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crazytxgradstudent · 2 months ago

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Series Masterlist

Chapter 9

Warnings: Panic attacks, masturbation

Days had passed and you found yourself feeling comfortable, approaching safe. Carol had kept every word of things she promised with the exception of one: you had not been trained to defend yourself. Once you had gathered the courage to ask her about it, the kind woman had explained she wasn’t sure how to go about it just yet with the amount of fear and uncertainty you still carried.

It was understandable. If a man approached you too quickly, you still cowered. You continued to feel intimidated by some of the other women. And then there were things with Daryl. He continued to avoid you like the plague. Now, he wouldn’t even approach Carol if you were near, often calling her over to him instead. She continued to assure you that he just needed time; that things would become less awkward. She had given no reason to not believe her.

It was hardly midday when you ventured outside unescorted. You had helped Maggie with the dishes inside. She had made a valiant attempt at conversation but she was one of the females you still had a hard time being near. Being outdoors stripped you of the anxiety the chore had left you with, feeling less confined.

You spotted Carol immediately, the smallest of smiles curving your lips. She was standing at the corner of the wall, looking out toward the gardening area and the fences beyond. You picked up your pace, eager to feel the safety only her presence provided.

“Carol!” Your voice was still small and unsure but it was much better than the whispered replies you gave upon your arrival. It had only been a couple of weeks. You were constantly reassured that it would get better.

“Oh, Y/N. Wait—”

The words failed to stop you in time and you skidded to a halt just in front of her—and Daryl, who was leaning against the other side of the wall.

“Um, hello, Daryl.” You dropped your head, eyes on the ground. The man hummed, bumped Carol with his elbow, and then walked away a few paces. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see him. I wouldn’t have—”

“Hey, it’s alright.” Carol rubbed your arm, angling her head in an attempt to catch your gaze. “It’s okay.”

You gave a tiny nod, lifting your head but your eyes stayed focused on the ground. “I was wondering if maybe—if you don’t mind—could we work with my walker training a little today?” Carol opened her mouth to answer before letting her gaze shift. She held up a finger and strolled over to where Daryl was standing.

You watched with muted curiosity, ready to drop your eyes should he look your way. Carol stood shoulder to shoulder with him, leaning into him to say something while keeping her gaze forward. Whatever she said had his head turning her direction so quickly that you flinched.

His posture had tensed, his eyes wide beneath the dark fringe of hair. Carol kept speaking even while he shook his head vehemently. When her head turned enough for you to see her face, she was smiling. Daryl appeared to be fighting some sort of inner battle while under her soft gaze. His arms fell to his sides, fists clenching repeatedly.

“Fine.” You heard him growl.

Carol squeezed his bicep and turned back to you with a broad grin. “Great news! Daryl is going to train you.”

Now it was your turn to go rigid. “Do you—are you—he hates me.”

Carol clicked her tongue at you from behind that smile of hers. “We’ve talked about this. He doesn’t hate you. Daryl’s complicated but he’s got a good heart.” She gripped your chin ever so gently, making sure you met her eyes. “I trust him with my life.”

You felt tears stinging behind your eyes; from fear, from guilt, from a place of longing. You knew you could trust Carol with your life and she trusted Daryl, you could learn to do that too. “Okay.”

She smiled again and moved her hand to your cheek. “Good. Now get on over there. He’s waiting for you.”

“Now?” You gasped.

“Yes, yes. Go, go.” She made a shooing motion and crossed her arms when you finally made a step toward where Daryl was still standing.

You didn’t quite stop at his side; just behind him instead. Swallowing hard, you gathered enough courage to extend your arm and tap his shoulder. He didn’t turn but acknowledged you with a grunt. “Carol, um, said you would help me. Help me learn to fight off the walkers.”

“Mhm.” Daryl shifted on his feet. “Y’ever use a gun ‘fore?”

You hadn’t. Growing up, your mother didn’t believe in guns and never allowed your father to have one. When the man broke into your house the day after your seventeenth birthday, maybe if there had been a gun, your parents would still be alive. “No, sir.”

“Daryl.” The archer was already massaging his forehead. “S’gonna be a long day. Let’s go.” He began walking in long strides. You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you, and nearly had to run to catch up.

Behind, Carol stood with her back against the wall, arms crossed, and grinning. Rick joined her a moment later, wiping the sweat from his brow.

“You think that’s a good idea?” He asked, watching the two of you.

“Probably not.” She met the former sheriff’s gaze with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “Daryl won’t hurt her. He just needed a little push.”

“More like a drop kick.”

“What? I think they’ll be good for each other.”

Rick smiled and shook his head. “If you say so.”

“Ya have to know what the endgame is ‘fore ya learn much else.” Daryl explained, pacing back and forth behind you with his arms crossed. He had handed you a large knife, the weight of it heavy in your petite hand. “Ya can’t kill a walker the same way ya’d kill a person.”

“Aren’t they people?” You asked meekly, clutching the weapon and not meeting his eyes. You could see his steps halt.

“Not anymore, no.” His boots were walking toward you now and you kept your eyes on them. “S’a virus. We all got it. No matter how ya die, ya end up one’a them. Unless it's taken care of.”

“Taken—care of?” You finally looked up to find him watching you carefully. The sun softened your anxiety, shadowing most of his features from just behind him. You closed one eye and squinted the other.

Daryl reached out to tap a finger against your temple, hesitating there before snatching his hand back as if you’d burned him. “S’gotta be the brain.”

“The brain.” You echoed, looking back to the undead snarling and moaning against the chain link. You felt nauseous on top of the suffocating anxiety. “We’ve all got it?”

“Mhm.” The archer gave you a moment for that information to sink in. Being in such close proximity had his heart beating hard enough to break his ribs. The images he’d manifested that night in the shower forced their way to the forefront of his mind, and he thought he’d be sick. Clearing his throat, he took a step back, cursing Carol with every breath. “Ya ready?”

You began to tremble, flexing your fingers around the knife’s hilt. “No.” You had to be honest. Feigned bravado would get you nowhere.

“They can’t get atcha.” You nodded and took a step toward the fence with Daryl following. “For now, aim for the eye. S’the softest spot.”

You nodded again. Singling out a smaller female, you lifted the blade, hesitating.

“Don’t think. Thinkin’ gets ya dead.”

With a deep breath, you drove the knife home, flinching at the squelch of the eyeball being pierced. When the blade was as deep as it would go, you released it. The walker dropped down and dangled from the weapon caught in the opening of the fence.

“Don’t leave it there.” Daryl corrected you sternly, rushing toward you to free the knife and allow the walker to crumble to the ground. The weapon was wiped clean on his thigh before he flipped it in his hand to catch it by the blade and hold it out to you. “Again.”

When you stabbed the next corpse, you pulled and stumbled back when the knife slipped free. Daryl caught you by your shoulders and let you regain your balance before quickly releasing you. He rushed backwards but kept a safe distance in case something went wrong.

“Use your momentum. Stab an’ pull.” The archer freed his other knife from his hip and traipsed toward the fence, not hesitating to drive the large blade through an eye socket and pull back with a skillfulness you instantly envied. “Go.”

You mimicked his actions, stabbing and yanking the knife free. It was sloppy with a moment of hesitation you were sure he’d scold you for. Instead he gave a jerky nod.

“Better. Again.”

Stab. Pull.

“Again.”

Stab. Pull.

“Again.”

Stab. Pull.

“Again.”

By the time the sun was setting, casting a purple and orange hue over the sky, you had nearly cleared the fence on your own. Your arms ached. Your clothes were drenched in sweat. Finally, Daryl said the one thing you’d been yearning to hear for the past three hours.

“That’s enough. You’re done for today.”

Dropping your arm heavily to your side, you turned with your eyes on the ground. Just as you started to offer his knife back, you realized that he was already gone. Looking up, you found him nearly at the prison doors. He was in that much of a hurry to get away from you. But surely he didn’t mean to leave you with his knife.

Maybe you should go give it back? Take that time to say thank you? Maybe you should ask Carol.

First, you desperately needed a shower. You were filthy. You felt like all eyes were on you as you walked. Your skin began to crawl. Your scars began to burn. You could hear the men whispering. Nails dug into the back of your ears as you covered them, filtering out the filthy suggestions made in hushed tones.

You couldn’t get to the door fast enough, throwing it open and pressing your back flat to the wall just inside. You panted through whimpers and sniffles, your cheeks wet.

You weren’t safe. Nowhere was safe. They would come for you. Rick, Glenn, all of them. Even Hershel would have his way. At least he could mend the damage he caused. Daryl. Daryl would watch. He’d let it happen. And then he’d have you.

“Hey, hey. You’re okay. Take a breath for me.”

You were breathing, weren’t you? Breathing but no air could get through. Your lungs burned.

“Come on, Y/N. Slow down, take a breath. That’s right.”

Carol. Carol was there. Carol was your safety. Carol promised. “Carol?” Your voice cracked on the second syllable.

“Yeah, I gotcha, sweetheart.” A warm arm enveloped your shoulders, pulling you into her side as she walked you toward the cells. “Can you tell me what happened?”

“I—” Your lip quivered, fresh tears gathering on your waterline. “It’s like—I was back—back with Big Jazz. All the men were—” You stopped walking, wide shining eyes searching Carol’s for reassurance. “They were gonna hurt me. All of them.”

“No one’s gonna hurt you. I promised, remember?” After a moment— and replaying her promise over and over in your mind’s eye —you nodded. “Besides, Daryl wouldn’t let anyone hurt you.”

“Daryl was gone.” You replied quietly, moving the blanket aside to enter your cell. You pulled your t-shirt over your head, leaving you in a camisole— leaving your scars visible to Carol. You knew she could see them but your trust in her ran deeper than you could explain. She still hadn’t told you her story. In a way, she didn’t need to. You could sense the pain she had buried. You could sense it with Daryl, too.

“What do you mean he was gone?”

You gathered your night clothes and draped a towel across your shoulders, hiding the scars from the rest of the prison. “He had already gone inside.”

“Damnit, Daryl.” The silver-haired woman wore her frustration in her expression. The archer was in for it, you surmised. “I told him to stay with you.”

You wiped at your face and sniffled. “I told you, he hates me.”

Carol sighed. “Go take a shower. I’ll talk to Daryl.”

You gave her a tight smile and left the cell. In your time there, one of your most celebrated accomplishments was showering alone. It wasn’t far from your cell to the showers, within shouting distance if you needed the woman.

You clutched your pajamas tightly, feeling exhaustion pulling at you from the earlier episode. You always felt drained when it happened, along with a sense of hopelessness. Big Jazz still had his fingers deeply rooted in your mind, dragging you down just when you felt you were making progress.

You opened the shower door slowly. The way it creaked and moaned reminded you of the door to your cage at the club. Once it was open just enough for you to fit, you wiggled through and eased it shut.

You always chose one of the back stalls. If someone came in, the door would alert you and you would have time to react. You were pulling the towel off your shoulders and the hair tie from your hair when you realized that there was water running. And by then, it was too late.

You were frozen to that spot, eyes wide and unblinking.

You were staring at a very naked Daryl. His skin was glistening from the water running down his back to the curve of his ass. His head was bowed and one arm outstretched with a palm pressed against the wall. His hair looked longer with the weight of the water.

The first thing you noticed was the scars littered across his back. Deep, angry reminders of an unpleasant past. Some looked like your own. You flinched as if a belt snapped right by your ear.

The second thing you noticed was the movement of his other hand. It was obvious what was happening, but just in case you were questioning, he gave a low groan as his forehead came to rest against his hand on the wall. The muscles in his back, his arm, rippled as he continued stroking himself.

You started to back away. You shouldn’t have seen this.

“Fuck.” Daryl groaned, pumping himself faster. “Y/N.”

Your clothes and the towel tumbled from your arms, hitting the floor with a soft thud. Panic bubbled up within you, seizing your lungs in a vice grip. You couldn’t breathe. But the sound went unheard, the hunter's senses muted by pleasure. You crouched, your eyes not leaving his form as you grabbed your clothing. Without another thought that could cause you to hesitate, you ran.

And never noticed that you’d forgotten the towel on the floor.

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crazytxgradstudent · 2 months ago

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Fun fact, only Thorin, Frerin, Dis, Balin and Bifur were born before Smaug. All the rest of the Company were born after.

Even so, Thorin was 24, Frerin was 19, Dis was 10 and Balin was 7.

Bifur doesn’t have date of birth or age given to us but it is said that he was forced into exile from Erebor like the others. Everyone else is said to have been born in the Blue Mountains ect.

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crazytxgradstudent · 3 months ago

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AN HONEST MISTAKE

Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: swiping left and right on tinder, you think you match with Joel Miller, a handsome single dad in his late 30s. Feeling enamored and horny you decide to meet in person, only to be met with an almost completely different person. warnings: darkfic, dub-con eliments due to alcohol intoxication, gaslighting, very big age gap [Joel is 61], switching POVs, explicit sexual content. Some tags are not added to avoid spoilers, dm me if you need the full list. reader description: afab she/her, has hair long enough to be pulled; has boobs and ass; reader mid to late 20s-early 30s. word count: 6,2k

a/n: thank you for all of the excitement and interest you'd shown to this idea, i have been working on it for some time and i'm finally happy to show you part one. huge thanks to @arcanefox207 , Ally helped me to polish this chapter and shown me a lot of support which i truly appreciate <3 READ ON AO3

MASTERLIST | part 2

Dating wasn’t fun. It always felt like an inescapable chore for you, and you tried to avoid it at all costs. Hiding your face in your morning cup of tea when attacked by your mom’s questions, her voice distorted by poor video connection. Joking only to avoid the topic of boyfriends and girlfriends when your friend kept nagging you about it. Losing yourself in an unsatisfactory myriad of hands that belonged to faceless people when the nights got too cold for empty sheets.

You looked at your table, a small hand-made sign read “do better” in your own handwriting. And that was exactly what you were going to do. You were going to kill not two, but three birds with one stone, and that stone was going to be going on a date. A real, proper date, with excruciatingly predictable questions and awkward first touches. And you were going to have fun.

On the fourth hour of swiping Tinder, you were a breath away from ghosting everyone you knew and hiding in the Peruvian Amazonia for the rest of your life. The few conversations that you managed to have quickly died out when the person you talked to learned what you were there for. A month ago you’d find a pretty face and invite them over to smoke and have some fun, but that wasn’t a great start for an actual relationship. No, your fuckgirl days were over, so you went back to swiping.

And that was when you saw him.

Joel M., 39 Southern gentleman with a beautiful daughter. Work in construction, so I can build you a house. I am looking for a real connection, please, respect that.

God, he was handsome. Your mouth started salivating as you swiped through his pictures. He was broad, tall and had a tool in his hand. Not the one you immediately started wondering about, but it looked like at least he didn’t lie in his description. Feeling like a complete creep, you screenshotted his profile. If you weren’t a match, at least you’d have someone pretty to think about before going to bed tonight.

Gently, as if afraid, you swiped right. Your screen lit up, and so did your face, you gave a wide grin to your phone. “It’s a match!”

He was too good to be true. A gentleman, he didn’t lie there. Joel gave you the exact amount of attention to make you run towards your phone whenever it rang. It was definitely nothing like you expected. He was attentive, remembering what you said and when, never shied away from your questions, and on top of that he was devastatingly hot.

You heard a blip of a new message and unlocked your phone, a smile already plastered on your face like a Pavlovian reaction.

[Joel M.]: I was thinking, we seem to have a nice connection here, don’t we? [You]: I think so, too. A little unbelievable, but I am feeling hopeful. [Joel M.]: Unbelievable how?[You]: Unbelievable that no one snatched you up earlier. From where I am sitting, you look like a full package. [Joel M.]: Well, you’re sitting awfully far away, so I see how it looks like that. Why don’t we meet in person and find out if you still think the same, darlin? [You]: Joel, are you inviting me on a date? [Joel M.]: Only if you’re accepting. How about a dinner at my place? I am a pretty decent cook.

Your hand hovered above the screen. It wasn’t smart, going to a man’s place for your first date. He could be a creep, he could be a murderer… But then again, you could never brag about your self preservation instincts, sometimes you just thought with a little kitty purring between your legs.

You tapped on his profile again, looking at the zoomed in picture of his face. His brown eyes looked sad, but kind. A half-smile tugged on his soft-looking lips. Just a few sprinkles of salt and pepper in his hair. Even if he turned out to be a creep, you’d never had such a handsome lay before, and you were planning to check all of his tools as soon as you could, you thought to yourself before typing your reply.

[You]: I’d love that. Send me the address?

You weren’t worried, not really. You never struggled with too low of self-esteem. You knew your strong suits, and you wore them like armor. The upcoming date sent a pleasant shiver down your back, anticipation made you giggle into the void of your lonely apartment. The closer the day came, the giddier you became.

So on the fateful night you had enough confidence to pick out the dress that was a bit uncomfortable but looked gorgeous on your body. You smacked some lipstick that complemented the shade of your skin, grabbed a small purse and a bottle of wine and winked at your reflection in the mirror. You looked good, you felt even better.

August kept tricking you with its weather, the days still suffocated you with heat while the nights were unpleasantly chilly. You hugged your naked shoulders and rubbed your skin in an attempt to warm up as you waited for your Uber to arrive.

You got inside the white Honda Civic, the smell of cigarettes unpleasantly soaked into the seats so you opened up the window praying that it wouldn’t stink up your dress. The driver acknowledged you with a small grunt and a nod, you did the same, not willing to start a conversation. The estimated forty minutes dragged out and became an hour in the man’s GPS, of course you got stuck in traffic it was just your luck. And on your way to a literal dream man, no less.

Your kitten heel kept tapping on the car floor, the annoyed-looking driver gave you a stern look in the rear view mirror that you completely ignored. You needed to warn Joel that you were going to be late, and it made you want to grind your teeth. You hated being late, be that a party, a dentist appointment or a walk in the park with a friend. It made you feel guilty, leaving your palms sticky with cold sweat. You clearly weren’t going to make a good first impression, and with the way you chewed your lip bloody, you might not even get a kiss. You looked at the picture of him you shamelessly saved to your camera roll. Out of the two of you, you were definitely winning the creep competition, while he was just a dream come true.

You zoomed in on his face, your thumb caressed the pixels of his skin. There were smile lines around his lips, and you wondered what made him laugh so hard throughout his life that the remnants of the gesture permanently cut themself into his skin. Joel’s eyes were gleaming with youthful mischief, something you’d thought a person loses after having a child, but he clearly proved you wrong. Sun made his brown look like amber, adding to the overall handsomeness of the man. You imagined yourself next to him – yes, it was way too early, but you couldn’t keep your mind from wandering – he’d be taller, bigger than you, his strong hand on your lower back as you walk through the city. The eyes of men and women hungry to have what’s yours, but he’d only look at you. Yes, he was a bit older, but still young enough to have you on his arm without dealing with accusatory stares and venomous whispers behind your back.

A loud honking from the car behind you made you jump in your seat. The line of cars finally started moving and it brought a sense of relief to you. You had 20 more minutes, maybe you were still going to make it.

The sound of your heels kissing the pavement echoed like gunfire through the neighborhood. When your taxi left you at the needed address, you looked around. It wasn’t too late, the small houses still looked alive with yellow lights and muffled voices. You took a deep breath, straightened your back and looked in front of yourself, examining the location.

From the outside, Joel’s house looked nice. Nothing too fancy, the white paint a bit chapped, but the porch looked recently freshened up. A sturdy looking rocking chair covered with a blanket and a pillow gave the place a cozy feeling. His lawn was perfectly trimmed, and you imagined watching him mow it from that same porch with an iced tea in your hand. He’d be sweaty and shirtless, you’d drag him inside to fuck before he finished even a third of the territory. You clenched your thighs, a small pool of wetness gathering in your thongs. You better keep that thought away or you’d jump the poor man’s bones before he had the chance to say hello.

You checked your phone, 8:27 PM. Not too late, even acceptable in some countries, you tried to cheer yourself on. You hoped he wasn’t as insane about being late as you were or here went your first date in years. Gently, you tapped on the wooden door, the sound of someone approaching from the other side made you squeeze the bottle neck harder.

When the door flew open, you stretched out the hand holding the wine and fired out an apology in the most comical way you could, your eyes tightly shut.

“I’m so sorry I’m late, the traffic was horrendous. I promise I am usually never late, ever.” When no reply followed, you opened your eyes, a smile still tugging on your lips as you took in the man in front of you. It was both Joel and not. With your hand still outstretched, your mouth dropped with a hundred different questions, but you only managed to ask one. “Joel?”

“Hello, darlin’.”

“Is this some kind of a joke? Are you his dad or something?”

The man in front of you was not in his late thirties, hell, he wasn’t even in his late forties! The Joel that was staring at you looked pretty old, mid-fifties at least, you thought to yourself. His hair was mostly salt, no pepper in sight. It was inches longer than in the picture, soft-looking, it curled at the bottom. He was as tall and broad as you imagined, and it did give a little pang to your core that you quickly shut off. His face was ridden in wrinkles, prominent crows feet near his eyes that were still sad, still brown. You had half a thought to turn around and order yourself an Uber home, but the bewildered look on his face made you stop where you were.

“Darlin’, I know what’s going through your head right now, because I promise I didn’t expect you to be this young either! It must’ve been Sarah, my baby girl. She set up this thing, said she was tired of seeing her old man sad an’ miserable. Guess she didn’t think I was mighty attractive anymore.” He says with a self-deprecating chuckle. “She just straight up told me today that a nice woman would come over for a dinner, said she’d be here too, and if I loved her I had better prepared my nicest shirt an’ all. Christ, what was that girl thinking?”

You caught yourself feeling bad for the man, your heart clenching. He was still definitely handsome. His stomach was slightly more prominent and his was shirt hugging him tightly in the middle. His hand that tucked a little white strand of hair behind his ear matched his face in little sun spots, skin that had been kissed by the burning star for longer than you’d been alive. But he still got it, in a silver fox kind of way. Poor man, put into such an embarrassing situation by his own daughter. Being willingly childfree had never looked more appealing to you.

“You came all the way here just to be disappointed, I can’t tell you how-“

“I’m not disappointed,” you interrupted him quickly and stepped forward, an unknown force drove your hand to squeeze his forearm in a reassuring gesture. His eyes dropped when your manicured nails dug into his ironed flannel. “Just surprised, but that’s not a bad thing. We both unknowingly catfished each other.”

“Catfish? Ain’t that a type of fish?”

“No,” you laughed lightheartedly, the man was adorable. The cold breeze picked up, and you were reminded that you were still on the porch, if any neighbors were out they were definitely getting a fresh batch of gossip to discuss before sleep. “It’s when you… You know what, no matter, it’s not important.”

Joel looked hesitant, his jaw ticked and you noticed him look you up and down before swallowing hard. Was he blushing?

“I want to make it up to you before you go. I made us a nice dinner when I thought you were umm… age appropriate,” Joel tightened his lips and gave you an apologetic smile. “It ain’t catfish, just a steak, but I swear on my mama, it’s good.”

Before you could respond, your stomach growled making the decision for you. Your hand jumped to it, fisting the material of your dress as if trying to silence the embarrassing sound.

“Well, I don’t see any harm in that,” you smiled, accepting Joel’s invitation. The man looked harmless and you didn’t want to leave him sad and miserable, it seemed like he felt guilty enough. “It was quite a long drive.” Maybe it all could become a funny story you both would tell your friends. Separately.

He stepped aside and you waltzed inside his house. It was big enough to still be cozy without making you feel trapped. The warm light made everything look safe and homey, hardwood floor creaked gently under your footsteps. The door lock clicked behind you and you turned around.

Joel was looking at you, a more confident smile now stretching his lips. The soft lighting took a few years off his face, and once again you noted that the man aged like a fine wine. That reminded you of the bottle you were still tightly gripping in your hand, and you stretched it out to Joel for the second time that night. He accepted with a muttered ‘thank you’.

“Feel at home, sweetheart, I’ll just grab something real quick.” Joel pointed towards his kitchen, the space was open, luring you in with a mouth-watering smell.

You felt awkward walking around a stranger’s house, but followed his instructions.

You didn’t see the way his eyes lingered on the exposed skin of the back of your thighs, his tongue flicking over his lower lip in anticipation.

He disappeared further into the hallway, and you made your way towards the dining table.

Alone, you took the opportunity to study the place you were allowed in. Unfortunately, it wasn’t very unique, or maybe you were just a shitty detective. Joel’s kitchen that spilled out into a dining room was disappointingly ordinary. Walls painted a soft yellow; polished doors of wooden cupboards and kitchen cabinets that looked old but taken care of; a four-person dining table that was now set with a few plates, simple utensils, napkins and wine glasses. You narrowed your eyes trying to see the pictures that were stuck to the fridge with small butterfly magnets. Your long ride and empty stomach must’ve taken a toll on your eyesight so you could barely make out Joel in those. There was a picture of him with another man, and… You leaned over the table as if trying to get closer, to see better.

“You know, you can just come closer to the fridge.” Joel’s chuckle made you jump in your seat.

“Sorry, I was just,” the right explanation failed you, and you surrendered. “I was just being nosy.”

“Didn’t catch you going through my drawers, so no harm. Can’t really snoop if it’s out there to see, right?” Joel set the opened bottle of the wine you’d brought on the table and waved a bottle opener in his right hand. “Haven’t had wine in some time so had to go look for this guy,” he explained.

“Whatever you made, it smells delicious,” you smiled at him. The sucking feeling in your stomach became uncomfortable, and you cursed at yourself internally for skipping lunch.

“Well then, let’s get some of it in you, shall we?”

Joel seemed way more relaxed, maybe your agreement to spend time with him made him feel less guilty for his daughter’s actions; or maybe it was the confidence of being a host. Either way, it looked good on him.

You didn’t stop your eye from wandering over his frame while he looked away, putting food on your plates. His dark green shirt was snug around his broad shoulders, the soft-looking material translated the feeling of warmth and comfort you lacked in your dress. He had blue jeans on, and you felt your cheeks heat up when you noticed a firm ass hidden behind the rough fabric. Your hand left the table, and you tugged at your bottom lip absent-mindlessly. What was twenty more years? He turned around and since your eyes hadn't moved, you were now shamelessly staring at his crotch. The jeans did not hide much.

You snapped your face up immediately at Joel’s quiet cough. There was a barely hidden smirk on his face, so you decided that no harm was done. So what if you gave the man a quiet compliment? You’d been doing that for the last two weeks, even though apparently his daughter was the one responding to them. You could spare some flirting for the poor guy, he looked like he enjoyed a bit of your harmless attention.

He didn’t lie, he was a decent cook. The meat melted on your tongue and the wine you brought complimented it nicely. You didn’t notice the way your glass was always full, Joel’s stories from the past kept you too entranced.

Heat was creeping up your chest, settling in your cheeks and you moved the wine glass away. You could tolerate a full bottle without being visibly affected, not your proudest trick but it was what it was. Yet, now you felt like you’d emptied at least a couple of bottles on an empty stomach, even though the bottle on the table proved otherwise. You felt dizzy, but not in a bad way, just more relaxed than you were planning to be. Joel looked more handsome every minute, his syrupy thick voice lulled you into a trance-like headspace.

“Can’t lie, you look mighty pretty, darlin’. Had I been thirty years younger it’d be hard to keep my hands to myself.”

Wine dimmed your instincts, so you just giggled. Joel’s eyes darkened as he tripped his gaze from your face to your bust, your breasts straining against the silk fabric of your dress. You noticed him looking and cleared your throat, tits jiggling slightly.

“Forgive an old man, sweetheart?” There was nothing sorry about his tone, but it slipped your mind completely, your guard almost all the way down. “As I said, haven't had a pretty thing like you here in ages.”

You tried to study his face, your brain foggy as you struggled to figure him out. “You compliment like a man deep in the dating pool,” you smirked, “makes it hard to believe it’s all an accident. Maybe you actually lured me in here

intentionally?” You raised your eyebrows, but couldn’t handle your own silly accusation, breaking down in giggles.

“Don’t worry, darlin’, this old dog is all bark no bite.” His smile looked sincere, kind laughter leaving his wet lips and he gave you a wink.

“You’re not that old,” your voice dragged the words out like you wanted to convince yourself more than him. You felt hot all over and you weren’t sure if it was the result of the wine you drank.

“You’re too kind, sweetheart, no need to spare my feelings. My prime is long behind the horizon.”

“No, you’re actually very handsome,” you didn’t lie, anyone with a good working set of eyes would see his attractiveness, and you had two weeks to cement it in your brain. “You have a very nice smile, and your hands,” your eyes dropped on the table where a giant fist was curled around his fork. “A lot of women appreciate a good set of hands.”

“Learned to work with them pretty well, too.” Joel nodded and smirked. “Leaking faucets, clogged drainage. Can fix it all.”

In your mind that phrase sounded naughtier than you were sure the man intended it to, and you reprimanded yourself, feeling a different kind of heat rise from your belly. With one swift movement you’ve emptied what was left in your glass of wine, forgetting about your need to somehow get home after dinner. Joel only poured some more in your glass, smiling softly.

He learned the dance moves long ago. Pretty birds like you were comfortably predictable, and even though you oozed a different kind of odor, he knew exactly what to say. He watched you sip your wine with ease, his own glass barely touched on the table.

When the last piece of salad was cleaned off your plate, you felt a pleasant fullness in your belly. Your head was heavy in a sleepy kind of way, and you looked around, trying to find something to hold your attention on. Your eyes skimmed the living room, from where you were sitting you could see an old couch, in some spots it was now more beige than brown, its big cushions looked soft and the blue quilt draped over the back of it was calling your name.

There was a guitar leaning against one of the armrests and you moved your eyes back at Joel who was silently studying you.

“You play that?” You blindly pointed your thumb towards the strategically placed instrument and Joel curtly nodded.

“I pluck the strings, sometimes something bearable comes out.” He joked, the apples of his cheeks saturated with color and you reached your hand to take his

and gently squeezed it. Joel’s skin turned out to be warm and dry, the sensation of giving him such an innocent touch tingled on your fingertips.

“I noticed you tend to undersell yourself. Would you play something for me?” You didn’t want to leave yet, and your empty plate didn’t really leave you a reason to stay. You tilted your head to the right and gave Joel a sweet smile, hoping he’d succumb to your charm. He didn’t wait long before returning the soft gesture. Slowly, he got off his seat. His figure loomed above you for a quiet moment before he outstretched his palm.

“I’d never be able to refuse you,” he admitted. Your hand drowned in his and he tugged you up. You almost crushed into his broad chest, but to your own dismay he took a step back. Your insides throbbed, the smell of his cologne mixed with his own odor awoke every single receptor on your skin.

“Do you like old stuff?”

“I’m still here,” you quipped and shrugged your shoulders innocently. Joel stopped, making sure you saw him roll his eyes in fake annoyance. He couldn’t contain the breathy laugh, though, so you knew he got your joke.

You moved towards the couch, while Joel walked a step behind you, enjoying the view of your ass in a skin tight dress. The outline of your thongs was visible to him, and he smiled to himself, maybe you weren’t as innocent as you pretended to be. Joel bit the inside of his cheek to refrain from any comments.

His hand hugged the neck of the guitar confidently, while you made yourself comfortable on the couch.

“I think I know just the thing.”

Your eyes never left his fingers as he started to hum an unfamiliar melody.

His voice lulled you in, deep vibrations as he plucked the strings reverberated in your chest. You felt so warm inside, the heat that was pooling in the depth of your belly rose and touched your chest, neck, the tips of your fingers. The dress clung to your skin unpleasantly and for a moment you wished you could take it off. Was it so wrong?

Your eyes traced Joel’s face, the sharp angle of his nose, the tip of it twitching as he sang gently. His lips caressed the words with a tenderness of a lover and you wondered when was the last time they did the same to a woman. Your thighs tightened as your body already knew something your mind only danced around. You shifted in your seat, moving closer to Joel, letting your knees touch.His eyes found yours, a question burning in his browns. You shrugged your shoulders and gave him a small smile, he smiled back. The melody continued, his warm timbre embracing the words.

Maybe tomorrow, honey, Some place down the line, I’ll wake up older So much older, mama, I’ll wake up older, and I’ll just stop all my trying

Your fingers drew patterns on your dress, nails picking at the seam with nervousness. The fire in the center of you gave you confidence to follow through, and your hand ended up on Joel’s knee, slowly moving up until your pinky touched the wood of his guitar. The melody didn’t falter, but his voice did.

“Whatcha doin’, sweetheart?”

“It is a date, isn’t it?” The shreds of your confidence only allowed you to squeeze his thigh with a hint, yet your eyes looked anywhere but his face.

“You shouldn’t do something like that to an old man like me, will break my heart when you leave,” he sounded so painfully sad, it made your heart ache as bad as your pussy. You looked him in the eye then, god, he was so handsome.

“What if I don’t leave?” You challenged him like a mouse challenging a lion. Joel shook his head, his hand gripping the guitar’s neck viciously.

“Stop playing with me, darlin’.”

“What if I’m not playing?”

You expected another sad plea, another crack in his voice. But instead, he put his guitar to the side and spread his legs wider than before. “Then prove it.” He husked out. “Prove that you know what you’re doing.”

There was no mistake in what he meant. His voice added a new depth into it, eyes glowed with something dark. Passion, you thought. Need. The one that was pushing you to your knees at that same moment. The one that numbed your skin when your bones hit the hardwood floor between his spread thighs. The one that guided your hands to his zipper before you could even steal a kiss off his tantalizing lips.

He was hot underneath his clothes, his skin was burning like he had a fever and you were almost too impatient to be gentle. Joel lifted his hips just enough to help you tug his jeans down, his grey cotton boxers followed. He watched you intently, and you watched his half-hard cock lay heavily on his full balls. They were hanging low, their size intimidating. But no more intimidating than the main course.

You weren’t offended that he wasn’t fully hard yet, still, Joel took you by the chin and made you look at him. “Sorry, darlin’, you’re the prettiest girl I’ve seen in a long time, but at my age, it’s just not enough anymore.”

You nodded, your mouth flooding with saliva at the thought of him growing under your tongue. He was thick, veiny, more veiny than the dicks you’d seen

before so you thought it was an age thing, however the vines surrounding his shaft only made you whimper harder, thighs squelching with your arousal.

You leaned forward, inhaling full lungs of him. It was heady, strong, and made you dizzier than all the wine you drank. You reached your hand out with the intent of touching his cock, but Joel stopped you.

“Touch yourself.” For the first time you heard something dark in his melody. Commanding.

“What?” You were confused. Did he want you to just play with yourself? Because you were on the verge of bursting if he didn’t let you get closer to his cock.

“Put your little hand in your panties and slick it up with all the sweet juices that have been leaking out of you since the moment you saw me, darlin’.” Your mouth fell open, hand following his order under Joel’s dominant gaze. “Then you can wrap it around my dick, and prove to me that you really want this.”

It was so easy to just do what he said, without questioning the moral, the consequences. Your hand was wet with your arousal, pussy begging to keep it

there, to give some attention to your clit, but your mind was set on the man before you.

He hissed when you wrapped your slick hand around his shaft and started jerking it slowly, feeling the girth of him thrum with growing desire. You looked at his cock, entranced. His shaft was shining with your own juices, a pink head became deeper in color as more blood rushed to his cock. You swiped your thumb over it, a tiny drop of precum glistening in his slit.

“You’re doin’ such a good job, angel.” Joel’s hoarse voice was almost a whisper. You felt the steam coming from him, it made you sweat, your breath hitching. “Why don’t you put that mouth to use, hm, darlin’? You speak awful lot with it.”

It almost made you giggle, a plan forming in your head. Instead of letting his cock in the scorching wetness of your mouth, your head dropped lower. You

stuck your tongue out, lathering his heavy balls in your saliva. They were fuzzy, like a ripe peach, and you massaged them with the wet muscle.

“Fuck, ain’t nothing angelic about you, huh?” Joel’s voice was barely recognizable, hungry and low it vibrated in your pussy. You opened your mouth wider, sucking his balls in turn. “That’s right, making me feel so good, sucking on my balls like that. Come on, baby, use your tongue.”

You tried to alternate between licking and sucking on his ballsack, your spit drooling over your chin while you were panting like a rabid dog. The only thing that mocked your ladylikeness was your goddamn dress, and it was almost drenched in your own slick at this point.

“Good girl, sucking on my balls like it’s what you came here for. Came here to make an old man cum? What a perverted little girl you are, sweetheart.” Your pussy tingled with your praise. The mouth on him made your head spin, like a newfound drug that affected only you he seeped under your skin making you pant and moan as you continued pleasuring him. Your hand jerked his thick cock in tandem with your mouth on his balls. Joel’s eyes never left you, as he continued praising you. “Mmhm, that’s good, drench ‘em, fuck you’re a dirty one.”

You felt his hand at the back of your head as it pressed you harder into him, your nose was forced into his perineum and he almost humped your face with his groin. Your tongue hung out, and he managed to slide his balls across it before it almost went too low. The tip of your tongue almost touching his puckered hole covered in more hair.

“Not today,” you heard him grumble before tugging you up. “Come on, darlin’, don’t make me waste a load.” He pushed on your cheeks with his hand, feeding you his cock in one movement. It was a lot to take, your teeth barely scraping his shaft, and you used your tongue to protect the underside. “Take it all, come on, darlin’, you’re the one who wanted it.”

Intoxication and arousal didn’t mix well, as you just moaned pathetically around him, letting him deeper in your throat. It bulged with the sheer size of his dick, you felt it, uncomfortable, but you couldn’t move, your body too heavy and tired. Instead, your hands found his wet balls, already tight and ready to blow every drop of cum he’d been saving for you. You tried to fit them in your hand, gently tugging at his sack to stimulate him further.

“Ready, sweetheart? I better not see you waste a drop.” His hips bucked, and your nose was pressed into the soft tuft of his grey pubes. Joel pressed your head into him harder as his hot load trickled down your throat. You tried to breathe through your nose, the lack of oxygen blackening your vision.

He pulled out seconds before you were ready to pass out.

“Gotta tap my leg or somethin’, sugar. I don’t need you dying with my cock still in your throat.” You chuckled, not sure why. Joel placed his hand on your cheek, his thumb tracing your lower lip, slippery with your saliva. His whisper sounded gentle, “God, you’re a mess. Beautiful.”

You didn’t trust your throat to work, so instead, you tried to get up on your trembling legs. Your pussy still screamed for release, so wet you could feel your arousal escaping your thongs and dripping down your leg. You hiked the skirt of your dress up, not an ounce of shame inside, and straddled Joel.

“Whoa, darlin’, slow down,” his hands dropped to your hips, keeping you in place. Your brows furrowed. He didn’t look like a man who’d let a lady down. “Why don’t we change our location?”

You didn’t get an opportunity to look around, your feet scrambling as he tugged you into a dark room. His pants were up, but undone, and you lost your heels somewhere along the way, your dress still hiked up like a common whore.

Everything was spinning, so when he dropped on the bed at first you thought he fell. His voice was navigating you through the darkness, but you could barely concentrate on it.

“Come here, angel, let this old man take care of your pretty pussy.” Joel smacked his lips, and guided you to climb on top of him, legs on each side of his body until your pussy hovered over his face.

“Panties,” you whimpered and heard an immediate crack of fabric ripping.

“Sorry, darlin’, can’t make you wait any longer,” his face pressed into the side of your thigh, sticky with your own juices, and you whimpered pathetically at the texture of his scruff scratching your sensitive skin. “Smell so good, fresh, like a new doll.”

You couldn’t understand what he meant, you didn’t even try to. When his lips latched onto your clit, your head tilted back and you let out a loud moan. Joel only moaned back, the sound penetrating your pussy alongside his tongue.

His hands gripped your asscheeks painfully, forcing you to grind on his face. His tongue slipped in your wet hole, and you felt yourself shaking on top of him, your legs giving out as he kept fucking you with his tongue.

Joel growled in your skin, making you crawl to your orgasm faster and faster with every swipe of his tongue.

The tip of his nose kept hitting your sensitive clit, as he pushed his tongue further and further in your fluttering hole. He kissed his way up, pinching your clit between his tightly clasped lips and sucked, punching a cry out of you with his raw vigor.

“Come on, sugar,” he commanded, “I feel her cryin’, give her what she wants.”

With doubled passion he flickered his tongue over your throbbing bud, and you felt sweat trickling down your neck and soaking into your dress as an orgasm rushed over you.

Your body felt powerless, and if not for Joel’s strong hands still holding you up, you’d have fallen back. But he kept you somewhat steady, lapping up all that your wasted body could give him until every swipe of his tongue started being painful and you had physically push his face away with trembling hands.

“Got too enthusiastic, my bad. Ain’t every day I get to drink from a fountain of youth.” Joel joked, helping you settle next to him in his bed.

Your tired body was half laying on top of him, fully drained yet still unexplainably insatiable. Forced by something deep in the pit of your belly, you dragged your nails over his soft stomach until you touched his soft cock again. Joel quickly stopped you, grabbing your wrist and bringing your hand to his chest. You felt the sparse hairs on his nipple tickle your palm. His heartbeat was hard, but steady.

“Sorry, angel, ain’t that young anymore.” He said, kissing the crown of your head. His fingers found their way into your hair and he tugged at it gently. “If you want me to fuck that pretty hole of yours, you’ll just have to agree to a second date.”

Your words were slurred, eyelids too heavy to keep them open. “Maybe I will, old man.”

He chuckled, the grip of his fingers in your hair tightened as he looked in the distance. A couple of flickering street lamps visible from his window were providing minimum light in his room and a possessive smile creeped onto his lips as he listened to you snoring lightly into his chest.

You weren't the first mouse to get trapped so easily, but something told him you were special. He wasn't ready to discard you just yet.

LEAVE A COMMENT, YOUR FEEDBACK IS MY MOTIVATION <3

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crazytxgradstudent · 3 months ago

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Azaghâl

An Unexpected Visitor. Then Fifteen More.

In the quiet stillness of the dark Shire, beneath the millions of glittering stars, two figures maneuver their way towards the cozy looking home at the top of the hill.

The taller of the figures frequently glances around at their surroundings and over at his shorter companion, as if assuring himself she is still at his side. His broad shoulders tense underneath his heavy cloak at the slightest of sounds from the unfamiliar environment around them, his hand clad in its black leather glove resting atop his sturdy sword strapped to his hip.

The shorter of the two walks almost silently beside her wary companion. She stands tall with her shoulders relaxed, thoroughly trusting the air of safety Hobbiton exudes. Her smaller stature often gives off the misconception, mostly to human men, that she is weak, but make no mistake, dams are just as ferocious, if not more, than their male counterparts. As is proven by the large battle ax upon her back.

A sudden door opening near them has her companion drawing his sword slightly, only to slide it back into place with a huff once discovering it’s only a Hobbit letting his cat inside.

She rolls her blue eyes with a fond smile. “Really, Jon, must you be so suspicious of everything?”

“I’ve been sworn to protect the heir to the throne,” He throws her an equally fond smile, though the rest of him remains permanently on guard. “of course I must.”

Thrya hums amusedly as they near the lit home at the top of the hill. “Yes, you must protect me from all the fierce cats, lest I perish from their furry adorableness.”

“Jest if you wish, my princess, but next time it may not be a cat.” His eyes search the night around them, ever vigilant, and his grip tightens around his sword with his next words. “It wasn’t the first time.”

Thrya glances at the scar across his eye in remembrance of the first real time he had to protect her. Her hand presses against his own in silent thanks before opening the gate, with Jon closing it quietly again behind them.

“There’s the mark, just as we were told.” She nods to the glowing mark at the base of the door before knocking. He comes to stand next to her, angled to the side so he can see both the door and the town behind her.

It doesn’t take long for the door to swing open, revealing a disheveled looking Hobbit she safely assumes must be Bilbo Baggins. He’s only just shorter than she is.

“Good evening, Master Baggins. I am Thrya, at your service.” She bows in greeting, feeling her lips quirk up into a grin at his shocked features and the sharp weapons in his arms. Fíli and Kíli must be here already. “And this is Jon.”

“At your service, sir.” Jon bows as well before returning his watchful gaze to the quiet town.

“May we come in?”

“Of- of course.” Bilbo steps to the side bidding them entry, seeing as she asked instead of just barging in like their companions. Perhaps all dwarves aren’t so.. so.. He silently huffs at the racket coming from behind him.

“Thank you. You have a lovely home.” Her eyes scan the cozy hobbit hole as Jon takes her ax from her before helping her remove her cloak. She breathes a quiet “Thank you” as he hangs it up before removing his own and their weapons, though he keeps hold of a single dagger.

Bilbo’s chest puffs up slightly in pride at her compliment, the noise momentarily forgotten. “Thank you. It’s been in my family for years.”

His eyes briefly spot a bit of black ink he can see on the side of her neck as she gazes around with a soft smile, before her eyes return to him and she reaches for the weapons in his arms with a quiet ‘tsk’. “I must also apologize for my cousins’ brief lack of manners.”

She carefully places Fíli’s blades on a chair, making sure they stay wrapped so they don’t knick the wood, while Jon takes the sword from his shoulder and places it next to the rest.

Thrya nods at Bilbo just as there’s a ring of the doorbell, to which he grumbles unintelligibly, and Jon follows closely behind her as she heads further in.

”If this is some clothead’s idea of a joke,” They hear him quietly rant with a strained laugh. “I can only say, it is in very poor taste!”

They briefly turn back when they hear a series of thumps, one ‘Oh, get off!’ and other uncomfortable sounds, and find the rest of the company, sans Thrya’s father, lying in a heap in the doorway with Gandalf stooping down and peering in behind them.

“Gandalf.”

She enters the dining room just in time to watch Kíli throw a biscuit at Fíli, only for him to duck, which sends it straight in her direction.

She catches it directly in front of her face, moving her hand to the side and revealing a teasing smile on her lips. “I’m always picking up after you boys.”

“Thrya!” Kíli cheers, throwing his arms up with a bright, happy grin.

“Hello, nadadith.”

His arms drop back down and the pout he always makes in response forms instantaneously, his puppy eyes seeming to grow even bigger and glossier as she places the biscuit back with the others. “I’m not a baby!”

Fíli releases a deep chuckle and thumps him on the back. “The pout is not helping your case, Kí.”

Said pout switches back to its normal grin when she motions his head down while stretching up onto her toes, pressing a kiss between his brows. “I take it you two got here alright?” She presses a kiss to Fíli’s forehead as well, and he nods in confirmation once she pulls away.

They share a nod ‘hello’ with Jon standing at her shoulder, before the rest of their company filters in behind them. Joyful greetings are exchanged among the others as Fíli answers, thus settling her small amount of nerves. She knows they are more than capable of defending themselves, but she cannot help the bit of worry that gnaws at her when her family is out of her sight.

“Rather quiet, really.” He muses with Kíli humming in agreement, his dark hair swaying slightly with his nod. “Nothing we couldn’t handle.”

“Good.”

Chaos soon follows as they continue preparing the dining room to house them all. More chairs are carried in, plates, flagons and silverware, and piles of food, Thrya accurately guesses almost if not all of Mr. Baggins’ food, are placed on the table. All while their frantic host attempts to rein them all in.

“Those are my pri-! Excuse me, not my wine.”

“Put that back.”

“Not the jam, please.”

“Excuse me. Excuse me.”

“It's a tad excessive, isn't it?” Bilbo fixes his suspenders in exasperation as he watches Bombur pass by him carrying an entire wheel of cheese. “Have you got a cheese knife?”

”’Cheese knife’?” Bofur questions as he too passes the poor Hobbit. “He eats it by the block.”

Thrya sidles up beside Bilbo, a cup of chamomile tea in her hands curtesy of Dori, and Jon still acting as her shadow, fully in synch with his charge. Her face bares a gentle grimace as she watches the chaos unfold, though she cannot help the fond glint in her eyes. She does step in where she can to help him, knowing they will listen to her when she tells them to be careful.

“I must now apologize for everyone else’s lack of manners, as well. They are just excited to see each other.” She assures.

Bilbo’s response is a quiet, skittish sound and a shaky nod before his attention becomes focused on Glóin. More so the chair he’s carrying, and he quickly rushes over.

“No, that's Grandpa Mungo's chair- No, so is that.” He objects upon seeing another in Óin’s hands, pointing back the way their healer came. “Take it back, please.”

Óin gestures to his ear with one hand as Bilbo begins to push him down the hall. “I cannot hear what you're saying.”

“It's an antique. Not for sitting on.” Bilbo stresses as Thrya moves to stand next to the door, listening to his voice fade in and out as he scurries around behind everyone.

”It is clear that Gandalf did not inform Mr. Baggins we would be arriving.” She takes a sip of her tea with a tiny grin, which grows at the sound of Jon’s quiet chuckle.

”Poor lad. I’m going to help finish setting the table.” He shakes his head in amusement at the ‘That is a book, not a coaster.’ and disappears into the dining room when she hums in acknowledgment.

“And put, that map, down.”

Poor lad, indeed.

Gandalf ducks through the doorway before quickly dodging out of Nori’s way, and Thrya winces when his head hits the chandelier behind him as a result. Dwalin appears beside her, leaning against the doorway and taking a slow drink of his ale. His face twists just briefly in distaste at the sight of her tea, to which she responds by taking a loud sip. The Dwarf who may as well be her uncle huffs in amusement and nudges her with the back of his hand.

“Ah,” Gandalf carefully rights the chandelier before he begins counting the dwarves on his fingers as they bustle around him. “Fíli, Kíli.” Her cousins glance at him as they carry a barrel of ale into the dining room. Dwarves do love their drink. “Óin, Glóin. Dwalin, Balin, Bifur, Bofur, Bombur. Dori, Nori. Ori! Thrya, Jon.”

”No, no, no, no.” Thrya and Dwalin watch as Bilbo darts forward from behind Gandalf and pries a bowl of tomatoes from Ori’s hands. “Not my prizewinners, thank you. No, thank you.” Her lips quirk to the side in a little smirk as he stalks back into the pantry with them as Bifur approaches Gandalf.

”Lu zayara, maima mut karima.” He finishes by thumping his left arm with his right hand to indicate Thorin’s oakenshield.

“Yes, you're quite right, Bifur.” The wizard agrees, a slight worry pinching his brows. “We appear to be one Dwarf short.”

“He is late, is all.” Dwalin assures. “He traveled north to a meeting of our kin. He will come.”

“Do you think they’ll come?” Thrya quietly questions as Dori draws Gandalf’s attention away with a glass of red wine. Though it will be no more than a single mouthful for him.

“I don’t know, lass.” He sighs before grumbling. “Dáin is more stubborn than yer father. And you.”

She quietly laughs in response. She did inherit her father’s stubbornness, and her mother’s, as well as both of their tempers. It hasn’t gotten her into trouble, per se, but there was a time she knocked a human boy flat on his arse when she caught him and his friend picking on little girl.

“Come on.” He lays his arm across her shoulders and guides her towards the table. “Let’s eat.”

—————————————————————————

Thrya makes her way back into the dining room, Kíli following closely behind her, to begin cleaning up after them all. She hears Gandalf and Bilbo speaking as they pass by the kitchen.

“My dear Bilbo, what on earth is the matter?”

“What’s the matter?” Bilbo repeats, staring up at the wizard in slight disbelief. This man brings fourteen Dwarves into his home, completely out of the blue, and then asks him ‘what’s the matter’? “I’m surrounded by Dwarves. What are they doing here?”

Thrya does not take offense to Bilbo’s irritation and confusion, knowing that he clearly had no clue they would be arriving. And Dwarves are a loud and merry bunch when you get them together. She would be surprised if he wasn’t slightly overwhelmed.

She pats Ori’s shoulder as she passes by him, smiling amusedly at the sight of Bombur seated at the table munching on the leftovers. She gathers up the mugs she can carry and brings them into the kitchen to Bifur at the sink, which he takes with a quiet grunt of appreciation.

“I don’t understand what they’re doing in my house!” Bilbo rants out in the hall with Gandalf again before he’s approached by Ori.

“Excuse me. I’m sorry to interrupt, but what should I do with my plate?”

“Here you go, Ori. Give it to me.” Fíli and Jon halt their conversation as he takes Ori’s dirty plate, and promptly tosses it down the hall towards Kíli to catch. He then tosses it to Thrya who tosses it to Bifur.

The display, obviously, causes Bilbo to panic once more. Obviously. Jon tries to temper his smile as the Hobbit flails his hands at them with his objection.

“Excuse me! That’s my mother’s West Farthing pottery. It’s over 100 years old!”

They toss plate after plate with perfect precision, some behind backs and over shoulders, some under legs. Jon even tosses a bowl with his foot, and Fíli bounces another on his arms before passing it to his brother.

“And can you not do that?” Bilbo says to those sitting at the table clinking the silverware together. “You’ll blunt them.”

“Oooh. Do you hear that, lads?” Bofur teases with a mischievous smile. “He says we’ll blunt the knives.”

“Blunt the knives, bend the forks,” Kíli starts singing.

And then Fíli. “Smash the bottles and burn the corks,”

And soon the cozy Hobbit hole is filled with the joyful sounds of everyone’s voices, with a few of them bringing out their instruments as well.

“Chip the glasses and crack the plates

That’s what Bilbo Baggins hates!

Cut the cloth, tread the fat

Leave the bones on the bedroom mat

Pour the milk on the pantry floor

Splash the wine on every door!

Dump the crocks in a boiling bowl

Pound them up with a thumping pole

When you’re finished if they are whole

Send them down the hall to roll

That’s what Bilbo Baggins hates!”

Bilbo stumbles into the dining room as the song finishes and is baffled by the sight of all his dishes, perfectly pristine and cleaned, not a single scuff or chip, sitting atop the table. Gandalf shrugs from his place behind the stack with a look of, “what can I say?” as they all laugh.

However, they are soon silenced by three loud knocks on the front door, and Jon smiles when Thrya’s face brightens even more.

“He is here.”

—————————————————————————

Here’s the first chapter!

Nadadith means little brother, but Thrya means it in the sense of baby brother.

The translation for what Bifur says is “Our great leader, he is not here.” That, as well as some other translations, can be found here ⬇️

thedwarrowscholar.com/2014/06/04/insulting-elves/

Dwalin is the dwarven equivalent to Thrya’s godfather, since he quickly took over the role of big brother to her spitfire of a mother.

Let me know what you think!

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crazytxgradstudent · 3 months ago

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@lukeevansandjdmobession our guy, Leo 🖤

🦋365 Days / 365 Characters🦋

[208/365] Characters 》 Leo Barnes

"I lost my son some years ago. He was killed. I almost did something on Purge Night that would've destroyed a lot of lives. I want this night gone."

🖤🖤🖤

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crazytxgradstudent · 4 months ago

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Always my guy 💗💗💗

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crazytxgradstudent · 4 months ago

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Rick Grimes

Joel Miller

Logan/Wolverine

Thorin Oakenshield

Real life - Eddie Vedder 😍

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I don't care how wild it is. Let me hear it!🤭😌

Mine are:

Terry Richmond

Smoke and Stack

Erik Killmonger

There are probably more.....

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crazytxgradstudent · 4 months ago

Text

fascination

request from @caramelvanillafrog <3 i hope you like it!!

rick spotted bambi a month ago in the woods, and ever since he had been watching from afar. when her group is attacked by raiders and she's the only survivor, he takes the chance to be her knight in shining armor (6,290 word count).

content warnings, mdni 18+

f!reader, bearded!rick, stalking, slight manipulation, canon twd violence, protective!rick, possessive!rick, mentions of previous sa, consent checks, fingering, oral (f. recieving), use of good girl, let me know if i forgot anything x

my masterlist

Bambi stood at the head of her camp with wide eyes. Her hair which she often wore in two braids was ratty and an utter mess from running through the woods after a group of raiders attacked the camp. She had gotten lucky, able to stay hidden in a pile of brush due to her short stature.

Bambi gaped at the remains of her friends and fell to her knees with a ragged sob, barely even noticing the scrapes on her knees it caused. The bonfire that had been a large blaze when she had run off was now mere kindling, put out from the storm. It was as if the universe had known something devastating was going to happen and began to downpour to express its own grief for the lives that would be lost. With a shaky sniffle, Bambi forced herself back to her feet. The raiders could come back to take out any survivors, so she had to leave before they did.

She faintly could hear her ragged breathing and whimpers over the pouring rain as she gathered a few bullet casings the raiders had somehow left on the ground. She hadn't remembered leaving any ammo at the camp, but she'd take the spot of luck nonetheless. Everything else of value had been taken, along with her friend's lives. Maybe in the morning or a few days she'd come back and bury them. But staying here tonight was too risky. Bambi quickly put the bullets into her gun. The only weapon she had was a Colt Cobra Revolver with one round of ammo left in the cylinder, but now from the other bullets she had found on the ground she had six shots of ammunition.

With one last look at her friend's corpses, she set back off into the woods. She wasn't sure if she would make it on her own, but she wasn't brave enough to join the dead yet.

Rick had seen the whole attack happen. He didn't intervene. He had watched Bambi run into the woods to hide when it was all happening, so he knew she was safe. He had watched the massacre from behind a large oak tree. The flickering flames of the bonfire illuminated the whole gruesome scene as he watched from afar. He almost felt sorry enough for her friends to intervene, but he hadn't, because now Bambi was on her own and she would need someone to be her knight in shining armor. Rick would be the person to protect her.

Rick had been trying to come up with a way to welcome Bambi to Alexandria without having to bring her friends along. He didn't want the extra mouths to feed, but he wanted Bambi. The raiders coming to her camp had been a happy accident, and now he had an opening to bring her back with him.

When the raiders left Rick walked over to camp and left extra ammo for Bambi in case she needed it before he came to find her.

About a month ago Rick had been checking the traps in the woods 1/2 a mile from Alexandria when he had seen her. She had walked through the woods like a ghost, utterly silent from how thin and short she was. Rick's first instinct was to draw his pistol, but his hand only rested on the butt of his gun as he watched her from afar. She had managed to find a sundress that fit her body like a glove, with a knitted purse she must've made herself. Her dark hair cascaded down her back in a neat braid. He had never seen someone look so put together in the new world they lived in.

Rick quietly stepped closer, careful to not draw attention from the twigs and leaves beneath his boots so he could watch her without being overheard. She was a beautiful little thing, smiling to herself as she found a blackberry bush. Her smile brought a faint smile to Rick's face. At the sound of twigs snapping and the faint snarling of a walker, Bambi quickly grabbed the last of the berries and hurried off in the opposite direction of Alexandria.

Rick didn't know what possessed him to do it, but he followed her. He discovered she was with a group of 5 other people who had a small camp set up about two miles from Alexandria. It was a miracle no one in his own group had come across them yet.

Rick continued to follow and watch her for nearly four weeks, up until the night of the attack on Bambi's camp. He had developed an infatuation with her, one he couldn't make sense of, but he couldn't stop himself from watching her. He had learned a lot about her from his time stalking her, seeing as there was no other way to put it. She was beautiful, sweet, small, and in need of protection. And no one could protect her better than himself.

Bambi was a mess emotionally and physically as she trudged through the woods for somewhere safe to stay for the night. She has never been on her own since all of this started. She didn't even have a goddamn flashlight. She was wandering aimlessly in the dark, hoping the raiders weren't watching her. Which they weren't, but Rick was. Rick had been following quietly, making sure if she ran into any trouble he could intervene and help her. He was waiting for an opportunity to talk to her, or "accidentally" run into her.

Eventually, Bambi stumbled upon a shed in the middle of the woods. It was better than nothing she supposed, considering it was pouring down rain and walkers couldn't sneak up on her if she was hidden. Bambi slowly opened the shed door, the wood creaking loudly. She could feel her gun trembling in her grip, waiting to see if a walker, or worse a human, was going to jump out at her.

Seeing it was empty and quiet, she slipped inside and closed the door behind her with another loud creak. The rain must've made the hinges extra loud. Bambi sat down on the dirt floor of the shed. After a while her eyes eventually drooped shut, her eyes stung from crying and lack of sleep. It was still dark when Bambi blinked awake to the sound of footsteps crunching in the damp leaves. It had stopped raining and the woods were eerily quiet besides the sound of cicadas and crickets. Bambi froze and her hand immediately reached for her gun as she expected either a walker or person to come barging in. She flinched in surprise as a loud gunshot rang throughout the quiet woods, followed by a body falling to the ground with a thump outside the shed.

Bambi could hear her heartbeat in her ears, utterly frozen in place and scared to move. Maybe whoever fired the gun didn't know she was in there?

After a few more moments of silence, there were more crunching footsteps, then the all too familiar sound of a knife being dug into a skull and yanked out with a nauseating squelch. She could faintly see a silhouette through the cracks of the shed. She could only pray they didn't know she was here.

"I'm not gonna hurt you," a low voice with a southern drawl said from the other side of the door. Bambi's breath hitched in her throat and swallowed nervously, hoping maybe if she stayed quiet he'd go away, "You can come out. I promise I mean you know harm," the voice said again and Bambi cocked her gun with trembling hands.

"I have a gun. If you come in here I'll shoot you," she says, the obvious tremor in her voice betraying her fabricated bravery.

"That'd be a waste of a bullet, sweetheart. Like I said, I'm not gonna hurt you," the man said again. Bambi began to panic internally, unsure of what to do. This man could easily be lying so he could grab her and do god knows what to her, "Why don't you come on out?" he asks gently, "I have some water and food if you need it."

There was clear sincerity and concern in the man's voice, one that wouldn't be faked easily. Bambi stood up on trembling legs, her bag still hanging from her shoulder, "T-Take a few steps back first." Bambi demands, her voice still trembling wildly.

Rick smiled slightly on the other side of the shed door. He couldn't help but smile from how adorably flustered she sounded. He put his pistol back in its holster and took 4 steps back. The sound of his boots crunching against the wet leaves told her he had done as she said and she stepped out of the shed. Bambi timidly held up her gun, immediately pointing it at his figure. It was nearly a full moon tonight, so she could make out most of his features, immediately noticing his beard and curly hair.

He held his hands up defensively, "I promise I'm not gonna hurt you. You can even take my gun if you want." he insists.

Bambi glanced down at the dead man a few feet away from her, the body she had heard fall to the ground. He wasn't a walker. Bambi shifted on her feet nervously, still pointing her gun at him. She'd never been at the center of an altercation like this before, "What do you want?" she asks, forcing her voice to sound more steady.

"My name's Rick. I'm from a community about a mile from here. We have houses, walls, medicine, food... anything you need," Rick explains, still holding his hands up to show her he meant no harm.

"Then why'd you kill him if you want to help people?" Bambi asks, the tremble returning to her voice as she glances down at the man's body.

"He was sneakin' up on you, probably planning to kill you. Or worse," Rick answers, his southern accent dragging out his words. Rick began to slowly reach for his gun and Bambi quickly aimed her revolver at his head, "Easy sweetheart, I was just gonna toss my gun over to you."

"Why?" Bambi asks incredulously, still pointing the gun at his forehead.

"I want you to trust me," Rick says as he slowly takes out his gun, holds it by the barrel, and hands the end with the grip towards her. Bambi hesitates before stepping closer to him and quickly snatching the gun from his grip and stepping back again, "You can follow me back, or stay here and keep my gun. It's your choice."

After a few moments of silence, Bambi lowers her gun and puts it in her bag, along with Rick's, "If I come with you do I have the option to leave if I want to?"

"Yes. You can leave whenever you want," Rick assures her, even though internally he knew damn well if she left he'd follow her. Bambi nods her head towards him, motioning for him to start leading her to the community. Rick smiles slightly and starts walking, Bambi following at least 6 feet behind him.

When Rick and Bambi got to Alexandria the sun had begun to come up. Rick's body was buzzing with excitement Rosita opened the front gate and let them inside. Rosita looked Bambi up and down, before looking at Rick with furrowed eyebrows.

"Who's this?" she asks, nodding her head towards Bambi.

"I found her in the woods with some guy sneakin' up on her, so I brought her back with me," Rick answers, keeping his answers vague.

"Why were you even out there this time of night?" Rosita asks incredulously. Rick clenches his jaw, not wanting Bambi to realize he had been out there following her.

"Couldn't sleep," Rick huffs, and Rosita hums in acknowledgment, not buying it but letting it slide nonetheless. She looked down at the shorter girl again. Bambi was probably the least intimidating person alive, so Rosita didn't think she could be any sort of threat, "Follow me," Rick murmured to Bambi, who had been admiring Rosita's outfit. She somehow made rather bland clothing items into a sexy outfit. Bambi snapped out of her daze and followed after Rick.

No one else was awake yet, save for Sasha who rarely slept these days. Bambi looked around with wide eyes as Rick led her toward his house. She didn't think places like this existed.

"You can stay at my place and get some rest," Rick says, trying to tame the butterflies blooming in his stomach. He felt nervous. Rick barely ever felt nervous, especially not over some girl.

"Okay," Bambi mutters timidly, clutching her bag tightly as Rick led her up the porch steps to his house and led her inside.

"Are you thirsty? Hungry?" Rick asks, turning on the light switch. When the lights came on Bambi could finally make out his face clearly. Her eyes widened in surprise. He was handsome, even with a beard even though she didn't often find men with beards attractive. And his eyes...

"I-I'm okay," she clears her throat, trying to school her expression. Rick couldn't help but grin slightly, his ego boosting. He hadn't spent much time worrying about his appearance lately, too preoccupied with keeping everyone in Alexandria safe and fed. Especially after the attack they had here a few weeks ago. It made his chest feel warm knowing Bambi found him attractive, even with the unruly way he looked.

Rick got her a glass of water anyway, and Bambi's eyes nearly bugged out of her skull as she realized they had running water. Rick grinned again from her surprise, "We have hot water too if you wanna grab a shower." he muttered, still grinning.

Bambi looked down at herself, she did look a little worse for wear, "That would be nice. Thank you." she said shyly as Rick handed her the glass of water that she quickly took a few swigs from, unable to resist fresh water.

Rick led her upstairs and into his bedroom. Of course, he hadn't told her it was his bedroom, but the idea of her naked in his shower and then cuddling up in his bed made his heart race and that weird warmth return to his chest.

"Everything you need'll be in there. Do you need a fresh change of clothes?" Rick asks, hoping she'd say yes so he could give her some of his.

"I actually have some," she says, motioning to the knitted bag hanging on her shoulder.

"Okay, I'll be in the room next to this one if you need anything," Rick nods slightly. He would be staying in the guest room so this little angel could sleep tangled in his sheets. He felt a sick sense of satisfaction knowing she'd wake up smelling like him.

Rick couldn't help but lean against the wall in the guest room to listen to Bambi as she showered. He smiled as she heard a slight giggle of delight through the wall after she had stepped under the water. He imagined it's been a long time since she's gotten to shower with hot water.

Rick had forced himself away to tidy himself up as well. He stared at himself in the mirror, preparing to shave his beard to look more presentable for her, when he heard a timid knock on the bedroom door. It was almost comical how quickly he dropped the razor onto the bathroom counter, haphazardly wiped off the shaving cream, and strode over to the door. When he opened it to see Bambi stood before him in a cute little sleep set a shaky breath escaped him. His brain shut off for a moment as his eyes scanned her up and down, when he realized she wasn't some lingerie mannequin and could see him staring at her he quickly looked back up at your face.

"Do you need somethin' sweetheart?" he asks, his voice involuntarily dropping a few octaves.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt you," she mutters nervously, motioning to the bit of shaving cream he had missed.

"No, no. You're not interrupting," he clears his throat nervously, wiping off the rest of the shaving cream with his hand.

"I just wanted to ask if I could use one of the unopened toothbrushes in there," she asks, motioning to the room that she had come from.

"That's no problem darlin'. Use whatever you want," he smiles down at her. Bambi nodded slightly, preparing to walk away, then stopped herself.

"You should keep it," she muttered before she could second guess herself, motioning to his beard before scurrying back over to the room she was staying in. Rick stuck his head out of the doorway to watch her walk away, his eyes lingering on her ass. Rick grinned triumphantly as he went back into the guest bedroom, his chest puffing slightly after she asked him to keep the beard.

Rick had encouraged Bambi to get some sleep, seeing as they arrived at Alexandria at sunrise, but she couldn't sleep. This all felt so foreign to be in an actual house, with an actual bed, after just taking a shower with hot water.

But one thing that distracted her from her unease was the smell of the sheets. It smelled like a deep and rich cologne. She wondered who had slept in here before her that made it smell so good. Maybe this is where Rick took all new members at first. After about an hour and a half of trying to sleep and failing, the door to her room opened slightly. She looked over as Rick peeked in.

"Hey there… just wanted to see how you're settling in," he greets, his voice warm as he leans against the doorframe.

"I'm okay… it just feels weird being here," she chuckles nervously and Rick smiles, crossing his arms over his chest.

"It took me a month to get used to how soft the mattress was," he smiles, his eyes flickering down slightly to her chest before back up to her face. She looked angelic, cuddled in his bed with her hair framed across his pillows.

"You can have your gun back. It's in my bag," Bambi says, motioning to her bag that was hung on the back of the bathroom door.

"I'll grab it later after you've got some sleep. Having it with you might help you relax," Rick glances at her bag before focusing back on her, "Anyway, I'll let you sleep," he mutters before finally leaving the room.

About two weeks later Bambi still hadn't gotten used to her life in Alexandria. She kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. Surely this wouldn't last, nothing good did anymore. But, Rick was doing everything he could to make her feel welcome and happy. Even though a few of the members didn't seem to like her, Spencer especially.

Rick had picked up on Spencer's disapproving glances and holier-than-thou attitude and he didn't like it. He had been watching from afar as Rosita showed Bambi a better way to hold her gun, and Spencer scoffed, mumbling something about how she should know how to hold a gun by now. Then he followed up by saying she'd never make it on her own. Bambi's shoulders had deflated and she went back to her and Rick's house. She'd barely left his house the past two weeks. And one of her first trips out resulted in her going back into hiding.

Rick clenched his jaw as he noticed Bambi shrink into herself and make her way back to his house. With anger bubbling in his gut he strode over to Spencer, his hand resting on the butt of his gun.

"Spencer," Rick grits out between clenched teeth.

"Rick," Spencer acknowledges, barely sparing him a glance.

"If you say anything, and I mean anything, to make her feel unwelcome… I'll kill you myself and make it look like a walker did it," Rick threatens, his voice deadly calm, "We clear?"

Spencer almost began to laugh, thinking Rick was joking, but when he realized he wasn't he straightened up, "Yeah." is all he muttered before walking away. Rick watched Spencer walk away, his gaze rich with disdain, before turning in the direction of his house.

Bambi was still sleeping in his room, which Rick didn't mind one bit. He knew sooner or later he'd end up sleeping in that bed with her every night. It was only a matter of time. Meanwhile, he could at least enjoy the sight of her in it.

Rick knocked softly on the bedroom door. When he heard a faint 'Come in', he pushed it open, "You alright in here sweetheart?"

"Yeah, just not in the mood to be out and about I guess," she murmurs, pulling out her knitting supplies that Rick had given her. He claimed he had them lying around, but after he found out she liked to knit the month he spent following her, he looked for knitting needles and yarn on every supply run.

"Listen... Spencer's a dipshit. He thinks he's some tough guy but he's not," Rick sighs as he walks over to her and sits on the edge of the bed, "I'd bet you'd last longer on your own than he would," Rick says with a warm smile.

"He has a point though. I'm not the type of person that's built for a world like this. I've only gotten lucky so far," she mumbles as she begins to weave pieces of yarn together. Rick's eyes followed the movement of her hands for a moment before resting his hand on her thigh, his thumb rubbing soothing circles like it was the most natural thing in the world to him.

"You don't need to be tough or feel brave. You don't need to worry about makin' it on your own anymore," Rick says, his voice low and intimate, "Nothing dead or alive will ever touch a hair on your head." his voice was thick with promise as his hand squeezed her thigh slightly. His hand looked huge compared to her slender thigh, it made Bambi's pulse quicken.

"I know. I know the others would have my back if something happened," Bambi forced herself to stop staring at his hand and focused back on knitting.

Rick sighed shakily and moved even closer to her so his leg bumped against hers, keeping his hand on her thigh, "I'm not talkin' about them," he murmured, leaning in closer in a way that made Bambi's breath hitch, "Baby..." Rick whispers, lifting a hand to rest on the side of Bambi's face and guiding her to look at him. The endearment made Bambi's stomach do a flip, "You don't need them, because I'll be the one keepin' you safe," he said with a low rumble as his thumb caressed her cheek, "You sleep in my house, in my bed... you're mine to keep safe."

Bambi glanced down at the bed they were both sitting on, "This is your bed?" she asked shyly.

"Mhm," Rick nods, "Those blankets you cuddle up in, the cologne you smell on the sheets. Those are all mine baby."

Bambi swallowed thickly, "Why'd you have me sleep in here all this time and not a guest room?" Bambi asks breathily, trying to keep her composure despite the butterflies going crazy in her tummy.

"I think you know why," Rick grins and Bambi exhales shakily, her eyes darting back and forth between his. Rick leaned even closer until his nose nearly bumped against hers, "I wanna keep you safe, surround you with myself," he explained, his eyes drinking in her eyes and features as if she were a painting, "You're such a sweet girl, baby. You need to be kept safe," he coos, rubbing his thumb on the underside of her bottom lip, "And there's no safer place for you than in my bed." Rick mumbles, his eyes flickering down to her lips. Bambi's ball of yarn had been forgotten, slipping out of her fingers and onto the mattress, "You gonna be a good girl and let me keep you safe?" Rick whispers, his lips only a breath away from hers. Bambi nods mindlessly in response, "I knew you would be," he mumbles to himself before capturing her lips with his.

Rick sighs into the kiss, his hand snaking up to tangle in her hair and pull her closer. Rick guided Bambi, not letting her speed up or slow down the kiss until he was ready. He wanted to savor the softness of her lips and the warmth of her mouth when he slipped his tongue inside it.

“You’re so beautiful sweetheart, like an angel,” Rick hums against her lips, pulling her even closer until she is half on his lap. He grabbed the ball of yarn and knitting needles and haphazardly tossed them onto the ground. Bambi couldn't help the slight smile his words caused, and the rush of heat to her cheeks, "You’re my pretty girl… aren’t you?” Rick asks with an intimate rumble, pulling back enough to meet her eyes. Bambi nodded again. It was as if a piece of her brain had shut off and she was responding to him on autopilot. Rick kisses her again, his technique growing a bit more heated, “What do you need, baby?” Rick asks as he begins to kiss along her jawline.

It was as if Bambi had finally snapped out of her trance and all her anxieties came flooding back into her mind, "I don't know. I..." she whispered with a slight tremor in her voice.

"What baby?" Rick mumbles against her skin as he begins to trail open-mouthed kisses down her neck.

"I haven't done anything sexual with anyone where I've been... asked what I wanted," she swallows nervously. Rick's eyebrows furrowed and he paused for a moment, his lips hovering over her skin before pulling back to look at her.

"What do you mean by that?" he asks, his face scrunched slightly in concern.

"I um... well," Bambi stammers for a moment. This was always a mood killer, "I'm not a virgin, but, when I lost my virginity it was...bad." she tries to explain and Rick only stares at her from her vague explanation, she could see the wheels turning in his head, "I didn't want it to happen. But it did." she clarifies, fiddling with her fingers nervously. When Rick finally understood what she meant the furrow between his brows went away and his face went blank, yet his eyes simmered with rage. She noticed the shaky inhale and clench of his jaw. He looked livid, and utterly hateful, as he stared at her. His mind was running wild with images, each worse than the last, of what could've happened to her and what he would've done if he found whoever had done it to her. Bambi thought for a moment his look of utter revulsion was directed towards her and she started to pull away when Rick stopped her.

"It's not you, baby," he assures her, his eyes still dark and almost crazed as he looked blankly at her as if recalling some distant memory, "Just thinkin'..."

Bambi gaped at him for a moment, unsure of what to say, "Do you want me to go, or..." she swallowed nervously.

Rick finally snapped out of his daze and tilted his head as he looked at her, "Why would I want you to go?"

"It doesn't seem like you're interested in doing this kinda stuff with me anymore," she answers hesitantly with furrowed eyebrows.

"I am interested, baby," he grins slightly, trying to push down the rage boiling in his gut, "I just don't like the idea of anyone hurtin' you." his jaw clenches again like the anger had bubbled up again but he straightened up, "We don't have to do anything you don't want to. We can stop right now, or just stick to kissin'. Whatever you want," he assures her with a soothing tone, the crazed look in his eyes softening to something more intimate and adoring.

"I do want to do more. I'm just… nervous for some reason," she mutters, beginning to fiddle with her fingers again.

Rick smiles slightly and takes one of her hands. "How about you show me where you want me to touch you, and we can start there?" he offers, holding her hand so she can guide him where she wants him. Bambi sighed shakily, and with a decisive look in her eyes, she guided his fingers to hover over her clothed center beneath her skirt. Rick fought back the urge to chuckle as she held her chin up high like she was trying to prove something to herself. She was adorable.

Rick's thumb began to gently rub her clit through her panties, biting back a groan at the damp heat he found there, “How’s this baby? This okay?” he asks lowly, rubbing languid circles over her nub. Bambi nods with a small 'mhm', bringing a grin to Rick's face as her lips parted with a soft pant. As Bambi began to relax more Rick started to kiss down her neck again as he continued to slowly circle her clit, easing her into it. When a slight moan slipped past Bambi's lips, Rick's kisses came to a stop and he pulled her closer. “C’mere baby,” he murmured, picking Bambi up like she was as light as a feather and sitting her on his lap with her back pressed against his chest. He scooched back on the bed slightly so they were more comfortable, resting his unoccupied hand on her belly to keep her close.

Once Rick had Bambi comfortably positioned between his legs, his hand slid back down to circle her clit again, this time pressing down harder and rubbing a bit faster circles. Bambi let out another timid moan and Rick quickly encouraged her, “That’s it, baby,” he muttered, placing a kiss on the side of her head, “Feels nice doesn’t it?”

Bambi nods in response, her breathing growing heavier and her eyes fluttering shut. Her hand moved up to grip his bicep, causing Rick to moan slightly, "Hold me however you need to, baby," he said huskily in her ear, "Still doing okay?" he asked, growing breathless himself and Bambi quickly nodded. Rick moaned lowly as the dampness on her panties coated his fingers. Her panties were soaked through. He removed his fingers from her clit and slid only the tips of his fingers beneath her panties, “How about this? Can I touch you like this?” Rick asks and Bambi nods again. Rick’s hands slipped completely beneath her panties, his palm pressed against her mound as his fingers sought out her clit again. A small, shaky moan slipped out from Bambi's lips from the direct contact with her pussy. “This pretty pussy’s dripping for me isn’t it baby?” Rick coos and Bambi nods again with a whimper. She could feel her brain beginning to shut off again, her thoughts going blank from the strong, but nurturing presence of Rick. Bambi had never been so turned on in her life.

Rick's middle finger slid down slightly to rub around her entrance before moving back up again to circle her clit. “Such a good girl,” he murmurs, planting more kisses on her head and temple. Bambi was practically beaming from his praise, and also from the pride she felt towards herself. She had thought for a long time she'd never want to have sex or do anything remotely sexual with anyone due to her trauma. Yet, here she was overcoming her fears and discomfort. Better yet, she was enjoying it.

Mewls and whimpers escaped her lips as Rick continued to rub her clit, his middle finger occasionally slipping down to gather the wetness by her opening and then returning to her clit. Rick's chest was heaving with shaky breaths, touching her like this alone was enough to make him cream his pants like a teenager.

“Gonna try something else now, sweet girl,” Rick murmured, carefully lifting Bambi off his lap as he got off the bed and kneeled in front of her, "Tell me if you don't like how it feels, okay?" Rick asks and Bambi nods, a shiver of anticipation running down her spine. “Scooch down some more baby,” he smiles slightly, pulling Bambi closer to the edge of the bed as she wiggles closer to him, “There we go,” he sighs once she is positioned where he wants her. He left a trail of hot kisses along her inner thighs, his beard scratching on her skin as his hands spread her thighs further apart with gentle pushes.

Bambi's body was buzzing with anxiety and anticipation. She'd never been eaten out before and had always worried about whether she smelled or tasted funny. But she pushed the worries down, determined to jump this hurdle too.

Rick pulled her panties to the side, and somehow it felt less embarrassing to Bambi than if he had pulled her panties off completely. But maybe that's why he did it. He started easy, pressing a few gentle kisses on her folds and clit. Bambi noticed how he licked his lips after each little kiss like he was trying to taste her without being obvious or overbearing. It made her smile slightly and restored a bit of confidence.

Once the tension in Bambi's body began to relax Rick gently pulled down her skirt and panties, placing tender kisses on each of her knees before he pulled them down to her ankles. Once Rick had set them on the floor he looked back up at her with a determined glint in his eyes, he wanted this to be good for her, “This stops whenever you want it to.” He reminds Bambi, who nods in agreement. Rick wrapped his arms around her thighs and his eyes raked over her intimate area. Rick could feel the damp spot on the front of jeans from precum as he subconsciously licked his lips at the sight of her bare pussy.

Bambi's cheeks turn red and she looks away from him in embarrassment, suddenly feeling exposed. “No need to be embarrassed sweetheart, just soakin’ in the sight of my girl's pretty pussy,” he murmurs before kissing along her slit again, “Been dyin’ to get a glimpse of this cunt baby,” he mumbles before licking up her slit with the flat of his tongue from just above her anus to the top of her clit. Rick pulled back with a satisfied grunt and parted her pussy lips with his thumbs and taking a moment to admire her before repeating the same action, licking every hidden crevice of her. He had been imagining for months what she tasted like. Daydreaming about smelling her on his beard the next day, or her cute little body over him as she sat on his face… the fantasies went on and on.

Bambi gasped, her hand instinctually moving to cover her mouth and muffle the sounds she made as Rick began to kitten lick at her clit. He watched her face closely to make sure she wasn't uncomfortable. Her eyes were closed and her eyebrows were furrowed from a mix of pleasure and awe at the new sensations he was providing. He reveled in how her lips made an 'o' shape with soft pants, her mouth slightly hidden behind her hand. He wanted to move her hand so he could see every bit of her beautiful face, but if it made her more comfortable to keep her hand there he would allow it for now.

She let out sweet little gasps and quick intakes of air as he licked her clit with the tip of his tongue, differing from Rick's unrestrained groans and grunts of enjoyment from between her legs. Her thighs twitched, closing slightly and Rick slid his hand to the underside of her thigh to guide her legs back open. He wanted unrestricted access to her pussy. Rick squeezed her thigh with a moan before focusing back completely on her intoxicating pussy. He lapped languidly at her cunt with low moans and lewd wet sounds before sucking her clit between his lips.

Bambi's legs twitched again as he suckled on her clit, a sound of surprise escaping her. Her hands moved down to grip the sheets as Rick continued his ministrations between her legs. With a low groan, he slid his hands up beneath her shirt to rest on her sides, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles against the underside of her breasts. Rick began to flick her clit again with his tongue, earning a desperate whimper from Bambi as her back arched slightly which was met with a groan of approval from Rick. He wanted to see his little angel lost in pleasure, arching into his touch.

Bambi's breathing picked up and her legs began to squirm as she neared her peak and Rick yanked her even harder against his mouth, eating her out with fervor as she came with a high-pitched whine. Her shaky sobs and whimpers of pleasure filled the room as Rick continued to kiss and suckle on her clit until her body went limp on the bed. He leaned back to look at her, a string of saliva connecting from his lips to her cunt, "How was that baby? Nice and satisfied?" he asks huskily and Bambi nods, her lower belly quivering slightly, "I love this perfect little cunt so much," Rick groans, his eyes rolling back as he leaned back for more.

if you have any requests including the people on my masterlist please comment them below any of my posts or in my submissions!! (check here: about my blog to see what things i'm not comfortable with in regards to requests <3)

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