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theostrophywife · 11 months ago

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the crush theory.

pairing: lorenzo berkshire x reader.

song inspiration: london boy by taylor swift.

author’s note: this is just a cute indulgent coffee shop! au with my sweetheart enzo. majorly inspired by all the boyfriend vibes louis has been serving with miss olivia lately. let’s not even talk about the ass grab with his big hands and rings…🫣

Enzo Berkshire never quite managed to master the language of love.

Despite being a polyglot and a linguistics major, romance remained a complete mystery to him. It wasn't like he could craft a conjugation chart to help him not make a fool of himself in front of the girl of his dreams. When it came to matters of the heart, Enzo often found himself at a loss for words. Perhaps that was the reason why he never mustered up the courage to speak to you.

Until that one fateful fall morning.

The kiss of autumn arrived on campus a few weeks into the semester, freeing the city from the grips of the summer heat and bringing with it the changing of leaves and the distinct scent of cinnamon and apples. Enzo shoved his hands into the pockets of his burnt orange corduroy trousers and savored the sound of the jewel toned leaves crunching underneath his loafers. As the wind picked up, he wrapped his chunky knit cardigan tighter around himself to shield against the chilly breeze.

The ivy covered brick buildings and cobblestone streets faded into the background as he walked past the quad. Deja Brew, the little hole in the wall cafe that Enzo frequented, greeted him like an old friend. The coffee shop was located on the outskirts of campus and was only a short walk from his dorm, which made it the ideal place to conduct his tutoring sessions. Not only was it convenient, but the cozy and quiet ambience provided the perfect setting for Enzo to teach his fellow struggling students.

As time went on, the choice of location became less about convenience and more about catching a glimpse of you—the surly barista that worked the morning shift. For the past few months, Enzo developed a rather embarrassing crush on you. There was something about your scowl and no bullshit attitude that drew him to you like a moth to a flame. Though in his case, Enzo was perfectly content to hover a safe distance from the proverbial light of your fancy French cigarette lest he get burned.

Upon first glance, anyone would have been intimidated by you. With your faded band tees, ripped jeans, and scuffed leather boots, Enzo was well aware that a girl like you would never be interested in a bloke who's wardrobe consisted of sweaters with elbow patches, floral print button downs, and neatly pressed pleated trousers. Needless to say, you were way too cool for him.

Enzo was resigned to merely admiring you from afar, but fate seemed to have other ideas. The bell above the door tinkled softly as he made his way into Deja Brew only to stop dead in his tracks when he spotted you at the register. Usually, you were behind the bar manning the espresso machine during the early morning rush, but not today.

Today, you were front and center.

Part of him considered walking out the door, but given the fact that the shop was nearly empty, a hasty exit would definitely not go unnoticed. Enzo had no choice but to suck it up and approach the register with resignation. The minute he opened his mouth, he was sure he’d muck things up.

Enzo swallowed thickly and pushed his round framed glasses further up the bridge of his nose; a nervous habit he developed when he was younger. The erratic beat of his heart echoed in Enzo’s ears as his gaze flickered up to your face, expecting to be greeted with a frown. To his surprise, your lips curved into a small smile once you spotted him.

“Lemon balm tea with two pumps of peach syrup and a dollop of honey, right?”

Enzo blinked at the melodious sound of your voice, nearly missing the fact that you’d recited his exact order, which shouldn’t have been surprising given the fact that you’ve been making it for him for months. Still, he couldn’t help but feel a little warm inside as you looked at him expectantly. He stared in stunned silence for a moment.

You furrowed your brow in doubt. “Did I get that wrong?”

“No, no, it’s right. It’s great. It’s perfect—“ Enzo cleared his throat, mentally kicking himself for rambling. “I’m just surprised that you remembered it.”

“Of course I remember it, you’re one of my regulars. I’d be a pretty shit barista if I forgot your order.” You cocked your head, tapping your lips thoughtfully. “Speaking of which, do you want your croissant warmed up, Lorenzo?”

“You know my name?”

Enzo hadn’t meant to sound so starstruck, but hearing his name come out of your mouth made his heart skip a beat.

“And your social security number too,” you deadpanned. Enzo’s eyes widened, which made you chuckle. “I’m just having a laugh. I promise I won’t commit identity theft against you. Unless you piss me off.”

You accompanied the statement with a cheeky wink, which only made Enzo even more nervous.

"Don't look so nervous, peach. I swear I don't bite."

“Right. Sure. Of course,” he stammered. “The tea and the croissant sounds good, Y/N.” The realization that you’ve never told him your name came a beat too late. “It’s on your chest. The name tag, I mean. I wasn’t just staring at your chest. Though I’m sure it’s very nice. Bloody hell, I’ll stop talking now.”

Enzo cringed at himself, but eased when you laughed. “You’re a strange bloke, Lorenzo.” You said as you began making his drink. “But I’ve got to admit, it’s oddly charming.”

He chuckled, trying to hide the flush coloring his cheeks. “That seems to be my sweet spot.”

"As sweet as peaches," you retorted as you added two pumps of peach syrup into his tea. "You'll have to excuse the fruit references. Before I knew your name, I referred to you solely as the peach guy."

"Is that good or bad?"

Enzo hiked his backpack over his shoulder and meandered down the end of the counter where you were topping off his tea with a dollop of honey. You swirled it into a heart pattern before sliding the warm cup into a sleeve.

"Well, I've never met anyone who's preferred drink could constitute as a dessert, so it's certainly something. You're an enigma, Lorenzo," you said thoughtfully. "Though I think I like peach better. You don't really strike me as a Lorenzo."

“You can call me Enzo. I prefer it over my full name. It sounds so stuffy.”

“We certainly can’t have that,” you said with a smirk. “Enzo. I like it. It’s rather becoming. Not stuffy at all.” He chuckled as you handed him a brown bag. "I might still call you peach from time to time. Force of habit. You understand, right?"

"Of course," Enzo replied. "El loro viejo no aprende a hablar."

"You kiss your mum with that mouth, peach?"

Enzo flushed. "It's Spanish for the old parrot does not learn to talk. Basically their equivalent of you can't teach an old dog new tricks." He shifted his weight onto his other foot. "What I'm trying to say is, I don't mind if you call me peach or Enzo or whatever else you'd like."

"You're giving me way too much freedom, Enzo. I intend on taking full advantage." You winked as you slid his drink over to him. “Enjoy your croissant. I put a little something extra in there for you.”

Enzo peered into the bag and saw an extra pastry wrapped in black cellophane next to his croissant. The brownie didn’t look like any of the ones behind the counter, which meant that it was probably homemade. Strange, he wouldn’t have pegged you for a baker.

“Oh, you really don’t have to—”

“Nonsense,” you countered, waving off his protests. “Really, you’d be doing me a favor. It’s an experimental recipe of mine, which makes you my guinea pig. As payment, I expect a full report on the brownie tomorrow morning. Don’t hold back either, peach. I want a brutally honest review.”

“I’m sure it’ll be great,” Enzo said in reassurance. “In any case, your guinea pig will take ample notes.”

“That would be much appreciated,” you said with a serious nod. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Enzo-not-Lorenzo.”

Enzo couldn’t help but grin. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N.”

Enzo rubbed his temples, willing the headache forming behind his eyes to vanish. Unfortunately for him, his last tutoring session with Flint seemed to have left a permanent mark. While Enzo usually enjoyed teaching French, Marcus was proving to be a rather difficult case. Not only was Flint unwilling to do the work, the knobhead also spent the entire session leering at you instead of studying the conjugation chart that Enzo poured his blood, sweat, and tears on.

“Merlin, I have no idea how you deal with rich, smarmy arseholes all day.”

Enzo looked up to find you seated across the table, sliding a sandwich, a fruit cup, and a bag of crisps towards him without missing a beat. He hadn’t even realized it was already an hour past lunch until his stomach grumbled at the sight of food.

“One could argue that I’m also a rich, smarmy arsehole,” Enzo countered, picking up a grape and popping it into his mouth with a slight smile. “Yet you seem to have no problems dealing with me.”

“Yes, well, everyone knows I’m just using you for your body. Specifically, your taste buds.” Enzo shook his head in amusement before taking a bite out of the sandwich. Peanut butter and jelly, his favorite. “Besides, how else am I supposed to learn new insults in different languages if I hadn’t met you? Speaking of which, I believe I’m completely justified in saying that Flint is a total gehirnverweigerer.”

“Marcus isn’t so bad. He just needs a bit of a push,” Enzo replied rather unconvincingly.

“If by a push you mean my boot against his arse, then I wholeheartedly agree.”

“The French have this saying, petit à petit, l’oiseau fait son nid. In English, it roughly translates to: little by little, the bird builds its nest.”

“Except Flint isn’t a bird, he’s a twat,” you deadpanned. “The bloke was too busy staring at my arse to even pick up a lick of French. To think, you even made this cute little chart and everything. You have the patience of a saint, Enz.”

“One of us has to,” Enzo replied as he tore open the bag of wotsits. “Given your proclivity to violence.”

“Don’t make me take your crisps away, Lorenzo.”

Shielding his wotsits from your vengeful wrath, Enzo flashed you a saccharine smile. For good measure, he even batted his pretty honey eyes at you. The audacity. “Have I ever told you that you’re my favorite person in the whole entire world?”

You rolled your eyes fondly. “Flattery will get you everywhere, Berkshire. Now finish your lunch or else I’ll be very cross with you.”

Enzo smiled to himself, wondering at the fact you were complete strangers until a few weeks ago. Ever since you gifted him with the best brownie he’s ever tasted in his entire life, he became your designated taste tester. Every morning, Enzo would start his day off with his usual lemon tea and whatever new pastry recipe you had chosen to tackle that week. Between the scones and muffins, Enzo learned that you intended on opening your own bakery after uni. Hence, his very important role of reviewing your recipes.

Granted, Enzo didn’t know how much of a help he actually was given the fact that he thought everything you made was amazing. Still, the novelty of finding a fresh pastry in his bag with a handwritten note from you never failed to brighten his morning. Especially since you signed each one with a crimson kiss print that made him blush every time he laid his eyes upon it. It was safe to say his crush had only gotten worse the more he got to know you.

As you settled behind the counter to help with the afternoon rush, Enzo attempted to get some work done before classes started for the day. With finals fast approaching, he was caught up on making sure he had everything in order. It wasn’t until Enzo heard a familiar voice when he finally tore his gaze away from his laptop screen.

Enzo froze as he watched one of his best mates saunter up to the counter. Even from his seat by the window, he could tell that Mattheo was flirting with you. In hindsight, his friend seemed exactly like the type of guy you would go for. The broody bad boy who probably listened to all the obscure bands that you often talked to him about. As Mattheo directed his smoldering gaze at you, Enzo thought he might be violently ill.

Squinting across the coffee shop, Enzo angrily shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers in an attempt to keep himself from strangling his curly headed friend.

In a tone that was at least an octave deeper than his regular voice, Mattheo drawled a question at you. “What’s good here?”

You stared at him pointedly before waving a hand towards the menu. “There’s coffee, there’s pastries. It’s really not rocket science.”

The deadpan delivery combined with the utterly unenthused expression on your face nearly made Enzo snort out loud. It might’ve been an arsehole move to rejoice at Mattheo’s fumble, but he found it immensely satisfying that you seemed to be immune to the infamous Riddle charm.

“A bit feisty today aren’t we, love? I just wanted to see what the pretty lady behind the counter recommends.”

Enzo watched in amusement as you slipped on your signature scowl, the one that made him fall for you in the first place. “The pretty lady recommends that you stop holding up the line so she can get to the other customers who actually know what they want.”

Hiding his smirk, Enzo feigned surprise as a dejected Mattheo plopped down across from him. “Merlin, that was brutal. Is the barista always this mean? I complimented her pins and she stared at me like I’d grown an extra head.”

“Y/N isn’t really a people person,” Enzo supplied.

“No shit, Berkshire.” Mattheo tapped his fingers on the counter. “Let’s just get to class before I embarrass myself any further.”

“That’s probably for the best,” replied Enzo.

Ignoring Mattheo’s glare, Enzo packed up his laptop and put his tray away. He followed his mate through the throng of people, which had thinned out once more. They were a few steps away from the door when you called out his name. With a raised brow, you held out a pink box. Enzo smiled sheepishly in return. He couldn’t believe he’d almost forgotten the dessert of the day.

“One lemon berry scone. Less tart, per your critique last week.” He took the box from your hands, blushing furiously when your fingers brushed against his. “Have a good class, peach.”

“Thanks, Y/N. I’ll have your full report ready tomorrow.”

“You better.” Enzo nearly dropped the box when you winked at him. “Later, Berkshire.”

Smiling to himself, Enzo came face to face with a gaping Mattheo. “For Salazar’s sake, it’s like I don’t even exist.” He muttered before breaking out into a grin. “No wonder my moves had no effect. Mate, she obviously fancies you.”

Enzo’s cheeks immediately heated as he pushed out into the quad. “What? No. Y/N and I are just really good friends.”

“Now I understand why you come here so often,” Mattheo remarked. “If the mean hot barista plied me with baked goods and called me peach, I’d be coming here every day.”

“It's an inside joke about my drink order..." Enzo tried to explain. "The point is, Y/N isn’t mean. She’s actually really nice.”

“Yeah, because she likes you.”

“No, she doesn’t.”

“Does too.” Mattheo countered. “Why else would she bake you a scone?”

“She wants to own a bakery someday. Obviously, that means she needs someone to test her recipes out on,” Enzo explained. “It’s how we became friends.”

“Right,” Mattheo said with a shit eating grin. “Friends.”

Enzo rolled his eyes. “Can we just please get to class?”

“Whatever you say, peach.”

“I have a theory,” Mattheo announced.

Enzo sighed, rubbing his eyes. “Not this again, mate.”

The rest of their friends perked up, abandoning their laptop screens and textbooks in favor of the newest piece of gossip. The little corner of the library that their group had claimed was fairly quiet, which was supposed to be optimal for revising, but Mattheo couldn’t seem to let his conspiracy theory go. He'd been badgering Enzo about it for a week.

“Berkshire here refuses to believe me, but I have it on good authority that Y/N has a crush on him.

“Y/N,” Theo started, “You mean his mean barista friend? She’s proper fit.”

“Don’t call her fit,” Enzo replied rather defensively.

“A little touchy there, Berkshire.” Regulus said with a chuckle. “Is that jealousy I sense?”

“For the millionth time, Y/N and I are just friends.”

“Is that the same friend that makes all those tasty pastries for you?” Draco asked with a raised brow. “I’ve seen the cute little notes she leaves for you posted all around your dorm. With the adorable kiss prints and hearts. Seems to me like Mattheo’s right. Y/N’s sweet on you, cousin.”

“Do me a favour and stop being a snooping twat, cousin.” Enzo retorted with a frown. “Y/N’s just being nice. It’s what friends do.”

“None of my mates have ever gone out of their way to bake me a bloody thing,” Blaise declared in feigned offense as he wrapped an arm around Pansy.

“Yes, well, none of your mates even know where the oven is located, let alone how to operate it,” replied his girlfriend. Pansy smiled at Enzo. “Besides, I think their friendship is sweet.”

“Thanks, Pans.”

“So you don’t fancy Y/N?” Theo asked. Enzo opened his mouth then closed it. He was well aware that his friend was baiting him, but he refused to fall into Theo’s trap.

“Like I said, we’re friends.”

“In that case, you wouldn’t mind if I asked for her number, right?”

As a matter of fact, Enzo did fucking mind. He minded very much. Too much, probably. But he couldn’t very well say that out loud. Instead, he masked his scowl and returned his attention to revising.

“Knock yourself out, mate.”

Theo smirked. “Alright then, let’s go.”

“Go where?” Enzo asked disinterestedly, flipping through his study sheet for Latin.

“To Deja Brew,” Theo replied smugly. “We all need a study break, anyways.”

“You want to go there? Right now?” With each question, Enzo’s death grip tightened on his notes. “To ask for Y/N’s number?”

“That shouldn’t be a problem, right? In fact, maybe you could introduce us.”

Enzo would rather walk on hot coals. “I think I'll pass. I've already seen her turn Mattheo down and that was brutal enough as it is. I don’t need an encore.”

“Riddle’s probably not her type.”

Mattheo frowned, crossing his arms. “I’m everyone’s type.”

Theo chuckled. “Apparently not hers. Perhaps she’d prefer a handsome Italian, no?”

Mattheo rolled his eyes. “In your dreams, Nott.”

“Now I’m intrigued,” exclaimed Blaise. “I’d never miss an opportunity to witness Theodore get humbled. Are you sure you’re ready for a woman like Y/N, Nott?”

“Please,” Theo scoffed. “I was born ready.”

Against his will, Enzo found himself at Deja Brew ten minutes later. In his usual corner by the window, he brooded like a petulant child. This was a horrible, terrible, and idiotic idea. All he wanted to do was revise and now his study session had been hijacked just so he could watch Theo flirt with the girl he fancied.

“You know, you can put a stop to this any time you’d like,” Mattheo said in a sing-songy voice. “Just admit that my theory is right. Y/N has a crush on you and I’m willing to bet that the feeling is mutual. Isn’t it, Berkshire?”

Enzo crossed his arms, rolling his eyes. Instead of giving into Mattheo’s childish pursuits, he opened his laptop and pretended to be immersed with Russian translations.

“Have it your way, Enzo.” Regulus declared, nodding towards the register. “Nott’s about to give us a show.”

As irritated as he was with his friends, Enzo couldn’t tear his gaze away. Theo marched up to the counter with swagger and confidence, slipping on his signature smirk. You looked up from your phone screen, giving the tall and lanky boy a sweeping gaze. The unenthused expression on your face screamed that you weren’t at all impressed.

“Y/N, is it?” Theo drawled, squinting at the nametag pinned to your apron. “A pretty name for a pretty lady.”

“Thanks,” you deadpanned. “My parents gave it to me. Now what can I get started for you?”

“Aren’t you going to ask me for my name?”

“I know who you are,” you replied dismissively. “One of Enzo’s friends, right? I heard about your little stunt in the fountain. You know, December’s not really a smart time to go skinny dipping.” Theo flushed as your eyes trailed down to his crotch. “Certain parts shrivel in the cold, Nott.”

“I assure you, my parts were perfectly intact.”

“That’s not what Katie Bell said,” you countered, tapping your lips thoughtfully. “I believe I heard something about shrinkage.” Theo opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water. “I’ll tell you what, Theodore. Why don’t I fix you up a cappuccino? It’ll help keep you and your parts warm and cozy.”

Enzo bit his lip to keep himself from bursting into laughter. The rest of his friends snickered as they watched a dejected Theo return to the table.

Regulus snorted as he sat back down in defeat. “Merlin, that was hard to watch. Absolutely brutal, really.”

Theo glared at Regulus in response. “I’d like to see you do better, Black.”

Regulus winked. “Watch and learn, boys.”

The older boy had about as much luck as Theo. Though the attempts had put him in a foul mood at first, Enzo was absolutely elated as he watched you turn down his friends. Regulus received an eye roll while Draco reeled from the head to toe once-over that humbled the absolute hell out of him.

“It’s useless,” his cousin mumbled. “She hates everyone.”

“Or maybe Y/N just doesn’t appreciate random blokes chatting her up while she’s trying to do her job,” Pansy said with an eye roll.

“Oh bloody hell, here she comes.” Regulus muttered under his breath. “I don’t think my ego can take another hit.”

The boys cowered as you came closer, but you didn’t pay them any mind. Instead, you set a fresh mug of tea and a lemon scone down in front of Enzo.

“Last one, I promise. It’s finally perfect this time.”

“You said that the last three times,” Enzo said with a chuckle. “They were all brilliant, by the way. Not that you listen to my well crafted reviews.”

“You say that about everything I make, Enz. Honestly, a girl bakes you a couple of treats and suddenly I’m the best thing since sliced bread.”

“I’m just being honest,” he replied with a shrug. “You couldn’t bake a single bad pastry if you tried.”

“I’d like to try a pastry,” Mattheo interjected.

You tore your attention away from Enzo. The smile that you reserved for him transformed into a scowl, your entire body language turning stern. “I’m sorry. Who are you again?”

“Riddle,” Mattheo supplied. “Mattheo Riddle.”

“Right,” you said slowly, as if speaking to a small child. “My pastries aren’t for sale. You’re more than welcome to try the day-old brownie behind the counter though. If you can manage to chew through it.”

Mattheo sputtered, but you paid no mind to his aghast expression. Enzo fought the urge to kiss you right then and there.

“Closing again tonight?” he asked, ignoring the blatant stares from the rest of his friends.

“Unfortunately. Diggory bailed again. Probably too busy snogging Cho to come in for his shift,” you said with an eye roll.

“Leave those lovebirds alone,” Enzo quipped back. “They’re in their honeymoon phase.”

“I can’t for the life of me understand how they aren’t sick of each other by now.”

“That’s because you’re a mean old grump.” You glared at him, which only made Enzo smile. “Luckily for you, that doesn’t deter me. I’ll come keep you company if you want. I promise to be way more entertaining than Cedric.”

“It’s not a hard task to accomplish, but I’ll take you up on it nonetheless.”

“I thought you might say that,” he said with a small smile. “I’ll meet you back here after my last class. Pad Thai tonight?”

You nodded and grinned back. “This is why you’re my favorite, peach.”

The boys gaped as you ruffled his hair in parting. They waited until you were out of earshot before launching into a tirade.

“What the bloody hell was that?”

“Just friends my arse.”

“I can’t believe she actually smiled at you!”

“It’s strange how treating Y/N like an actual human being instead of pestering her while she’s trying to work yields such positive results,” Pansy retorted. “I think you all need to start following Enzo’s example. Clearly he’s had more success than you lot.”

Blaise patted Enzo on the back. “Mate, you might be the most oblivious bloke in all of Britain, but you’d have to be an absolute knobhead not to see what’s right in front of you.”

He hummed in response, glancing up at the exact same time that your gaze met his from across the room. You winked, making him blush furiously. Merlin, you were pretty. It was honestly unfair. Maybe Zabini was onto something.

When it came to you, even Enzo had to agree that he was a total and absolute knobhead.

Later that night, Enzo helped you clear the plates and mugs as the last customers trickled out of Deja Brew. The soft sounds of your perfectly curated playlist trickled over the speakers as you flipped the sign to closed. He watched with a small smile as you hopped up onto the counter and beckoned him over. The fairy lights twinkled above the ceiling, illuminating your smile as Enzo took his place next to you.

The sight of you grinning up at him tugged at his heartstrings. There were coffee stains on your jeans and apron, your thick hair was falling out of its braid, and a cold bowl of Pad Thai awaited in your lap and yet he’d never seen anything more beautiful in his life.

“Aren’t you glad Cedric bailed?” Enzo teased, knocking his shoulder with yours. “Now you get to enjoy cold noodles with your favorite person.”

You chuckled, nudging him back. “I suppose this is nicer than listening to Diggory ramble on about Quidditch. It’s always bludger this, bludger that. I honestly considered bludgeoning him myself.”

“To be fair, the man could merely breathe and you’d still find a way to be annoyed by it.”

“No one needs to inhale that much oxygen.”

“I rest my case, you mean old grump.”

You rolled your eyes affectionately. “You know, if anyone else called me that I’d poke their eye out with a fork.” Enzo chuckled as you stabbed into your bowl of noodles. “Besides, I have every right to be grumpy. It’s been a long day. Thanks to your incessant little friends.”

“I’m sorry about the guys,” he said earnestly. “I tried to talk them out of flirting with you, but they’ve got this crazy theory.”

“Oh?” You asked, raising a brow. “What’s the theory, then?”

Enzo flushed, avoiding your gaze. “They uh…” He cleared his throat and stared at his shoes. “They think you fancy me.”

“Hmm,” you hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe they’re not idiots after all. Your friends are right. I do fancy you.”

White noise rushed through his ears. Enzo’s mouth fell open as he met your gaze. Surely, he hadn’t heard you correctly.

“You alright there, peach?”

“You…” Enzo trailed off, his voice tinged with disbelief. “You like me?”

You chuckled. “I have for a bit. Thanks for finally noticing.”

“How?” Enzo muttered. “What?” He cocked his head, trying to search for the proper words. “Why?”

At the moment, it appeared that one syllable words were the full extent of his vocabulary. All those languages in his head and yet he couldn’t form a single coherent sentence.

“Enz, I know your drink order by heart,” you explained softly. “I make you cupcakes and muffins. I write you notes every day. I thought I made myself pretty obvious.”

“Gods,” he breathed, silently reprimanding himself. “I really am the most oblivious bloke in Britain.” Enzo licked his lips, turning over to look at you. “I just thought you were being nice.”

“Lorenzo, when have I ever been nice to anyone?”

“I am a bloody idiot.”

“You never made a move, so I just thought you didn’t see me that way. Which is fine, by the way. I don’t mind being friends.”

Enzo turned so fast he nearly smacked into the register. “Are you kidding? I’ve had a crush on you for months. You’re the best part of my day. Waking up and knowing that I get to see you every morning is the only thing that gets me out of bed.”

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“Because,” he stated matter-of-factly. “You’re out of my league. You’re smart and funny and not to mention way too cool. Honestly, I thought you’d go for someone like Mattheo or Theo or literally anyone else but me. Someone a little more…” he trailed off, waving a hand over you.

“Scary?”

“No! Well, yes. Someone more confident and intimidating.”

“Bad boys aren’t really my type.”

He scrunched his eyebrows together in confusion. “They’re not?”

“No,” you said, setting down your food and turning over to face him. “My type is a nerdy linguistics major who teaches me how to curse in six different languages and who makes cute little conjugation charts and orders drinks that should quite frankly classify as a dessert.”

Enzo’s smile grew wider. "I like you too, you know. A lot. Like, embarrassingly so. With your grumpy little scowl and all black wardrobe and dry humor. I like all of it."

You beamed as Enzo leaned closer, tracing your lips like he was trying to commit the curves of your smile to his memory. His heart pounded in his chest as your eyes flickered up to meet his.

"Then kiss me like you mean it, Enzo."

Despite your confidence, the air left your lungs as soon as Enzo cradled your face in his hands. The twinkling lights made his brown eyes shimmer like pools of honey in the dark. The tension stretched between you as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing yours ever so gently. They briefly closed around yours—tasting, testing, taunting. Then the dam broke free.

Enzo pressed you closer and kissed you like his life depended on it. You smiled against his lips, melting into his touch as he tilted your head back for more. Butterflies erupted in your stomach as Enzo sighed into your mouth, his lips molding perfectly against yours. The once shy and experimental kisses turned needy and passionate, making you feel slightly lightheaded. Enzo savored your soft sighs, kissing you over and over again to elicit more.

It wasn't until you felt like the air had been depleted from your lungs when he finally relented. He pressed his forehead against yours, noses brushing as you both grinned at each other. It felt right to be this close. It felt like you were made to do this all along. Enzo brushed his thumb over your cheek, looking dazed as he pulled back to look at you.

“It’s about time, Berkshire.”

“Hey,” Enzo grumbled, pecking at your lips. “You can’t blame me. I couldn’t even look at you without blushing and making a fool of myself. You’re so intimidating.”

“Not so scary now, am I?”

“Oh no, I’m still terrified of you. But I’ve also seen you cry during the Notebook, so I know that deep down inside, you’re just a big softie.”

You started to protest, but Enzo just leaned in and kissed you again. With his lips pressed against yours, you couldn’t even remember what you were about to say. As he pulled you into his lap, you heard cheers coming from outside. Behind the glass window, his friends were cheering and wolf-whistling rather obnoxiously on the street.

Enzo responded by flicking them off and kissing you even harder, pressing your bodies together as you giggled. He hauled you to your feet, his arms circling around your waist as he dipped you for a better angle. Your back hit the counter as you raised to your tiptoes, winding your arms around his neck and mussing up his hair as you arched for more. The hollering only grew more incessant when Enzo grabbed your ass and squeezed. The groan that escaped from his mouth made you dizzy with desire.

If one kiss could elicit such a response out of you, it was almost scary to think what else Enzo had in his arsenal. A cheeky little smile curved against his lips as though he knew exactly what you were thinking. You basked under the warmth of his gaze, feeling flushed and flustered. That pretty face had you entirely fooled. Enzo was far from innocent.

“Gods, I really fucking fancy you.”

With a smile, you kissed the tip of his nose. “I really fucking fancy you too, peach.”

Despite the many languages in Enzo's arsenal, no phrase or saying could convey how he felt better than his lips against yours. Maybe he hadn't quite mastered the language of love, but he had a feeling that you'd be more than willing to teach him.

#my pretty boy give me coffee shop shy enzo #lorenzo berkshire #enzo berkshire #enzo berkshire x reader #enzo berkshire x you #enzo berkshire imagine #lorenzo berkshire x reader #lorenzo berkshire imagine #lorenzo berkshire x you #lorenzo berkshire smut #lorenzo berkshire fluff

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animelover28sworld · 3 months ago

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When You Say The Safe Word.

Characters: Scaramouche, Zhongli, wriothesley, Kaeya and Tighnari

Warnings: NSFW, hair pulling, name calling, teasing, double cocks (Zhongli) slight breeding kink, unprotected sex

Info: saying the safe word during s3x

A/N: this is my first time writing Genshin smut so it will be bad so please bare with me a bit plus half of this was written late at night.

WRIOTHESLEY

Don't get me wrong, you love rough sex with WRIOTHESLEY but today was a lot rougher than usual. He had a long day at the fortress of meropide and you understood that plus hardly gets any days or nights off. So tonight he was rough, all it started out was a simple kiss then turned out to be a heated make out session then to sex. He was pounding into you like there was no tomorrow while gripping your hips hard enough that you knew that there were going to be bruises the next day, but you couldn't take it any more "pine- pineapple." You choked out but he didn't hear you and just kept going. "wriothesley pineapple!" You said, that time he heard you and completely stopped what he was doing and took his hands off of you. "are you okay love?" wriothesley asked you. "Y-yeah you were just a lot rougher than usual..." You told him. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean too." He apologized. "I know you are." You told him. "Do you need anything?" He asked you. "a nice warm bath would do and cuddles." You told him. "Your wish is my command." Wriothesley told you.

KAEYA

Oh boy, you think you would have to use the safe word with KAEYA a lot but actually you never really did, even when both of you got drunk he was gentle with you. Except for tonight, you honestly didn't know what got into Kaeya, you saw this side of Kaeya before but this felt different somehow. He had you on all fours pushing your head into the pillows, mascara running down your face from the pleasure, but then it got too much for you, it felt like you could barely breathe because when you wanted to come back up for air Kaeya just pushed your head down. "K-Kaeya apple!" You said before he could push your head back down. When he heard that he stopped, then you sat up coughing. "I'm sorry, I was a little rough wasn't I?" Kaeya asked you. "A little? More like more rough." You told him. "I'll run you a bath okay?" Kaeya told you. You nodded your head "okay"

SCARAMOUCHE

Now with SCARAMOUCHE you always have rough sex, very much like Kaeya he would have you on all fours but instead pushing your head into the pillows he would pull your hair up and never give you any breaks. "Hah you like that you slut?" Scaramouche said as he pulled your hair up. You whined yes you did like it but it got too much for you. "Scara orange." You whined, he clicked his tongue and let go of your hair so let go of you. "You were taking me so well what changed?" He asked you almost it sounded like he was mocking you but you knew he actually cared. You were too tired to say anything. Scaramouche sighed "I'll get a bath ready..."

ZHONGLI

You gotta remember that ZHONGLI is a dragon that has a human form so usually he has a heat cycle. Which usually means he gets heat cycles as weird as it sounds it's true, anyways this isn't your first time having sex with Zhongli while he's in heat. It's usually not that bad but this time it was bad, he put you in a mating position you found out that Zhongli had a breeding kink while he's in heat so all he could think about right now was stuff you full of his cum, he wasn't slowing down and you know he wouldn't be slowing down any time soon, plus it didn't help taking both of his cocks in you, usually you would do one but you thought why not tried the other one and man did you regret it because you felt like you could barely breath. "Zhongli b-blue." You croaked out. You heard him growl when you said that, was he pouting? "Are you okay Y/N?" Zhongli asked you as he sat you up. "I just need a break..." You told Zhongli, your voice was a little scratched out from all the screaming and moaning, he got you a cup of water. "Stay here I'll run a bath." Zhongli told you.

TIGHNARI

(I don't know who's fanart of this is Tighnari but all the credits go the the artist)

like Zhongli TIGHNARI has a heat cycle he usually gets through it with medicine, it doesn't totally get him through his cycle but it makes it a lot less painful for him. but it doesn't help when you are around because the medicine doesn't do shit for him, all he thinks about is taking you right then and there. which he currently doing once he got home to you. "Do you know how much I craved for you all day?" Tighnari asked you rutting into you, you couldn't say that much because Tighnari was literally fucked you out of your mind and too rough. "Tighna-Tighnari Kiwi." You groaned out. When he heard that he stopped and looked at you, and saw you completely wore out. "I'll get you a towel and you glass of water and get a shower running." He told you. "Okay." Is all you could say.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #tighnari x reader #genshin impact zhongli #zhongli x reader #genshin impact scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #genshin impact wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #genshin impact kaeya #kaeya x reader #zhongli smut #wriothesely smut #tighnari smut #scaramouche smut

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disasterofastory · 1 year ago

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Reward (Brahms Heelshire x Reader)

Reward // Brahms Heelshire Masterlist Brahms Heelshire x Reader Kinktober 2023 - 6/14 Warnings: mommy kink, titfucking, sub!Brahms

Summary: Brahms was a good boy so you reward him.

The tension is thick and heavy in the air. The breakfast on the table is long forgotten since you reminded Brahms of the men coming here to take care of your internet problem. A sigh leaves your lips as you glance at the clock on the wall while the man continues to stare at you with a scowl on his face. There is a deep wrinkle between his brows as he eyes you with opposition and annoyance. His hair is still a mess of dark curls on the top of his head. "We talked about this, Brahms," you break the silence, turning your attention back to the man in front of you. Even though you are afraid he will throw a tantrum even before you can feel the effect of your coffee, you can't help but notice the fullness of his lips as he pouts at you. One of your best decisions was to trim his beard a little. He really looks like a fallen angel.

"Why are you smiling?" He asks, still scowling at you. Even though he wants to use his childlike voice, sleep is still heavy in his tone. "You are just pretty," you tell him honestly, making him blush and turn his gaze away from you for long seconds. "It won't work," he grunts, still not looking at you. Your grin widens at his behavior. Going around the table, you cup his face until he can't avoid your eyes any longer. His large hands slip to your waist automatically to pull you closer. "They won't be here for long," you tell him. "I promise." "I still don't like it." "I know," you nod. "And you don't have to like it, Brahms. I just ask you to be a good boy for me, okay?" He doesn't reply immediately, so you continue. "Can you do that for mommy?" A muffled whine breaks free from his closed lips. Your thumbs smooth over the soft pink of his cheeks. "You can't scare them away, Brahms, and you can't hurt them. They come here to help me." "I won't hurt them if they don't try to hurt or take you away from me." You nod in agreement. "Of course, Brahms, I know you will protect me." His posture straightens at your praising tone. "If you will be a good boy, I will reward you later," you promise him just to make sure he won't cause any chaos behind the walls. "What reward?" "It will be a surprise," you grin at him, playing with the rough hair of his beard. "But we didn't do this before." You already know he will love it.

You can't lie, you are worried about the men the whole time they are in the manor. You watch them from a safe distance while your eyes scan the walls every now and again. You know Brahms is here somewhere. You can hear him. "The house is old," you tell the men when they look at you questioningly when something thuds again. You know your manchild does this on purpose. He can be silent when he wants, but patience is not his strong suit. "Okay," one of the men says after a while. "It should be good." "Thank you," you smile at them, trying to hide your relief when they open the entrance door. "You know our number if something is wrong." "Yes, I know," you nod. "Thank you again, and have a nice day."

When you go back to the living room, Brahms is already there, staring at your laptop with another scowl on his face. "What's wrong?" You ask him. He just shakes his head, still pouting. "You were a bad boy, Brahms," you tell him, getting closer and closer to him. "What?" He asks, almost shocked. "I wasn't." "You made a lot of noises." "But I didn't scare them away," he reasons. "You told me I can't scare or hurt them." Well, he is right. "So you think you deserve your reward?" You coo at him, pushing him onto the couch. You can see his Adam's apple bob as he gulps, staring at you with wide eyes. "Yes," he replies, nodding. "Yes what, Brahms?" Your voice is firmer now, but you can't hide your taunting smirk as you watch him already fidgeting. "Yes, mommy." His tone is already whiny. "I want my reward."

Without saying a word, you climb up to his lap, resting your knees on either side of his hips. Your hands land on his chest and move up to his shoulders to brace yourself against him. "Then kiss me, Brahms." You barely have enough time to end your sentence when he leans even closer and latches his lips on yours. His beard grazes your skin, and his tongue invades your mouth immediately.

He is still inexperienced when it comes to intimate things, but he learns quickly and lets you lead him and teach him the way you want. You love to see him whimper and writhe when you dominate him.

His hands are warm on your hips as he squeezes your flesh there until his hold slips down your ass. His fingers dig into the rough fabric of your jeans, and he grunts with annoyance. "It's okay, Brahmsy," you break away from him for a few seconds. His lips are already swollen and red, and his eyes are glassy with need. So beautiful. "I only need to get rid of my shirt and bra for what I have planned." At the mention of your bra, his hands leave your ass immediately to push and tug on your shirt until they are on the floor. "The bra too, Brahms," you remind him, grinning. You can't help but bask in his star-struck expression.

Maybe your relationship with Brahms Heelshire is not ideal or normal, but you never felt so desired and wanted before him. There are times when you notice him staring at you like you hang the moon, and you can't even imagine leaving him. You are definitely not sane for being with a man who used a doll to live instead of him while he was hiding behind the walls, but at least you found your perfect match.

Cradling his face in your hand, you use your thumb to caress his bottom lip. His mouth opens immediately, tongue peeking out to taste your fingertip. "I love you, Brahms," you tell him, giving him a few seconds so your words can really sink in. His eyes widen, and his lips fall open even more. His hands on you tighten. "Really?" He whispers, shocked. "Yes," you nod, pecking his nose. "I really love you." A loud shriek leaves your throat when he tugs you against him until his face is at the crook of your neck. His breathing is heavy, and his arms around you are almost painful. "I love you too," he murmurs. "I love you so much." For a long while, you just sit on his lap, playing with his hair. Your heart is still wild against your ribcage, and you can feel the vehement pace of his heart on your chest. "So," you break the silence. "Do you want your reward?" You ask him, and even though he nods, he still holds you tightly. "Brahmsy," you coo, leaning closer to his ear so every word you utter trembles through his nerves. "Mommy's tits ache for your mouth." A low whine is your only answer before he pushes you away just enough to take off your bra and latch on your nipple. Brahms squeezes and gropes your breasts for long minutes, letting his saliva soak your skin until it shines under the sunlight filtering through the window. His tongue flicks your other nipple, drawing small circles around the hard pebble as your fingers grab his hair to pull him closer. Your back arches with pleasure. "Make sure mommy's tits are wet, sweet boy," you tell him. "We will need them wet and slippery." "Fuck," he grunts into your cleavage, feasting on your breasts. He sucks, licks, bites, and tugs on you while thinking about how easily he could spend his whole life like this. "That's enough, love," you hum, pushing him away. "It's okay," you peck his lips when he whines and grabs onto you harder. "I promise you will love what I have planned." When he lets you go, still not sure anything is worth enough to let go of your tits, you sink onto the floor between his legs. You sucked him off before like this, but the sight of his hard dick in your mouth still mesmerizes him.

"Don't cum without my permission, Brahmsy," you warn him firmly. Your breath fans over the tip of his cock while your hand strokes his shaft, twisting your fingers around the soft skin. The man can feel his blood pumping as his cock swells into a full hard-on. Brahms wants to whine at your command, but his mind melts the moment you take him back into your mouth, and instead, he grunts as his cock twitches in your wet channel. With your eyes still on the man, your head starts to bob up and down on his erection. Your hand is around his thick base, jerking him in a steady rhythm with your mouth. You slurp and gulp around his cock, letting your tongue swipe over his length wherever you can reach him. Soon, his cock is soaked in your saliva and his pre-cum. Small drops flow down to his balls, making the man whimper and fidget in his seat. "We have to make you nice and wet," you grin up at him when you come up for air, gently squeezing and tugging on his cock to smear your juices all over his shaft while the man huffs and puffs in your hand. A thin layer of sweat shines on his skin, and his cheeks are bright pink. There is a point when he can't even breathe anymore as he watches you spitting on his cock. "Mommy," he cries out, desperate. "Please! Let me-" "No," you tell him, letting go of his cock. The loss of your touch is so sudden that tears gather in his eyes as his erection throbs angrily at you. "Pleasepleaseplease!" "Don't you want to know what I have planned?" You ask him with a feigned gentleness. He can hear the taunting in your words clearly and loudly. "I do," he gasps. "I do." "Good boy," you praise him. "You are my good boy, Brahms. I'm so proud of you." "Fuck!" "Come closer, Brahms," you tell him. "Sit at the edge of the couch." Brahms's whole body feels numb and heavy as he obliges. "Good boy," you tell him again. "And here is your reward because you were such a good boy today." Brahms's inhale is sharp and loud as he watches you cupping your tits to bring it to his cock. His world stops spinning for a second when you press your breasts around him, enveloping his length in your soft warmth. You massage your flesh and his cock slowly and sensually as you stare at him with half-closed eyelids. "Does it feel good, Brahmsy?" You ask him. "So good," he replies. His voice is barely louder than a whisper. He is still shocked at the sight of his cock between your tits and the feeling of your softness around him. The top of his cock appears and disappears in your cleavage, and your nipples are hard peaks between your fingers. "You can move, you know," you grin at him teasingly. "You can fuck mommy's tits if you want."

The angle is a bit awkward and uncomfortable, but Brahms doesn't have enough focus to care about it. Bracing himself on the couch, he starts to move his hips up and down, watching his cock slide between your tits.

Knowing how much he loves your tits, it was a long-time-coming position you wanted to try with him. And you are not disappointed. Your pussy throbs for more, soaking your panties, but your hands are too busy to do anything about it. There is something exciting about the fact that he fucks your tits for his own pleasure. His chest heaves and his muscles tense every now and again. His glassy gaze is on your chest while you stare at his face. His lips are open with occasional whines and grunts falling out of them, and his curls fall in front of his eyes. "You are so beautiful, Brahmsy, fuck," you tell him honestly. The pink of his cheeks deepens. "I don't want you to wear your mask anymore when you are around me, Brahms," you continue. "I don't want anything hiding your pretty face from me." "Mommy," he whines, pumping you faster. You have to tighten your hold to keep your breast around his vehement pushes. With a knowing grin, you bend your neck just the right way so your tongue can reach the tip of his cock every time it appears between the swell of your breasts. Your tongue flicks and swirls around his head, letting your saliva drop as a lubricant. "Fuck!" He gasps again. His balls jerk and his cock swells with blood and the need to cum. "You can cum, Brahms," you tell him. "Cum all over your mommy's tits." The words are barely out of your mouth when his body stiffens, and his cock spurts with cum. His warm seed splashes over your skin, painting your tits and chin.

Brahms has to force his eyes to focus because he will be damned if he doesn't burn the sight of you soaked in his cum deep in his mind.

#brahms heelsire x reader #brahms heelshire smut #brahms heelshire imagine #the boy imgaine #the boy x reader #kinktober 2023 #slasher fucker

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lalunanymph · 11 months ago

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𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 ─── you always knew oliver aiku was a bad influence. but just how bad, exactly? let's just say that if your parents ever looked out the window and happened to peep inside oliver's idle sports car, someone is about to get murdered tonight.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 ─── you're now reading . . . 𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐔𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊 + 𝐒𝐄𝐌𝐈-𝐏𝐔𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐂 𝐒𝐄𝐗 with oliver aiku

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 ─── fem!reader, perv!oliver, semi-public sex, unprotected sex, sex in a car, fwb!oliver, repressed feelings, oliver is a jackass, language

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 ─── for the anons who once asked me many moons ago abt oliver corrupting us—this one's for you 🖤

⇤flip back to the pervtober masterlist

“Oli, we can’t do this.”

Your whimpers were lost in the scruff of his neck, a breathy moan released from the tight confines of your lips into the heat of his Porsche’s interior.

“Mhm.”

Honestly, if it wasn't for a soft spot you had for Oliver Aiku, you would've stabbed him.

Many men tried to get you in this position, but they could never succeed.

You were a headstrong woman; tenacious, a hard worker and a corporate climber through and through. You had dated boys who thought the peak of communication was Snapchat streaks and “you up?” texts. But, you had never dated a man like Oliver.

In your defence, ‘dated’ seemed to be a stretch.

Oliver was a wild ride for sure.

Tall, handsome, pockets lined full with a pro-athlete salary, he was every girl's wet dream.

After years in the media industry, you learned to differentiate the bad apples and genuinely lost ones. You have encountered influencers, moguls and celebrities under the scrutiny of your analytical and roaming eye. However, Oliver was an enigma to you.

Though friendly and approachable to everyone else, you couldn’t help but feel there was a part of him he tried to hide from the world. A part which shredded through football fields and tore men’s hopes and dreams from their white-knuckled clutches.

Many people had been destroyed by Oliver’s sheer force, both on the field and off of it if his playboy status was anything to go by. And you would be damned if you were going to be one of them.

“Oli,” you muttered, a little firmer this time.

The rough strip of his tongue teased your sensitive earlobe and you hissed, flinching from the sudden stimulation.

“Oliver.”

“What?”

He sounded a little pissed off. You may be younger than the girls he was used to, but you were experienced enough from your years networking under intense strain and pressure to figure out when you were on the losing end of a potential relationship.

With Oliver, it was a constant push and pull. As you moved forward, he pulled back. And for whatever reason, when he decided to reach out, you would hesitate to let him back in.

Anyone would decide that such a relationship—if it could be even called that—was doomed from the beginning.

But, Oliver and you never did have a conventional relationship.

He saw you as a plaything, and you regarded him as a little bit of fun to unwind after a hectic week. It was a mutual agreement based on a sudden spark of crazy chemistry which neither of you wanted to solidify.

Those large, rough hands which were used to causing destruction on the field, were parting your thighs softly, reaching for the soft promise of pleasure in between them.

In other circumstances, you would let Oliver have his way with you. But today, you were determined to put up a flimsy boundary—one he was desperate to break.

“Oliver, my house is just a few feet away.”

True to your words, the place you rested your head for every night was in the form of your parent’s modest two storey home right in the heart of downtown Tokyo.

Lace curtains iced its domestic eggshell white walls, keeping you safe in the veil of night and away from prying eyes. But, the thrill laid in the fact that anyone who pulled apart those flimsy curtains could catch a look of you in such a compromising position. The engine of his idle car thrummed underneath your thighs, and you wished you had worn a longer skirt to combat his straying touches.

If there was one thing Oliver reminded you of, it was a hurricane. His determination and stubbornness pushed him to where he was today—rising high in the world's eye.

It was one of the traits you admire about him—and one which would change your morals forever.

“I can’t,” you murmured in a cross between a hitched breath and a soft moan. “Oliver—”

“Don’t worry your pretty little head off. Just let me feel you.”

Those unique dual-tone eyes flashed sincerely under the waning street lamp light. There were times when Oliver’s simple touches and presence could push out the nagging thoughts in your mind, and there were instances when it drew up red flags in your periphery like a race day warning.

Like speeding down the highway without a seatbelt on, you were sure kissing someone else would never be as enthralling as kissing Oliver Aiku.

The scruff of his sparse five-o-clock shadow and moustache rubbed on the soft skin of your chin. You tasted the beer he drank for dinner, and a little bit of your own fruity lip gloss in between the curls of his tongue.

Everything about Oliver was enticing; how he kissed, how he fucked, how he made you feel like you were the only girl in his world when you knew that was the furthest from the reality. He was also attentive when he wasn’t a huge prick. Out of the men you fooled around with, Oliver remembered exactly what you liked and he wasn’t afraid to push those lines.

His hand was between your thighs again, this time pushing your skirt up inch by agonising inch. You didn’t fight him, too dizzy and weak with lust. He used two thick fingers to pry apart the seat of your panties, already sticky with arousal and ready for the taking.

“So perfect,” he whispered into your neck. “How're you so perfect for me?”

Over time, you had to tell yourself it was just words from a man who wanted to lure you into bed and they didn’t mean a thing.

But sometimes, you forgot. You forgot that this wasn’t real, that Oliver doesn’t actually love you.

It didn’t help that his kisses felt like coming home at the end of a hard day; though already complicated as it was, whatever emotion you both harboured for each other could never be said out loud.

He tipped your head towards him again, to catch your lips in a languid, teasing kiss that was more tongue than lips. The taste of him sent a thrill down your spine, settling right into your core.

“Can I feel you, baby? Can I touch you here?” He stroked the soft flesh of your inner thigh with his thumb, locking eyes with you in the half-light.

They brought you down a spiral; into a light purple and a hazel green tide which tried to rip apart your resolve.

You were half out of your mind when you nodded, giving your consent with a shaky little sigh.

He immediately pounced onto that opportunity like a panther to your jugular.

Using his strength, Oliver dragged you onto his lap, where you fit against his edges snuggly. Those plush lips descended upon yours again, and he kissed away your troubles and worries, only determined to bring towards the brink of giving everything up for him.

Like a riptide, it was no use holding him back.

Oliver had fucked you in shady motels and even in his practice locker room, but this was new territory. The both of you were within reach of your parents who had no idea of your budding situationship with the famous footballer.

At the reminder of them, you broke the kiss off with a gasp, pinning your wide eyes onto his half-mast ones.

“Oli, how tinted are these windows?”

“Really tinted,” he murmured without a shred of hesitation. Despite yourself, you believed him.

You let him kiss down your neck, bite on your collarbones and pull you back in for more sloppy kisses. Unlike other men, Oliver wasn’t jumping into the main event.

He took his time to prep you, slipping two fingers through your folds and gathering the slick there to rub along your entire entrance and back hole. Though his movements were jerky, he was still gentle with you—peppering smooches down the bridge of your nose and jaw.

If you were a weaker girl, you were sure your heart would melt into your ruined panties just for Oliver Aiku.

He hummed, feeling you slowly ease yourself up and down his two fingers, fucking yourself on those static digits.

The first time he met you, Oliver was sure you were an upstuck, prudish type of girl. You weren’t exactly his flavour of woman, but where would the fun be without a challenge?

He spent weeks pursuing you, doing the cheesy lame boyfriend shit people like Isagi would do for some girl he met two weeks ago.

But, Oli’s goal was simple: Make someone else who wasn’t his type be into him.

Though you were right here with him, the task felt impossible. It was hard to get a woman who already had everything to take a chance on him. Your life was perfect—great job, great friends, supportive parents.

What could a man like him offer besides sending you to additional therapy sessions on your insurance’s dime?

Under all the layers of his cocky playboy persona, Oliver knew he was a wreck waiting to implode. He never felt good enough to warrant a spot on Japan’s football team. He was insecure and lacked control in every part of his life except his dating one.

It was why he went after more soft-willed girls than you.

And why the sight of you undulating your hips over his fingers nearly sent him into overdrive.

“Fuck,” he breathed out. “You’re really something, huh, Y/N. Look at you—getting yourself off on your own. Good girl.”

Something about his tone and that endearment made both your heart and pussy throb.

“Oli,” you sniffled, hiding your face in the crook of his neck. Oliver had barely touched you—he had fondled, kissed and fingered you—yet, you were already dripping for him.

Such eagerness made your cheeks burn, and you hiccuped more of your moans back, afraid to let him hear.

But, Oliver—as attentive and controlling as he was—could sniff your shame from a mile away. He nudged your face up to look into his, those soft, dual-toned eyes edged with a ring of steel in them that cut through your flimsy bleats.

“Let go for me,” he urged, brushing the pads of his fingers down your soft cheek, and you lost yourself in his unique eyes and handsome face again. “Don’t be afraid to show your real self to me, angel.”

Again, something in you broke.

The last flimsy excuse, your remaining shred of dignity… all for you to finally hiccup: “Oliver, please fuck me.”

That was all the begging he needed.

Oliver slid his pants and boxers down, far enough for his cock to spring free and leave a smear of pre on your exposed soft belly. Your skirt was around your hips, panties pushed to the side, and that was how he took you.

The stretch burned, but it was a satisfactory one. Your thighs ached and tears were smarting in your eyes.

Oliver was bigger than most guys and you weren’t used to taking him without a soft bed and a little more prep work.

But, you held onto his shoulders, every bit of your skin feeling like it was on fire from trying to hold back your moans. You didn’t want anyone to hear, or for random people to suspect; even when the car frame started to shake or the windows began to fog up.

This was your tryst with Oliver Aiku; your dirty little secret.

He pulled you close to kiss you again, and this time, those large hands moved to the front of your shirt, kneading your breasts with an eager vigour. You let him lift the hem up, untuck your bra cups and bathe your slowly stiffening nipples with soft kitten licks.

Oliver guided your hips to grind down on his cock, while he suckled and tongued your buds to stiffness. The filthy squelch of your pussy coating his length with her excitement and the smack of his lips and tongue turning your nipples into fleshy diamonds echoed through the car. You were lightheaded and felt like someone had spiked your system with alcohol.

The sleek lines of his Porsche’s interior were swimming in your eyes, and you felt like you could faint from the excitement.

Your internal pressure ticked up a notch when one large palm of his wrapped around your neck, stopping your breath in your throat. If there was one thing you were sure Oliver was made for, it was to drive you insane.

He squeezed down on you, while intermittently fucking into you with clean, sharp thrusts. He kept a consistent pattern—squeeze, fuck, let you breathe, squeeze, fuck…

“Oli!” you wheezed in between those breaths he gifted you, your swimming eyes breaking and tears running down your cheeks. “Oliver…”

“Cum for me,” he coaxed, slipping his thumb in between your lips where you sucked on the tip with what he thought was almost love. He retracted his thumb, glossy with your spit and notched it right on your windpipe, putting pressure.

Oliver watched the ecstasy, fear and lust flash across your expressions, one melange of an erotic sight he would remember forever.

“Let yourself go, baby,” he urged, squeezing down on your throat, while you felt his abs undulate against the soft planes of your belly—a tell-tale sign he was going to cum. A pinch appeared in his brow, and sweat bulleted down his forehead.

“G’na—fuck—you’re so tight,” he nearly gasped that last part out. “Pussy so perfect for me. Go on then, give ‘em a show… show everyone how you’re creaming just for me, sweetheart.”

Just as you were approaching your high where white light was flooding behind your closed lids, Oliver pressed his damp lips to your ear, his whisper cutting through the fog and bringing your climax crashing down like an implosion.

“The windows aren’t actually tinted, baby… everyone just saw you fucking my cock so good.”

Your eyes rolled back into your head, manicured nails stabbing into his shoulders. Despite every fibre of your being yelling at you to stop and hop out from his lap, something darker and sultrier begged you to stay—to give into this ruin.

Those voices warred and clashed with each other for a few seconds, which felt like an eternity as you were stretched out on another plane of pleasure no one could touch. Your ribs expanded, your spine arched and your toes curled and—

“Oliver!”

With everything you had, you came for him.

All the voices in your head stopped; replaced by the chanting of his name over and over again.

Like he was a prayer and you were the repentant sinner, you sobbed out his name, holding onto his neck like a lifeline and slowly bucking your hips up and down, prolonging the almost cruel pleasure.

Oliver came around the same time you did, with a grunt and his fingers clawing into the doughy flesh of your hips.

You sagged against him, and through a lapse of judgement, his lips found your temple, leaving a small peck on the sweaty skin.

Oliver held you like you were meant to be cradled. You couldn’t think about anything that occurred within these past few minutes; your mind was on a fever high and your body was melted to his like hot wax pooling into a holder.

“You okay?” His deep voice rumbled under your cheek.

You nodded, too exhausted to speak.

“Can you walk?”

Flexing your thighs, you offered another pathetic nod.

“Do you want to stay here for a bit or go?”

You should probably go. After all, it was encroaching a tender territory you dared not ventured through. He felt too good, too comfortable to leave, but you ignored the screaming in your bones when you forced yourself off his lap and back into the passenger seat.

Adjusting your panties, skirt and shirt, you flashed him a tight smile, one which he echoed with an uncertain grin.

For a few seconds, neither of you spoke, and it felt like you were leaving a movie just before the good part came on.

But, you had already seen multiple films like these before, starring numerous women this great actor before you had duped and jilted.

You weren’t interested in entering his rotating roster of desperate girls waiting to be picked, so you strengthen your resolve and put your dignity back in the driving seat.

“Bye, Oliver.”

He hummed. “Bye, Y/N. Goodnight.”

Oliver didn’t offer to see you again, and you didn’t bother mentioning it.

Sometime next week, the both of you would fall back into this toxic cycle—either you would call him up drunk out of your mind or he would get pissed off during his training and call you after to let off some steam. Rinse and repeat.

Life was predictable like that with Oliver. You didn’t want to disturb the peace.

You got out of his car, adjusting your skirt one more time. Usually, you would never turn back to give him a second glance—out of sight, out of mind.

But, this time, something compelled you to turn around, and when you did, you gasped out loud; nearly running towards his retreating car to smack the roof, the hood or even the lying man behind the wheel.

Through those crystal clear windows which were obviously not heavily tinted like he promised, Oliver shot you a smirk and a wave, leaving you stewing in both horror and an inexplicable desire to fuck that smug look off his stupidly handsome face as the reality sank in.

You had fucked Oliver Aiku right in front of your parents, and judging from the silent house behind you and the lack of a usual warm vibe, you were positive they were going to rip through you a new one.

intellectual property of ©️lalunanymph. do not copy, repost or play around with my sentence structures, plots and characterization.

#and finally she's DONE #oliver aiku x reader #oliver aiku smut #oliver aiku x you #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #bllk smut #blue lock smut #🦢 writes

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luboy7rt · 6 months ago

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What Animal Los Vaqueros (+ Valeria) Would Randomly Bring Home To You (GN - Headcanons)

(Note: This is just what I (My headcanons), enjoy reading!)(Could be seen as Platonic, Romantic?) (GN Reader) (Alejandro, Rodolfo and Valeria)

Alejandro Vargas

- Where did Alejandro find a literal donkey? Neither of you knew, even Alejandro himself didn't know as he walks through the front door, his arms crossed as he watched the donkey peek her head into the kitchen window, pushing her face up against it to see in.

- When Alejandro spots you, his eyes open a bit wide as he bit his inner cheek, before scrambling to make an excuse. He came up with nothing and just admitted he found her while on a mission, and she was hungry and wouldn't stop chewing on Alejandro's shirt.

- Alejandro would chuckle and ask you for some help, cutting up some apples, carrots and bananas for the donkey who tried to get through the front door. Alejandro quickly ran off to ensure she didn't do that.. moving the donkey to the backyard instead.

- He's actually pretty decent at taking care of the donkey, and teased you, asking if you want to feed or ride her. He's joking, please don't ride the donkey, if you do.. He's standing right next to you, prepared to catch you or calm the donkey down so both you and the donkey will be safe.

- Alejandro's willing to find a new farm or home for the donkey if you don't like her, he would indeed tease You about it though, you don't like that cutie of a donkey? Cue the donkey trying to get through the front door, or looking through the kitchen at 3AM, when you go down for a glass of water, you just see eyes peering at you through the window, like hey... whatcha doing here?

- If you do let the donkey stay, cool. New pet, when Alejandro's home, he does care for her, feeds her every morning, brushes her, ensures she's cared for.

- (Alejandro basically just stole a donkey from someone) he shrugs and says he Just found her wandering far from any cities, and she was now his as he didn't find any owners around back then, he definitely wasn't finding one now.

- You will hear the donkey squeal or grunt throughout the night, or early in the morning, It is annoying at first, and you may never get used to It. Alejandro would get agitated after a few mornings of being back from missions and waking up to the donkey making weird noises outside because she got used to being fed whenever she was loud enough so now it became a habit.

- Alejandro would eventually get a small stall built for the donkey, makes it comfortable but also cute looking from the outside. (Also puts extra food to just attempt for the donkey to quiet down the neighbors have complained. You might be too, Alejandro is definitely grumbley about her being so loud, but puts up with it.

- Also ensures there is plenty of room for the donkey to do what she pleases.

- Alejandro once loudly screeched in the middle of the night, you scrambled out of bed when you heard it. Finding the man murmuring in Spanish, throwing insults and curses at the donkey who had her snout pressed against the window, the moon reflecting her eyes to make it ‘scary’ looking if you weren't paying attention.

If you laugh at him he would give you an unhappy half-glare, gently pushed your laughing face away from him as he shook his head, having had thought you put the donkey away in her pen earlier as it was 2AM.

If you attempt to ‘comfort’ him, he's looking away with a tiny blush on his face while laughing, pulling you close while shaking his head, he would put his hand to the window, and knock to get the donkey to go back to her stall that she somehow escaped.

If you just stayed in bed, he's thankful, at least you didn't hear that. But also, why aren't you getting up when you hear that he screeched, he doesn't know if that's a good or bad thing, a tiny bit offended.

Rodolfo 'Rudy' Parra:

- Rudy was picking you up in his car, a little squirmy as you got in the passenger seat, a little blanket on his lap, murmuring quietly to himself, a little distracted.

- If you ask what was ‘wrong’ Rudy would smile awkwardly and pull the blanket back a little bit, showing the little rabbit with one ear on his lap, the rabbit fast asleep.

- He would indeed let you hold the rabbit on your lap instead as he drives, he calls the rabbit ‘Stompy’ as the rabbit stomps around to move. He would smile at you, watching you in the passage seat at a stop sign, he would move to pat your head.. then Stompy's head then going back to driving.

- What You didn't know.. there was two more at home, waiting for you. Three baby rabbits, Stompy (who just got home from the vet due to their ear), Chirps, and Flumpy, all siblings. Rudy would give a awkward and sheepish smile while rubbing your shoulder, like a ‘Please, don't be upset with this choice I made’ look on his face.

- If you do like the rabbits, great, Rudy is happy with keeping them, he takes all responsibility when he isn't working. He smiles warmly everytime he sees them, gets a little silently giddy about the fact he was the one to save these rabbits.

- If you don't like the rabbits, he will sigh quiet, but will figure out where to rehome these rabbits, will be upset for a little while, but wouldn't take it out on you. He would still smile sadly at you, but try his best to be supportive. If you have an allergy, he feels less bad about it, and willingly brought them to a new home.

- Rudy would always place the rabbits on you, gently nudging one of rabbits snout against your cheek or your jaw with a smile, would either make a little ‘bonk’ or ‘mwah’ noise when he does.. then places a kiss on your head.

- Rudy does Make little cages for them, ones capable of being a ‘safe place’ for the rabbits, a soft little home for them in his house for then to sleep. Usually lets them ‘free’ around the house, you both could hear Stompy stomp about, always makes sure to keep an eye on the three rabbits.

- His eyes would soften every time he spots you cuddling, holding, or playing with one of the rabbits, his whole body and face relaxing as he never informs you that he is watching from the doorway, just watching quietly with a soft smile on his face.

- You would catch Rudy cutting up carrots to feed them as snacks throughout the day, quietly murmuring praise to the rabbits who followed him around, he would spot you and chuckle, looking a tad bit red as he would smile but quiet down when he was ‘caught’.

Valeria Garza:

- Valeria walks into the house confidently, smiling proudly as she holds a baby fox in her hands. Tilting her head and raising an eyebrow at you, like A silent ask I'd you were bold enough to question what she had done and where she had gotten a baby fox.

- If you don't she keeps smiling, scratching behind the baby fox’s ears, allowing you to pet him as well, but if you do ask to do so, she grabs your hand to pet the fox for you.

- Valeria illegally bought this fox, (the people who sold him have been.. dealt with as well) a beautiful little baby fox with a few small white spots on his orange fur. She held him like he was a new trophy she would bring home to you.

- If you don't like the fox, she will make a face.. Fine, perhaps she could keep the fox at her base instead of home, she will make a proper area for him, that you wouldn't be around.

- If you do like the fox, Valeria looks quite smug, humming in answer as she allows the fox to roam in the home, giving him his own little room. She would ensure his comfort, safety and also give him the best treatment no other animal would ever get.

- You often find Valeria talking on the phone with this little fox on her lap, she could go from harshly ordering people around to talking calmly as if not to scare the fox. The fox gets used to It, your hand could pet his head whilst Valeria's distracted, she would allow you to do what you please as long as you don't bring the fox outside the gated backyard.

- Valeria treats this fox like her baby, like something that is now apart of her vast collection of things she adores.

- Valeria would randomly bring the baby fox to you, placing him on your lap and telling you to go feed him or go play with him because she's busy and unable or (she just doesn't want to) do it herself. She’d make it up to you later, perhaps a favor.. you want to be done?

- If you are holding or cuddling with the little fox, Valeria would randomly walk past, booping his nose, waiting for a moment, before doing the same to you and then going back to doing what she was doing. No questions asked, none will be answered.

#Alejandro Vargas x reader #Rodolfo parra x reader #Valeria Garza x female reader #alejandro vargas x female reader #alejandro vargas x male reader #rodolfo parra x gn reader #rudy parra x gn reader #rodolfo parra headcanons #rodolfo parra x male reader #alejandro vargas headcanons #valeria garza x gn reader #Valeria Garza headcanons #COD x gn reader #COD x reader #alejandro vargas #rodolfo parra #rudy parra #Valeria Garza

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elusivecagedmockingbird · 9 months ago

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Orbiting: pt.4°

: pt.1° | pt.2° - pt.2,5° | pt.3°

[icehockey!jungkook x figureskater!reader] [3.9k smut, angst. There's swearing; bitch-calling (non-sexual); this is purely fiction, please practice safe sex!; tons of dialogues. I hope you enjoy reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it, but tbh, I kinda struggled to steer the plot.

Also! Happy Hobi Day! Please give Be My Mistake some love, too! (if u want)

"Isn't that your girl, cozying up to Park?"

The first thing Jungkook sees is you—back on the rink, just where you belong. He's never seen someone as graceful as you glide. You always look beautiful like this, he thinks. The apples of your cheeks are rounded and rosy from the cold, and the corners of your eyes wrinkle as you laugh.

You always reverted to the nine-year-old you when you were left free to skate—so carefree and unafraid. There were moments like now when he could watch you move smoothly on the ice and soar in the air forever. Days like today are what he will always be thankful for, and he hopes you get to have forever. No longer does he want to see you put yourself through so much pain and endure it for the sake of being the best in your sport. While Jungkook knows all too well that you need to put in the hard work to get a step forward toward your dream of being professionals in your own field, he also knew when too much was too much. In all those days where you suffered, Jungkook did, too. So, he vowed to never forget that there's a version of you who knew how to revel and not overthink every move she made on the ice. And it is his duty to always remind you of her.

Your squeal broke him out of his trance. And Jungkook would have felt the strain in his muscle when he whipped his head, turning to look through the glass, past the bleachers, if the sight hadn't irked him. Jealousy stirred as he spots Jimin's arms on your waist and the other outstretched to hold yours. He knows it's nothing malicious. You've been practicing that stance with him for years when you were kids, thanks to his mom. But something about seeing Jimin with you and the fact that you've defended the guy when Jungkook blamed him for your sprained leg AND even managed to gush about how graceful he skates left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Plus, not to be bitter and petty, but Jungkook thinks he skates well—better even. And yet you've never complimented him.

"Not my girl," Jungkook murmurs under his breath. "And it's a routine. Not exactly cozying up." He scoffs and takes his stick from Yugyeom a little too aggressively, causing his friend-slash-teammate to chuckle.

"You seem to know a lot about routines," Jackson cuts in. "But then again, why wouldn’t you, Jungkook?" The lilt in the older man's voice as he said Jungkook's name wasn't unnoticed, but Jungkook didn't have enough patience and attention to spare to even humor the guy. He also knew whatever Jackson had to say would be anything but a friendly banter.

Jungkook only acknowledges the man with a side-eye and raised brow as he tapes his hockey stick.

Unfortunately, Jackson refuses to shut his mouth; the man is clearly on a mission to get a reaction from Jungkook.

The rest of the hockey team starts to come out of the locker rooms, clumping to the bleachers. With the gathering crowd, Jackson raises his voice, demanding attention and an audience. "You know, there's this move figure skaters do where they spin and spin and spin, circling around their partner." With his head tilted and standing in front of Jungkook, he gives him a haughty glare.

And still, Jungkook’s attention remains on you. You’re only just occupying your side of the rink—the opposite side where his team is gathered at. Whatever you hear on your end should be incoherent. You don't need to hear the bullshit coming out of his teammate's mouth, he thinks.

"What was it she preferred to call it again?" Jackson pretends to wait for Jungkook to answer. Yugyeom, on the other hand, looked apologetic. What started out as playful teasing turned into a way for Jackson to provoke their team captain, and everyone knew how Jackson loved to rile Jungkook. While everyone thought it was because the older man lost the title to someone younger, that was only partly the reason.

"Ah, right," Jackson walks closer to Jungkook. He claps Jungkook's shoulder before gripping tightly into it. "Orbiting,” Jackson grins. He’s taunting, hooking Jungkook, demanding his full attention. “Y/N does it well, but you clearly do it the best,” he mocks. “It’s comical watching you run in circles around the bitch for years.” His sly smile turns to pointed chuckles as he feels Jungkook tense under his grip.

Hook, line, and sinker.

Closing in on Jungkook's ear, Jackson whispers, "Don't worry, I'm pretty sure she does it intentionally, especially to guys she dances with. I bet Park's gonna be her new boy toy now, huh?"

Jungkook was never a violent man. Even on the ice, in a game, he never started brawls. The one time he got tangled in a fight, he couldn’t stand the disappointed glare you gave him. It hurt more than the 13 stitches on his head and scarier than his mom’s scolding.

And yet, Jungkook throws the first punch straight to Jackson’s jaw.

Jungkook can take a joke and can easily shake off empty trash talk and name-calling from his team. In fact, he lets them make jokes about him about his blatant simping for you because it’s true, and anything untrue, he doesn’t see the point in entertaining it. But he draws the line when the jabs are at the expense of the people he loves.

In a matter of seconds, Jackson returns the punch, and a full brawl breaks out.

On the opposite end, you and Jimin match your stride as a pair—being aware of each other’s movement and syncing your limbs to move as one; oblivious to the growing chaos.

You’re in the middle of a Lutz when the commotion steals your focus. You wobble on your landing and Jimin’s quick to hold you from falling. You turn towards the racket and see a mass of bulky men shouting.

It’s Jungkook’s team.

You skate closer to the chaos, and it’s not until you see a pressed back on the glass, the number 97 jersey bold and taut on their back, that you speed skate. Behind you, Jimin calls your name and follows.

You see Yugyeom restrain Jackson, and the other guys are holding back Jungkook. A flurry of curse words flies out of Jackson’s mouth. Entering the box, your eyes are drawn to Jungkook. You can already see his busted lip and sore knuckles. You call his name, and he looks up, jaws locked and tense. It takes a moment for his clenched knuckles to relax. He stands up and shrugs off the arms holding him.

Yet again, Jackson cuts in, “You guys are quite a pair, huh?” he laughs, humorless.

“Man, shut the fuck up,” Yugyeom struggles but eventually manages to drag Jackson away from the group. Sensing that Jungkook won't follow and lunge at Jackson, the rest of the guys disperse. All that’s left gathered on the bleachers is you and Jungkook.

And Jimin.

Your new partner’s existence annoys Jungkook. Your doe-eyed friend wonders if Jimin knows he doesn’t have to stand so close beside you. He watches with eagle eyes as Jimin hands out your skate guards. You teeter sideways as you clasp the rubber on your skates, and Jungkook hates the sight in front of him—you’re holding on to Jimin for support, and his arm is on your waist to keep you steady.

Fueled by jealousy and adrenaline, Jungkook walks towards you just in time to catch your arm away from Jimin’s body as you switch to putting on the other rubber guard on your skates.

You feel smushed as you stand sandwiched between two guys. Feeling claustrophobic, you push Jungkook by his chest to look at his injuries. “Your lips are bleeding,” your tone colder than ice, a contrast to your warm hands inspecting the blooming bruises on his face. “It’s nothing,” Jungkook murmurs, his head turning sideways, away from you.

You tsk at his stubbornness and press your thumb on his split lip, earning a pained hiss. “We have to clean this so it doesn’t scar.” Before Jungkook can protest and put on his macho bravado, you turn to Jimin. “Can we take a rain check on lunch?” your voice barely above a whisper. But Jungkook’s not only stubborn, he’s nosey, too—masking how hard he strains to listen to your conversation with an unbothered face.

There's an exchange of whispers, then Jimin looks at him, then back at you. He smiles and nods at you. “I'll see you later, then.” His hands connect with your arm for a comforting squeeze before leaving.

Jungkook rolls his eyes.

“Where are we going?” Jungkook follows you as you drag him by his arm along the corridors. “The clinic’s closed on weekends,” he points out, but the only response he gets is a huff.

You’re a bit eerily quiet. Calm, even. He fears what follows, so he thinks of a way to pacify you.

“Well. Lucky for you, Jeon, I have the keys.” You dangle the set of keys on your fingers. “Your mom gave them to me before she left.”

You unlock the clinic and usher Jungkook in the compact space. “I seem to always end up hurt when I practice and it’s not like your mom has her eyes on me all the time, so she lends me the key to the clinic.” You push Jungkook to the foamed table. “Sit.”

Jungkook follows suit, still mum, still thinking. He knows he's on wafer-thin ice with you, but even so, he can't help but love the attention you’re giving him and the fact that you’re away from Jimin.

The image of you and Park on the rink is still vivid in his memory, stirring the tinge of jealousy that resides inside him. So, as you rummage through the cabinets, Jungkook pulls you close to him. “C’mere,” he whispers.

“Hold on, I have to find something for your lip.” Your body extends in the small space. Your arms are outstretched while you rummage through the cabinet for bandages and antiseptic cream, and your lower half is awkwardly bent, thighs wedged between Jungkook’s, and his hands support your hips.

“Forget the cream. I know a better way to have this healed quickly.” His arms engulf your waist and pull you completely to him. You turn to tell him off, but before words can leave your mouth, Jungkook slots his lips to yours.

Before things could escalate, you begrudgingly pull away. “Nuh-uh. You think you’re so sly, huh?” You pinch his chin. “I still need to interrogate you on what exactly happened with Jackson back there.”

Jungkook deflates. “You know Jackson. He was spouting nonsense, and I guess he just got on my nerves.”

Curiosity peaked, you push Jungkook to tell you more. “What nonsense?” Your willful streak shows in your furrowed eyebrows. On most days, he loves it, but on a day like today, he wishes you knew when to get the hint and just drop it.

Jungkook groans. “I’m just really having one of those days, Y/N.” Arms still wrapped around your waist, he leans forward to rest his head on your chest. Instinctively, you run your fingers through his hair, fingers massaging his scalp. Your best friend moans, and for the first time since you pulled him away from the bleachers, you let out a smile.

“Make me feel better,” he breathes. His face now burrowing into your breasts, and his fluffy hair tickles you.

“Gguk,” you giggle. “We’re in the clinic, and I'm pretty sure there are people nearby.” You softly pull at his hair to remove his head between your tits, but he just moans.

Oh.

“Don’t care, baby. Just focus on me,” he proposes with a kiss on your neck and his hands make soothing work on your back. When the only response he gets from you is a satisfied hum, he sits up further on the table. He lowers his hand, tapping your ass before he pulls you by the backs of your knees so you straddle his thighs on the table.

“Fuck, I love it when you wear skirts.” Jungkook’s hand disappears inside your clothes, palms once again making contact with your ass before he claws at your tights. “This I hate, though. Fuck.” he grumbles at the sheer garment.

“Oh, that's a shame," you pout. "I actually thought you'd love it. It’s crotchless," the last sentence coming out in a whisper. Cue another curse from his mouth. You momentarily pull away to get off the table and shed your safety shorts. “Need those off, Jeon," you command with a shoot of your brow towards his pants. “Wanna feel you. Don’t you want to feel me?”

You're a fucking tease, and Jungkook loves it.

You watch him struggle to unlatch his belt clasp—he’s roughly pulling at his padded pants and while you want to help, you decide to enjoy the sight before you as his thick thighs come into view. You climb back on top of Jungkook, his eyes following your movement until you plop your ass to his growing bulge.

Jungkook flips the front of your skirt and goes breathless at the sight. “You’re a fucking minx, you know that?”

“Only for you.” Hands gripping his shoulders as an anchor, you drag your wet pussy to his bulge, and you both moan. “Wore this for you," you pant. "I knew you were practicing today and thought you'd need a cooldown after." You’re full-on humping him, drawing pleasured gasps from the man below you.

“Well, fuck me,” Jungkook throws his head back, eyes up on the ceiling and he thanks his lucky stars for you. You pull at his tight underwear, and his hard cock springs free—swollen red and leaking. Your mouth waters at the sight, and your pussy clenches at nothing.

“Please, Jungkook,” you plead. You’re beyond turned on. Your arousal mixes with Jungkook’s precum, and you can smell the sex permeating the air. It drives you feral. You spit at his cock before stroking it.

Jungkook revels in your neediness. This is what he wants—for you to need him, want him. And someday, he hopes it goes beyond sex. His arms pull your waist closer as you sink down on his cock in one drop.

“Shit, Y/N, you okay, baby?”

You respond with a breathy yes as you start bouncing on his dick. Your focus is directed on chasing your high and, at the same time, making sure Jungkook feels the same intensity of desire and pleasure you feel. With a roll of your hips, you clench around his shaft. He claws at your arched back as he sucks your tits with playful nips. Each sting heightens your arousal.

You play around with the angle of your hips and attune to Jungkook's reaction. But you struggle and near complete submission with each bite to your breast, every kiss to your lips, and slide to your folds. Once again, you’re rendered pliant and submissive on top of Jungkook.

Feeling you slow down, Jungkook taps your burning thighs. “On your back, baby,” he rasps. You shake your head but move to get on all fours—you raise your hips, shuffling to snuggle his cock in your ass and stretch your back. And to top it off, you clasp your hands on your back, giving him something to hold as he pounds into you.

Behind you, Jungkook is gobsmacked. What are you doing to him?

Presenting yourself for his use, Jungkook doesn't hesitate to hold your behaved hands with one grip, and his other hand guides his dick to smear your slick from your folds to your ass. He preens at the noises you make.

"Please," you drool. "Please what? Tell me what you want, baby," his voice matches the slow and soft movement of his tip on your folds.

With one last teasing push of his tip to your puffy clit, he completely bottoms out and holds.

“How’s that for feeling me, baby?” His lips ghost the shell of your ear, and it tickles you just right. You clench around him and reclaim one of your restrained hands between your now folded bodies to draw circles on your clit. You hear Jungkook chuckle before leaving a quick peck on your cheek. As he straightens up to pull out his dick, he reaches to swat your naughty hand on your clit and replaces it with his.

And it feels better.

His fingers play with your nub and continue to plunge in and out of you. The sound that echoes around the tiny room is pure filth—guttural groans and whiny moans harmonize.

“Baby, cum for me,” Jungkook hastens his rhythmic thrusting, and with a soft flick to your clit, you come undone. His movements quicken and cum-soaked hands travel upwards to your body to fondle your tits like it's his personal stress ball.

“Shit Jungkook. Feels good," you blabber. You love how you can feel his weight on top of you; the pressure makes his pounding harder and deeper and it overrides your oversensitivity. The pleasure is too good, too strong. With a bite to your shoulder to muffle himself, you cum with him.

“Don’t forget your shorts. Can’t have you skating with Park wearing just that."

"Right," you giggle and put on your shorts. "Can't be traumatizing my partner this soon."

"Good girl." Jungkook pats your ass.

"Hey," your hands pull Jungkook before he can leave. "What really happened back there?"

"Y/N, I told you it was nothing."

"Nothing? Jungkook, had the fight been longer, you could've been dismissed from the upcoming game."

"Well, we're fine. Plus, Jackson's not going to do anything or tell the coach. It's both our asses on the line."

"That doesn't mean you can go around throwing punches now. What if—"

Throwing his head back, Jungkook lets out a bitter laugh, cutting you off. As he returns to face you, he sees the focused glare on your eyes—lids sharp and brows knitted. You're annoyed.

But so is he.

“You really wanna know? Fine. Jackson called me out. He said it was fucking comical how I wait around you like a lovesick puppy. It's actually a fucking running joke in our team that when you call, I come running." Words and feelings overflowed out of Jungkook's mouth, but he was not close to being done. "And as much as I hate to admit it, it’s actually true, and someone like him throwing that to my face just struck a nerve. He deserved the punch for running his mouth and calling you a bitch, too. Y/N, if you've heard the names he's called you, comments he made—"

"I don't care about that, Jungkook," you interrupt. One moment, you're in bliss, and now you've been hit with an accusation. "I don't care if he calls me a bitch or paints me however he wants. It's you I care about. I worry that one day, he manages to push you to your breaking point, and you do something that kicks you off the team." You feel like a bubble filled with emotions burst inside you, leaving you conflicted with what you feel. You're angry at Jackson, but also, if you think Jungkook is saying what he is saying, then half of you blooms in hope, but the other wilts at the revelation that he said it like he resents what he's feeling.

“So, do you resent me? For, I don't know, calling you? Wanting to be with you? Being friends with you?" The last question left your lips in a murmur. You've ranked low in competitions before, but you've never looked as defeated as you do now. To make it worse, you stand pathetic in front of Jungkook.

“I’m not saying that," Jungkook pinches the bridge of his nose. "I’ve been in love with you, Y/N,” he can’t believe he’s saying it out loud.

Jungkook imagined his confession to be far from this wreckage. This moment was the polar opposite of how he wanted it to go, but the words flurry out of his mouth before he could think of them. “I love you, but you’re always too hung up on every new guy that comes along to even see me…” he swallows the sob rising in his throat. “Sometimes I wonder if you keep me as a placeholder until a new guy comes.”

“A placeholder?” You're horrified. Jungkook's breaking your heart, and the thought that you apparently broke his shatters the pieces further.

“Aren’t I? When Jackson joined our team, all he had to do was wink and throw a cheesy line at you, and you’re all about him. And now Jimin—”

“Jimin?” Now, you're confused.

“Yes, Jimin. All he had to do was skate with you, and suddenly, I’m on the backburner.”

“Jungkook, where is this coming from? You’re making me out as someone who’s never been a friend to you.”

“Oh, you’ve been a friend, alright. But you can’t deny you’ve strung me up all along. Sometimes I wonder if you knew how I feel and you—”

“Stop," you plead. "Oh god, Jungkook, stop talking, please.” The tears you were holding back now freefall to your cheeks. “All this time, this is how you felt. You have been resenting me—"

"That's not what I'm saying! Do you not understand me?" Jungkook grows frustrated.

“No, I understand, Jungkook. Perfectly. I understand I’ve been selfish, teetering between wanting to keep you close to me and keeping you at a distance to protect myself." You don't want to invalidate his feelings, but he also needs to know where you're at. Thousands of thoughts are drowning you, and you're nowhere close to navigating your feelings; you're still conflicted and lost. But most of all, afraid. Will you lose Jungkook now? It frightens you that one wrong decision could crash your friendship beyond fixable. "But Jungkook, I’ve never seen you as someone I can set aside for anyone else because you’ve always been the first person I look for and reach out to. Even when I always thought you were so close yet so far to me, but still I—"

A knock pops the bubble you’re in. Rushing to wipe your cheeks dry, the door swings open to a clueless and shocked Jimin, eyes wide and mouth agape.

“Shit, sorry," Jimin fidgets between wanting to close the door and leave but decides he'd rather not get in trouble, so with eyes on the floor, he calls for you.

"Coach is going ballistic looking for you, Y/N. And him, too. I mean, their coach is looking for him. He heard of the fight.”

More worry rushes to you. You try hard to stay afloat and level-headed, but you're sinking and sinking. “Right,” you clear your throat. “We were just cleaning up. We’re done here anyway.”

Once again, you feel claustrophobic. You need to leave. You don't trust yourself to make any decision in the state you're in. The last time you made a decision from what you were feeling, you made a selfish proposal to Jungkook. And look where that's gotten you now. You can't think, so you rush to leave the room, folding your arms before Jungkook can grab your wrist.

“Wait, Y/N—”

You linger briefly at the door, just enough so he can catch the defeated words that you speak, “We’re done, Jungkook.”

>> Page 5

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook fic #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook scenarios #pwp fics #jungkook pwp #jungkook fanfic #jungkook #bangtan #jimin mentioned!

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sir3n-s · 6 months ago

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Steve's been a sailor for years. He's survived a lot of different "adventures".

Unfortunately, he doesn't know how to survive being left on an Island without any supplies.

He's regretting declining the offer to become a Capitan. If he ever makes it back he's begging for the position.

It's not uncommon for an experienced sailor to join a crew that's brand new for a little to help them out. Steve was happy to do it even.

He just didn't think they would leave him stranded on a island in the middle of the ocean.

Steve didn't know what to do so he just started walking towards the trees.

And he kept walking. For hours, maybe even a day or so.

The sun has left and appeared 3 times so it's been a few days. But he kept walking.

Until he started to hear an alluring melody that felt like it was pulling him towards something.

He kept walking towards it and the louder it got the worst the urge got to find the source.

It was hypnotizing.

Eventually he reached a circle lake that was absolutely beautiful. Crystal clear water, pearls and jewels surrounding the edges, the prettiest rocks he has ever seen.

But sitting on a rock was the source of the sound. A man?

A man with a dark red tail and long black hair. It stopped singing once it saw him.

"You finally made it" the man said, voice as mesmerizing as the song it was singing.

Steve didn't say anything. Just continued to stare.

He made it to what? His death? Is this what he was hallucinating while he died? Out of everything he sees a man with a tail and so many expensive items he could probably buy the whole town Steve was from.

He sat down and leaned against a rock, if he was going to die he was going to die comfortably.

As comfortable as sand can be.

"Not talkative? I thought all humans liked using their voice" it asked sliding into the water and swimming closer, crawling out of the water to try and get closer to him.

It layed on the sand next to Steve just starting at him.

"Do you not have a voice?" It asked.

Steve sighed, "I have a voice but I refuse to talk to someone my imagination made" he closed his eyes.

"You think you can imagine something like me," He can hear the smirk in its voice. "Why do you think I'm fake?" Of course, his mind made someone to make his last moments alive hell.

"Because I've been here for days without food and water in the heat, I'm ovbisouly dying. Now be quiet" Steve spat out, just wanting peace in his last moments.

He seriously hoped Robin won't be to devastated when he doesn't return home.

Suddenly something touched his mouth, he jumped back and opened his eyes. The man was holding a cup filled with water.

"Drink" it commanded.

"I'm not drinking water from a uh whatever you are, it's probably not even clean"

"Its rude to assume the worst, isn't it?"

Steve glared at him.

The man sighed and threw a red apple at him, "at least eat that"

Steve scanned the apple for a moment before deciding it was safe and taking a bite.

"So what will it take for me to convince you that im real and trustworthy?"

Maybe being left on this island wasn't so bad.

#stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #can i post sirens for mermay?#mermay 2024 #I'll post mermaids soon #mermay #sirens #Sailors

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lenaellsi · 1 year ago

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I'm wondering how much of the fandom reaction of "Aziraphale doesn't ACTUALLY want Crowley to be an angel, he just wants to keep him safe/happy!" is because we spent four years between seasons assuming that Aziraphale had already accepted that Heaven and Hell aren't all that different, and that demons and angels aren't inherently good or bad. And it's difficult to let go of that idea in the same way that it's difficult to let go of the idea that they talked their shit out That Night At Crowley's Flat and have been happy ever since. But to actually understand Aziraphale's choice without hiding it behind coffee or lies or secret plans or body swaps or magic tricks or purely romantic intentions, we have to to understand that Aziraphale is still working under an incorrect framework of the world as divided into Cosmic Good and Cosmic Evil.

Because the thing is. Aziraphale does not like that Crowley is a demon. He just doesn't. We can talk about his reasons, but I really don't think that it's a disputable fact at this point. Aziraphale CONSTANTLY talks down to Crowley about the differences between them, and disparages demons in general and Crowley in particular over and over again. I mean, he's obviously just spewing the party line at this point, but he even describes the ultimate triumph of Heaven over Hell as "rather lovely." To Crowley. Where does he think Crowley fits, in that scenario? Is he thinking about it? (He is, surely, given how distressed he is over the danger Crowley is in due to the Arrangement?)

Crowley, to be fair, often says similar things about himself, and hates when Aziraphale calls him things like 'nice.' But as I've mentioned in another post, I think 2.03 makes it all but canon that a lot of that is self-preservation. Hell can't know that he's running around saving children and rescuing people from suicide and poverty, or he'll get dragged down there for decades. Crowley doesn't really think of himself as evil--he's visibly upset during their argument when Aziraphale hits him with "you're the bad guys!" because he thinks Aziraphale knows him better than that.

But instead, Aziraphale makes knee-jerk assumptions about Crowley and his intentions over and over again, including that he's behind the Reign of Terror in Paris and, about two minutes before realizing he's in love with him, that he's working with Nazis. Crowley seems annoyed and hurt both times, and denies it. There's no demonic posturing from him then.

Which makes the Job ep really interesting, right? Because Crowley actively lies and says that he is doing the properly demonic thing, but Aziraphale doesn't buy it. And why doesn't he buy it?

"I know the angel you were."

To Aziraphale, Crowley's kindness stems from the traces of that angel he knew. He thinks Crowley does good in spite of his nature, and not because of who he is as a person, life experiences as a demon very much included. This is because to Aziraphale, Heaven is Good, and all goodness must stem from it.

I've seen people get accused, when making this point, of attacking Aziraphale, or saying that he doesn't love Crowley, which is a ridiculous takeaway from S2. I've never seen a person more obviously in love, or a person more obviously trying to do good in the world. But so much of Aziraphale is tied up in his ability to believe multiple contradictory things at once. (See: the 80 years between "maybe there is something to be said for shades of gray" and "Heaven is the side of truth, of light, of good.") That doesn't make him stupid or ill-intentioned (in fact, he wouldn't need to do the kind of mental gymnastics we see from him if he wasn't clever enough to see through at least some of the bullshit) but it does mean that he's fully capable of loving Crowley while at the same time believing that demons are 'the bad guys.' Solution? Make Crowley an angel. Fix him, fix the bad apples in Heaven, be happy together, eliminate human suffering. Vavoom. Sorted.

Idk man. I'm constantly seeing takes that just...completely discount that Aziraphale really, genuinely, has misunderstood Crowley and the way the world works in his choice to return to Heaven. We can't blame it all on miscommunication. The most honest conversation in the world wouldn't fix this. Aziraphale has to go up there, without Crowley, and learn for the last time that Heaven is not Good, and will never be Good, because there is no Good. Good doesn't come from Heaven, or God, or even Crowley (and I see y'all, putting Crowley on a pedestal, saying Aziraphale wants to remake Heaven in his image--stop it.) Good comes from making the choice, in a very complicated world, to help as best you can, and it comes from love. And that's what Aziraphale will learn in season 3.

#good omens #good omens meta #good omens season 2 #aziraphale #gos2 spoilers #long post #sorry about the paragraphs of meta every couple of days. I'm still unwell about it all.#this will be the last one. maybe. who can say

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zombiekooo · 1 year ago

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Taming You (Rick Grimes x Fem Reader)

Warnings: • Angry/Rough Sex, Dacryphilia (crying kink), Choking, Sub/Dom Play, Dirty Talk, Age Gap,

A/N: This is quite rough, so I will give you a warning. It is NOT noncon whatsoever (our Rick would never) but I’d like to say Reader does say ‘no’ and ‘stop’ but it isn’t because she hasn’t consented. Everything is safe sane and consensual on this page ;)

(9k words)

Rick watches as you walk through Alexandria’s gates with a gun in hand. You wear no expression, your head down to avoid any wandering eyes. You’ve got a smear of blood across your cheek, red droplets leaving a trail behind you.

He's startled. It felt like a splash of freezing cold water was poured over his head and awoke him from a deep slumber. Quickly, shame falls upon him.

The last couple of nights were a struggle for him. The thoughts of you seemed to enchant his mind whenever he'd close his eyes and fall back upon his bed after a particularly stressful day. It quickly became a routine to stroll outside, allowing the cool air to ground him from his perverted thoughts-- which he had been doing just now until you interrupted him. So when he sees the face from his dreams across from him, the very face he was trying his hardest to avoid thinking about, the guilt finally confronts him like a stinging crack across the cheek.

But oh, you would look so beautiful beneath him. Your eyes which were always narrowed would soften into a delicate, heavy-lidded expression just for him. Your frown would ease, and your lips would part and instead of scoffs, you would unleash pretty little moans he knew you were capable of.

That expression he was so desperate to see again would pop into his mind during his disgraceful fantasies. The first time he ever saw you, trapped behind cell bars in Terminus, the image of your youthful cheeks, rosy and plumped, tears glistening them and making them look like glossy red apples that he so badly wanted to bite into. It was beginning to drive him mad from how often he'd seen that exact expression in his dreams. The pure desperation in your face, grabbing his wrist so gently through the bars of the cell you were caged in. He remembers how wet your eyelashes were, the way your lips parted to speak when the building had blown up which had forced everyone to evacuate, and in a whirlwind of crashes and screams, seeming as if time had stopped, you whispered,

"Can't I come with you?"

His fantasies would play like a CD inside his head, thinking of how he could recreate that same expression on your face but from pleasure instead of fear. Would you be as defiant in the bedroom as you were in life? Or would you be submissive and pleading? Grabbing him with such neediness that you would cry out of frustration just for him to pleasure you, your lashes would cling together wetly and your cheeks would redden into an adorable rose shade that he would so happily lick the tears off of--

Stop, Rick.

He shakes his head, grimacing.

It wasn't like this before, these thoughts never existed until now-- or at least that's what he tells himself. It was just because he was safe, you were safe, in a community, together. No constant threat that kept you paranoid day in and day out. No question of where to go next or who keeps watch over the camp next. No, that was gone now.

Still, he knows it's terrible to think of you that way, even after all the time he's known you. You were nearly half his age, cold-hearted and stubborn-- you would never think of him more than the man who saved you.

But-- he knew you had a soft spot for him, and just that fact alone gave him some kind of hope, even if he may never act on it. Even if he shouldn't act on it.

Although he tells himself that you were off limits, here he was, standing on the street and watching you strut your way inside the walls. Past midnight. Similar to how you did nearly every day this week. His curiosity grew, and maybe the excuse to take a walk at night wasn't just to clear his mind anymore, but instead to wait for your silhouette to silently breach the walls of Alexandria and dip back into the shadows of your house, thinking that nobody had seen you.

You were breaking his rules. In fact, all week you had broken it, four times exactly. However, he never confronted you about it. If he was being honest with himself, it was because he was scared to look you in the eyes, he knew that if he were to do that, all he would imagine were those teary eyes he'd played over and over in his head for the past month.

But, he knows he couldn't keep letting you believe you were being sneaky.

Rick gathers the strength to reveal himself, exposing himself from the shadows he had lurked under for the past week. He was dressed simply. A brown jacket with a wool collar draped over a plain gray-sleeved shirt, paired with navy blue jeans.

The moment he revealed himself your head shot up to look up at him, instantly sensing his presence. He finds amusement in the way your face contorted into a surprised expression, your fast pace slowing down until you were nearly at a stop. Absentmindedly, you bring a hand to your cheek as if trying to cover the obvious bleeding wound from him.

"It's past midnight. How'd you get around the guards?" Rick asks almost cheekily, enjoying the way your face paled.

"Snuck out," You quickly respond with a shrug of your shoulder, keeping your eyes down.

Rick raised an eyebrow, knowing instantly you were lying. He'd seen the gates open for you-- you had convinced someone to let you pass.

He noticed the way you squirmed beneath his gaze and the downcast of your eyes. You were a shitty liar.

"Try again." He sneers. "Where'd you get that cut on your cheek?" His tone turned colder and the loose smile he wore in the beginning began to straighten.

"Tripped," You lie again. This time, he saw the way you leaned your weight side to side, your antsy fingers tapping at your gun. He took a step forward, closing the small gap between the two of you. The blood from your cheek had left a sheer trail of red down your jaw, slithering to your neck and finally dipping under your low-cut collar and between your breasts. There, he noticed your stuttered breaths and the uneven fall of your chest.

"How?" He asks again, examining the rest of your body with his intense stare. Your collar was torn, and your sleeves ripped up to your shoulders, leaving nothing more than some flimsy fabric to cover your exposed arm. As his gaze continued down (his concern stopping him from lingering at your curves) he noticed your belt had been lost, your jeans sluggish around your hips. A faint red mark of a boot was indented into your thigh.

It was obvious that you had gotten into a scramble with somebody.

"A walker popped out in front of me. I got surprised and took a tumble." You reply after a short pause, his gaze making you nervous.

Normally, if it was anybody else other than Rick, you would be scoffing and pushing past them with no more than a roll of your eyes. But something about the man in front of you intimidated you, even if he was the reason why you were still alive today. He reminded you of a panther. Nothing escaped his gaze... nothing. Which is why you felt so uneasy, you knew he would find out the truth even if it wasn't today. You had a hunch he knew that you'd been sneaking out at night, and it was only a matter of time before he would confront you about it. You just wish it wasn't today.

"That's a lie," Rick says, becoming more and more frustrated as you went on.

You swallowed, recognizing the annoyed tilt of his head and the tut of his tongue. He was getting angry, you realize, and it ran a series of fearful trembles down your body.

You don't make an attempt to step away when he takes another step closer. Nor do you react (other than a full body shiver) when his fingers graze the back of your neck, pulling down the hood that you tried concealing your face with. You watch the way his razor-blue eyes squint as they examine your face for any other wounds or bruises.

"I've seen you coming in and out these past nights," Rick says, proving your theory right. Of course he knew. He always knows. "Care to tell me why?" He adds.

You hesitate, fear crawling into your throat and lodging a lump to prevent you from speaking. You never had gotten in trouble with him before, but you knew how strict he was-- how terrifying he could be. You've seen it before. You vividly remember the way he held up that red machete and brought it down to slice the throat of the man who had trapped you, staining the same jacket he wore now with his blood. If you close your eyes, you can see the fury-- something kin to primal rage in the expression he made. The animalistic breaths he took as he wiped the blade clean, throwing the tissue he used to clean it onto the man and leaving him there to choke on his blood.

As morbid as it was, you couldn't stop thinking about it. The nod he gave to you afterward as if saying "You're okay now." The graze of his hand in yours as he leads you away from the scene. Your fascination for the man only grew since. Despite him being years older, he never seemed to completely leave your conscious. Always lingering inside your mind when you tried to fall asleep, or appearing in your dreams which had you waking up with your body feeling hot and the place beneath your navel feeling warm and tingly.

Maybe... you wanted to get caught just to see what he would do.

"I-" You choke. The moment you spoke his eyes snapped up to yours, his unforgiving gaze boring into you.

You were so aware of the heavy touch of his hand at your nape, unmoving. It felt like you were a rabbit in the jaws of a wolf, reluctant to let you go. His body moved in front of you in such a way that it felt suffocating, his broad chest limiting your view.

"I was hunting," You confess, telling the first truth of the night.

"And tonight too?" He asks, feeling satisfied with your answer.

You nod, your lips pinching together. You began feeling the blood rise to your cheeks, the realization finally hitting you at how close he was. You could almost touch his chest with yours if only you moved an inch or so forward.

"Now answer me again," He says in a quieter tone, no more than a whisper. His face leaned down to yours, his nose barely grazing the lobe of your ear. His breath was warm against your skin, a contrast from the chilled air. "Where did you get the cut?"

You may have blushed from the deep growl of his voice and the proximity of his face to yours if it weren't for the circumstances, but right now all you felt was your blood turn cold and the hairs on your arms stand.

He knew you were lying. You were out of options-- out of excuses. But, despite the tremble of fear you felt, your pride was strong.

"I already told you," You snap back, trying your hardest to conceal your fear and perhaps excitement as well. "I. Tripped."

You felt a blow of air from Rick's nostrils, another irate tut spilling from his lips. He pulls away from your face to reveal the deep frown he wore. His brows furrowed, making his deep-set eyes look frighteningly dark. The grip on your nape tightens to the point of near discomfort but it unleashes another shiver from you along with a breathy moan of surprise.

Suddenly, he has you turned around, your back flat against his chest and his hand tight at your throat. His free hand slithers down to your hip and presses an unforgiving finger on the bruise on your thigh, causing you to cry out loudly and arch your back, instinctively pushing your bottom against him in an attempt to free yourself.

Rick watches you squirm momentarily, your cries cut short by the pressure he applied to your throat. A sick sense of satisfaction rules through his body when looking at your vulnerable state. Your back arched in an attempt to be released, your toes pointed to withstand the pull on your neck, the dusting of tears that hugged your waterline.

Shit, he thought. Calm it, Rick. She's just a girl.

"I'll give you one more chance," Rick says, feeling sorry for you. His thoughts were running wild, the fantasies he rewatched over and over in his head were becoming a reality. But his consciousness caught up to him, knowing if he continued scolding you in this matter, it would lead to something he couldn't take back. He had to give you an opportunity to escape.

The pressure on your throat eased, but the prodding at your hip never relented. You shot a hand down to Rick's forearm, trying to pull his hand off your bruise, but it felt like trying to pull the tight jaws of a dog away from its bone. It was useless and dangerous.

Rick was unbothered by the attempt. He watched as you licked your lips, your breaths coming in short puffs. He leaned his head forward, once again next to your ear. You turned your head, awkwardly straining your neck to look up at him.

He feels his heart lurch when you expose the devious glint in your eye to him, your teeth peeking through your curled lips in a half smile. Your face was so close to his which had him frozen. He couldn't take his eyes off the way your tongue darted out to lick at the beads of blood that trickled from your wound into your mouth. If he wasn't imagining things, he could almost say that your gaze turned lustful.

"No," You mouth,

He's stunned. It seemed like reality had caught up to him in that moment. The position he'd manhandled you in, the rough touches along your young supple skin, the words of intimidation he whispered in your ear-- to anyone else, this would've looked more sensual than just a scolding.

It takes him several seconds to process what you said.

"No?" Rick scoffs, looking down at you incredulously, his eyes glancing down to your chest where he can clearly see your exposed cleavage. He swallows, instantly glancing back up to your unmoving gaze.

"What will you do if I don't tell you? You gonna' put me over your knee and spank me?" You half scoff, using that same cold-- almost monotone voice you use when talking. Rick was unsure whether this was an attempt of seduction, or you were dead serious and were trying to get a rise out of him as you often had. It wasn't until you boldly pushed your hips back again, but this time intentionally grinding your bottom over his crotch that he finally figured out your intention.

Irritation fell upon him again when he saw your smug look. He wanted the tears back at your waterline, desperate to hear those soft gasps he had never heard before from you. He wanted to render you speechless until nothing but incoherent mumbles spilled from those pretty lips of yours.

He wanted to tame you, break you down into an obedient pretty thing.

Rick said nothing as he stared at you with the same expression he had on before, but this time with widened eyes. It had you nervous, thinking you overstepped a boundary (which you one hundred percent had) but when his hand slithered up your clavicle, caressing your jugular and up to your jaw, gripping it tightly in one hand, your questions left. There was a look in his eye you couldn't quite place. Something between desire, and lust-- but also something sadistic and predatory. It had you almost wanting to shrink away, coward, and apologize to the man. But he didn't give you the option.

"Do you know what you're asking?" Rick says, no lilt or pause in his tone. His stare was intense, his touch even more so.

The question struck a string of both fear and arousal inside you. The familiar feeling beneath your navel began bubbling with warmth. A feeling you know far too well during late nights alone with nothing but your thoughts of Rick. Imagining how the scratch of his beard would feel between your legs. If those piercing eyes of his would look up at you when tasting you, forcing you to maintain eye contact with him. Maybe he would go fast, eager to taste all of you, or maybe he would be slow and steady, sadistic in his actions where he keeps putting off your orgasm until you weep and beg.

"Why don't you show me what I'm asking for?" You reply with a small nibble to your lip that doesn't go unnoticed by Rick.

Rick feels his breaths become shallower and arousal beginning to tent his jeans. He could hardly believe that this wasn't a dream. You were in front of him, writhing and gasping impatiently for him, practically asking him to take you. But his doubts begin to come back, chanting to him,

She's nearly half your age, dickhead.

But all doubts were wiped away when you shyly nudged his chest with your head, your hand running up his forearm and up to his bicep where you squeezed it, quietly admiring the muscle there. His attention is brought back to your youthful face, your eyes full of desire.

"Please?" You ask in a meek voice, your lips darting to wet your inviting lips.

And just like that, his resolve vanished.

He spins you around, his touch finally relenting from your bruise. His hand is back on your throat, forcing your face to look up at him. You notice the quick short pants he releases from his lips, his dilated pupils eating up most of the blue in his irises. Again, fear prods you. He stares at you for a second longer, analyzing your face for any sign of regret, but there is none.

He takes you firmly by the hip, dragging you forward with a shove to your lower back.

"Move," He commands coldly, sending another wave of fear and excitement down your spine.

Rick continues guiding you with a firm hand placed on the dimples of your back, eventually leading you to his house where he makes you climb the steps to his door.

Once he swiftly brings you inside, you're shoved cruelly onto the couch. You lose your balance and fall onto the pillowy surface, turning around with wide eyes and watching him shimmy off his jacket, gently hanging it up on the coat rack, unlike the way he had just manhandled you. He's staring you down as if you had just wronged him, rolling up his sleeves to rest at his elbows and revealing the ripples of muscle in his forearms.

He then approaches you, his boots loudly thudding onto the wood panel floors.

"You're a fucking pain in my ass, you know that?" He grunts, a loose smile playing on his lips. It wasn't a kind smile by any means, it was almost patronizing-- unsettling.

You didn't know how to answer, so you kept your mouth shut. Your feet were tucked beneath your bottom, staring up at him like prey.

That's what you felt like. Prey. You've never felt anything like this before-- normally you had the upper hand over people, very rarely feeling fearful or intimidated by them. But Rick had you in a chokehold, and it scared you.

One leg kneels on the couch cushion next to you. You felt the dip of his weight and the manly smell of what you imagine is his laundry detergent and some kind of musky cologne waft to your nose. He was leaning over you now, the thick build of his body clouding the rest of your vision. One hand found purchase on the sensitive flesh of your inner thigh covered by your jeans, the warmth of his palms seeping through the thick fabric.

"Turn around," He demands,

You look up at him defiantly, feeling bold.

"If I don't?" You say,

He cocks an eyebrow, and in one fluid motion, he spins you around himself. His fingers tangle in your hair, pressing your face down into a pillow rather harshly. He loops an arm around your waist, propping you up so you rest your weight on your knees. He's rough, but not to the point of pain or discomfort. He's simply showing you that he can do whatever he wishes without your approval.

You feel his narrow hips push against your bottom as he presses the weight of his body onto your back, pushing you further into the couch and nearly knocking the breath out of your lungs. You squirm weakly beneath his hold, but he doesn't relent and you hear a soft, demeaning chuckle from behind you. The hand that is looped around your waist rests at your stomach, then slowly trails down over your pelvis, then down to your core. Your body reacts instantly, jutting your hips back like a horny animal trying to present itself to its mate.

"Naughty girl," He whispers into your ear, "Who knew you would be so easy to pin down like this? You're not even fighting it."

"That's not--"

"Shut up." Rick says insultingly, rendering you silent instantly.

One hand slips off your jacket, throwing it carelessly on the floor. Then he moves to the simple black tank beneath it, nearly ripping it off your body. He keeps one hand at the back of your head, keeping your face down and your ass propped up for him-- an easy position for him to admire and access all of you.

Then goes your jeans, tearing every article of clothing off of you other than your undergarments-- keeping some of your dignity still intact.

You felt humiliated in this position. Your arse up like a bitch in heat, Rick's heavy weight immobilizing you, his harsh commands that you actually listened to. You felt ridiculous, but you couldn't ignore the blossoming heat that came to life between your legs. You felt betrayed by your body, the way your pussy responded to his roughness, clenching around nothing as it anticipated him. No matter how much you wanted to fight it, wanted to be somewhat stubborn, your body just wouldn't comply. Your body knew its position, and that was beneath the man above you with your pussy on display just for him, your brain just didn't want to accept that fact yet.

You felt Rick cup your cunt from behind, and you couldn't help the way you thrust your ass against it. You heard another dark laugh at your blatant neediness. He rubbed back and forth at a tantalizing pace, feeling the wetness seep through your clothed cunt and moistening his hand. He was shocked at how easily you submitted before him. Never did he imagine you would rut your hips against him, expose your pussy so willingly to his eyes. You tried to maintain your stubborn façade, but the moment he laid his hand on your cunt, you had melted into a puddle of jelly, your mouth spilling open and your body falling limp.

That's right, He thinks callously, Take it like a good girl.

"You like that, don't you?" He asks in that same patronizing tone. It angers you, but the anger is quickly replaced with pleasure, nearly melting your mind into goo. His big hand, cupping your cunt as if he owned it-- owned you.

You don't answer him, and instead, you try to glare at him from behind. But it backfired once you locked eyes with him. His handsome face looked down at you, wearing the same deep frown of his. If you didn't trust the man as you did, you would be terrified just from his scary presence and the easy way he manipulated your body to spread yourself for him.

"Not answering me, still?" He scoffs, his glare deepening.

When you still don't answer, he responds by ditching his hand from your drenched pussy, making you gasp mournfully. Instead, he places both hands on the insides of your thighs, spreading your legs as far as they could go. You remained in the arched position you were in, a bit scared of what he would do if you disobeyed his silent command.

You feel the tickle of his fingers skim against your skin as he pulls down your panties, leaving your glistening pussy nowhere to hide. You bury your face in humiliation, feeling the blood rush to your head. When you don't think it could get much worse, Rick pulls apart your cheeks, exposing your entrance fully.

You couldn't contain the mortified squeal that escaped your lips. Rick had left you nowhere to hide, nothing to conceal your most sensitive parts with. You feel the cool air hit your vulva, and the wetness of your arousal trickle down your thighs. You didn't dare to move as Rick looked at all of you, frozen as you were afraid of what he might do next, frozen in the most vulgar position-- the curve of your ass, the arch in your back-- it was utterly shameless.

"Shit," Rick curses under his breath. He could only find one word that he could describe you, and even that didn't seem to justify what he saw. You were breathtaking-- literally, as he felt his breath be kicked from his lungs as he saw all of you.

"Look at you," Rick coos as he swipes his middle finger along your slit, passing by your clit that had you jumping from the sudden sharp pleasure. You couldn't see it from the way you buried your eyes in your arms, but he brought his finger to his lip, sampling you. "What a sloppy cunt. I barely touch you and this is how you respond?" He mocks, squeezing the softness of your thighs and earning a whimper in response.

"No--"

You're cut off by a high-pitched squeal that shatters past your lips. You felt a sudden wet prod at your cunt as well as the scratchy feeling of Rick's beard tickling the back of your thighs.

You nearly sobbed. His flattened tongue languidly dragged from your clit, all the way to your hole where he dipped the tip of his tongue inside you, slurping and massaging your walls. A deep, almost animalistic groan vibrated against you as Rick tasted you.

You dug your face into your arms as you cried out again. Your legs shook, your walls desperately clenching around Rick's tongue. Your head fogged with pleasure as you felt a coil of pleasure begin to spin inside your stomach. The way his long fingers pulled your sensitive flesh apart, his tongue breaching your walls, his groans that made you feel weak in the legs. It was overwhelming.

He propped your hips higher, nearly lifting your knees off of the couch as he brought his lips down to suction your clit. He let one hand reach over to grab at your hair once more, tugging your head back and away from your arms roughly.

"Don't hide your voice," He says lowly against your cunt, the scratch of his beard adding more ripples of pleasure as he moved his jaw to speak.

It felt so good and you lost any thought of trying to retaliate, eager for more of his wet tongue and soft lips wringing pleasure from your needy cunt. So you obeyed him, and once he let go of your hair, you stayed put in the position he left you in. Once he delved back into your pussy, you couldn't control your moans any longer, deliriously chanting praises and choking out his name, no longer hidden by the couch.

"No" You scream. "-- Rick!"

You didn't even know what you were saying anymore, your brain losing the ability to form coherent words. It was too much. The coil quickly began to tighten inside you the more his sharp nose nudged against your sensitive clit. The way he would move from sucking your clit with his plush lips to greedily licking inside, creating loud obscene noises from your pussy. Humiliation washed over you once again from the vulgarness of your body, responding so desperately and greeting his mouth so welcomingly.

You then feel a long finger sink inside you, gently rubbing in a 'come hither' motion against your plush walls and pressing into that sensitive spot inside you. Your body leaps forward, almost like trying to escape the intense pleasure, but Rick quickly catches you, pulling your body back into him.

"You ain't running, girl." Rick teases against your folds, the vibration of each syllable sending ripples of pleasure down your spine. He laps at your soaked cunt until you're trembling, your walls pulsating in tell-tale signs of your approaching orgasm.

"Rick, Please, Rick," You sobbed loudly, your hand reaching behind you to grip his hair, desperate for something to hold onto. He ignores your pleas and continues to finger you, pulling drawn-out cries of pleasure from your mouth. It isn't until he feels the rapid pulses of your walls, indicating your near-release, that he pulls away entirely. He then flips you around, placing a leg on either side of your hips to trap you beneath him.

You cry as your orgasm is denied, and when you see the smug face above you-- looking irritatingly handsome, you scowl.

You place your hands on his chest, nudging him weakly away from you. Even after you pleaded for more of him--after he brought you to near brink of ecstasy, you were pushing him away stubbornly. So desperate to keep the remainder of your dignity. Your face was scrunched in faux anger, the telltale signs of tears at your lashes. You were panting hard and your legs had pressed themselves together in an attempt to alleviate some of the ache inside you. Even your fingers were digging into his shirt as if telling him not to go.

He doesn't budge at your feeble attempt to push him away. He has his face above yours, looking down at you with a tinge of pride in his cold eyes. His hands caress your sides lightly, a sinister smirk appearing once he sees the way you squirm away from the ticklish sensation.

"Asshole.." You whisper, but your eyes betray you once you look down wontedly at his crotch, looking at the visible bulge.

"Pretty girl," He reflects smoothly, shutting you up with a surprisingly gentle kiss on the lips.

You feel your face flush with heat when he kisses you, the words he spoke to you ringing in your mind, immediately erasing any lingering anger toward him.

Pretty girl.

You moan as you feel your body melt into his touch. You make fists in his shirt, now pulling him closer rather than pushing him away. His beard scratches against your chin, his hand slithering behind your head and holding you in place as he forces his tongue inside you. You feel overwhelmed with how passionately he kisses you, smothered by his masculine scent that had your brain hardwired into thinking of him each time you smelt anything that even resembled it. His hips were heavy on your own, his body trapping you. His unoccupied hand was rubbing up and down your waist, loving the way he felt the curvaceous dip each time he passed your midsection.

You don't know how long the kiss went on, only breaking apart to breathe for a split second before being attacked again by Rick's lips and tongue. You felt as if he was injecting some kind of poison into your system with every swirl and caress of his tongue, clouding your brain with pleasure and erasing every thought aside from him.

Eventually, Rick pulls away with heavy pants, looking at you with half-lidded eyes. You noticed the faint blush on his cheeks and the plumpness of his lips now swollen and red from the kiss. His eyes hardened with lust.

He then straightens himself, sitting upward on his knees as he inches his body up yours until his hips are level with your chest. You watch as he undoes his belt with a snap above you, leaving it still hooked through his jeans as he then undoes his pant zipper, fishing his cock out from his briefs.

You're already licking your lips, eyes strained forward as you admire the long length so close to your face.

He was slowly stroking himself, paying close attention to the tip as he pulled back his foreskin to reveal the sheen of precum atop it. He was girthy more than he was long which had you imagining how amazingly he would stretch your walls to accommodate for his size. His tip looked flushed and desperate, eager for any kind of stimulation. Your eyes left his cock reluctantly and looked at the man above you, and you couldn't help but admire how pretty he looked, his brows scrunched in pleasure and his bottom lip captured between his teeth. The sight alone had your core throbbing.

Gently, he guided your head toward him, canting his hips forward. The wet tip grazed the corner of your mouth, and you stuck out your tongue just enough to lick away the dribble of precum from the head.

"You wanna suck it?" He hums, his hand leaving his cock and rubbing a thumb across your lips. His actions seemed gentler, his expression softening as his eyes dart over the planes of your face, admiring every freckle and beauty mark on you. His other hand was scratching at your scalp, pushing the hair away from your face.

You don't answer which earns a light scoff from the man, but you don't miss the almost invisible tilt of the corner of his lip, then as if you had switched the channels on a radio, his gentleness was gone. He breaches your lips forcefully with the head of his cock which forces you to open your mouth to fit his girth comfortably on your tongue. You gag at the intrusion but quickly adapt to the heavy weight on your tongue. Now with the view of his face staring down at you so intensely, it had you shifting restlessly beneath him, unable to escape his predacious eyes no matter what you did.

He didn't give you much time to process the length and girth of his cock inside your mouth, and he begins to shallowly thrust, barely grazing your uvula. His jaw drops into an 'o' shape as he finds purchase in your hair, forcing you still in front of him and using your mouth for his pleasure. He watches sadistically as you struggle, your one eye closed as you do your best to massage your tongue alongside his thrusts.

"Just like that," Rick coos, bringing his hips closer to your face, forcing you to accept more of his length.

You try your best to accept him all at the angle you are in, proudly taking nearly all of his length, his balls resting at your chin, but you gag when he starts sliding down your throat, which has the man above you moan and tilt his head back. Your body squirms and tears begin to fog your vision, your breaths becoming limited. Rick stalls for a moment, running his fingers across your jawline adoringly and watching as you squirm pathetically beneath him with his cock slid down your throat. Then, he removes himself, his cock bouncing after being released from your mouth. He watches as you desperately gasp for air, nearly choking on your own spit. But you surprise him when you dive forward again and take him between your lips after you regain oxygen.

"Greedy girl," Rick scoffs, wiping a stray tear from your cheek. He allows you to suck him at your own pace now, satisfied with the way you flick your tongue beneath his foreskin and the way you purse your lips around his tip.

You moan at the praise he gives you as you rub the tip of his cock along the velvety walls of your cheeks, creating a vulgar bulge from the outside.

Spurred on by the open-mouthed moan he releases at the sight of you, you run your hands under his shirt, loosened from his pants being undone. You half expected to have him scoff at you and tear your hands away, but he doesn't. He simply looks down at you, inspecting your every move. You feel the hardness of his abdomen flex in response to your touch, and his breaths become louder-- almost sighs. You trail your hands up and rest them on his chest, admiring the way his chest heaves with each breath. You notice the content hum drawl out from his throat from your touch.

"So good for me, so obedient." He praises, but that patronizing tone that you expected to hear from him wasn't there. Instead, you're surprised to feel warm with pleasure at his words, the sudden urge to please him more tugging at your brain.

You suction your lips tighter, bringing a hand to the untouched length of his cock and you match it to the speed of your mouth. You keep a hand on his body, trailing up his shoulders and admiring the strength he held there too. As you felt along his body you noticed raised lesions indicating the scars hidden behind his clothes, and you vaguely imagined the people he killed in order to stamp those reminders onto his flesh.

The thought alone had you moaning around his cock. The deadliest man you've ever met was above you, watching your every move like a hawk even as pleasure contorts his features and soft moans escape his parted lips. The proof of his murders was plain as day on his body-- in his eyes and in his walk, and yet somehow you feel the urge to submit to him entirely and let him do anything he pleases with you.

The remainder of the fight in your body begins to leave and you feel yourself submit to the man before you as the fact that he could literally do anything he wanted to you settles into your brain. Rick watches as your eyes become glassy and your moans more frequent around his cock. You lose any smart responses to irritate the man, finally succumbing to your fate and allowing the pleasure of the man who is fucking your mouth finally win. You bob your head faster, working your tongue to touch everywhere you could reach.

"Thaaaats it," Rick says, watching as you slowly melt into submission. Your mouth loosened and allowed more of his cock to penetrate your mouth. He indulges in a few more deep thrusts into your throat, making you gag and choke until he pulls out and rubs his soaked cock on your cheek, enjoying the fucked out expression on your face. He watches as you nuzzle his cock with your face, pressing dainty kisses along the shaft paired with a shy smile.

Now that was a sight he never thought he would see.

You felt the solid weight of his cock on your face, shiny with your spit as he slowly canted his hips to drag it on your cheek. You could smell the musky scent of his manhood which had you nearly reeling, your patience was wearing thin and the thing you wanted most was for him to be inside you, pounding you to ecstasy while murmuring dirty words into your ear, making you feel helpless in the best way possible.

"Please," You moan, the desperation in your voice so prominent. You were reaching behind your back, finally losing the last bit of clothing and revealing your breasts from their confinements.

Rick shamelessly looks at your chest, running his hands over your ribcage and gently grazing the underside of your tits. You felt his cock twitch against you and you lean down to take him between your lips once more, massaging your tongue beneath his foreskin and humming at the taste of him.

Suddenly, he slides down your body, his cock leaving your lips with a 'pop'. His hands return to your legs, his head dipping down to leave scratchy kisses between your thighs.

"Sit up," He commands suddenly. You obey him albeit being a bit confused. He pulls you close to his body, practically shoving your head into his chest as his hands grab at your ass, lifting you up with incredible strength. You release a surprised squeak that has him snort.

"M'not fuckin you on the couch," He explains as he places a kiss on the junction of your neck and shoulder. The small act of affection was enough for you to melt into his embrace, and so you hook your chin over his shoulder, placing a few kisses of your own on his neck.

He then lifts himself off the couch by his knee, your body tightly secured in his arms. You feel much too aware of the man's hands on the back of your thighs, and the concern that you may be too heavy crosses your mind, but the thought is quickly wiped away when Rick begins walking down the hall to his bedroom, acting as if you didn't have your legs wrapped around your torso-- or your bare pussy rubbing against his clothes and your naked breasts pressed against his hard chest.

He basically throws you once he enters his bedroom, a devious smile quipped on his face. He's on top of you before you have a chance to comprehend what has happened, his lips smashing hard in place of yours and your thighs forcefully spread apart so his narrow hips could slot between them. Once the man is back on top of you, you pull at his collar blindly, your separate hand already making progress at shoving down his pants. He takes your hint and leans back onto his haunches, grabbing his shirt from the bottom and sliding it over his head, tossing it away. He then leans back down to smother kisses along your neck.

"Pants too," You demand, regretting your words the moment they came out of your mouth.

"You think you get a say in this?" He says, incredulous. His hand crawls up to your neck, covering your jugular entirely with the span of his palm. He applies steady pressure to your throat as he levels his face with yours, glaring down at you with a sneer at his lips.

He doesn't give you the chance to apologize, squeezing your throat until you choke when you open your mouth. You feel the intruding prod of his cock at your entrance, making you writhe under him. When he sees the way your eyes widen and tears hug your lashes, he eases his hold, letting you catch your breath.

You break down, your patience wearing thin. All you wanted was for the man to just fuck you.

"M'sorry, please-- Just-- you can do anything to me!" You cry out in frustration, rambling without thought. "I don't know, just-- Pl-Please, -- I need it, Rick--I need you so bad," You sob, the frustration building up until its limit was breached. Your tears now fall down your cheeks, your hands tightly gripped around his wrist to keep his hand from moving away from your throat. It felt like an anchor, a daunting, warm anchor pressing you into the bed. You choke on your sobs as you shift your hips down, trying to get his cock to penetrate you. You were disoriented and frustrated but more than that, you were so fucking needy for the man to just take you and slam his cock inside you, making you scream and cry and beg. You didn't care. You just needed him.

Rick pauses. The way your eyes reddened from your tears-- making the color of your irises become highlighted and sparkly. It had him writhing. Your pretty voice cracked with sobs, chanting his name over and over as if you knew no other names but his. Your nails clawed down his back, trying to push him impossibly closer to you, and your legs were locked around his hips to make sure he couldn't escape.

"Shhhh," He utters, placing a hand on the side of your face which you instantly accept, turning your head to kiss and lick at his palm like a touch-starved dog. You shot a hand to grip his wrist, keeping the hand at your head still as you brought a finger into your mouth, licking and sucking it as if it was his cock.

"I didn't mean to," You beg around his fingers. "M'sorry," You say again but this time with a sniffle. Rick smiles-- the first genuine smile you'd seen today. It was warm and thoughtful, enhancing the handsome crowfeet around his eyes. You had stopped sucking his fingers just to admire it as you felt a fuzzy sensation rise to your chest, alongside the deep ache of your throbbing core.

"It's okay, pretty girl," Rick says, leaning down to kiss your cheeks. He notices the way your body reacted to the name he had given you, the moan that vibrated around his fingers, and the flutter of your lashes gazing up at him. You were looking at him so devotedly, your eyes filled to the brim with trust and affection, and most of all, lust. He knew that when you said he could do anything to you, you truly meant it.

He teasingly rubs his cock up and down your slit, grazing your clit as he drenches himself with your wetness. He reaches down to kiss you, catching your glossy lips in a gentle rhythm, unlike the rough and passionate ones from before. He feels warmth ooze into his brain as if you had him under a spell, melting away any remaining thoughts or worries and forcing all of you to cloud his conscience.

Then gently, he breaches your hole, his attention fixed on the way your jaw drops.

He could feel the way your soft walls fluttered around his cock, adjusting to his girth. Your face had scrunched up in discomfort, but you were distracted when he placed a soft kiss on your brow, his gaze fond.

"So good for me," Rick says, licking at your earlobe and sinking his cock further into you and sighing in pleasure as he bottoms out, his balls against your ass. "Look at you, taking me so well. Does it hurt?"

You shake your head, cupping his face in your hands. You were suddenly hyper-aware of his handsome features. The speckling of black and grey littered across his beard and hair, reminding you that he was much older than you were. How cute the curls on his forehead grazed his furrowed brows, a droplet of sweat running down right beside it. Those ever-so-intimidating eyes were staring at you with such affection that it was overwhelming, almost making you forget the fact that this was meant to be some kind of punishment. But the way he held you so possessively almost had you thinking that there was more than just lust between the two of you.

Rick raises his brow, giving you a teasing look as you forget to answer his question. "Not gonna use your words?" He says without venom in his voice, tightening his grip around your neck as a reminder of what he is capable of doing to you.

He breaks you away from your deep thoughts, and you don't think before speaking, your eyes still trained on the attractive man before you,

"You're so handsome," You say, holding his cheeks firmly as you lean in to kiss him.

Rick raises his brows, flushing at your words as he returns your kiss. He wasn't expecting such a cute response from you, but at least this time you answered him, albeit it not remotely relating to the question he asked. Still, he couldn't deny the race of his heart as you kissed him with your hands cupped around his cheeks, his cock buried deep inside your pulsating walls, and the word 'handsome' ringing in his head. He felt like a schoolboy all over again.

He smiled in the kiss. Maybe you'll never learn to answer his questions properly.

"Need you," You moan after breaking the kiss, your lips grazing his. "Need you so bad,"

"Oh, you'll get it, sweet girl. Don't have'ta worry." Rick teases as he licks your ear. He wanted to push you to your very limits, make your voice raw with pleads. He couldn't deny that he wasn't being mean to you, torturing the sweet teary-eyed girl beneath him-- but he loved it. He loved watching you become glassy-eyed with want, and your insults turning to pleads. It was the best feeling ever, to turn you into a babbling mess of moans and cries.

He pulls out, rubbing his cock onto your clit, slapping it lewdly, watching as you arch your back and drape a forearm over your eyes.

"C'mon!" You sob, "Please just fuck me, Rick! I can't-- I can't take anymore. I've been good!" You slap at his chest angrily, trying to stifle your cries of frustration and hide the fact that you were crying. You weren't looking at him, too embarrassed of yourself.

Rick finally relents and shoves his cock in one go inside you. He peels away your arm to see that face he longed for.

Your mouth falls as he thrusts into you quickly, your hands flying to the pair that are locked on your throat, and your tears finally spill like a waterfall.

Rick's heart nearly leaps from his chest. Your eyes are half closed, your lashes dripping with the residue of your tears, and your eyes are shot red. When he squeezes your throat tighter, strangled cries croak out and your nails drag at his skin, leaving a beautiful sting in their wake. He's thrusting remorsefully, sending your body bouncing back and forth with every pound to your soaked pussy, your tits recoiling up and down in a memorizing tempo.

Each time he slams his cock inside you, another pair of tears trickle down your beautiful rosy cheeks and into your open mouth. He can't help but kiss you, tasting your tears and swallowing your cries.

"This what'ya want? To be fucked like a whore?" He asks, his lips lingering atop yours as he speaks over the loud slapping of skin to skin.

"No-" You manage to spit out over his tight hold on your throat.

"Then what's this? Your walls are eating me up so well, you lyin' to me, girl?"

He sends you reeling forward with a slap to the pussy. Reflexively, you push a hand against his chest to try and slow him down, but he doesn't budge, rather, he pushes more weight atop of you, crushing you with his naked body. You sob, shaking your head.

"You've got such pretty cries," He coos and finally lets free of your neck, allowing you the freedom of deep breaths. You're lightheaded when he releases you, unable to even process his words. "Your cries are just for me, hm?"

"Only you--" You say before getting cut off by a moan once Rick's fingers find your clit. You dizzily wrap your arms around his shoulders, hugging him tightly to your chest as pleasure numbs your brain. "Just you, it's always been just you," You confess deliriously.

Rick hums, satisfied with your answer. He feels his orgasm approaching rapidly, so he begins to rub tight circles on your clit which has you responding by clenching tightly onto his cock. His moans grow louder, more like the grunts of a wild animal and it has you spiraling toward your release.

"That's right. You're mine." He says, then buries his face between your tits.

You hug his head, burying your nose into his curls, breathing him in as you feel the cord inside you become pulled taught. Your hands find his neck and shoulders, enjoying the way his muscles ripple with every thrust. Once again, you're reminded of how powerful this man really is, and it has you tumbling over the edge.

"Yes, Yes! Rick--" You babble, arching your back as you feel the waves of pleasure swamp your body. Your pussy clenches like a vice, feeling every vein and ridge of Rick's cock pummeling inside you, and like a string that's been cut, your orgasm washes over you.

Your cries go silent as ecstasy clouds your mind, blossoming heat tingling in your navel and rising to your mind. Rick fucks you through your orgasm, purposely holding off his own to watch the way your eyes roll back to your head and your trembling body tenses. It isn't until you cry from overstimulation and the trembles in your body turn to full-body shudders, that he pulls out, bringing his cock to your breasts and jerking himself until he comes with a loud moan, painting your chest with milky white stripes. You watch lazily as you feel the never-ending warm spurts of come drench your tits, memorized by the expression Rick makes. His mouth is agape, his abdomen flexing with each wave of pleasure, and his moans become strained as he works himself to the end of his orgasm.

It was the hottest thing you'd ever seen.

After his balls are emptied, he collapses beside you, pulling you in tight against his body, undeterred by the mess he made on your chest. He peppers kisses along your jaw and shoulders,

"You did so well, pretty girl," He says as he caresses your leg-- over the bruise you had obtained. His palm smooths over it, almost as if quietly apologizing for earlier. He then kisses away the tears littered across your cheeks, uttering more praises with every peck.

You're still regaining your breath and your cunt pulsates from the aftermath of your orgasm, but you feel a sweet fuzzy feeling envelop your chest, and you turn your head to meet Rick's lips, melting into his embrace and the warmth of his kiss. The two of you stay like that for several moments, simply panting and kissing each other in each other's embrace.

"Was I too rough?" Rick says momentarily, glancing at the red, irritated marks left by his hands. He suddenly looks concerned, planting small kisses across your jugular.

"No," You say with a small smirk. Only now had you properly replied to a question of his. He notices your smirk and can't help but smile himself, pushing your face back into his chest as he scoffs. Again, some time passes, and Rick speaks up again, only this time, hesitantly.

"I'd like it if this wasn't just a fling," He says, searching your eyes for any flicker of rejection. "I really do like you, even if you are a pain in my ass." He adds with a hint of a smile.

You roll your eyes in faux irritation.

"I've been yours since the beginning," You say cupping his cheeks and placing a featherlight kiss on his brow. Rick looks at you with sparkling eyes, the biggest smile you've ever seen him wear is plastered on his face. He holds you tight against him by your waist, taking your lips roughly in a passionate kiss.

"That's what I like to hear." He says, hugging you into his warm chest.

A/N: Comments, likes, and reblogs are appreciated!

#fanfiction #the walking dead #twd #rick grimes #rick grimes smut #rick grimes fanfiction #twd smut #smut #dacryphilia #manhandling #choking #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes x you #rick grimes x y/n

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darin-nidk · 7 months ago

Text

Good enough. | Eve!Reader x —?

Content: Angst. Imposter syndrome. Self-hate.

Eating that stupid apple. Falling for his charms.

They were initially called Eve, the first woman made from the rib of the first man, Adam. A match made in Heaven to bless Eden.

But they found out that they were, in fact, NOT the first woman. Actually, a mere replacement meant to be obedient and not question Adam's authority much less God's one — the apple had been both a curse and a blessing in disguise. Eve broke down crying, initially pain swallowed her whole before it turned into rage.

Safe to say that God cursed her, but casted the two of them aside. Tossed into the cruel world. Eden was but a memory, not even a good one.

Adam had cursed, yelled and even held her forearms to shake her because "how could you?!", yet Eve was expresionless, her heart had been shattered and whatever Adam was saying wasn't worth it. His voice was enchanting to hear though, but his words weren't worth listening to.

Eve and Adam. No. Adam and Eve had a family though it was a loveless relationship, solely up to procreate and populate Earth. Or something. And their children were free to do as they please. Yes, even killing.

Eve was numb inside, but she did cry at the loss of something. Perhaps, her innocence, how she didn't want to be a mother, the painful process of birth... Ah yes, her children had been cursed with a terrible mother, Eve hugged Cain as she apologized profusely.

She didn't even care she went to Hell whereas Adam went to Heaven. Of course Adam did, motherfucker always got everything on a silver platter.

And now, down here, a beautiful and stunning figure... Eve hated that Lucifer, the one that made her commit the first known sin in the first place, he wasn't even enamored by her. Much like Adam, Lucifer was hung up on Lilith.

Was Eve... worth something? Not at all. Clearly just a shadow.

Hence why they changed their looks, their name, everything that could tie them to her previous miserable life.

Eve was no longer.

However, (Y/N) was their new chosen identity and made them feel happy for once, could Hell be kinder than Eden and Earth?

If you like my stories, consider donating to my Ko-Fi! Even cents are plenty of help!

Y si hablas español, 'tonces no seas garca y dame $2 para honrar el billete que no esta en circulación y que ni siquiera es de colección a mi MP .

(If any of my rambles inspire you, feel free to use them as inspiration).

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel imagines #adam x reader #lucifer x reader #🧍 he speaks

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melithril · 17 days ago

Text

[Adar] - A Romantic Dinner

♫ - Perfect - Ed Sheeran

A request from a lovely Anon with a nice surprise at the end, I really enjoyed writing this one so I hope you all enjoy! <3

Nature was beautiful. Everywhere you went, flora and fauna graced the Earth. Your favourite thing to do was to find fresh herbs and fruits out in the wild that you knew you could make something of. Sauce, jams, pie; you name it, you loved to make it. There was something so freeing about cooking, and using ingredients so fresh was the best part.

You were thankful that your love, Adar, was fond of most foods. At first, when you had started courting him, your worry lay in just what you should make him to eat. After you had asked him what uruk's ate, he just smiled at you.

"My children mostly enjoy meat, but I, my beloved, would eat anything your hands are gracious enough to make."

He always was a charmer, and at first you thought it was perhaps because he was being polite. After the first few months with him, you quickly realised that this was no joke; Adar really did eat practically anything. He had lived a past in which food was neither fresh nor pleasant, and for the most part was scarce. Therefore, now he knew food was more abundant for him and his family, his palette was more than happy to eat anything.

It had been quite a rough few weeks for you all in the camp. Threats from each corner of Middle Earth loomed over you, and the stress levels in your lover were high. So, waking up that day you had decided to venture out into the nearby forest to see what you may find. You knew Adar would be busy in his throne room most of the day tending to what business he may have, and so you saw your perfect opportunity.

"My love," Adar spoke, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "Be safe out there on your walk, please. The last thing I need is you going missing or getting hurt. If you are not back by sundown, I will send someone to look for you."

His concern made your heart swell. Adar always put you first, always looking out for you where he could. You smiled up at him. All he knew was that you were going for a walk, but not what the intentions of the day were; that was to be a surprise.

"Do not worry, Adar, I will be safe. Now, you best be off before you are late. I know you have much to do. I love you."

"And I you, my sweet."

With a kiss to his lips, you bid him off at the door and waited some time before you left to make sure he wasn't coming back. Excited, you grabbed your basket and bag, heading out into the wilderness that lay beyond the camp walls.

You were gone some time, though not the whole day. In reality, it was perhaps two hours which was not at all a bad time. You had lots of time to prepare your meal, and a hell of a lot of ingredients to do so. Strawberries, raspberries, apples, bunches of herbs and even some mushrooms filled your basket and you couldn't wait to get them back to your kitchen.

As you began cooking, you giggled to yourself in excitement. You had hoped this may cheer Adar up and help him through this rough patch. It was horrible to see him so stressed out, far from the sweet and otherwise wonderful man you had come to love. Though still just as loving, he was instead quite closed off and quiet, and you knew there was so much on his mind. You were determined tonight to take most of those feelings away, to help him relax and to spend some quality time with him as you had not done so in what felt like an age.

The sun was beginning to set, and so you left your home momentarily to ask one of the guards outside to send word to Adar that you were fine. The last thing you needed was him worrying and coming over early to check on you. The uruk smiled at you and agreed, and with your thanks he left to deliver your message.

As the final things went into the oven to keep warm, you cleared up the kitchen and set the table. Standing back, you admired the view before you.

The table was adorned with a red cloth, napkins set nicely on either side. Some tall candles sat either side, lit and burning away with a smell of sage. In the centre, a platter of fresh strawberries, apples and blueberries, most from your travel today and raspberries in the middle; Adar's favourite. Apple tart, fresh potatoes and vegetables, with a roasted chicken too all sat present and ready to be eaten. Not to forget your favourite side dish, lembas bread, in your father's old bread basket to finish.

Proud of yourself, you heard the door handle click and the shuffle of feet in your living room. Heading out, you greeted Adar with a hug.

"My love," he rasped, sounding very tired but still spending the energy to lift you off your feet. When you were returned to the ground, you cupped his face in your hand.

"Adar, I trust your day was well?"

"It was about as well as it could have been. I am tired, but something smells very good in the kitchen. I never have been able to resist your cooking."

Grinning, you were very glad he noticed. Beckoning him to you, you took his hand and led him to the table. As he arrived round the corner, his eyes widened at the sight.

"You beautiful thing," he gasped. "What is this all for? A special occasion?"

"No," you chuckled, leading him to sit in his chair. "Just because I wanted to. I went out today to fetch these ingredients, and for the most part I got what I needed. This is for you to relax, I know how much you have been working and I wanted to make you forget every bad thing just for one night. So, please enjoy."

Adar kept your hand, simply looking at you like you were otherworldly. In his mind, he could not fathom why someone would go to the effort you had for him tonight, but he was beyond grateful that you had. His hands found your waist and he pulled you in to a hug, his head resting on your chest. You kissed the top of his head and held him, knowing he probably needed it. Running your hands through his hair, you let him pull away when he was ready.

"Now, Adar, you eat. You need it and it's going cold."

With a wink, you took your own seat and the two of you ate and chatted until the candles had all but burned down.

Dinner had come to an end, and it was the most relaxed either of you had been in so long. You could see it in Adar's face; he was happier, lighter and laughing a lot more. He was back to the Adar you got to see behind closed doors. As you began to clear the table, in the highest spirits you'd been for a while. Adar pushed back his chair and pulled you to him and into his lap.

"Leave that for now," he whispered into your ear. Obliging, not in any position to complain, you allowed him to keep you close.

Entwining your hands into his hair, Adar took your hands and kissed your knuckles gently.

"My star, thank you this evening. You did not have to go to all of that trouble but I am very thankful to you for it. I do not know what I would do without you here. You are my rock, my guide, and I am grateful to spend this life with you."

A tear cascaded down your face, but not a sad one. Of of relief, of happiness that things felt normal in this moment.

"Adar, my beloved, I would do anything to keep your smile around. To see you happy. There is no better feeling for me than to see you at peace. I will fight to keep every bad thing at bay. You have done so much for me, in so many ways, this is a display of a fraction of how thankful I am."

Adar hummed and smiled up at you. He buried his face int your chest, allowing himself to focus on your breathing before placing soft kisses on your collarbone. One hand rested on your thigh and the other had a firm grip on your waist. Adar moved his lips upwards, leaving a trail of small, light marks as he went. His kisses had now reached your neck, where he bit down just a tad harder, laughing at your surprised noise.

"So," he breathed against your jawline. "You'd do anything to keep my smile, would you?"

"Without a second thought, of course I would," you replied, your voice slightly shaky from the pleasant feelings.

Adar pulled back and moved his hand from your thigh to tilt your chin to look him in the eyes. You could get lost in his eyes, they left you helpless. In the dying light of the candles, they shone even more than usual. He stood, standing you on your feet and placed you back on the chair as he knelt before you. Taking both your hands in his own, you looked at him quizzically. His voice was low and strong as he spoke his next words.

"Then wed me, my star."

Your eyes widened, and it was your turn to be shocked. Adar continued.

"Wed me, and let us defy the darkness looming over us with this act of love. Let us prove that love can prosper even in the worst of times. I have come to realise these past few months that I need you, and I have never wanted to be with someone like this. I want to spend the rest of the ages we have with you, my love. If you'll have me, I am yours."

As he finished talking, he pulled the ring off his last finger and held it to you, eyes not wavering from your own. Tears had filled your eyes as you looked back, finding only love waiting on Adar's face. Throwing your arms around his neck, your voice trembled with delight as you whispered into his ear.

"Of course, Adar. I will marry you."

Adar let out a happy laugh, one of relief and joy. He leaped to his feet, pulling you with him as you wrapped your legs around his torso. Holding you close, tears fell from the uruk's eyes as well as your own, and you both shared in the moment of pure and honest ecstasy. You couldn't believe Adar was going to be yours for the rest of the ages.

Adar placed you gently onto the table, taking your hand and placing the ring on your finger.

"My starlight, I cannot wait for the rest of our lives. I promise with all that I have that I will protect you, and I will love you with everything I can give. I am yours, in every way."

"As am I yours, Adar. I am excited to make this life with you, to build on what we have. There is no man I would rather have."

Adar pulled you into a breathtaking kiss, standing in between your legs as he took your face in his hands. Your fingers wrapped themselves in his hair as the kiss deepened, his hands roaming from your face to your waist and your thighs. He could not get enough of you in this moment. Hoisting you up, you pulled away just long enough to see his face.

Adar grinned and winked at you, before carrying you towards the bedroom.

The future was uncertain, and unstable, but now you knew Adar would be in it with you and that was a comforting thought. You knew nothing of what the future may hold, but you most certainly knew one thing about tonight:

Sleep was far from on the menu.

Thanks for reading! <3

#x reader #adar #rings of power #adar x reader #adar imagine #rings of power x reader #one shot #adar one shot #imagine #rings of power imagine

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fhatbhabiee · 2 months ago

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Lucid Dreams

Jack Daniels x Reader

word count: 3.2k

warnings: friends to lovers, pregnancy, dad!Jack, post partum depression, protective dad!Jack, girl dad!Jack

my fic for @burntheedges Roll-A-Troupe Challange

“She dumped me.” he sighed, bringing the glass up to his lips.

“Oh Jack…”

He shrugged, downing the amber liquid in a second, “Gonna die alone aren't I?”

You chuckled and motioned the bartender over, pointing down at Jack's empty glass. “You're not gonna die alone.”

He scuffed. “Every girl I try anything with either dumps me or cheats on me. I think it's safe to say I'm right.”

“Wanna make a deal?” you asked, making Jack raise his brow and look over at you.

“In 10 years, if neither of us are in a relationship, we get together and have a family.”

“Serious?”

You nodded, holding your glass up to him. “Serious.”

—

Jack walked into your apartment, pizza box in one hand and a bottle of whiskey in the other.

“I'm here!” he called out, making you sit up in your bed. You wiped the fresh tears away, slowly getting out of bed and walking to the living room. Your heart swelled at the sight of your best friend sitting on the couch, flipping the pizza box open and twisting the top of the bottle of whiskey. How'd you get so lucky to have a man like that in your life, yet still so unlucky to pick the worst ones to date?

“You didn't have to Jack…”

“C'mon. You’re always there for me when I get fucked over by a woman, why not do the same to you?”

You chuckled and sat down next to him. “You're the best. All the girls that dumped you are stupid.”

He laughed and handed you a cup of amber liquid. “Can say the same about the wise asses you bring home.”

You rolled your eyes and grabbed the cup from his hand. The rest was a blur.

—

You woke up the next morning, sheets wrapped around your hips as you were face down into your pillow. The sun was slightly shining through your curtain, making the consequences of last night wash over you in the form of a migraine. You let out a soft groan, sitting up and looking over to the usually empty side of the bed. Except for today, it wasn't empty. The sight of his bare tan and toned back sent chills down your spine and straight to your core. There he was- your best friend of so many years, your secret crush- laying in bed, naked, next to you. What do you do? Do you wake him up? Do you hide in the bathroom till he leaves? Do you-

Jack groaned, rolling around and locking eyes with you. Your heart skipped a beat, not expecting him to be awake.

“Mornin’…” he mumbled, sitting up and holding the sheet up on his waist.

“Morning…”

He rubbed his head with his palm, trying to recollect the events from the night before.

“This is not how I wanted out first time to be like…” he chuckled, running his fingers through his hair.

So he’s thought about this?

“I blame the whiskey,” you joked, pulling a laugh from Jack’s lips.

“Yeah…Me too,” he looked over at you, eyes wandering down to your lips. He leaned over, placing a soft kiss on your lips.

“Whats this mean?” Jack whispered, lips brushing against yours.

“What do you want it to mean?”

—

Months had gone by and you slowly started to settle into a routine. It was difficult- so much change so quickly- you even felt overwhelmed at one point. But he was there. There to hold you and hold your hand- telling you that everything's gonna be okay because he's there for you. Never in all the years you knew Jack you would think you'd be here- where you are now

“How was it?” He asked as he heard you enter the stables.

“Good. How's your girl?”

Jack chuckled and set the brush back down in the bucket. “She's doing good. Growing like there's no tomorrow.”

You looked over at the pregnant horse he was tending to, smiling at how gentle he was with her. He reached into his bag and pulled out an apple, holding it up to the horses muzzle before she took it from his hand. He closed the stable door and walked over to you.

“How's my girl?” he asked, rubbing small circles on your pregnant belly.

You smiled, looking down at your belly. “She's good. Doctor said she's healthy and that everything's right on track.”

“Good. Got a surprise for you,” he smiled, reaching over and grabbing your hand as he walked you inside.

“Jack. You and these surprises-”

“And I don't plan on stopping,” he walked you up the stairs and to the empty room across from yours and Jacks. He opened the door, revealing the freshly painted white walls with a dark brown crib in the corner with a matching dresser and rocking chair. Your eyes looked around the room, stopping at the wall above the crib. Her name- painted with a soft pink color and in a pretty font, along with small hearts surrounding it.

“Like it?”

“My god…” you sighed, placing your hand on your belly. “I love it…”

He cleared his throat, gently nudging you with his elbow. You looked over, seeing a small black box in his hand.

“Marry me…” he whispered, opening the box and revealing a ring.

“Jack-”

“I'm not asking just ‘cause of the baby- I'm asking because I love you darlin’… I'm asking ‘cause I wanna spend the rest of my life with you. And only you.”

You smiled, nodding.

“I'll marry you…”

—

You laid in the hospital bed, unable to move, let alone hold your baby. Everything was normal- your water broke, Jack drove you to the hospital, he held your hand while the doctors cut you like a Thanksgiving turkey- but out of nowhere… it wasn't normal.

“Sweetheart… Try and eat something.” Jack whispered, gently pushing the hospital tray towards you.

“Not hungry…” you whispered back, looking away from him. It hurt- both you and Jack. Unable to hold your baby because she couldn't breathe on her own and she was connected to all these tubes and wires- it was a lot. Overwhelming. You shut out- shut out from the world, from Jack.

“Gonna go see our little angel, okay? I'll give her lots of kisses for you sweetheart,” he leaned down, pressing a small kiss on your temple before walking out of the room. He sighed, tears filling his eyes as he walked down the hallway. He wanted to be home with his fiancée and his daughter. He wanted you back. The woman that was laying in the hospital bed was just an outer shell of you…

He walked into the NICU, making his way over to the plastic crib with his daughter in it. He placed one hand on top of the tube and the other inside of it, gently stroking his daughter's arm with his finger.

“Hey there, Delilah…”

—

“Where'd she go…” Jack groaned, getting up from the floor and his bones cracking and popping. He's really gotta start working out again.

Soft babbles were heard from down the hallway, letting Jack know where she'd gone off to. He quickly followed her sounds, only to find her in your arms.

“Lost her again, I see.” you teased.

Jack chuckled, his chest pain slowly easing up as he saw his daughter safe and sound in her mama's arms. “Looked away for 2 seconds…”

“It's all that it takes. Especially with this little girl. Ain't that right, baby?”

She squealed in response, bringing a smile to your lips. Jack's heart warmed at the sight- ever since you had Delilah, your postpartum depression took a toll on you. Sleeping, not wanting to eat or even hold the baby. Jack was worried- scared you'd never be the same again. But it was almost out of nowhere when you went back to your normal self. Now you and your baby were practically inseparable.

“I'll put her to bed, go relax, sweetheart,” Jack said as he reached his hands out to Delilah.

“I don't mind honey-”

“I said, I got it. Go on now.”

You playfully rolled your eyes as Jack grabbed Delilah from your arms. “Fine,” you placed a soft kiss on her chubby cheek before walking to your shared bedroom.

Jack smiled, walking down to the nursery. “Alright… In your ‘jamas, already gave you a bottle… Missin’ anything?”

Delilah looked at him, giving him a confused look as a way of answering his question. He chuckled and kissed her cheek.

“Take that as a no.” He gently rocked her back and forth, her face nuzzling in her fathers chest. It didn't take long before she was sound asleep, letting Jack lay her in her crib.

“Love you so much, princess,” he whispered before turning on the mobile along with the baby monitor. “Gonna protect you with all my life. I swear it. You and your mama.”

Delilah gave him a gummy smile in her sleep, making Jack smile.

“That's my girl…”

—

“No mama, I'm not wearin that.” she pouted, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Delilah you can't take your Stetson and dirty boots to school. You have to wear this,” you said holding up the new pair of sneakers you bought for her.

“No, mama. I'm wearin my boots.”

You groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose as you tried to keep your cool. You loved your daughter, more then anything in the world, but by god was she just as stubborn as her daddy.

“What's going on?” Jack asked, walking into the bedroom.

Speak of the devil himself…

“She wants to take her Stetson and dirty boots to school. I told her she can't and she has to wear her sneakers.”

“Let her wear the hat and boots darlin’. Ain't no harm.”

Delilah smiled, knowing she just won her case against you. You rolled your eyes and tossed your hands up in defeat.

“Whatever,” you muttered, walking out of the room.

“Mama’s mad…”

“She’s just tired, princess. And she wants you to look your best at school,” he crouched down to her level. “You can take your Stetson, but change the boots. For your mama.”

After dropping Delilah off at school, Jack walked into the stables, watching you taking care of the horses. He leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched you.

“Gonna tell me why you were upset this morning?” he asked.

“Wasn't upset…” Jack chuckled, walking over to you.

“Sweetheart, you practically had smoke coming out of your ears over the shoes she was wearin’. And lately you've been gettin’ mad over every little thing. Other day you were yellin’ at her because she tracked mud in the house. Not the first time that's ever happened.”

You sighed, running your fingers over the horse's coat. “I'm pregnant.”

His eyes lit up. “Serious?”

You chuckled and nodded. “Serious.”

Jack picked you up by the waist, spinning you around as he laughed. “God, I love you so much woman!”

You cupped his cheeks and kissed him. “Not as much as I love you, honey.”

—

You sat on the couch, letting out a groan as you sank down into the soft cushions. Jack chuckled and pulled your legs into his lap, rubbing small circles on your feet. Before you even said anything, the groan from your teenage daughter filled the house.

“Wyatt, get out!!”

“Ooo look at me, ‘I'm Delilah. I'm pretty and popular’,” Wyatt mimicked her, running out of her bedroom while holding her diary in his hands.

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “So much for a peaceful night…”

Jack chuckled, gently patting your thigh. “I got it.” He got up and walked upstairs, making Wyatt bump into him and fall backwards.

“D-Daddy…”

Jack rises his brow, crossing his arms over his chest. “Quit pestering your sister.”

“She started it!”

“No, I didn't!” Delilah chimed in, walking out of her bedroom and into the hallway. “Daddy he stole my diary and was talking to his friends about it!”

“You're taking too long in the bathroom!”

“I’m getting ready to go out with friends!”

“No, you're not you're going on a date!”

“Alright, enough!” Jack yelled out. “Wyatt, go to your room.”

“But-”

“Son, don't test me right now.” Wyatt noticed the angry look on his father’s face and walked to his bedroom without saying another word. Jack sighed and looked over at Delilah with the same angry look. “A date?”

“Daddy-”

“You told me and your mama it was a girls’ night with your friends. Why are you lyin’?”

She stayed quiet, looking down at her feet.

“Delilah Daniels, I asked you a question.”

She sighed, looking back up at Jack. “Because I knew you'd act like this. I'm 16, daddy, going on dates is normal.”

“Sweetheart… I know it's normal, just…”

Her phone went off, making her look down at it and then back up at Jack. “I gotta go…”

Later that night, Jack sat on the front deck, glass of whiskey in one hand and a cigarette in the other. His eyes were glued on the driveway, waiting for any sign of his daughter coming home.

“Honey?” you called out, walking onto the deck. “Must be killing you, huh?” you asked, looking at the cigarette in his hand.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Feel like my hearts facing the barrel of a bullet…”

You sat in his lap, feeling his arm wrap around your waist. “She's fine, honey… She's responsible and mature- not gonna come home pregnant at 17.”

“Not that responsible, if she's late.”

You looked up, hearing the sound of the gravel against the tires.

“Go easy on her… She's a good kid.” you gently kissed his lips before getting up and walking back into the house.

Delilah got out of her car, clutching onto her purse for dear life as she prepared for the lecture her father was about to give her. She walked up the steps, stopping in front of Jack.

“Hey daddy…”

He looked up at her, crossing his arms over his chest. “You're late.”

“I-I know the movie ran longer than I thought.”

“You have a phone you coulda called or texted your mama.”

“Daddy…”

He stood up, walking closer to her. “Who is he?”

“His name’s Alex…” she smiled at the mention of his name. Her eyes sparkling as she went on about him. “He's a real gentleman, daddy. Opens the door for me, pulls my chair out when we go out to eat, makes me walk on the inside of the sidewalk…”

“How long have you been dating him?”

“Almost a year.”

He nodded, letting out a sigh and wrapping his arms around her. “Just as long as you’re happy, princess. It's all that matters.”

She wrapped her arms around Jack, nuzzling her face in his chest, “I love you, daddy.”

“Love you too, baby girl… More than you'll ever know.”

—

You walked into the room, nearly sweating your make up off as you hauled the dress over your shoulder.

“Mama…”

“I swear it girl, even on your wedding day you're gonna be the death of me.”

Delilah smiled, grabbing the dress from you and unzipping the bag. “Don't hate me for wanting to wear your dress.”

You chuckled, helping her into the dress. “I don't hate you. Just wish you would've told me to bring it before I put my spanks on.”

She laughed, holding the dress up as you zipped her in. You fixed her train, tucking the veil into her hair and draping it over her shoulders.

“Delilah…” you whispered as she turned around, tears filling your eyes.

“God, mama, don't start crying cause then I'm gonna start crying.”

You chuckled, blinking the tears back. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry. You just look so beautiful.”

“Thanks, mama,” she smiled, looking back at the mirror.

Moments later, she walked out of the room with you and out the house. Jack turned around, heart swelling at the sight of his daughter in a wedding dress.

“Darlin’…” he whispered, eyes filling with tears.

“Daddy, not you too.” Delilah sniffed, trying her best to blink the tears away.

He chuckled, wiping his tears away. “Sorry baby girl. I'll try to keep my composure.”

Jack did what he always dreamed of- walking his daughter down the aisle and handing her off to her high school sweetheart- and to have her little brother officiate the wedding. After the ceremony, everyone moved to the barn where the reception was held. As the night went on the second moment Jack was waiting for was coming up- father-daughter dance.

“Alex turned out to be a good one,” he said as he held onto Delilah. She smiled and looked over at her husband.

“Yeah… Yeah, he did.”

“My little girl… When did you grow up so fast?”

“Daddy, no matter what I'll always be your little girl.”

He smiled and kissed her forehead. “I love you, baby.”

“Love you too daddy.”

—

The feel of the sun on his face woke him up. He looked around realizing it was all a dream. You and him weren't married, you didn't have kids together- he was still in his apartment. Alone and single.

He sighed, getting up and sitting on the edge of his bed.

“Time to grow a pair…” he whispered to himself as he got off the bed and got dressed.

You sat in the restaurant, waiting for your boyfriend to get there when you saw Jack's Bronco pull into the parking lot. You watched him get out and walk in, eyes scanning the room as he looked for you.

“Jack?” He looked over and walked to you. “What's wrong?”

Jack sat down across from you. “I love you.”

“Jack-”

“No, just shut up and let me talk. I love you darlin’. I have for a long time and I've never stopped. Even when I almost got engaged to my ex. I want you. Fuck the 10 year plan. Let's date and then get engaged and then get married and then have two beautiful children. First we'd have a girl- her name would be Delilah and she'd be nothing but a spitting image of you and act just like me. Then when she's 5, we'd have another baby- a boy this time. His name’s Wyatt and he'd look just like me but have a heart like yours. We'd live in my daddy's old ranch, with horses in the stables and a white picket fence. Delilah would get married in the barn, with Wyatt officiating. We'd grow old, watching our kids have kids of their own. I want all that with you. No one else.”

He took a breath, “What do you say?”

beta'd: @joelmillerisapunk @kilamonster @crowandmousewritingco

divider: @saradika-graphics

Main Masterlist — Jack Daniels Masterlist

#jack daniels x f!reader #jack daniels x reader #jack daniels #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x f!reader #agent whiskey #girl dad #pedro pascal characters

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