way.”
“I figured,” Pepa sighs, sitting back on the chair. “That girl has only managed to hide a handful of things from her Mami, but she has hid them very well.”
“Like Bruno's disappearance?”
“Ten years, nena! Ten! That's true dedication,” Pepa shakes her head. “Oh, and let me tell you…”
“You've been watching her a lot lately,” Julieta’s voice comes out soft, with a hint of a knowing tone. Isabela's eyes leave you to bond with her Tía Pepa, little Antonio clinging to your shirt as he sleeps peacefully. Isabela clears her throat, returning her focus to kneading.
“I just want to make sure she isn't embarrassing herself,” Isabela mutters, feeling the tips of her ears grow hot. She's glad her skin is dark enough to not make it obvious.
“Embarrass herself?” Julieta asks, raising a brow. She wipes the flour on her apron, leaning her hip on the counter. Isabela swallows thickly, heart hammering in her chest.
“Yeah, she's… you know, she's just clumsy when she's nervous,” Isabela replies, cringing internally when her voice wavers slightly. You do get clumsy when you're nervous, but she doesn't watch you to make sure you don't “embarrass yourself.” She watches you because it makes her heart squeeze in adoration when your cheeks turn red, or when you search for her subconsciously after any interaction.
“Hm,” Julieta hums softly. “She's known the family for almost five years now, mija. I doubt she'll be nervous anymore.”
But you are, Isabela thought, cheeks red. You'll be so nervous when you meet her eyes. When you look around, and you can't find her. You're nervous when you can't smell her perfume nearby or when there's too much space between you. You're so loving in a way that should be suffocating, but she can't get enough of. She loves how you love her.
“Just in case,” She whispers weakly, dusting off the powder from her palms. Julieta watches her daughter closely. She watches the way she pats nervously at her dress, and how flowers pop in her hair. Isabela is her daughter, her first baby, and she is nothing in her soul if not a good mother.
“Isabela,” Julieta whispers, watching her tense. Isabela hums, but doesn't turn to look at her mother. In fact, she doesn't move at all. If it wasn't for her trembling fingers, she'd look like a statue. “Mi amor, look at me.”
Isabela swallows, then obeys, “Yes?”
“Are you… are you in love with her?”
There's silence. Even the loud music in the background fades, and her ears ring. Her heart is pounding loudly, and her eyes are searching every micro reaction her mother may show. Julieta looks… not angry. Not even confused. She looks sad. Could it be disappointment? She can't have that. She is Perfect Isabela.
Her lips part to deny it, but the mere thought makes her throat close up, eyes watering. She looks at you again. You with your stupidly soft eyes, and your stupidly charming smile. The way it's so easy for you to just… love her. Even with all the complications, with all the risk. You touch her, and you kiss her, and you make her feel good without an ounce of fear or regret.
“Yes, Mamá,” Isabela whispers. “I'm in love with her. She is… my girlfriend. She has been for almost a year now.”
Julieta breathes out shakily, and for a moment, Isabela thinks she sees hurt in her eyes. A lump forms in her throat, bracing for a comment. For a gasp. For disappointment.
“A year?” Julieta whispers. “You've been in love for a year… and you felt as though you couldn't tell me?”
Isabela breathes in, trembling, “...what?”
“Isabela Madrigal,” Julieta whispers, looking at her with a love so fierce that it almost reminds her of you. “You… are my daughter. My little girl. You are my very first baby. There is nothing, and I mean nothing, that you could possibly say or do that would make me not love you.”
She cups her cheeks, watching the tears slide down her daughter's face. Her thumbs wipe them away, “You kill someone? That's fine, I'll be the one to help you hide the evidence. But, mi vida, you being in love with a woman has never been something that I would consider losing you for.”
“Mami…” Isabela chokes out softly. Julieta’s own eyes water, smiling up at her daughter.
“I have always kept in mind that my children would make their own choices,” She whispers. “And if I wasn't ready to embrace anything you were going to throw at me, I wouldn't have had you at all. I have been ready to hold you since the very moment you became life inside me.”
Isabela cries out softly, pulling her mother in for a fierce hug. Julieta holds her tight, gently soothing her hair and kissing her temple.
“I didn't know,” Isabela sobs. “I didn't know you'd be okay… I didn't know if there were circumstances…”
“Never,” Julieta whispers. “You are my daughter. My love for you has never been conditional.”
⟼ summary: you show your girlfriend a good time, after torturing her a little bit, of course. it's all harmless fun—she likes it when you take control. she'll be more than fine by the time the two of you are finished.
⟼ tags: smut, explicit sexual content, mature language, kissing, begging, dacryphilia, cunnilingus, oral, fingering, praising, teasing, bondage, restraints, implied foreplay, edging, orgasm denial, marking, hickeys, biting, scratching, mentions of blood, sub!isabela, dolores is implied to be traumatized, sorry bbg, etc. 1.5k words
⤹ Isabela Madrigal, pinned to the mattress below her, is a sight to behold. With her wrists bound above her head by lavender-colored silk, eyes unfocused as she stares up at you, lips glistening below the low light. For once in her life, she’s the one being cultivated—and she’s thriving off of it. Her hair frames her hair like a halo, draped like a spill of liquid coal; she is as breathtaking as she always is, but there is a certain charm in seeing the strong broken down. The sight before you is so intimate, so profoundly silent that it feels like trespassing on holy ground. You lower your body, lips pressed against her skin.
“You’re too quiet, mi flor,” You murmur, your voice a low vibration against Isabela’s collarbone. She shudders, goosebumps rising on her skin as she sighs shakily. You, to her, feel like the air before a lightning strike—still, and oppressively hot. She feels your touch too much, and yet not enough, senses buzzing like a hive of bees.
“Please,” Isabela whimpers, eyes fluttering shut as a fresh wave of heat rolls through her. “Please, I can’t… I need it.”
“I know,” You murmur, tilting your head to nip at her jawline, trailing your lips to her ear. You feel her jolt beneath your touch, and your hand slides between her thighs, hearing her suck in a breath as your fingers reach her pussy. She’s soaked, slick smeared on her inner thighs each time she rubs them together, making your fingers slide in easily.
“Dios mio,” She exhales, voice trembling as she bites down on her bottom lip. Your mouth closes around her earlobe, gently sliding your fingers out before slowly pushing them back in. Her mouth drops open, letting out a pitiful whine as she closes her trembling thighs around your hand. She’s so tense, eager to be given what she wants. She is the Golden Child, after all. What she wants, she gets. You move your fingers again, a deliberate, slow friction that pushes Isabela right to the jagged edge of a sob.
“What’s wrong, Isa?” You tease softly, nose brushing against her cheek. Your lips return to her neck, pressing a kiss to the tender bite mark just below her pulse point. “Too much, baby? Not enough?”
“Please,” She sobs, hips twitching, rolling back onto your fingers. She chokes on a cry. You slow down just enough to be cruel, letting her hover over the peak but refusing to let her fall over. Your teeth sink into the meeting place between her neck and shoulder, and the way her legs shake makes heat swirl in your lower abdomen. You lift yourself, looking down at her and smiling softly, admitting defeat. You can never say no to eyes like those—big, brown, pleading. Wet with tears.
“Just relax for me,” You whisper, shifting your weight onto your knees. She watches you for a moment, teary eyes flashing with confusion before your free hand lands on her thigh, pushing it away and leaving her open. Her eyes widen as you begin a quick, relentless pace. Your fingers are soaked, and there’s slick dripping from her entrance, wetting the sheets. You place your hand on her abdomen when she tries fucking herself back on your fingers, and a long whine leaves her lips when you keep her pinned.
“Oh, please,” She whimpers, tugging at the restraints. “Please, mi amor. I’ve waited too long. Please, just—oh— just let me cum..”
Your fingers slide out and she sobs as you land a sharp slap to her swollen clit, letting her hips chase your touch. Tears slide down her temples, and your eyes soften at the way her breasts rise and fall with every deep breath, lips trembling in desperation. You reach over to the silk, undoing it smoothly and watching as her arms shoot out to wrap around your neck, tugging you down for a kiss.
“Please,” She begs against your lips, her core making contact with your thigh. She inhales sharply. “Y-you’re being mean. Please, just… just make me cum. I’ll be good…”
“You are good,” You whisper in amusement, kissing the salt from her cheek. “You’re such a good girl, sweetheart. I’m just being mean.”
She lets out a watery giggle at your words, and you kiss your way down, until you’re laying between her legs. Her hands land at her sides, fingers curling around the bedsheets as she leans her weight on her elbows, watching you. Her eyes are dark, pupils blown and unfocused, and she looks utterly divine. When you hook her legs over your shoulders, using your tongue to lick a stripe up her slit, you watch her head fall back as she gasps.
Your arms wrap around her thighs, eyes fluttering closed as you moan into her pussy. Her breath comes out in sharp pants, and you can tell she’s half-expecting you to pull away and leave her hanging again. You don’t, however; instead driving your tongue slowly inside her, watching her eyes gloss over as she bites down hard on her bottom lip. Her slick wets your mouth, and it is still the most addictive taste you’ve consumed.
Her fingers tangle in your hair, tugging shyly as her hips roll. Before you get too distracted, you slide your tongue out, licking one long stripe before gently sucking at her clit. Her thighs jolt, a broken sob-like moan ripping through her throat. You adjust your arm, sliding two fingers easily inside her, velvet walls fluttering at the sudden fullness. She sits up, hands flat on the mattress as she stares down at you. Her teary eyes are still completely unfocused, jaw falling slack as you start fucking your fingers into her, still using your mouth and tongue on her clit.
“Shit, yes. Yes, thank you..” She chokes, lips swollen and glistening. You watch a bead of sweat gently slide down her jaw and neck, and you catch her breasts in the light. Your free hand slides up her trembling abdomen, and she exhales sharply when your hand gropes at her tits, pinching her nipple. Her thighs squeeze around your head, one hand clinging to your hair while the other drags its nails up your back.
Her clit throbs beneath your tongue, and you pull back for a moment to spit, adding more lubricant. She’s panting heavily, losing the rhythm she once held. She squeezes her thighs a little tighter, and your fingers curl sharply inside her, driving them into her as deep as you can reach. She sobs, gasps, and you can feel blood sliding down your back as her legs start shaking violently.
“Yes, I’m–” She moans gutturally. “I’m—yes, m’gonna cum..!”
You feel a light gush drenching you, but you don’t stop, moving your eyes to take her in. Your fingers continue curling, and your teeth briefly graze her clit as you suck harshly, creating more suction. She curses, moans your name, and holds you tighter, making it hard to breathe. Your eyes close, brows scrunching in focus as you hold your breath and fuck her through her high. She lays back on the mattress, back arching as her hips twitch, grinding against your mouth.
When she cries out, releasing your head and pushing you away, you pull back with a gasp. You slide your fingers out gently, stroking her wet thighs as you catch your breath. Her arm falls over her eyes as she pants, skin glistening with sweat beneath the soft light. She looks ethereal, and you lean down to kiss the bite mark near her pulse point. She shudders slightly, removing her arm and looking up at you. She looks dazed, sleepy eyes looking up at you as a blush settles on her cheeks, wrecked from her orgasm.
“Oh, Dios mio,” She murmurs breathlessly. “I think I died.”
You laugh softly, “You okay?”
“No,” She swallows, brushing her hair away from her face. “I’ll never be okay again. You’ve ruined me.”
Gently, you kiss the beauty mark beneath her eye, “Then I’ve done my job well, mi vida. Let’s get in the shower so we can go apologize to Dolores.”
“Ay, Lola,” She groans, heat crawling up her neck. “This is why we keep our activities for the night! She has a soundproof room for a reason!”
“She’ll be fine,” You say, sliding out of bed. “She’s probably heard everyone in the village get it on anyway.”
Isabela makes a face, grabbing the hair tie discarded on the nightstand, “Jeez. How doesn’t she break down more?”
You grimace, “Yeah. We should get her a card or something.”
“Yeah, a card,” Isabela rolls her eyes, standing on weak legs. “That’ll make everything better.”
“What else can I do?” You shrug, heading to the bathroom. “She probably won’t look us in the eye for a week, anyway. Dropping you off at Casita is going to be awkward…”
“Por Dios,” Isabela mutters from the room. “Because you have no self-control.”
“Last I checked, you didn't want me to stop,” You challenge, turning the shower handle and watching the water begin to warm. “Now, get in here, Madrigal. Round two.”
MY FLOWER — you show your girlfriend a good time, after torturing her a little bit, of course. it's all harmless fun—she likes it when you take control. she'll be more than fine by the time the two of you are finished.
COMING OUT — you and isabela sneak away from the party to have some... tension-relieving time together. when you come back down, you both go about your own way and do a different kind of bonding.
