may ᥫ᭡.

pairing: frank langdon x fem!reader

summary: two weeks away turns into i miss you, baby’s that don’t feel casual anymore. when you come back, he doesn’t say much—just looks at you like he’s been thinking about you the entire time. and the second you’re alone, his hands are on you, pulling you in close like he needs to feel you there, like you’re still his.

time & place: season1-2 era, the Pitt, readers apartment

warnings: MDNI FR, cursing, secret relationship, coworker relationship, nsfw, oral f receiving, p in v, unprotected sex, dom-ish frank, use of pet names, use of daddy, orgasms, dirty talk, praise kink

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ masterlist // wattpad

a/n: im sorry hes just too damn fine

⚬───────────────✧───────────────⚬

The sun is perfect.

The ocean is perfect.

Everything is exactly what it’s supposed to be and none of it matters.

Because he’s not here.

You’re laying on your stomach, chin resting on your arm, phone already in your hand before you even realize it.

You don’t think.

You just type.

You: daddy, i miss you.

It sends.

Your stomach flips immediately after, like it always does when you call him that first.

Like you’re handing yourself over without even being in front of him.

Your phone buzzes almost instantly.

Frank: yeah?

A pause.

Then—

Frank: miss me that bad, baby?

Your breath catches.

You press your lips together, smiling into your arm.

You: yes.

No teasing.

No attitude.

Just honest.

A few seconds pass.

Then—

Langdon: yeah baby.

Another message.

Langdon: i miss you too.

That one hits different.

Softer.

Real.

You shift slightly on the towel, heart beating a little faster now.

You: you don’t sound like it.

A pause.

Longer this time.

Then—

Langdon: you want me to sound like it?

Your stomach drops.

You bite your lip.

You: maybe.

Three dots.

Gone.

Back again.

Then—

Langdon: i haven’t slept right since you left.

Your breath catches.

Your fingers tighten around your phone.

Another message.

Langdon: work’s worse.

And then—

Langdon: miss feeling you.

That—

that does something to you.

Something that makes your core flutter.

You sit up a little, tucking your hair behind your ear, glancing down at yourself—bikini clinging to your skin, still slightly damp from the water.

You want him to see you.

You need him to.

You shift just enough, angling your phone—

And take the picture.

You stare at the picture for half a second.

Every inch of you is on display for him.

Then you send it.

And wait.

This time—

it’s longer.

Way longer.

Your heart starts racing.

Your thighs press together without you even realizing.

Then your phone buzzes.

Langdon: jesus.

Your lips part.

Another message.

Langdon: what did I tell you about sending me things like that while i’m at work.

But it doesn’t sound like a warning.

It sounds tight.

Strained.

You can feel it through the screen.

You: i miss you.

A pause.

Then—

Langdon: i can see that.

Your stomach flips.

Langdon: you’re trying to get daddy's attention like this?

You smile, small and soft.

You: it worked, didn’t it?

Three dots.

Then—

Langdon: you have any idea what you look like right now?

Heat floods through you.

You shift slightly, breath catching.

You: tell me.

A pause.

Long.

Then—

Langdon: like you shouldn’t be out there where anyone can see you.

Your pulse jumps.

Langdon: like you belong somewhere else.

Your lips part.

You: where?

This time—

no delay.

Langdon: with me.

God.

Your stomach drops.

Hard.

Another message comes through.

Slower.

More deliberate.

Langdon: you’re my girl.

Your breath stutters.

Then—

Langdon: my baby.

That’s it.

That’s the one that gets you.

You press your thighs together, closing your eyes for a second.

You: then you should’ve come with me.

A pause.

Then—

Langdon: No.

Your brows knit slightly.

Then the next message hits—

Langdon: you should’ve stayed.

Your heart stutters.

Another one.

Langdon: where only i can see you.

And then—

Langdon: because I don’t like you being out there looking like that without me.

Your breath catches again.

Soft.

Possessive.

Not angry.

Just him.

You smile, small and warm, curling slightly into yourself.

You: i’ll come home soon.

A pause.

Then—

Langdon: good.

And softer—

Langdon: come back soon, baby.

┈┈・ ✦ ・┈┈

The doors slide open.

Same place. Same noise. Same everything.

But your chest feels tight, because now you’re back where he is.

"Look who finally came back."

You barely make it two steps before Dana pulls you into a quick hug.

"We were struggling, by the way."

You laugh softly, hugging him back.

"I’m sure you were."

"No, seriously, you can't leave again."

"Dramatic."

"Accurate."

You shake your head, smiling, stepping back toward the desk—

"Glad I was missed."

You smile, grabbing your tablet.

"You're with Langdon today."

Of course you are.

Your fingers tighten slightly around the tablet.

You don’t look at him right away.

You can’t.

Because you already feel it.

That pull, that awareness, like something in you knows where he is before you even see him.

You inhale softly, then you look.

Langdon is already looking at you.

Not casually.

Not just noticing.

Looking.

Like he felt you walk in.

Like he’s been waiting for it.

Your breath catches just for a second.

You move toward him anyway.

Careful.

Measured.

Like your heart isn’t picking up.

"Hey," you say softly.

His eyes don’t leave you.

They move—slow, deliberate—taking you in like he hasn’t seen you in too long.

Like he’s making up for it now.

"Welcome back."

His voice is even.

Controlled.

But lower than it needs to be.

You nod slightly.

"Thanks."

A beat.

Too quiet for a second.

Too aware.

People move around you, voices blending into the background—

but it feels distant.

Like it doesn’t touch this.

His gaze drops for half a second.

Then comes back up.

And it lingers.

Your stomach flips.

God.

You shift your weight slightly, fingers tightening around the tablet just to ground yourself.

Because the way he’s looking at you is not normal.

Not for anyone else.

But for you?

You know that look.

You felt it through a screen for two weeks.

Now it’s right in front of you.

Real.

Closer.

He exhales quietly.

Almost unnoticeable.

But you catch it.

You always do.

"Let’s go," he says.

Professional.

But his voice sits heavier now.

Like he’s holding something back.

You fall into step beside him.

Not touching.

Never touching here.

But close enough that you feel it.

That heat.

That awareness.

Every step.

Every second.

It builds.

During the shift, it got worse.

Being around him like this.

Because he doesn’t touch you—

But he almost does.

Every time.

Passing you something—his fingers brushing yours for half a second too long.

Standing behind you—close enough that you feel his presence before he even speaks.

Leaning in to look at a chart—his shoulder just barely grazing yours.

And every single time, he pulls back first.

Controlled.

Careful.

But slower than he should.

Like it takes effort.

"Focus," he says quietly at one point.

Low.

Only for you.

Your breath catches.

Because it doesn’t sound like a reminder.

It sounds like a warning.

Your fingers tighten slightly.

"I am," you murmur.

A beat.

He doesn’t respond.

But when you glance at him, his jaw is tight.

Eyes already on you.

Like he doesn’t believe you.

Like he knows better.

God.

You look away first.

You have to.

Because if you don’t—

you’ll give it away.

Then he almost broke.

It happens in a quiet hallway.

Of course it does, it always does.

No one around, no voices, no distractions.

Just—

you.

And him.

You stop first.

You don’t even know why.

He stops a second later.

Too close.

Closer than he should be.

Closer than either of you should allow.

And for a second—

neither of you moves.

His eyes drop to your mouth.

Quick.

But not quick enough.

Your breath stutters.

His hand flexes slightly at his side.

Like he’s stopping himself.

Like it’s taking everything in him.

"Don’t," he says quietly.

Your heart jumps.

"Don’t what?" you whisper.

His eyes lift to yours.

Darker now.

Lower.

"Look at me like that here."

Your stomach flips hard.

Because you didn’t even realize you were.

But you were.

Of course you were.

A breath passes between you.

Close.

Too close.

And then—

footsteps echo in the distance.

Reality.

Again.

He steps back immediately.

Control snapping back into place.

"Room three," he says evenly.

Like nothing just happened.

Like he didn’t almost—

You nod.

Because you have to.

And you both walk away.

Again.

┈┈・ ✦ ・┈┈

Your shift had ended thank god.

And you knew he was coming.

You don’t even make it all the way inside your apartment.

The door barely cracks open before he’s there—

Langdon stepping into you, one hand already on your waist, the other catching the door and shutting it behind him in the same motion.

It’s fast.

Too fast to think.

Too fast to react.

And then—

he’s on you.

Not rough.

Not careless.

Just done waiting.

Your back hits the door softly, breath catching as his hand slides up your side like he needs to feel you, like he doesn’t trust that you’re actually here yet.

"Hi—" you barely get out.

"C’mere," he mutters, low, already pulling you closer like you weren’t close enough.

God.

Your hands come up automatically, gripping his shirt, grounding yourself as his forehead presses briefly against yours—

not gentle.

Not rushed.

Just—

there.

A breath leaves him, heavier than it should be.

Your stomach flips.

"Frank—"

It slips out without thinking.

Soft.

Needy.

And that does something to him.

You feel it.

Immediately.

His hand tightens at your waist, pulling you flush against him like he needs you closer than that, like two weeks wasn’t just long—it was too long.

"Yeah," he murmurs, almost against your mouth. "I know."

His other hand comes up, fingers sliding along your jaw, thumb brushing just under your lip like he’s been thinking about doing that for days.

Weeks.

His eyes drop to your mouth.

Stay there.

"Missed you," you whisper.

And he doesn’t brush it off.

Doesn’t deflect.

His gaze flicks back up to yours, something softer cutting through all that control.

"I know, baby," he says, and it’s not teasing—it’s certain. "I could tell."

Your breath catches.

Because of course he could.

He always can.

His hand drifts again—down your side, slower now, deliberate, like he’s relearning you.

Like he’s reminding himself.

"You don’t get to do that again," he adds, quieter, thumb pressing just slightly into your hip. "No more leaving without me."

Your stomach flips hard.

You nod before you even realize it.

"Okay."

That’s all it takes.

His jaw tightens slightly, like that answer did more to him than anything else.

"Good," he murmurs.

And then his forehead dips, brushing yours again—

but this time he doesn’t stop there.

He lingers.

Close.

Too close.

Breath mixing with yours.

"You’ve been driving me crazy," he adds, lower now.

Your fingers tighten in his shirt.

"I didn’t mean to—"

"Yeah," he cuts in softly, not harsh, just knowing. "You did."

God.

Heat rushes through you.

Your hands slide up slightly, closer to his shoulders, holding onto him like you’ve been waiting just as long.

He notices.

Of course he does.

His thumb shifts again, slow, intentional, like he’s mapping you out.

Like he missed this.

Missed you.

"Look at you," he murmurs, almost to himself.

Your breath stutters.

Because the way he says it—

It’s like he’s been holding that in.

Your head tilts just slightly under his hand.

"Frankie…"

Softer now.

And that’s it.

That’s the last bit of restraint gone.

His hand tightens again, pulling you fully into him, chest to chest, no space left between you at all.

"Yeah, baby," he breathes, low, steady, right there. "I got you."

Your stomach flips hard.

Because it’s not just possession.

It’s not just want.

You’re his.

And he’s been without you for two weeks.

And now he doesn’t have to be.

His hand slides again, slower now, like he’s not in a rush anymore—

like now that he has you, he’s going to take his time.

"Missed this," he murmurs.

His body presses against yours.

You feel the subtle tremor in his hold.

He's been starving for this,

For you, the distance carving hollows in him that only your touch can fill.

"Please," you whisper, clinging to him instantly, your fingers curling into his shirt as you melt against his chest.

You're soft for him always.

Needy in a way that makes your heart ache.

And the way he holds you now, like he might never let go, only deepens that attachment.

He pulls back just enough to cup your face, thumbs stroking your cheeks.

His gaze tracing your features with possessive hunger.

Then his mouth claims yours.

Not rough but insistent, lips moving slowly and deep, tongue slipping in to taste you like he's memorizing every second.

He walks you backward through the hallway, never breaking the kiss, his hands roaming—

Sliding down your sides, gripping your hips, pulling you flush so you feel the hard line of him straining against his scrubs.

"Missed you so fucking much, my baby," he breathes against your lips, nipping gently before diving back in.

It's intense, the way he touches you everywhere, fingers tracing the hem of your shirt.

He's not aggressive.

But the restraint in his movements is cracking.

His breaths coming quicker.

His body trembling with the effort to savor rather than devour.

By the time you reach the bedroom, your shirt is half-off, his hands pushing it over your head with no care.

Then, just as quick he moved to tug down your pants.

He steps back for a moment.

His eyes devouring you in just your bra and panties.

The vacation sun has kissed your skin golden.

"Look at you,"

His voice low, reaching out to trace the pale lines where your bikini sat—

The stark contrast against your tan makes his cock twitch visibly.

"Those tan lines... fuck, baby, you look incredible. Like you were made to drive me crazy out there, teasing daddy with those pictures."

His fingers follow the edges.

Dipping under the bra straps, and you shiver at his touch, arching into him.

He unhooks your bra with practiced ease, letting it fall, and groans at the sight of your breasts.

Your nipples already hardening in the cool air.

"My good girl, coming back to me all sun-kissed and perfect."

He cups them gently at first, thumbs circling the peaks, then leans in to take one into his mouth.

His tongue swirls slowly and wet, sucking with just enough pressure to make you gasp.

His hand kneads the other, pinching the nipple between his fingers and rolling it until it's throbbing.

You thread your fingers through his hair, holding him there, whimpering as he switches sides, lavishing the same attention.

Licking—

Sucking—

Tugging lightly with his teeth before soothing with soft kisses.

The sensation shoots straight to your core.

Heat building as he murmurs praises against your skin.

"So sensitive for me, aren't you? Daddy's gonna take such good care of you."

Your panties are soaked already, and he knows it, his hand sliding down your stomach to cup you through the fabric.

"Feel that? My pretty pussy's been waiting for me."

He hooks his fingers in the waistband and tugs them down, guiding you to the bed as you step out of them.

You sink onto the mattress, and he follows, kneeling between your legs, spreading your thighs wide with strong but gentle hands.

His eyes fix on your exposed folds.

Glistening for him, and he licks his lips.

"Gonna taste you now, baby. Been dreaming about this."

He lowers his head, breath hot against you.

He starts with a long, flat lick from your entrance to your clit.

Savoring every inch.

You moan, hips lifting, but he presses a hand to your stomach, holding you steady as he settles in.

His tongue delves deeper, lapping at your wetness, circling your clit with precise flicks that make your toes curl.

"Taste even better than I remembered,"

The vibration humming through you.

He sucks your clit gently.

Then harder, alternating with long strokes of his tongue while his fingers tease your entrance.

You squirm, hands fisting the sheets.

The pleasure coiling tight as he works you over.

He slides one finger inside.

Then two.

Curling them upward to stroke that spot that makes you see stars, his mouth never leaving your clit—

Sucking, licking, nipping until you're panting his name.

"Daddy, please—"

You beg, clingy and desperate, your body arching toward him.

He hums in approval, adding a third finger, pumping them slow and deep, his tongue relentless.

The build is heavenly.

Every sensation amplified by his focus.

His free hand still toying with your nipple, pinching in time with his thrusts.

It hits you like a wave.

Crashing hard—your thighs quake, and you squirt, warm release soaking his face, dripping down his chin.

He doesn't flinch, groaning deeply as he laps it up, fingers still moving to milk every last pulse from you.

"That's it, good girl, give daddy everything,"

He praises you, voice muffled against you, drawing out your orgasm until you're trembling in aftershocks.

He rises, wiping his face with a satisfied smirk.

He sheds his clothes quickly—

Shirt tossed aside, pants kicked off to free his thick cock, hard and leaking for you.

"Need to be inside you now, baby. Can't wait anymore."

He positions you on your back, settling between your legs, rubbing the head of his cock through your slick folds.

With a low groan, he pushes in slowly, inch by inch, stretching you perfectly.

"So tight, fuck—,"

He groans, bottoming out and holding still.

Forehead to yours, eyes locked in that intense, protective gaze.

He starts with measured thrusts, deep and grinding.

His hands roaming your body—

Tracing those tan lines again.

Thumbs brushing your nipples as he rocks into you.

You wrap your legs around him, clinging tight, nails digging into his back.

"Missed this, daddy—missed you," you murmur.

And he kisses you softly, tongue mirroring his hips.

The pace builds gradually, his cock dragging against your walls, hitting deep with each slide.

He leans down to suckle your nipple once more.

Teeth grazing as he thrusts harder, the dual pleasure making you clench around him.

"Wanna feel you from every angle, pretty girl,"

He pulls out and flips you onto your side, lifting your top leg over his hip.

He slides back in from this new position.

The angle lets him grind against your clit with every movement.

His hand cups your breast, pinching the nipple firmly while his other arm bands around your waist, holding you close, possessively.

You turn your head to kiss him, messy and needy, as he fucks you, drawing out the tension, making you feel every ridge and vein.

But he's not done.

With a gentle nudge, he maneuvers you onto all fours, hands guiding your hips up.

"Ass up for me, baby,"

He instructs softly, and you comply, presenting yourself.

He enters you from behind in one smooth glide, groaning at the deeper penetration.

His palms stroke your sides.

One slides up to fondle your breast, rolling the nipple as his hips snap forward—controlled but powerful, skin slapping skin.

"This pretty pussy takes me so well,"

He continues to praise, leaning over to kiss your shoulder.

You push back, meeting his thrusts, the coil tightening again under his skilled touch—

His fingers find your clit, circling firmly.

He spanks your ass lightly.

Not hard—

just enough to sting sweetly, then soothes with a rub.

The rhythm falters as your orgasm nears, but he slows, teasing, prolonging it with shallow dips before plunging deep.

"Come for daddy again,"

He urges you on, voice strained.

And you do, shattering around him, walls pulsing as you cry out.

He flips you back to face him, needing that connection, hooking your legs over his elbows for leverage.

This position lets him go deeper, faster.

His cock pounds into you with restrained urgency.

Sweat beads on his brow.

Muscles flexing as he chases his release.

One hand between you to rub your clit, the other pinching your nipple hard enough to spark fresh pleasure.

"Gonna fill you up, baby—,"

He pants, thrusts erratic now, hips grinding.

You cling to him, soft whimpers turning to moans, your body responding to his every move.

The build is torturously slow at the end.

His control slipping as he buries himself deep one last time, groaning your name.

Hot spurts flood you.

His cock pulsing rhythmically,

Filling you completely as he rides out his climax, hips jerking with each wave.

He collapses gently atop you.

Still inside, kissing your forehead, your lips, holding you close.

"My good girl,"

pairing: jack abbot x fem!reader

summary: in which you wanted to try something new with jack, but he can't resist the urge to take you

time & place: season1-2 era, jack abbot's apartment

warnings: MDNI FR, cursing,nsfw, p in v, unprotected sex, dom jack, use of pet names (baby), cockwarming, orgasms, dirty talk

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ masterlist // wattpad

buy me a coffee ⋆˙⟡

a/n: kind of a new writing style, i can't believe season 2 is almost over im SICK, anywho I KNOW DADA

⚬───────────────✧───────────────⚬

The dim light from the single lamp in Jack's cramped apartment casts long shadows across the worn leather couch where you're both sprawled out.

Your skin sticks to the cushions, damp from the sweat of the vigorous fuck you just shared.

Jack's body is a solid wall beneath you, his chest rising and falling in heavy rhythms as he recovers, his cock still nestled deep inside your pussy, softening but not fully retreating.

The air hangs thick with the smell of sex.

Your arousal mixed with his cum, a reminder of how he pounded into you earlier.

You shift your weight slightly, feeling his dick leaking out around where you're connected, coating your inner thighs.

It's messy, intimate, and it stirs something in you.

You've read about it online, fantasized during quieter moments, and now, with Jack's heat radiating into you, it feels like the perfect time to suggest it.

"Jack," you say softly, your voice cracking a bit from the moans he drew out of you minutes ago.

You lift your head from his shoulder, meeting his gaze.

His eyes are half open, that rugged face relaxed for once, stubble rough against your cheek where you nuzzled earlier.

"Yeah?" He grunts, one hand stroking your back, fingers tracing the curve of your spine down to where your ass meets his thighs.

"What if we don't move yet? Like, I stay right here, with you inside me. No thrusting. It's called cockwarming. Feels good to just feel full."

You bite your lip, gauging his reaction, your pussy giving a little clench around him involuntarily at the thought.

Jack's brow furrows for a second, processing, then a slow grin spreads across his face.

"Cockwarming? Sounds like some fancy shit. But hell, if it keeps you on top of me, I'm not complaining."

He adjusts his position slightly, propping a pillow behind his back, which makes his cock nudge deeper for a moment, drawing a shared breath from both of you.

You nod, settling more firmly onto him, your knees digging into the couch on either side of his hips.

His length, still semi-hard, fills you completely now, pressing against your sensitive walls without the friction of movement.

It's a different sensation—pressure that builds a slow burn in your core rather than the explosive friction from before.

You lean forward, your breasts brushing his chest, nipples hardening against him.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you bury your face in the crook of his shoulder, inhaling the salty scent of his skin.

Jack's arms wrap around your waist, pulling you closer, but he keeps his hips still as promised.

Or at least, he tries.

The room quiets, save for the distant rumble of traffic outside his third-floor window and the occasional creak of the building settling.

You focus on the details: the way his heartbeat thuds steadily under your ear, faster than you'd expect; the warmth of his palms across your lower back; the subtle twitch of his cock inside you as blood rushes back, making him thicken gradually.

Your own body responds, muscles relaxing around him, but every so often, your pussy pulses, gripping him in a way that makes him hiss through his teeth.

Minutes stretch out like this, the stillness amplifying every small sensation.

You can feel the veins along his shaft pulsing faintly against your inner walls, the tip seated right against your cervix, unmoving but insistent.

It's teasing, almost torturous in its restraint, building a low hum of arousal that simmers without release.

Jack's breathing deepens, his fingers flexing against your skin.

"This is... somethin' else," he murmurs, his breath warm against your hair. "Feels like you're suckin' me in deeper without even tryin'."

You smile into his neck, pressing a soft kiss there. '

"That's the point. Just relax. Enjoy it."

But even as you say it, you sense the tension coiling in him.

His thighs tense beneath you, muscles bunching as if he's fighting an urge.

Then it happens—a tiny shift, his hips tilting up by barely an inch.

His cock slides fractionally, rubbing against that spongy spot inside you, sending a spark of pleasure up your spine.

You pull back, locking eyes with him.

"Hey, no. Remember the rules—no moving." Your tone is light but firm, your hands pressing down on his chest to emphasize.

Jack's eyes gleam with mischief, but there's a strain there too, jaw set.

"Shit, sorry. Slipped. You're just so fuckin' wet still, it's hard to stay put."

He exhales slowly, forcing his body to stillness again.

You reward him with a gentle rock and a deliberate clench of your pussy around his now fully hard cock.

He groans, head falling back against the pillow, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows hard.

The quiet returns, but it's charged now, the air thicker.

You trace patterns on his chest with your fingertips.

Time drags, maybe ten minutes, maybe more; it's hard to tell when every second heightens the awareness of him inside you.

Your clit throbs faintly against him, untouched but stimulated by the fullness.

Jack's hands roam your sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts, but he doesn't push further.

Then another movement—subtler this time, a roll of his pelvis that grinds his cock in a slow circle.

The drag against your walls makes you gasp, wetness flooding anew, easing the way.

"Jack," you groan, swatting his arm lightly. "You're supposed to stay still."

He chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest and into you.

"Still? Baby, this is driving me crazy. Your pussy's clenchin' like it wants me to fuck it."

His grip on your hips tightens, not guiding you, but holding as if to anchor himself.

Sweat trickles down his temple, and you see the effort in the way his abs contract, fighting the instinct to thrust.

You lean in, capturing his lips in a slow kiss to distract him, tongues sliding lazily without the urgency of before.

It works for a bit—his body relaxes into it, cock throbbing steadily but unmoving.

But the kiss breaks, and his control frays.

A sharper buck this time, lifting you slightly before settling back, his cock withdrawing halfway and plunging deep again.

The sudden motion rips a moan from you, your nails scraping his shoulders.

"That's it—no more warnings," you say, but your voice wavers, body arching into the contact despite your words.

Heat surges through you, nipples peaking as arousal spikes.

Jack's restraint shatters with a low growl.

"Fuck the rules. I need to move."

His hands clamp your hips hard, lifting you up until just the tip remains inside, then yanking you down onto his full length.

The slap of skin echoes, your ass hitting his thighs with a wet smack.

You cry out, the stretch burning sweetly after the prolonged stillness.

He doesn't stop there.

Thrusting up into you now, each drive deliberate and deep, his cock slamming your pussy over and over.

The couch groans under the force, cushions shifting as he sets a punishing rhythm.

You brace your hands on his chest, riding the waves, your breasts jiggling with every impact.

"Knew you couldn't hold out," you gasp, but there's no complaint—only pure bliss as pleasure coils tight.

Jack sits up abruptly, wrapping one arm around your waist to hold you against him, the new angle letting him grind deeper.

His free hand tangles in your hair, pulling your head back to expose your throat, where he latches on with teeth and tongue, sucking a mark into the skin.

"Your fault," he mutters against your pulse point, hips snapping relentlessly. "Sitting there all tight and wet—had to fuck you right."

The friction builds fast now, his thick shaft dragging along your walls, the head teasing that sensitive spot.

Wet sounds fill the space between your moans—your pussy slurping around him, arousal dripping down to soak his balls.

You grind down to meet him, clit rubbing against his coarse hair, the pressure pushing you toward the edge.

He senses it, shifting to flip you onto your back without pulling out, the motion smooth from practice.

Now you're pinned beneath his weight, legs hooked over his elbows as he folds you nearly in half, pounding down into you.

The couch arm digs into your side, but you barely notice, lost in the moment.

"Take it," he grunts, sweat dripping from his brow onto your chest.

One hand drops to your clit, fingers circling roughly, adding sparks to the fire.

Your orgasm crashes over you like a wave, your pussy spasming around his cock, milking him with rhythmic squeezes.

You shout his name, back arching off the cushions, toes curling.

Jack follows seconds later, burying deep with a final, brutal thrust, his cock jerking as he unloads, hot spurts painting your insides.

He collapses forward, careful not to crush you, both panting in the aftermath.

His cock softens slowly, still plugging you full, a lazy trickle of cum escaping as he shifts.

You run your fingers through his damp hair, a satisfied smile curving your lips.

"Guess we'll practice the still part next time."

Jack lifts his head, smirking down at you.

"Yeah, or maybe not. This way's better."

pairing: frank langdon x fem!reader

summary: frank had promised you he'd be home at 7, hours later he still wasn't home, and you were pissed, so when he finally gets home, he begs to make it up to you

time & place: season1-2 era, reader's apartment

warnings: MDNI FR, minimal plot, cursing, nsfw, p in v, unprotected sex, sub langdon, dom reader, use of pet names (baby), orgasms, dirty talk, begging, whimpering langdon

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ masterlist // wattpad

buy me a coffee ⋆˙⟡

a/n: my girls inspired me to write this fr, frank langdon DEFINITLEY whimpers

⚬───────────────✧───────────────⚬

The clock on the kitchen wall ticks past nine, each second a quiet accusation in the dim light of the apartment.

You've cleared the table already, the half-eaten meal you'd prepared for two now wrapped and shoved into the fridge.

The candles are burnt out, wax hardened in sad little drips.

You sit on the edge of the couch, arms crossed, staring at the door without really seeing it.

Hurt simmers under your skin, cold and controlled.

He promised he'd be home at seven.

He promised dinner.

He promised you.

But here you were with no texts, no calls.

Just silence.

The door finally creaks open, and Frank stumbles in, shirt damp, hair disheveled from whatever kept him out there.

His eyes land on you immediately, widening with that raw, wrecked panic you know so well.

He drops his keys on the entry table with a clatter, jacket half off his shoulders as he hurries toward you, stopping short a few feet away like he's afraid to get closer.

"Baby," he breathes, voice already cracking, uneven and desperate.

"Baby, please—I'm so sorry. I lost track of time, the case dragged on, and my phone died. I swear I didn't mean—"

He cuts himself off, hands hovering uselessly in the air, fingers twitching like they ache to reach for you but know better.

His chest heaves, breaths coming in shallow bursts, eyes glassy with the weight of his fuck-up.

You don't move, don't speak.

Just let the silence stretch, watching him unravel.

His desperation mirrors the ache in your chest.

"Please," he whispers, sinking to his knees right there on the living room floor, close enough that you can smell the faint trace of his cologne mixed with the city's night air.

"Tell me what to do. I'll do anything to make it up to you. Anything you want. Just... don't be like this. I can't stand it when you're hurt because of me."

His voice breaks on the last word, a soft whimper escaping as he bows his head, hands pressing flat against his thighs to keep from touching.

You tilt your head, considering him.

Calm.

In charge.

The power hums between you, thick and electric.

"You left me waiting," you say finally, voice even, laced with that quiet edge that makes him shiver.

"Hours, Frank. Everything ready, and nothing from you."

He nods frantically, eyes lifting to meet yours, pleading.

"I know, I know I did. I'm sorry, baby. So fucking sorry. Let me fix it. Please, tell me how. I want to make you feel better. Need you to forgive me," he rambled on.

He let out another plea, his breath hitching as he shifted on his knees, body leaning forward instinctively but stopping himself.

"Earn it," you reply, uncrossing your arms and leaning back slightly, letting your legs part just enough to draw his gaze.

"Start by telling me exactly how sorry you are. And don't touch until I say."

Frank's face crumples with relief and need, words tumbling out in a rush.

"I'm sorry for being late, for not calling, for making you wait alone. You're everything to me, and I ruined it. Please, baby, I'll beg all night if that's what you want. Just give me a chance to show you."

His hands clench into fists on his lap, knuckles white, breaths ragged as he watches you, waiting for any sign.

You let him sit for a moment, the tension coiling tighter, his whimpers filling the space between you.

Then, slowly, you nod.

"Come closer. But hands behind your back."

He crawls forward on his knees, obedient, eager, positioning himself between your legs without hesitation.

His eyes flick up to yours, seeking approval.

"Like this? Is this okay?" A soft whine escapes him as you reach out, trailing your fingers along his jaw, feeling him tremble under the lightest touch.

"Yes," you murmur, your hand sliding into his hair, gripping just enough to tilt his head back.

"Now, start low. Apologize with your mouth."

Frank leans in, lips brushing your knee in a feather-light kiss, then another, murmuring against your skin.

"I'm sorry, baby. So sorry."

His breath is hot, uneven, body quivering as he presses more kisses along your thigh, higher each time, but pausing to check.

"Can I go higher? Please?"

You guide him with your hand in his hair, pulling him closer.

"Yes. But slow. Show me how much you want to make this right."

He whimpers again, louder this time, as his mouth trails up your inner thigh, lips soft and reverent.

"Anything for you," he breathes, voice muffled against your skin.

"I'll do whatever you say." His hands stay locked behind his back, muscles straining, but he doesn't move them.

Every kiss is deliberate, needy, his tongue darting out to taste you, leaving wet trails that make your pulse quicken.

The air thickens with his desperation, the way he presses closer, nose brushing the edge of your panties, inhaling deeply.

"Please," he begs, looking up at you with those wrecked eyes.

"Let me touch you. Let me make you feel good. I need to taste you, baby. Need to show you how sorry I am."

You hold his gaze, letting the power settle deeper.

"Pull them aside. With your teeth."

A broken moan spills from him as he obeys, teeth grazing the fabric, tugging it to the side with careful precision.

His breath ghosts over your pussy, hot and ragged, before his tongue flicks out, tentative at first.

"Is this okay? Tell me if it's too much."

But you don't stop him, and he dives in like a man starved, tongue flat and broad against your folds, lapping slow and deep.

Frank eats you out like it's his only purpose, tongue circling your clit with expert pressure, sucking gently then harder, just how you like it.

He groans into you, the vibration sending sparks up your spine, his face buried between your thighs as he works you relentlessly.

Whimpers vibrate against your skin every time you tug his hair, his breaths coming in desperate pants between licks.

"You taste so good," he mumbles, voice thick with need.

"Let me keep going? Please, I want to make you come."

You rock against his mouth, controlled, guiding his rhythm with your hand.

"Don't stop," you command, and he doesn't, tongue thrusting inside you now, curling and fucking you with it while his lips seal around your clit, sucking until your thighs tremble around his head.

He checks in constantly, eyes flicking up through his lashes, messy and devoted.

"Like that? Am I doing good baby?"

Another moan as you clench around his tongue, your release building under his worship.

"Faster," you order, and he complies instantly, tongue relentless, nose grinding against you as he pushes you over the edge.

You come hard, grinding down on his face, and he drinks it all, moaning like it's the best thing he's ever tasted.

"Thank you," he gasps when you finally pull him back, lips shiny, chin slick.

"Did I make it better? Please say yes."

You catch your breath, watching him kneel there, wrecked and waiting. "Not yet. Stand up. Strip."

He scrambles to his feet, hands shaking as he yanks off his shirt, pants, boxers—everything pooling at his ankles.

His cock springs up hard and leaking, twitching under your gaze, but he doesn't touch it, doesn't dare.

"What now? Tell me, baby. I'll do it all."

"On the couch," you say, shifting to make space.

"I want you to fuck me. But you don't come until I say."

Frank nods, climbing onto the couch with you, positioning himself carefully.

He lines up at your entrance, pausing with the tip just pressing in.

"Can I? Please, I need to be inside you. Need to feel you forgive me." His voice is a whine, body trembling as he waits for your nod.

"Go," you permit, and he slides in slow, inch by inch, a long, broken moan tearing from his throat.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he breathes, bottoming out and stilling, hands braced on either side of you, not grabbing, just hovering.

"Is this okay? Can I move?"

You wrap your legs around him, pulling him deeper. "Yes, baby, go hard."

He starts fucking you then, submissive and perfect, hips snapping forward with controlled power, cock dragging against your walls just right.

Every thrust is followed by his whimpers, breaths uneven and ragged, sweat beading on his forehead as he watches your face for approval.

"Like this? Am I making you feel good? I'm so sorry, baby, gonna fuck you so good."

You dig your nails into his back, urging him on, and he picks up the pace, pounding into you with desperate need, but always checking—"Too hard? Tell me what you need."

His cock throbs inside you, but he holds back, face buried in your neck, lips brushing your skin in frantic kisses.

The tension builds again, messy and intense, his body slick against yours, every slide and slap of skin charged with his eagerness to please.

"Please," he begs between thrusts, voice wrecked. "I want to come so bad, I don't know if I can hold it any longer."

"Yes you can," you say digging your nails deeper into his back.

"O-okay, baby," he whimpers out, still drilling into you, repeatedly hitting that spongy spot.

"Good boy," you say, rewarding him with a kiss.

He melts into your kiss again, tongue swirling in your mouth.

Finally, you clench around him, chasing your second high, and when it hits, you gasp out, "Now. Come inside me."

Frank shudders violently, a choked sob escaping as he buries himself deep, cock pulsing as he cums hard, filling you with hot spurts.

"Thank you," he whimpers, collapsing half on you, still inside, breaths heaving.

"I'm sorry. I love you. Did I make it right?"

You stroke his hair, calm settling over you both, the power still humming softly.

pairing: jack abbot x fem!reader

summary: in which he overhears something he shouldn’t, pretends he didn’t, fails miserably, and ends up having to prove to his very pouty girl that her surprise wasn’t ruined—if anything, it just made him want her more.

time & place: pre-season 2, the Pitt

warnings: MDNI FR, cursing, secret relationship, coworker relationship, lingerie, nsfw, oral f receiving, p in v, unprotected sex, dom jack, use of pet names (baby), use of daddy, brief mention of other hole, orgasms, dirty talk, praise kink

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ masterlist // wattpad

a/n: i did not proofread this OOPS i probably mispelled lingerie 20 different times, jack abbot still has me in a chokehold, literally jack engulf me with your arms plz

⚬───────────────✧───────────────⚬

The ER had finally settled into one of those rare, in-between lulls—no stretchers rushing through the doors, no alarms blaring, just the low hum of machines and distant voices blending into the background. You leaned against the counter, phone angled carefully between you, Princess and Perlah, shoulders tucked in like that alone would keep it discreet.

"Okay, but look at this one," you whispered, scrolling before turning the screen toward them.

Princess leaned in immediately. "Oh—she’s cute."

Perlah shook her head. "That is not cute. That is dangerous."

You rolled your eyes, glancing around instinctively. "Can you not say it like that?"

"You’re the one looking at lingerie at work," Perlah shot back.

"I’m not looking," you muttered, lowering your voice. "…I already bought it."

That got them both. Princess grabbed your wrist, pulling the phone closer. "Wait—this one?"

You hesitated just a second. "…maybe."

They both broke into quiet laughter, and you shoved at her shoulder, cheeks warm. "Shut up."

"And who's gonna see it?" Perlah asked.

"That's a secret," you smirked.

What you didn’t notice was Jack just around the corner, chart in hand, pausing longer than necessary. He didn’t mean to listen—but he caught enough. Enough to understand. Enough to carry that quiet, steady anticipation with him for the rest of the shift.

By the time you got home, you were smiling to yourself, nerves and excitement tangled together. You texted him before you could overthink it.

come over?

His reply came almost instantly.

already on my way baby

You were already at the door when he knocked.

"Hey," you said, opening it quickly.

"Hey," he answered, softer—and the second he saw you, something in him eased. He leaned in without thinking, brushing a quick kiss to your lips, his hand settling at your waist like it belonged there, like it always did.

"You okay?" he asked, eyes scanning your face.

You nodded, already tugging him inside. "Yeah—just wait here."

He let out a quiet breath, almost amused, watching you disappear down the hall. He had a feeling—but he stayed where he was, leaning back against the counter, giving you your moment.

When you stepped back out, you paused in the doorway, suddenly a little more aware, heart picking up.

"…okay," you said, softer. "You can look."

He looked up—

and this time he didn’t even try to hide it.

His entire expression shifted.

His eyes went straight to you and stayed there, dragging slowly, taking in every detail like he didn’t want to miss a single inch of it. His jaw tightened just slightly, like he was trying to keep it together and failing a little anyway.

The lingerie set hugged your curves effortlessly.

"…Jesus," he muttered under his breath.

Your stomach flipped.

He pushed off the counter without thinking, already stepping toward you, eyes still locked on you.

"You—" he shook his head once, almost like he couldn’t even put it together right. "You look—"

He stopped in front of you now, close enough that you could feel the shift in him, the warmth of him, the way his attention didn’t move off you for even a second.

"…fuck, you look good, baby," he finished, quieter.

And for a second—

it was exactly what you wanted.

Until—

you caught it.

That tiny, almost unnoticeable pause from earlier.

Your expression dropped instantly.

Your lips pulled into a pout.

"…wait a second."

He stilled.

"you knew...."

"…I didn’t—"

"Jack."

That was enough.

He exhaled, a small, guilty smile slipping through. "…I heard you earlier."

And just like that—

your whole mood flipped.

You pulled back from him, arms crossing over yourself, pout deepening into something real now.

"Oh my god," you groaned, turning away from him. "Are you serious? This was supposed to be a surprise."

"I know," he said immediately, stepping closer again.

"No, you don’t," you muttered, more upset now, voice smaller but heavier. "You already knew. That ruins it."

"It doesn’t—"

"It does," you cut him off, turning back to look at him, brows pulled together. "I wanted you to be surprised."

The way you said it—

Not dramatic, not exaggerated, just genuinely disappointed, hit him immediately.

All of his edges softened.

"Hey," he said, quieter now.

You shook your head, looking away again, arms still crossed tight like you were trying to hold onto being upset.

"…it was supposed to be for you," you added, softer, almost like that was the worst part.

That did it.

He closed the space between you without hesitation, hands coming up to your arms, careful, grounding.

"C’mere," he murmured.

You didn’t move.

"…no."

That made his mouth twitch just slightly—but not in a teasing way. In a soft, god, okay kind of way.

"Don’t do that," he said gently.

"Do what?" you muttered.

"Pout."

You didn’t answer.

Just pouted harder, if anything.

He sighed quietly, then shifted his grip, hands sliding from your arms to your waist, easing you closer instead of forcing it.

"It’s still for me," he said.

You shook your head again, stubborn. "You already knew."

"I didn’t know this," he said, softer.

You hesitated.

Just barely.

"…still."

He let out a quiet breath, one hand lifting just enough to tilt your chin up so you couldn’t avoid him this time.

"Look at me," he said.

You did—but reluctantly, pout still very much there.

"I’m still surprised," he said.

You immediately frowned. “…you’re not.”

"I am," he said, a little firmer now, but still soft. "Didn’t expect it to look like this."

"…like what?" you asked, quieter now, still upset but listening.

His eyes dropped again, slower this time, taking you in fully, not hiding it at all.

"…like I wasn’t gonna have a hard time keeping my hands off you the second I saw you," he admitted under his breath.

Your breath caught.

"And I didn’t expect it to show this much," he added, voice lower now, more honest.

That cracked you.

Just a little.

"…yeah?" you asked, softer.

"Yeah."

No hesitation.

No holding back.

His thumb brushed lightly along your side, slow, soothing.

"Been thinking about it all day," he admitted.

Your pout wavered.

"…you have?"

"Yeah," he said, quieter. "Couldn’t stop."

That softened you more.

Your arms loosened slightly, even if you didn’t fully drop them yet.

"…still wish you didn’t hear," you mumbled.

"I know," he said. “I’m sorry, baby."

And he meant it.

You could hear it.

Feel it.

"…okay," you said, softer now.

His hand slid a little higher on your waist, pulling you in the rest of the way, closing the space completely.

"Still my favorite surprise ever," he added quietly.

That finally made your lips twitch.

"…you’re just saying that."

"I’m not."

He leaned in closer, voice dropping naturally, like it always did when it was just you.

"You’re killing me right now," he murmured.

Your breath hitched.

"…yeah?"

"Yeah."

His forehead brushed yours for just a second, grounding, soft.

"Come here," he added, quieter.

This time—

you went.

Your hands found his shirt, fingers curling into the fabric like you needed something to hold onto.

And when he kissed you, it was slower at first, warmer—like he was making up for it, like he was taking his time with you on purpose. His hand stayed firm at your waist, the other coming up to your face, thumb brushing along your cheek, soft enough to undo the last bit of your pout completely.

When he pulled back, it wasn’t far.

"…not ruined," he murmured again.

You let out a soft breath, leaning into him now instead of away.

"…okay."

And when he kissed you again—

It was hungry, desperate, like he'd been starving for this.

His hands roamed down your back, gripping your hips and pulling you flush against him.

You could feel the hard line of his cock pressing through his pants, already straining for you.

"I'm sorry I upset you," he whispered against your mouth, his voice rough with regret.

"Let me show you how much I want to make it right."

He didn't wait for an answer.

With a gentle but firm push, he guided you toward the bedroom.

Jack's breath hitched, his gaze raking over you like you were the most exquisite thing he'd ever seen.

Your nipples were now pushing against the sheer bra, and the matching thong barely covered your pussy, the thin strip of lace teasing at what lay beneath.

"Fuck," he groaned, his hands tracing the edges of the lace, thumbs brushing over the swell of your tits.

"You really got this for me? Fuck, baby, you look so fucking good."

He leaned in, nuzzling the curve of your neck, his stubble scraping deliciously against your skin.

"Daddy's gonna appreciate every inch of this tonight."

His words sent a shiver straight to your core, heat pooling between your thighs.

You nodded, biting your lip as he eased you back onto your soft bed.

Jack knelt between your legs, his strong hands parting your thighs wider, exposing the damp spot already soaking through the thong.

"Look at you, already wet for Daddy," he said, his voice low and filthy, fingers hooking under the lace to tug it aside.

He didn't pull it off—just shifted it enough to expose your slick folds.

'"Such a good girl, wearing this pretty lingerie just for me."

He dove in without hesitation, his mouth latching onto your pussy like a man possessed.

His tongue flattened against your clit, licking broad strokes that made your hips buck off the mattress.

You gasped, threading your fingers through his short hair, holding him there as he devoured you.

He sucked your clit between his lips, flicking it with the tip of his tongue, then delved lower, thrusting inside you with wet, obscene laps.

"Taste so fucking good," he mumbled against your flesh, the vibrations humming through you.

One hand slid up to cup your breast through the bra, pinching your nipple hard enough to make you whimper.

"Shhh, Daddy's making it up to you. Gonna eat this pussy until you scream."

You were lost in the sensation, your body arching as he worked you over.

His free hand gripped your ass, squeezing the flesh while he ground his face deeper, nose bumping your clit as his tongue fucked in and out.

Spit and your arousal mixed, dripping down your crack, making everything slick and wet.

He pulled back just enough to spit directly on your other hole, watching it clench before diving back in, slurping noisily.

"Yeah, that's it, baby. Let Daddy hear how much you need this."

Your moans filled the quiet apartment, and he reveled in it, urging you louder with every filthy suck and lick.

When you were trembling on the edge, thighs quaking around his head, he didn't let you come.

Instead, he rose up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes blazing with lust.

"Not yet. Daddy wants to feel you come on his cock."

He stripped quickly, yanking off his shirt, revealing his toned chest, then shoving down his pants and boxers.

His cock sprang free, thick and veined, the head already leaking pre-cum.

It was massive, curving slightly upward, perfect for hitting every spot inside you.

He stroked it once, twice, smearing the slickness down the shaft, his gaze never leaving the way the lingerie clung to your body.

"God, this bra... the way it pushes your tits up like that. Fuck, I could come just looking at you."

He crawled over you, settling between your legs, the thong still pushed aside as he notched his cock at your entrance.

"You're Daddy's good girl, aren't you? Wearing this for me, letting me fuck you in it."

You nodded frantically, wrapping your legs around his waist, the lace brushing his skin.

"Yes, Daddy," you breathed, and that was all it took.

He thrust in with one brutal snap of his hips, burying himself balls-deep in your soaking pussy.

No condom, just skin on skin, the stretch burning so good it made your eyes water.

"Fuck, so tight," he growled, bottoming out and grinding against your cervix.

He didn't give you time to adjust—pulled back and slammed in again, setting a punishing rhythm that had your bed frame thumping against the wall.

His hands roamed everywhere, appreciating the lingerie as if it was made of gold.

He tugged the bra cups down, freeing your breasts, and latched onto one nipple, sucking hard while his hips pistoned.

"Daddy's sorry, baby. Gonna fuck you so good, fill you up until you forgive me."

Each word was followed by a deep thrust, his cock dragging along your walls, hitting that spot that made stars burst behind your eyelids.

You clawed at his back, nails digging into muscle, urging him deeper.

The room filled with the wet slap of your bodies, his balls smacking against your ass with every plunge.

He was nasty about it, spitting on your tits and rubbing it in, pinching and twisting until you cried out, the saliva mixing with your sweat to make your skin glisten under the soft lamp light.

He flipped you suddenly, pulling you on top so you straddled him, the thong digging into your skin as you sank down on his length.

"Ride, Daddy. I wanna see how good you look like this."

His hands gripped your hips, guiding you as you bounced, your breasts jiggling in the disheveled bra.

He sat up, mouth finding your neck, biting and sucking marks into your skin while one hand slipped between you to rub your clit in tight circles.

"Look at you, pussy creaming all over me. So fucking sexy, just how Daddy likes it. This lace on your hips... shit, baby, looks so good like this."

You ground down, circling your hips, feeling him throb inside you.

Sweat slicked your bodies, the air thick with the scent of sex and the faint vanilla from your bedsheets.

He appreciated every detail—the way the lace framed your curves, how the thong rode up as you moved, exposing more of your dripping folds.

"This set... fuck, it's perfect on you. Makes me want to ruin you in it, keep it on while I pound this tight little hole."

His fingers dug into your ass cheeks, spreading you wider as he thrust up, meeting your downward strokes with brutal force, his cockhead battering your deepest walls.

The tension built again, coiling tight in your belly.

"Daddy, please," you begged, your voice breaking as you rode him faster, the friction on your clit from his thumb pushing you closer.

"I'm gonna come." you moaned.

He growled, flipping you once more so he was on top, pinning you down with his weight.

"Come on my cock, baby. You can do it."

He fucked you harder, relentlessly, the headboard now slamming against the wall.

Your orgasm crashed over you, pussy clenching around him in powerful waves, gushing wetness that soaked his balls and the sheets beneath you.

But he didn't stop, his pace only growing more savage, hips snapping with wet, obscene sounds.

"That's it, squeeze Daddy's cock. Feel how hard you make me?"

He leaned down, capturing your mouth in a messy kiss, tongues tangling as he swallowed your moans.

One hand braced beside your head, the other sliding under the bra to knead your breast, rolling the nipple between his fingers until it ached.

His cock pumped in and out, stretching you wide, the veiny shaft glistening with your combined juices every time he pulled back.

You felt every ridge, every pulse as he chased his own release, his breath coming in harsh grunts against your ear.

"Gonna fill this pussy up, baby. No pulling out—Daddy's filling up his good girl tonight."

His thrusts grew erratic, deeper, harder, slamming into you with a force that jolted your whole body.

He buried his face in your neck, teeth grazing your skin as he finally shattered, roaring your name.

Hot spurts of cum flooded your pussy, thick ropes painting your walls, overflowing as he kept pumping, grinding deep to push it all inside.

"Fuck, yes, take every drop. Feel me filling you up."

His cock twitched with aftershocks, plugging you full, a warm trickle escaping when he finally stilled.

He collapsed over you, his weight a comforting blanket, but still buried inside you.

Soft kisses trailed along your jaw, a stark contrast to the raw filth he'd just unleashed.

"Forgive me?" he murmured, fingers tracing the lace edges on your skin, gently readjusting the bra cups over your sensitive breasts.

You smiled, nodding, your body humming with satisfaction.

"Of course."

He chuckled low, rolling you both so you draped over him, his hand idly stroking your back through the damp lingerie.

But even in the afterglow, you could feel him hardening again inside you, the night far from over in the safety of your apartment.

"Good. But I'm not done making it up to you yet."

About The Writer !!

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧

I have been influenced by my mutuals, so here we go...

hello! My name is Monina and welcome to my tumblr blog!

Some fun (or boring?) facts about me are that I'm currently 21, turning 22 on may 1st, and in my final year of college. I'm double-majoring in Creative Writing and Spanish and will hopefully go to grad school for journalism. She/Her. A may taurus. I'm obsessed with murder mysteries and coming-of-age novels. I'm a fanfic writer and editor. I'm an Elle Greenaway defender for life (that's my girl fr fr). Currently writing for Criminal Minds and Marvel (MCU), and want to possibly start writing for The Pitt. I'm a slow updater if I am being honest, which is hilarious since I'm literally studying writing in school, so bear with me, please.

sfw and nsfw blog (MINORS PLEASE DNI!)

please be kind in the comments, or I will hunt you down respectfully.

thank for reading my stories (even in their unedited forms) and supporting my writing, it truly means a lot to me!

inspo/remake layout from maydecays and iluvvmusicwp!

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NAVIGATION:

↳ masterlist !!

↳ socials: https://linktr.ee/lunarbouquet

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one shot ᢉ𐭩

Couple: juice ortiz x fem!oc!tig’s daughter (meadow trager) .✦ ݁˖

Time & place: season one, juice’s dorm.

Warnings: suggestive content, making out/kissing, mild sexual tension.

Tropes: first hookup, fliry banter, playful teasing, tattoo reveal.

────୨ৎ ────

₊˚⊹♡ story: stranded

by: tragersangel (published)

────୨ৎ────

Meadow sank back into the mattress, the sheets cool beneath her arms as she looked up at him. 

He was hovering over her now, one hand braced beside her shoulder, the other planted near her hip as he slowly moved forward on the bed. The movement made the mattress dip, his weight settling above her as he got closer to her face. 

For someone who earlier on was carrying himself with effortless confidence, whispering in her ear, toying with the waistband of her jeans, he suddenly looked… unsure. Like he didn’t quite know what to do next. 

Meadow noticed. 

Her lips curved faintly. “You’re thinking way too hard,” she murmured. 

His eyes flicked down to her’s. “Am not.” 

“You are.”

“I’m just-” he shifted his weight slightly, knee sliding between her legs as he leaned closer, “Making sure you’re comfortable.” 

She raised an eyebrow. “Uh huh.” 

His mouth twitched in irritation, but he didn’t move away if anything he got closer, his chest hovering inches above hers. 

“Don’t start,” he warned. 

“I’m not starting anything.” She replied, clutching the sides of his shirt in her hands. 

“You’re smirking.” 

“Because you’re nervous.” She slowly began to edge his shirt up. 

“I’m not nervous,” he insisted, though the way he glanced away immediately betrayed him. 

Meadow let her head sink deeper in the pillow, watching him. As she finally pulled his shirt over his head. He was close enough now that she could see the faint tension in his shoulders, the way his breathing had gotten slightly heavier. 

Her eyes drifted lower, across his chest. And then they stopped. 

She blinked. “Wait.”

He groaned, smiling sheepishly at her. “What?”

Her hand lifted slightly from the bed, hovering in the space between them as she stared. 

“Is that-” 

He followed her gaze, already knowing what she was looking at. 

His eyes squeezed shut for half a second. “Yeah…” 

Meadow pushed lightly at his shoulder so she could sit up a little more, getting a clearer look at the tattoo across his pec.

There was no mistaking it. 

Meadow. Her name, right there. Big.

She stared stunned in silence. Then slowly looked back up at him. 

“That’s my name.” 

“Yes.” 

“You have my name tattooed on you.” 

“Yes,” he repeated, clearly wishing the conversation would end immediately. 

She looked back at the tattoo again. “Why?” 

He dragged a hand down his face. “In my defense,” he muttered, “I was extremely drunk.” 

She burst out laughing. “Jesus, what the fuck is wrong with you.. When? I’ve only been here for five months.” 

“Two weeks after I met you.” He replied reluctantly. 

She let out another disbelieving laugh. “Two weeks?” 

“Again,” he said, pointing a finger at her like that would somehow prove his point, “very drunk.” 

Her fingers lifted without thinking, brushing lightly across the ink. 

His breath caught slightly at the contact.

The tattoo itself was actually… nice. 

The lettering was elegant, curved in a way that fit perfectly with the rest of him. It wasn’t sloppy or rushed. It looked intentional, which somehow made it even more insane. 

“You’re actually crazy,” she said.

“Yeah,” he sighed 

“But,” she admitted slowly, tilting her head as she studied it again, “it’s also kind of hot.” 

He blinked down at her. “What?”

She giggled, settling deeper in the bed. “Mhm.”

He groaned cupping her face as he kissed her roughly, “you’re hot.” 

She nodded into the kiss. “I am.” 

“Oh you agree, do you?” 

“Obviously.” She teased. “Don’t go getting anymore tattoos for me though,” 

“I won’t, not yet… anyway.”

.ೃ࿔

a few fics that live in my head rent-free: ♡

✶ safety net — by maydecays ↳ aaron hotchner, the man you are, the kind of fic that makes me giggle and kick my feet

✶ russian roulette — by maydecays ↳ a new one, but jax teller and lizzie hale's tension keeps me up at night

✶ broken halos — by ssaturnsstars ↳ also a new one but juniper and jax are going to be the death of me

✶ sewn together — by ssaturnsstars ↳ pure perfection, best friends to lovers in the best way, jax and andrea have my heart

✶ born to ride — by luvvvvrrrrkayyy ↳ best friends to lovers I KNOW that's right, jax teller in this book is pure bliss

✶ miles of heartache — by bunnymaben ↳ literally love this book, emery and jax's chemistry is too good

✶ a holy hunger — by bunnymaben ↳ a new fic, but rick grimes and april I already know are gonna send me into orbit

✶ call my name — by Nilaaberryy ↳ matt and will are literal babies, such a fun read

pairing: jax teller x fem!oc (lana west)

summary: they were at another clubhouse party, drinks were flowing, and everyone was watching. she’s laughing in his lap like she isn’t testing him. he whispers "don’t". she does it again. and jax teller is a patient man. until he isn’t.

time & place: season 1, TM clubhouse

warnings: established relationship, smuttiest of smut, unprotected pinv, dom jax, sub oc, dirty talk, use of pet names, daddy kink, spanking, begging, overstimulation, its SMUT to the max, third person pov

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ masterlist // wattpad

a/n: happy monday y'all, hopefully this will help get you freaks through the week, love you guys ♡

⚬───────────────✧───────────────⚬

The clubhouse was loud enough to swallow most things.

Music thumped through old speakers, bass vibrating faintly through the floor. Laughter rose from the bar. Someone shouted near the pool table. Beer bottles clinked. The air felt warm and thick with smoke.

Jax sat back on the couch like he’d done a thousand times before.

Lana sat on his lap like she’d always belonged there.

Not straddling. Not making a show of it. Just settled — one leg draped loosely over his thigh, her back half against his chest as she leaned forward to argue with Juice across the table.

Chibs was shaking his head at whatever story Juice was butchering.

“You’re lying,” he accused.

“I’m not,” Juice insisted, gesturing wildly with his beer.

Lana laughed, bright and animated, cutting him off mid-sentence. She talked with her hands, always had. And every time she did, she shifted slightly to balance herself.

Her hips rolled just a fraction as she leaned forward.

Jax’s thumb, which had been lazily tracing patterns against her thigh, stilled.

She leaned forward again, elbow braced on her knee as she made a point.

Another small shift.

Subtle.

Innocent.

His fingers tightened slightly at her hip.

“Baby,” he murmured near her ear.

She glanced back over her shoulder, brows lifting.

“What?”

Soft. Casual. Like he’d interrupted her.

“Stop moving.”

Her mouth parted in mild confusion.

“I’m sitting.”

And then she turned back to Juice.

“Tell it right,” she said, swatting at him lightly.

She adjusted her position as she laughed — settling deeper against him.

Completely unaware.

At least that’s how it looked.

Jax’s jaw flexed.

Her weight shifted again when she leaned toward Chibs this time, brushing back against Jax in the process. Nothing dramatic. Nothing that would catch anyone else’s attention.

Juice was still mid-rant. Chibs was focused on him.

No one noticed.

Except Jax.

His hand slid from her thigh to her waist, fingers spreading there.

Anchoring.

She didn’t react.

Didn’t look at him.

She just kept talking, animated, expressive — reaching back absently to steady herself with a hand on his leg when she leaned too far forward.

The contact was light.

Unthinking.

Her fingers lingered a second too long before she pulled them away.

He leaned closer again, mouth near her ear.

“Stop.”

Quieter this time.

Not sharp.

But firmer.

She tilted her head slightly toward him, eyes flicking back with a small frown.

“Stop what?”

There was no challenge in her tone.

No smirk.

Just soft confusion.

Then she laughed at something Juice said and leaned back against him again.

Slowly.

Settling her weight as if she were just getting comfortable.

His hand tightened at her waist.

He went still.

Completely still.

Because now it wasn’t accidental. Not fully. The movements were too measured. Too consistent.

And she was acting like she had no idea.

That was the worst part.

She shifted again when she crossed one leg over the other.

A small roll of her hips as she resettled.

He exhaled slowly through his nose.

“Lan.”

She turned her head again, brushing close without meaning to.

“Hmm?”

His eyes were darker now. Focused.

She blinked at him like she was waiting for him to finish.

He held her gaze for a second.

Long enough for something unspoken to pass between them.

Then she turned back to the table like nothing had happened.

Like she hadn’t just tested him.

That was when he stood.

Not abruptly. Not violently.

Just decisively.

His hands slid to her waist and lifted her off his lap with steady ease. She landed on her feet in front of him, surprised but not alarmed.

Juice paused mid-sentence.

“You good?” he asked, glancing between them.

“Yeah,” Jax replied evenly.

His hand didn’t leave her.

It stayed at her lower back.

“C’mon,” he said. “Let’s grab a smoke.”

It sounded casual.

It wasn’t.

Lana searched his face briefly, trying to read him.

“Now?” she asked lightly.

His thumb pressed into the curve of her hip.

“Now.”

Jax guided her toward the back hallway, palm firm at the small of her back.

Not showy.

Not dramatic.

But certain.

The dorm door swung open, spilling noise and light into the room.

Jax's hand stayed firm on Lana's waist, guiding her inside before kicking the door shut behind them.

The click of the lock echoed in the sudden quiet, the air thicker here, heavy with the scent of old sheets and faint cologne.

No more noise from outside—just the sound of their breathing, hers quick and shallow, his steady but edged with something darker.

He didn't let go.

His fingers dug in just enough to remind her who was in control, pulling her back against his chest as he scanned the room.

Perfect for what he had in mind.

"You think you can just wiggle that ass on me all night and act like nothing's happening?" Jax's voice rumbled low, right against her ear, his breath hot on her skin.

Lana stiffened, her hands coming up to grip his forearm, but she didn't pull away.

"Jax, I wasn't—"

"Shut it." He spun her around to face him, backing her up until her shoulders hit the wall beside the door.

His eyes bored into hers, dark and unyielding.

"You heard me out there. I told you to stop moving. To behave. And what do you do? You keep grinding on my lap like a needy little slut who needs to learn her place."

His hand slid up her side, rough palm scraping over her shirt until he gripped the hem and yanked it up over her head in one swift motion, tossing it aside.

Her bra followed, unclasped and stripped off, leaving her breasts bare and heaving with each nervous breath.

The cool air hardened her nipples instantly.

Lana's cheeks burned, but that spark of defiance flickered in her eyes.

"It wasn't on purpose. I was just sitting there.'"

Jax's laugh was short, humorless.

He hooked his fingers into the waistband of her skirt, shoving it down her hips along with her panties, forcing her to step out of them immediately.

Now she stood naked before him, vulnerable under his gaze, her skin flushing from the exposure.

"Bullshit. You knew exactly what you were doing, teasing me like that in front of everyone, now you'll learn."

Lana's lips parted, a soft whimper escaping as her thighs clenched together.

Jax grabbed her arm, steering her toward the bed with purposeful strides.

He sat on the edge first, the mattress dipping under his weight, then hauled her over his lap like she weighed nothing.

Her bare ass was upturned, presented perfectly, and he didn't hesitate.

His large hand came down in a sharp crack against one cheek, the sting blooming instantly.

Lana yelped, her fingers curling into the sheets.

"That's for ignoring me when I told you to stop," he said, his voice steady as he spanked the other side, harder, watching the skin turn pink.

She squirmed, her legs kicking slightly, but he pinned her with his free arm across her lower back.

"And this is for acting all innocent while you rubbed against my cock like a slut."

Another smack, then another, alternating cheeks until her ass glowed red, hot to the touch.

Each impact made her body jolt, her breath coming in gasps that bordered on moans.

"Daddy, it hurts," she whined, but the way her hips shifted told him otherwise—her arousal was already slicking her inner thighs.

Jax paused, rubbing his palm over the heated flesh, soothing for a second before delivering a final, resounding spank that echoed in the room.

"Good. It should. Bad girls get punished."

He lifted her off his lap, setting her on her feet, but she wobbled, her legs unsteady from the burn.

Before she could catch her breath, he pushed her back onto the bed, flat on her back with her knees drawn up and spread wide.

The position exposed her completely, her pussy glistening in the low light, folds swollen and begging for attention.

Jax knelt between her legs, his hands gripping her thighs to hold her open.

"Look at you, dripping already. You love being treated like this, don't you?"

He didn't wait for an answer.

His hand hovered for a moment, then slapped down directly on her pussy, the wet smack loud and obscene.

Lana's hips bucked, a sharp cry tearing from her throat as the jolt zinged through her clit.

"Fuck!"

He slapped again, lighter but precise, targeting the sensitive nub, making her clit throb with each strike.

Her juices splattered slightly, coating his palm.

"This is what happens when you don't listen," he growled, delivering a third slap, then a fourth, watching her writhe and clench, her hands fisting the sheets.

By the fifth, she was panting, tears pricking her eyes from the mix of sting and building ache.

"Please... I get it now."

But Jax wasn't satisfied.

He stood, towering over her, and unbuckled his belt with deliberate slowness, the leather sliding free.

"On your knees. Now."

Lana scrambled to obey, sliding off the bed and dropping to the floor in front of him, her knees hitting the carpet.

She looked up, eyes wide and watery, as he shoved his jeans and boxers down, his cock springing free—thick, rigid, the head flushed and leaking.

"Open up. Show daddy how sorry you are."

She leaned in, lips parting to take him in, her tongue flicking over the tip to taste the salt.

But Jax gripped her hair, thrusting forward until he filled her mouth, pushing past her gag reflex.

Lana choked, her throat convulsing around his length as he held her there, not letting her pull back.

"That's it, choke on my dick like the filthy girl you are."

He started moving, fucking her face with controlled force, the wet, gagging sounds filling the room as saliva bubbled at the corners of her mouth and dripped down her chin.

She hollowed her cheeks, sucking hard on each pull back, her hands braced on his thighs for balance.

Jax groaned, the vibrations from her throat sending heat coiling in his gut.

"Deeper. Take every inch."

He pushed in again, holding until she sputtered, her nose brushing his base before he withdrew just enough for her to breathe.

He was close, the pressure building fast from the night's tension, but he wasn't ready to finish like that.

With a curse, Jax pulled out, his cock slick and twitching.

He hauled Lana up by the arms, her body limp and slick with sweat, and tossed her onto the bed on her back.

She bounced slightly, legs splaying open as he climbed over her, shedding the rest of his clothes.

"'M not done yet,'' he muttered, his hand sliding between her thighs to find her soaked entrance.

Two fingers plunged in deep, no warning, stretching her walls as he curled them against that spongy spot inside.

Lana arched off the mattress, a moan ripping from her.

"Daddy—oh god!" He pumped them hard, fast, his thumb pressing and rubbing her clit in rough circles, the wet squelch of her pussy echoing with each thrust.

She was tight, clenching around him, her hips grinding up to meet his hand.

The pleasure built quick, coiling tight in her belly, her breaths turning ragged.

"Don't you dare cum," Jax warned, his voice low and commanding, eyes locked on her face as she writhed.

"Not until I say. You beg for it first. Apologize like you mean it."

She was already teetering, walls fluttering, but she bit her lip, nodding frantically.

"I'm sorry, Daddy! Please, let me cum—" He slowed just enough to keep her on the edge, fingers still buried deep but barely moving, letting the denied friction torture her.

"Not good enough. Say it right. Tell me what a bad girl you were for teasing me."

Lana whimpered, her body shaking, clit pulsing under his thumb.

"I was bad, Daddy. I shouldn't have moved like that, shouldn't have ignored you. I'm so sorry—please, I need to cum!"

But Jax shook his head, withdrawing his fingers completely, leaving her empty and aching. She whined in protest, thighs trembling.

"Sorry, baby, gonna have to try harder."

He flipped her onto her stomach roughly, yanking her hips up so she was on all fours, ass in the air with those red handprints still marking her.

Without another word, he lined up his cock and slammed in, burying himself all the way in, with one brutal thrust.

Lana screamed into the pillow, her pussy stretching around his girth, the sudden fullness overwhelming.

Jax gripped her hips, nails biting into her skin, and started pounding, each snap of his hips driving him deeper, balls slapping against her clit.

The bed creaked under them, frame rattling as he fucked her into the mattress, relentless and unforgiving.

"This is what you get," he grunted, one hand coming down to spank her ass mid-thrust, making her clench tighter around him.

Lana's arms gave out, face pressed into the sheets as tears soaked the fabric, her body jolting with every impact.

The pleasure bordered on too much, her clit grinding against nothing but the friction building inside from his cock hitting her depths.

"Daddy, I'm sorry! I'm so fucking sorry for teasing you, for not listening—please, let me cum! I can't take it!" she sobbed the words, voice breaking, her walls spasming wildly.

Jax leaned over her, chest to her back, one hand snaking around to pinch her clit hard.

"Beg louder. Convince me."

He didn't slow, hips moving faster, the head of his cock dragging over her g-spot with each plunge.

Lana's cries turned desperate, body quaking.

"Please, daddy! I'll be good, I swear—fuck, I'm sorry, so sorry! Let me cum on your cock!"

That did it.

"Cum now," he ordered, and she shattered, orgasm crashing through her like a storm, pussy milking him in rhythmic pulses as she wailed, juices gushing around his length.

But he kept going, chasing his own high while pushing her further.

The overstimulation hit quick—her nerves firing too hot, too sensitive, turning the waves into sharp edges.

"Too much—daddy, please!" she gasped, but Jax pinned her down, thrusting through it, making her ride the high until another climax tore from her, weaker but no less intense, her body convulsing.

He flipped her over again, legs over his shoulders now, folding her in half as he drove deep, the angle letting him grind against her cervix.

"Bad girls get fucked until they learn," he growled, sweat dripping from his brow.

Lana was a wreck, tears streaming, nails raking his back as she begged incoherently—sorry, please, more, stop—all blurring together.

Her third orgasm built fast under him, and when it hit, she squirted around him, soaking the sheets, her voice hoarse from screaming.

Jax finally lost it, burying deep with a groan, cock throbbing as he pumped rope after rope of cum into her, filling her until it overflowed, leaking out with each final thrust.

He collapsed beside her, both panting, the room spinning in the aftermath.

Lana curled into him, body limp and marked—red ass, bruised hips, pussy sore and dripping.

"You gonna listen next time?'" Jax murmured, hand stroking her hair.

She nodded weakly, a tired smile breaking through.

pairing: rick grimes x fem!oc (delilah greene)

summary: a slow day on the farm. a dirty little book. delilah reading something she definitely shouldn’t be. rick walking up at the worst (or best) possible moment. what happens when his good girl tries out a new name for him in the middle of an open field?

time & place: season 2, hershels farm

warnings: age gap, smut, unprotected pinv, dom rick, sub oc, praise kink, dirty talk, use of pet names, daddy kink, third person pov

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ masterlist // wattpad

a/n: i already love posting on here so much, if you all have any ideas or requests feel free to let me know :) ♡

⚬───────────────✧───────────────⚬

The day had been quiet in that strange way the farm sometimes was — almost peaceful, almost normal. 

Delilah had wandered far enough into the field that the house looked small behind her.

She laid barefoot in the tall grass, white sundress pooled around her thighs, one knee bent lazily toward the sky. 

The book in her hands was new, something she'd found stashed under a cabinet in Dale’s RV.

She hadn’t read the back cover. She never did anymore. Books were rare. Precious. She devoured whatever she found.

But this one—

Her eyes traced the lines again, slower this time.

The language was bold. Unapologetic. The woman in the story wasn’t shy. She wanted. She asked. She begged.

And the man—

Her pulse fluttered.

The woman called him something she’d never really heard used that way before.

Daddy.

Delilah blinked at the page.

She whispered it under her breath just to feel how it sat in her mouth.

The word made her stomach tighten.

She shifted in the grass.

Heat shot low in her core — a slow, heavy pulse that surprised her with its intensity. She pressed her thighs together instinctively, the fabric of her dress sliding against warm skin.

She wondered if Rick even knew about that word?

He’d called her

Good girl. Baby. Pretty girl. My girl.

Each one had made her melt a little.

But she’d never found something for him.

Daddy.

Her cheeks burned. It felt wrong. It felt bold..

But imagining Rick hearing it—

The pulse between her legs sharpened.

Her breath hitched.

She was still thinking about it when she heard boots cutting through the grass.

“Hey, pretty girl.”

She startled slightly, then smiled up at him.

Rick stood over her, sunlight catching in his hair, sweat-darkened shirt clinging lightly to his chest. His expression softened when he saw her.

“Hi,” she said, trying to sound normal.

“What’re you readin’?” he asked, lowering himself behind her without hesitation. He stretched his legs out and pulled her back against him like she belonged there.

She fit too easily.

“Nothing,” she replied quickly.

He huffed a quiet laugh near her ear. “Nothing, huh?”

She folded the corner of the page carefully before setting the book down in the grass.

“Just romance.”

“Mhm.” He didn’t believe her. She could hear it.

They talked lazily — about the fences, about Glenn nearly falling earlier, about nothing important. Rick’s hands moved absentmindedly over her thighs as he spoke, slow strokes up and down, thumbs brushing the inside just enough to make her aware of every inch of skin he touched.

Normally she would’ve relaxed into it.

Today she was already wound tight.

Every time his palm slid higher, her breath shortened just a little.

He didn’t notice at first.

But she did.

The warmth in her core had turned into something heavier. Throbbing. Each brush of his fingers made it worse. Better.

She shifted in his lap, unable to sit still.

He paused mid-sentence. “You okay?”

Instead of answering, she pushed herself upright and turned, settling onto his lap so she was straddling him now.

His eyebrows lifted in surprise.

“Well now,” he murmured, hands automatically finding her waist.

“What?” she asked innocently, though her pulse was racing.

“You’re actin’ different.”

“Am not.”

He smiled faintly and ran a hand up her back, fingers spreading against the fabric of her dress. “You are.”

“Just missed you,” she said softly.

“You saw me an hour ago.”

She pouted. He chuckled, leaning forward to kiss her.

It was meant to be light.

She didn’t let it stay light.

Her fingers slid into his hair, and she deepened it — pressing closer, mouth warmer, hungrier. She shifted against him without thinking.

Rick made a low sound against her lips, surprised but responding immediately. His hands tightened at her waist.

He pulled back slightly, breathing heavier now.

“What’s got you all worked up?” he asked, voice roughening.

“Told you,” she murmured. “Missed you.”

“Yeah?” His thumb brushed just beneath the hem of her dress. “That so?”

His hand slipped under the fabric, gliding slowly over the curve of her thigh.

She sucked in a breath.

He moved his hand to where he could already feel heat radiating.

His fingers stilled.

“Delilah…” His voice dropped.

She was wet.

More than wet.

Soaking wet.

He exhaled sharply through his nose. “God.”

Heat flooded her face, but she didn’t pull away. Instead she rocked slightly against his hand, desperate and bold all at once.

“What kinda book you readin’ baby?” he asked, reaching with his free hand toward where it lay in the grass.

She caught his wrist before he could grab it.

“Please,” she whispered.

Her voice wasn’t playful.

It was needy.

Something in his expression shifted.

“Tell me what you need,” he said quietly.

She swallowed, throat tight.

He studied her for a long second — like he was realizing this wasn’t teasing. This wasn’t sweet.

She wanted him.

But he was going to make her ask.

The courage came in a rush — probably from the book, from the sun, from the way he was looking at her like she was something precious and dangerous at the same time.

Her heart pounded so loudly she was sure he could feel it through her chest.

“Please…” she started, hesitating just a second.

Say it.

Her lips parted.

“…daddy.”

Rick’s body froze.

Except, for his cock which twitched upwards in his pants. 

The air between them changed.

Not soft anymore.

Heavy.

“What’d you say?” he asked, voice low and measured.

Instant embarrassment surged up her spine.

“I—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

His hands tightened on her hips before she could pull away.

“No,” he said firmly.

His thumb slid just barely higher under her dress — not enough to give her what she wanted. Just enough to remind her he could.

“Repeat it.”

Her breathing turned shaky.

“Rick—”

“Mmm.” His eyes darkened. “Don’t think that’s what you called me.”

Her stomach flipped.

The field suddenly felt too open. Too exposed. Too quiet.

But she needed him. 

She leaned closer, her forehead almost brushing his.

“Please…” she whispered again, softer now.

He waited.

Her lips trembled.

“…daddy.”

This time it wasn’t accidental.

It was deliberate.

Rick's eyes locked onto Delilah's, the single word—daddy—still echoing in the charged silence between them. 

His hand rested possessively on her thigh, holding her steady as her chest rose and fell with quick, uneven breaths. 

He could see the flush creeping up her neck, the way her lips parted slightly, waiting for his reaction. 

This was new territory, the line they'd toed for so long now crossed, and he felt the power shift settle over him.

He didn't rush. 

Instead, he let the tension build, his thumb tracing slow circles on her inner thigh, inching higher but stopping just short of where she ached for him.

"Say it again," he commanded, his voice a deep rumble, leaving no room for hesitation. 

It wasn't anger or surprise in his tone; it was authority, the kind that made her core clench involuntarily.

Delilah swallowed hard, her eyes wide and glistening with a mix of nerves and excitement.

The book laid forgotten in the grass beside her, its pages fluttering slightly in the wind, but all her focus was on him now. 

"D-daddy," she whispered, the word tumbling out softer this time, laced with a plea. 

Her hands fidgeted in her lap, twisting the hem of her dress as if seeking permission to touch him.

A low growl escaped Rick's throat, satisfaction flickering in his gaze.

"Louder, baby. Own it." He shifted her closer, his body crowding hers without overwhelming, his free hand cupping her chin to tilt her face up. 

He wanted to see every flicker of vulnerability, every spark of surrender in her eyes.

"Daddy," she repeated, her voice gaining a touch of strength, though it still trembled at the edges. 

The admission sent a fresh wave of heat through her, her hips rocking instinctively under his watchful stare.

"Good girl." The praise rolled off his tongue like velvet, and he rewarded her with a gentle squeeze of her thigh, his fingers finally brushing the edge of her panties. 

"Tell daddy about that book. What got you so wet out here all alone?" 

He slowed his movements, edging her without mercy, his fingers withdrawing almost entirely from her.

Delilah whined in frustration, her hips chasing his hand.

"The... the woman called the man daddy, and he... he took her. Made her beg. Just like this. I imagined it was us, daddy. You touching me, telling me what to do."

Heat crept up to her cheeks now at the full admission.

"You've been out here teasing yourself with that filthy book, haven't you? Getting this pussy wet thinking about daddy huh?"

She nodded frantically, biting her lower lip to stifle a whimper. 

"Yes, I... I didn't know if you'd like it. But—I wanted to," she whimpered.

Her confession spilled out in a rush, her cheeks burning hotter.

Rick's expression softened just a fraction, his thumb stroking her jawline tenderly. 

"I like it more than you know, Lilah. But from now on, you ask daddy for what you need. No hiding. Understand?" 

He leaned in, his lips hovering near hers, close enough that she could feel his warm breath.

"Yes, daddy," she breathed, her eyes fluttering half-closed as anticipation coiled tight in her belly.

Rick's eyes darkened with intent as Delilah's words hung in the air, her confession igniting something primal yet controlled within him.

He could see the way her body trembled, not from fear, but from the raw need to surrender.

This was his moment to step in, to become the daddy she craved—the one who would guide her, lead her, and draw out every drop of submission she had to offer.

He leaned in closer, his breath steady against her ear, his hand still resting possessively on her thigh.

"That's my girl," he murmured, his voice low and steady, laced with authority that made her thighs clench involuntarily.

He didn't rush; instead, he withdrew his fingers from her thigh, watching as she whimpered and arched toward him, desperate for the friction that had been building.

"You've been thinking about this for a while, haven't you? About daddy taking control, making you feel every inch of what you need. But you don't get it all at once. You earn it by listening, by obeying."

Delilah nodded frantically, her breaths coming in short gasps, her hands clutching at the grass beneath her as if anchoring herself to the earth.

The white sundress clung to her sweat-dampened skin, the fabric rumpled and pushed up around her waist, exposing the soft curves of her hips.

"Yes, daddy... please. I want to be good for you." Her voice was a plea, soft and yielding, her eyes locked on his with a mix of anticipation and vulnerability.

He smiled, a small curve of his lips that promised both pleasure and denial, his calloused fingers tracing lazy circles on her inner thigh, inching closer but never quite touching where she ached most.

"Good. Now, lie back and spread your legs wider for me. Show daddy how wet that book made you."

She complied immediately, her knees falling open with a rustle of grass, exposing her damp panties the open air and his intense gaze.

The cool breeze whispered over her heated skin, making her shiver, but Rick's hands were firm on her inner legs, holding her in place without bruising—just enough pressure to remind her who was in charge, to make her feel the weight of his control.

His fingers returned to her pussy, shoving her panties out of the way.

He slid his two fingers in deep and curling against that sensitive spot inside her with deliberate precision.

He pumped them slowly at first, savoring the way her walls clenched around him, the slick sounds of her arousal filling the quiet afternoon.

"Tell me more about that story, baby. Did he make her feel like this?" He increased the pace gradually, his thumb circling her clit with precise, teasing strokes that sent sparks through her nerves, but every time her hips bucked toward release, he slowed down, easing off just enough to pull her back from the brink, edging her mercilessly.

"Y-yes," she gasped, her voice breaking as tears of frustration pricked her eyes, her chest heaving with each labored breath.

The grass tickled her bare back, a stark contrast to the fire building in her core.

"He... he did it until she couldn't take it, made her squirt all over him. Oh god, daddy, I'm so close... please don't stop."

"Not yet," he commanded, his tone unyielding but calm, like a leash tightening just enough to hold her back without choking.

He added a third finger, stretching her further, thrusting harder now while his other hand pressed down on her lower belly to intensify the pressure, forcing her to feel every movement deep inside.

Delilah's moans turned to cries, her body squirming under his control, completely at his mercy.

He watched her face intently, reading every twitch of her lips, every flutter of her eyelids, every plea that escaped her throat.

The scent of her arousal hung heavy in the air, mingling with the earthy smell of the field, driving him to push her further.

He leaned down over her, his lips brushing her ear as he whispered, "Breathe for me, baby. Let daddy feel how much you want this."

His fingers hooked relentlessly now, rubbing that spot with unerring accuracy, building the pressure until her thighs quaked around his wrist.

When he felt her teetering on the edge again, her pussy fluttering wildly, he pushed her over—but on his terms, exactly as he wanted. "Come for daddy. Squirt for me, show me how much you need this."

Her back arched off the ground in a sharp bow, a gush of wetness flooding his hand as she squirted, her pussy clenching and pulsing in powerful waves of ecstasy.

She screamed his name—or rather, "Daddy!"—her entire body shaking violently as the orgasm ripped through her, leaving her limp and panting in the grass, her release soaking the earth beneath them.

Rick held her through it, his fingers slowing but not stopping until the last tremor faded, drawing out every aftershock until she was a wet mess.

He didn't let her recover fully, though.

Pulling his fingers free with a wet slide, slick with her release, he brought them to her lips, hovering just out of reach until she parted them eagerly.

"Taste yourself, baby. See how good you are when you listen to daddy."

Delilah sucked his fingers clean without hesitation, her tongue swirling around them greedily, lapping up her own essence as she met his gaze with wide, submissive eyes, still hazy from her climax.

The salty tang filled her mouth, a reminder of her surrender, and she hummed softly around his digits, earning a low growl from him.

"That's it," he praised, his voice rough with restrained hunger as he unzipped his jeans with his free hand, the sound sharp in the quiet field.

His cock sprang free, thick and hard, veins pulsing along its length, the head already glistening with precum that beaded at the tip.

He stroked himself once, twice, letting her see what she'd earned, the way it throbbed in his grip.

"Now, on your knees. Suck daddy's cock like the good girl you are. Show me you can take it all."

She scrambled up, still trembling from her climax, her legs wobbly as she knelt before him in the field, the grass cushioning her knees.

Her hands reached for his thighs for balance, fingers digging into the denim as she looked up at him with adoration.

Rick guided her head gently but firmly, his fingers threading through her hair without pulling, just holding her steady.

"Open wide," he instructed, and she did, her lips wrapping around the head of his cock with a soft, wet suction.

He pushed forward slowly, inch by inch, filling her mouth until she gagged softly at the back of her throat, but he held there, letting her adjust, his voice a soothing command amid the intensity.

"Breathe through your nose. Relax your throat for daddy."

Delilah hollowed her cheeks, sucking him deeper with increasing confidence, her tongue lapping at the underside of his shaft as she bobbed her head in a steady rhythm.

Saliva dripped down her chin, mixing with the precum leaking steadily from his tip.

She didn't stop, driven by his praises—"Just like that, baby, you're doing so good"—and the way he controlled the pace, his hips rocking steadily without overwhelming her, guiding her movements with subtle shifts.

He watched her intently, his grip firm in her hair, ensuring she took him fully each time, her submission fueling his dominance as her throat relaxed around him.

He let her work him for longer than he intended, the wet sounds of her mouth echoing softly, her eyes watering but never breaking contact.

When he felt the tightening in his balls, the base of his spine tingling with impending release, he pulled out with a wet pop, strings of saliva connecting her lips to his cock.

"Enough. Lie back down. Daddy's going to fuck you now, fill that needy pussy until you can't think straight."

Delilah obeyed instantly, easing back onto the grass, spreading her legs wide once more, her body eager under his gaze, her pussy still slick from earlier.

Rick settled over her, his weight a comforting press as his cock nudged her entrance, teasing her clit with the tip before sliding in deep in one controlled thrust that stretched her fully.

She gasped sharply, her nails digging into his shoulders through his shirt, but he pinned her wrists above her head with one hand, his other guiding her hip to still her instinctive squirm.

"Stay still, let daddy set the pace." He started slow, pulling out almost fully to let her feel the drag of every ridge before driving back in, each stroke deliberate, hitting deep and grinding against her g-spot with precision.

Her moans filled the air as he built the intensity, his body covering hers protectively yet possessively, leading her toward another orgasm.

The field around them seemed to fade, the distant sounds of the farm—birds calling, wind rustling—drowned out by their shared breaths and the slap of skin.

"Feel that? That's daddy owning you, making you mine." He released her wrists to hike her legs over his shoulders, folding her in half and angling deeper, his thrusts quickening but never erratic—always in control, always pushing her limits without breaking her, his free hand roaming to pinch her nipples through the thin fabric of her dress.

Delilah's world narrowed to the stretch of his cock inside her, the way he filled her completely with each plunge, his commands whispering in her ear.

"Beg for it, baby. Tell daddy you want to come again."

Her voice came out in a broken whine, "Please, daddy, fuck me harder... I need to come on your cock!"

He obliged, pounding into her with measured force that built like a storm, his thumb returning to her clit, rubbing in tight, insistent circles that made her vision blur.

He edged her once more here, slowing when she neared the edge, drawing out whimpers of protest until she was babbling pleas, her body slick with sweat.

"Hold it, baby. Just a little longer for daddy."

Then, when he was ready, he drove her over, his hips snapping forward as she shattered once more, her pussy milking him in rhythmic contractions as she squirted around his length, the warm flood soaking his balls and the grass beneath.

The sensation tipped him over, and with a guttural groan that rumbled through his chest, Rick buried himself deep, his cock throbbing as he pumped hot cum into her in thick spurts, filling her up until it leaked out of her, mixing with her release.

He stayed there, holding her close, his dominance softening into aftercare as he kissed her forehead, then her lips, tasting the salt of her tears and sweat.

"You did so good for daddy."

pairing: rick grimes x fem!oc (delilah greene)

summary: rick was already obsessed with delilah, but after their first kiss, when she admitted she’d never done this before, something in him shifted. it took everything in him not to lose control.

time & place: season 2, hershels farm- delilah's bedroom

warnings: age gap, smut, first time, virginity loss, unrprotected pinv, dom rick, sub oc, praise kink, cum coating, fingering, nipple play, use of 'baby' & good girl, no plot, third person pov

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ masterlist // wattpad

a/n: first tumblr post ahhh, i already love writing rick and lilah so much, check out his devotion on wattpad for more ♡

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Rick didn't pull far after the kiss.

Just enough to look at her.

Her lips were flushed, parted slightly. Her breathing uneven. 

Her hands still fisted in the front of his shirt like she didn't quite trust herself to let go.

He watched her for a long second.

That look alone made her stomach flip.

"You alright?" he asked quietly.

Not teasing.

Not concerned.

Measuring.

She nodded, but her chest was still rising too fast.

He noticed.

His hand slid from her jaw to her waist again, firmer this time. Not grabbing. Just claiming space.

"Slow down," he murmured.

It wasn't instruction for her alone.

It was for both of them.

He leaned in again, but slower. His mouth brushing hers, testing the pressure before deepening it. Letting her adjust. Letting her respond.

She did.

Immediately.

Her body softened against his like she'd been waiting for permission.

That did something to him.

His grip tightened at her waist, subtle and controlled. 

He felt the way she shivered.

He pulled back just enough to watch her reaction.

"Don't hide from me now," he said low.

Her eyes lifted to his.

"I'm not," she whispered.

He studied her for a second longer.

Then his hand moved.

Slowly.

From her waist... up along her side.

Not under her shirt.

Just over the fabric.

Feeling the curve.

Feeling her breathe under his touch.

She inhaled sharply when his thumb traced just beneath her ribs.

He didn't rush.

He let the silence stretch.

Let her feel every inch of it.

"You still with me?" he asked softly.

She nodded.

"Yes."

Her voice barely held steady.

That made his jaw flex slightly.

He leaned in again — this time his mouth trailing from her lips to her jaw, then lower to her throat. Not biting. Not marking.

Just tasting.

Just testing.

Her fingers slid from his chest to his shoulders, gripping tighter as heat spread through her.

He felt it.

Felt the way her hips rocked back and forth.

That rock nearly cracked his control.

But he didn't rush.

He moved his hand to the small of her back, flattening his palm there. Holding her still.

Grounding her.

"You don't move unless I move you," he murmured quietly against her skin.

Not harsh.

But certain.

She stilled instantly.

Not out of fear.

Out of trust.

That submission — effortless, immediate — made his breath deepen.

He lifted his head to look at her again.

Her cheeks were flushed. Eyes darkened. Lips swollen and pink.

And she looked at him like she'd give him anything he asked for.

That did something dangerous to him.

His hand slid down her back slowly, deliberately, then curved back around to her waist, pushing her hips down onto his bulging cock.

She let him.

Her breath hitched as she felt him beneath her.

He watched her face carefully.

Watched the realization flicker there.

"You feel that?" he asked quietly.

She nodded faintly.

He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to hers.

"Good."

His hand slid up again, fingers brushing beneath the hem of her shirt — not pushing further yet — just grazing warm skin.

Her back arched slightly at the contact.

He exhaled slowly through his nose.

"You trust me?" he asked.

She didn't hesitate.

"Yes."

That was the moment.

The threshold.

His hand moved a little higher.

Her breathing changed.

And that's when—

She stopped him.

"Rick..."

She swallowed, her voice barely steady, eyes dropping to where their bodies pressed together.

"Rick... I've never done this before."

The words didn't shatter the moment.

They tightened it.

Her fingers curled harder in his shirt, heart pounding against her ribs, waiting for something to change — for him to pull back, to hesitate, to look at her differently.

He didn't.

He went still.

Not startled.

Not confused.

Still in the way a man does when something shifts from heat to weight.

His hands remained at her waist, firm now.

His eyes locked onto hers.

"This is your first," he said.

Low.

Measured.

Not questioning her.

Confirming it.

She nodded.

"Yes."

A long second passed.

He studied her face — the nerves, the heat, the way she was still leaning into him despite it.

"You understand what that means," he said quietly.

Not condescending.

Not soft.

Real.

Her breath hitched.

"I do."

His jaw tightened slightly.

"You're not saying this because you feel like you have to."

It wasn't a question.

She shook her head.

"No."

His grip at her waist tightened a fraction — not enough to hurt, just enough to remind her he was there.

Grounded.

Solid.

He searched her face for any flicker of doubt.

Found none.

That was what did it.

His hand slid from her waist to the back of her neck, fingers spreading there, thumb brushing just below her ear.

"Look at me and tell me you want it," he murmured.

She did.

Her eyes were on him. Steady. Open.

"I want this," she said.

"With you."

The air shifted.

Rick inhaled slowly through his nose.

The control in him sharpened — not because he wanted to rush her, but because he understood the gravity now.

"You don't rush this," he said.

Not suggestion.

Decision.

"If we do this, we do it right."

Her breath trembled.

"Okay."

His forehead pressed lightly to hers.

"And you don't go quiet if something hurts," he added quietly. "You tell me."

There was dominance in that — not optional.

She nodded.

"I will."

He watched her a second longer.

Then his mouth returned to hers — slower now, deeper, not testing anymore.

Intentional.

His hand stayed firm at her neck, holding her steady as she melted against him without hesitation.

When he moved again, it was slower, more intentional, his dominance reshaping into something fiercely protective. 

One hand slid up her side, fingers roaming over her ribcage, pressing just enough to feel the rapid flutter of her heartbeat beneath. 

"Feel that?" he murmured, his thumb pressing lightly against her pulse. 

"That's just your body catching up," he murmured. "Slow it down. Breathe with me."

She nodded and began to match his breathing.

He didn't speak more in that moment; his touch said it all, a silent promise that he would guide her through this, that her first time would be his to shape with care.

His hand cupped the back of her neck, thumb brushing the sensitive skin there in a slow, reassuring stroke that sent a shiver down her spine. 

"That's it," he whispered, his lips brushing her temple as he leaned forward.

"Just like that. Good girl."

Rick guided her backward, laying her down on her bed, his body leading hers in a seamless flow.

She sank into her mattress, her legs already feeling like jelly, like they might give way under the weight of what was coming. 

Her mind raced with a million questions—

Would she know what to do? Would it hurt? Could she take his cock?

But his presence drowned it out, his firmness against her softness a reassurance that she didn't have to figure it out alone. 

He paused again, hovering over her, his hand at her neck, tilting her chin up slightly, eyes locking on hers once more. 

He watched her face, the way her lips parted, the subtle nod she gave without words, her eyes wide with that mix of eagerness and desire that tugged at something deep in him.

"Look at me," he said softly, his thumb tracing her jawline. 

"You're beautiful like this—open, trusting me." 

"When you're ready, we'll go slow. Tell me if you want me to keep going," he added, running his thumb over her lip. 

"I want to," she nodded, a small smile breaking through her nerves.

His weight settled carefully over her—not crushing, but enveloping, a protective cage of muscle and heat that made her feel small and cherished all at once.

His knee nudged between her thighs, parting them slowly, giving her time to adjust.

She felt the deliberate press of his knee on her pussy, that was still covered by her clothes.

She gasped softly, her thighs tensing instinctively before relaxing under his guidance, the friction sending a spark of heat through her core that was both thrilling and intimidating.

"Easy now," Rick soothed, his voice a low rumble against her ear as he held still, letting her body acclimate. 

"Feel me there? That's just the start," he said. 

He pushed his knee outwards against her inner thigh.

"Spread a little more for me," he instructed.

She did as he said, spreading her legs out more.

"Yeah, like that. Good girl," he cooed. 

His hand at her side stilled, palm flat against her ribs, feeling the way her breath hitched and steadied. 

He lingered there, letting her body adjust to the intimacy of his thigh between hers, watching for any sign of hesitation. 

Her hands slid up his arms, fingers digging lightly into his muscles, seeking an anchor as waves of sensation rolled through her—new, untested, making her skin flush hot. 

That control in him tightened, his jaw clenching for a beat before he exhaled, leaning down to brush his lips against her collarbone—not a kiss, but a graze, testing her response. 

She arched slightly, a soft sound escaping her throat, half sigh, half whimper, and he lingered there, breath warm against her skin, inhaling the faint scent of her nervousness mingled with desire.

"You like that?" he asked, his lips hovering just above her skin, voice husky with restraint. 

"Tell me, Delilah. I need to hear you," he added.

"Y-yes," she breathed, her voice trembling but honest, the admission making her cheeks burn.

He trailed higher, capturing her mouth again, the kiss deepening but measured, his tongue exploring her mouth. 

Delilah tentatively met him, her tongue brushing his, tasting the faint salt of his skin, her inexperience showing in the hesitant way she moved, but fueled by a need that stirred him. 

As they kissed, his hand slipped under her shirt, fingers trailing her bare stomach.

Her abdomen quivered under his touch, muscles fluttering as if every nerve ending was awakening for the first time. 

He paused once more, hand stilling just below her breast, waiting for her body to settle, for her hips to shift instinctively toward him, a silent affirmation of her readiness.

Pulling back from the kiss, he met her eyes, his hand unmoving. "I'm going to touch you here," he said, his fingers brushing the underside of her breast lightly. 

"Tell me if you want more or if I should stop. Okay?" he said, looking at her deeply. 

"Okay," she whispered, her voice barely audible, but her eyes held his, steady with trust.

Her willingness hit him like a storm—her trust, her submission, stirring something deep in his chest.

The need to claim her without breaking her swelled within him. 

Rick pulled back just enough to tug her dress downwards, exposing her to his gaze, the cool air kissing her skin and making her nipples harden in response.

He took her in slowly, eyes tracing the gentle swell of her breasts, the way her chest rose and fell with each breath, her vulnerability laid bare.

"God, you're perfect," he murmured, his voice thick with admiration. 

"Look at you, all ready for me," he groaned.

His hands were deliberate as they traced the curve of her waist, up to cup her breasts gently, thumbs circling her nipples until they hardened again, under his touch, drawing a soft moan from her lips. 

Delilah's eyes fluttered shut, her body arching into his hands, the sensation sharp and new, sending jolts straight to her core.

She had touched herself before, but this—his rough palms against her softness, the way he kneaded with just enough pressure—was overwhelming, making her thighs clench around his knee.

"That's it, let it build," he encouraged.

"Does it feel good?" he asked.

Delilah quickly nodded her head. 

"You're doing so well, opening up for me," he smiled. 

Rick watched her every reaction, his thumb pausing on one nipple, rolling it slowly as he leaned down to take the other into his mouth. 

His tongue flicked over the bud, warm and wet, sucking gently, and she gasped, her fingers threading into his hair, holding him there as pleasure bloomed unfamiliar and intense.

"Rick... oh," she moaned, the sound pulling a growl from him.

He released her with a soft pop, breath fanning over the damp skin, and checked her again—eyes meeting hers, seeing the dilated pupils, the parted lips, urging him on despite the flush of embarrassment at her own eagerness. 

His hand trailed lower now, fingers wrapping around the hem of her sundress.

"Gonna take this off, okay?" he told her lowly. 

"Okay," she nodded, lifting her arms.

He quickly worked to remove the dress, guiding it up and over her head, leaving her in just her panties. 

"God, you're beautiful," he breathed out, taking her in.

"It's all for me to see, to touch," he added, his hands grasping her breasts.

"All for you," Delilah moaned, throwing her head back.

Rick shifted, his thigh pressing more firmly against her clit through the thin barrier of her panties, rocking slowly to let her feel the building ache. 

Delilah whimpered, her hips bucking slightly, unpracticed but instinctive, the friction making her wetter, her body responding in ways she hadn't fully anticipated. 

He groaned low in his throat, the sound vibrating against her neck as he kissed there, marking the spot with his teeth just enough to sting without breaking skin.

"You're getting wet for me, aren't you?" he said, his voice dropping lower, fingers tracing the damp spot on her panties. 

"That's your body saying yes. I'm going to touch you there now—over the fabric first. Relax into it."

He gently moved his fingers over the fabric of her panties.

Her breath hitched, and he noticed. 

"Breathe," he murmured, the word a command as his fingers now slipped beneath the fabric, brushing her folds for the first time. 

She was slick, ready despite her nerves, and he paused there, one finger circling her entrance lightly, not pushing in yet, just teasing, feeling her clench around nothing. 

The intimacy of it—the way her body trembled, the soft pleas she didn't even realize she was making—deepened his obsession for her.

"Feel that?" he asked, his finger gliding along her slit. 

"That's you, so wet for me. I'm gonna touch you here now," he said, thumb circling her clit.

"Tell me how it feels," he instructed.

"It... it's tingling," she gasped, her hips shifting toward his hand. "More, please."

Rick's control held firm, his movements deliberate as he explored her, thumb rubbing in slow circles that made her cry out, her back arching off the bed. 

He watched her face, the way pleasure twisted her features, ensuring it stayed good, that her first touches were ones of discovery and delight. 

He added a finger, sliding it inside her slowly, curling gently to find that spot that made her gasp, her walls fluttering around the intrusion, tight and warm.

"I'm inside now," he said, his voice steady as he pumped slowly. "God, you're so tight around my finger."

Delilah's breath came in pants now, her hands roaming his back, nails digging in as waves of sensation built, unfamiliar and intoxicating. 

"You're taking it so well," he praised.

"Rick..." she whispered, her voice breaking on his name, a plea and a surrender all in one.

"I know, I feel you clenching," he replied, adding a second finger carefully, stretching her inch by inch. 

"That's two now—slow, see?" he said, slowly pumping in and out.

She looked down at his fingers slicked with her wetness and nodded.

"Your pussy's gripping me, pulling me in, let the pressure build, baby, when you're close, I'll tell you," he said before returning his lips to her mouth.

He kissed her deeply, swallowing her sounds, his fingers moving in steady rhythm while his thumb kept that pressure on her clit, building her toward release with patient precision.

The claiming was there in every pump—intense but steady, his body over hers a shield as much as a conqueror, the irreversibility of their bond sealing with each shared breath, each touch that marked her first as his.

As she teetered on the edge, her body tensing, he slowed just enough to draw it out, whispering against her lips, 

"You're almost there—feel it?" he breathed out.

"Mhm," she managed to get out, eyes squeezed shut.

"Let go for me, Lilah. Come on, my fingers. I've got you," he soothed.

She did, shattering around his fingers with a cry, her first orgasm with him crashing through her like a revelation, leaving her boneless and breathless beneath him. 

Rick held her through it, his hand stilling inside her, kissing her temple, her cheek, murmuring soft praises as she came down. 

"That's my girl," he said, voice warm with pride. 

"You did so well," he praised as he slowly removed his soaked fingers from inside her.

Delilah's body still quivered from the intense release Rick's fingers had wrung from her, her inner thighs slick with her own arousal, her chest rising and falling in ragged breaths. 

The room felt smaller now, the air thick and heavy, charged with the scent of her pleasure and the raw anticipation of what came next. 

She laid there on the rumpled sheets, legs parted just enough to invite him, her small frame vulnerable beneath his towering presence. 

Rick loomed over her, his muscular body a wall of heat, sweat glistening on his skin from the effort of holding back.

He leaned down, his face inches from hers, breath mingling with her gasps. One large hand cradled the back of her neck, fingers tangling in her hair to keep her gaze locked on him. 

"Don't look away, Delilah," he commanded softly, his voice a deep rumble that vibrated through her bones. 

"This is your first time. 'M gonna take care of you, but you have to let me lead, nod if you're ready."

Her heart pounded like a drum in her chest, the reality of it crashing over her. 

She was a virgin, untouched until his fingers had claimed her moments ago, and now his cock—thick, rigid, and far too intimidating—pressed insistently against her inner thigh. 

She swallowed hard, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes, but she nodded, her voice a whisper.

"I'm ready, Rick. I need you."

A flicker of something raw crossed his face—desire mixed with the fierce protectiveness that made his jaw clench. 

He wanted to plunge into her, to lose himself in that virgin heat, but he reined it in, his body trembling with the strain. 

This was her, innocent and yielding, and he'd be damned if he hurt her more than necessary. 

"Good girl," he murmured, his lips brushing her forehead in a tender contrast to the dominance in his tone. 

He quickly moved to free himself of his pants and underwear cock springing up onto his stomach.

Delilah took him in.

The sight of his already leaking cock, made her core pulse again.

He moved back to her, knees bracketing her hips, pinning her gently but firmly to the mattress. 

His free hand trailed down her side, worshipping the soft curve of her waist, the dip of her hip, before gripping her thigh and spreading her wider. 

"Open up for me, baby. Let me see that pretty pussy."

Delilah's cheeks burned, but she obeyed, her legs falling apart under his guidance. 

The cool air kissed her exposed folds, still swollen and sensitive from her climax, and she bit her lip as he positioned himself. 

The blunt head of his cock nudged her entrance, slick with her juices, and he rubbed it slowly up and down her slit, coating himself, teasing her clit until she whimpered. 

"Feel that?" he asked, voice husky, eyes never leaving hers. 

"I'm going in slow. Breathe with me—in and out."

She inhaled sharply as he pressed forward, just the tip breaching her. 

The stretch was immediate, a burning pressure that made her gasp and tense. 

Her walls, still so tight and unyielding from inexperience, resisted him, clenching instinctively. 

"Oh, Rick—it's too big," she cried out, her hands flying to his chest, nails scraping his skin. 

Panic edged her voice, the pain sharp and unfamiliar, mingling with the lingering pleasure. 

He froze, every muscle in his body locking as he fought the urge to drive deeper.

Her heat enveloped just that small part of him, it made his cock throb painfully, pre-cum leaking inside her. 

Fuck, she was tight—impossibly so, like her body was made to torment him with temptation.

His cock screamed to push deeper, but his heart anchored him. 

She was choosing him, trusting him.

'Shh, I know it hurts, baby,' he soothed, his thumb stroking her cheek, wiping away a stray tear. 

He leaned in closer, his chest pressing against her breasts, the proximity overwhelming, his scent—musk and sweat—filling her senses. 

"Just the tip. Hold onto me. You can tell me if it hurts too much," he said in a low voice. 

Delilah's fingers dug into his biceps, feeling the corded strength there, a reminder of his control.

She forced herself to relax, exhaling as he instructed, her eyes wide and locked on his. 

The pain ebbed slightly, replaced by a fullness that bordered on ache. 'Okay... it's a little better. Keep going, please.'

Rick's restraint loosened at her plea, a low groan escaping him. 

He inched forward, deliberate and measured, his cock sliding deeper into her virgin pussy. 

Her walls stretched around him, fluttering in protest, gripping him so fiercely that it drew a low guttural moan from his lips. 

Halfway in, he paused again, sweat beading on his brow, his hips twitching with the effort to stay still. 

He was drowning already—in her pussy, the way she molded to him, pulling him under like a current. 

"You're doing so fucking good," he whispered, his mouth at her ear, voice laced with possession. 

"Taking my big cock like a good girl. Look at how you're opening up for me."

She glanced down between them, where their bodies joined, his thick shaft disappearing into her small, stretched pussy.

Tears spilled over, but she didn't look away, meeting his intense stare.

 "It hurts, but... feels good. Really good."

Those words undid him a fraction more. 

Rick's hand roamed her body in reverence, cupping one breast, thumb circling the hardened nipple before pinching it lightly, drawing a moan from her. 

He kissed her collarbone, then lower, sucking the sensitive skin of her throat as he rocked his hips minutely, testing her. 

"That's my girl. Feel every inch. I'm not all the way in yet—breathe through it." He pushed a little deeper, her walls submitting to him now, the last of her virginity surrendering to him with a sharp sting that made her cry out.

"Rick! Too much—wait," she gasped, her legs trembling, pussy clenching hard around him. 

The fullness was overwhelming, his girth filling her to the brim, pressing against places she didn't know existed.

He stilled once more, buried as deep as he dared for now, his forehead pressed to hers, breaths syncing in the charged silence. 

"I know, baby. I feel you squeezing me so tight. It's okay to hurt a little—it's your first time. But you're safe with me. Tell me when you want more."

His other hand slipped between them, fingers finding her clit, rubbing slow circles to ease the burn, mixing pleasure with the stretch.

Delilah's hips bucked involuntarily at the touch, the dual sensations sparking stars behind her eyes. 

The pain dulled under his skilled fingers, her arousal building again despite the ache.

"More... I'm okay now. Deeper, Rick. I need all of you."

With a guttural sound of surrender, he complied, thrusting forward in a controlled slide until his hips met hers, fully sheathed in her tight heat. 

Her pussy gripped him like a fist, wet and pulsing, and he groaned, head dropping to her shoulder. 

He was lost—drowning in the sensation, the way her walls rippled around his length, milking him without mercy. 

"Fuck, Lilah... your pussy's perfect. So small, so tight around my cock. Feels so good."

He held there, letting her adjust, his cock throbbing inside, her breath hot against his skin. 

"Such a good girl. You're taking it all. Now, move with me, rock your hips up when I pull back."

She nodded, her body learning his rhythm. 

He withdrew slowly, almost to the tip, then sank back in, deliberate and deep, each thrust measured to build her pleasure without overwhelming. 

His hands worshipped her—one kneading her ass, lifting her to meet him, the other tracing her ribs, her belly, before returning to her breast, mouth latching onto the nipple to suck hard. 

Teeth grazed, tongue soothed, and she arched into it, pain forgotten in the rising tide.

"That's it," he praised, voice rough with emotion. 

"Feel how I stretch you? How deep I am in your pussy now?" he moaned, thrusting in her again.

She cried out, throwing her arm over her face.

"Don't hide from me—let me see your pretty face." He captured her lips in a deep kiss, dominating her mouth as he did with her body.

Delilah moaned into him, her legs wrapping around his waist, heels digging into his back. 

The fullness turned to bliss, her clit grinding against his pelvis with every thrust. "Rick... it feels so good now. Deeper—please, don't stop."

Her words fueled him; he thrusted harder, still controlled but insistent, hips snapping with growing urgency. 

He was addicted, hips grinding to bury himself impossibly deeper, her pussy's grip pulling him toward the edge. 

"You're mine, baby. This tight little pussy—made for my cock. Cum on it. Show me how much you love this."

His fingers returned to her clit, rubbing firmly, while his mouth trailed kisses down her neck, nipping at her shoulder. 

He worshipped every inch—licking the valley between her breasts, sucking marks into her skin, hands gripping her thighs to spread her wider, exposing her completely.

The tension coiled tight in her belly, the emotional weight of it all—the pain she'd endured, the trust she'd given—pushing her higher. 

"I'm close... Rick, oh god, I'm gonna cum!" Her walls spasmed, clenching around him in rhythmic pulses as her orgasm hit, waves of ecstasy crashing through her, soaking his cock.

Rick growled through it, thrusting deep to feel every contraction, her release drenching him. 

He was close, the slick heat overwhelming, but he held on, riding her peak until she slumped beneath him.

Only then did he pull out, the wet slide obscene in the quiet room.

Climbing up her, he places his knees around her waist. He fisted his cock, slick with her cum, and stroked fast. 

"Look at me, baby. Watch me."

She did, eyes hazy but obedient, as he erupted—thick ropes of cum painting her tits, dripping down her nipples.

He milked every drop, rubbing the head against her skin to spread it, claiming her.

Exhausted, he fell beside her, pulling her close, his dominant edge softening into aftercare. 

"You did so good, baby. My pretty girl."