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pieroulette · 1 year

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Did I, A Side Character Became the Male Lead's Wife?!

2023 | 13+ | ONESHOT | YANG JUNGWON × READER | -> PART 2

SUMMARY you — a side character in a royal novel doing absolutely nothing but enjoy your rich ass yet boring life, only watching over the female lead and doing your job in protecting her, only for a pair of kittenish eyes to fall not upon the female lead but on you, unfortunately.

AUTHOR'S NOTE not me writing a whole ass oneshot at 5am bcs of that sweet ask from that one anon, imma name u serotonin dopamine anon lmao- and jungwon bae u r truly my muse.. also inspired by sum manhwas cuz I binge read 90+ chapters in less than a day 💀💀💀 plus happy 900+ followers for me <333 mom wake up I'm famous even tho I'll never let u know what my secret writing blog is about 😊😊

a side character, how cute?

well, you only came to know of this very horrible (not really) fact that you're nothing close to a main character's vibes cause look at you babe, where's the sparkling shiny starry dust on you as you walked through the red carpet at the ball?

and did they even spare a glance at you? unfortunately, nope. because the female lead, Liz; was your enemy, at least in how your character was written in the novel by the goddamn author which was you.

yes, that's right!

you, a hella introverted author dwelling in the deepest corner of her room doing nothing but spent an ungodly amount of hours creating the perfect and enchanting characters after crying for major character death of a fic a few years ago. wiping your dripping tears off your cheeks in a comical way as you pull open your laptop and risk your 20/20 vision for life, just so you can reverse the aching pain in your chest that you wore a thick ass glasses now.

Liz, the female lead. Swooning over her was your religion, throwing not one but a ten whole buckets explaining how perfect she was—or how tremendously kind she was, delicate and utterly sweet. patting yourself on the back for creating such a goddess of a character, so it's only wise for you to give her a fitting male lead, right? Okay we'll talk about that later since it's about you right now.

So how did you end up in your novel? Well, because of one fateful day of you doing absolutely nothing but taking a goddamn rest, and whoever the god in heaven that just randomly decided to throw you in the novel you wrote yourself—must be utterly insane. Perfect indeed!

it took you a humongous realisation to see yourself in a dark green puffy dress that represents jealousy, envy, and betrayal—which also represents the side character standing behind the female lead on the thick cover of your book. you've originally written her as that wicked best friend that uses her seductive way of speech to seduce men, and at last turning her back at the female lead by accusing her of a horrendous crime.

her fatal fate consists of her head being snapped by the guillotine, unfortunately. but for you, not really, cause you are so in for destroying wicked characters but jokes on you—you're now in the body of that character.

pfft, can't the gods put you in a character that lives near the sea, with your straw hat on and as you drank your lemon juice away from the public drama, angsty dialogues, cringe moments you yourself have created because you don't have atleast an ounce of social skills that's why you pour it all on your characters.

"oh my apologies, milady— pfft—" three ladies sticking with each other like a super glue, had thrown the glass of wine on the female lead's gown—earning a series of gasps from everyone who saw but you were sure won't pay an ounce of consideration towards her as you had written almost everyone in this novel as "the world against the weak, fragile character."

oh, right. the hyena laughters of those you describe in episode 3 of "the flashy ball"; the three evil sisters, because why not? they added the extra spices in your tongue to the point you couldn't wait for them to get slap by the female lead or possibly someone.

ah, the tremendous satisfaction.

and you were one of that person whose hands itching to smash their skull apart, you cringed enormously at them as they were the ones that brought total trouble wherever they went or whoever are unlucky enough to get in their way. unfortunately, you seal your female lead's fate with them as she need some little obstacles, doesn't she?

you as hell were not sure what you're supposed to do, whether to just let things happen as the story goes or you do the male lead's job in protecting the female lead cause you have no idea why is he taking such a long time to appear, when he should've made his grand entrance at the freaking introduction?

and you wrote it that way cause you got fed up with male leads making their first appearance at the ball, and somehow quickly gaining the female lead's heart like Cinderella cause dear lord where's the slow burn?

just say, you're a conservative grandma type of a mindset or that you are skeptical over love at first sight. yep, you're right. that's why you ain't gonna let your precious female lead get bullied in front of your very eyes. she's like your granddaughter right now, seriously.

a shriek echoed through the entire ball, gaining everyone's attention. "oh my god! my dress! you— lady Liz! who did you even brought with you?!"

oh right, you forgot it's your first time at the ball either. "my apologies, milady. it's just that i saw a bunch of hyenas roaming around.." you rubbed the back of your neck.

"hyenas?! guards—"

"chill, what's the commotion here?" a bright dashing blonde haired man in a red royal suit came around, with sets of stars dusting upon his form which you already realise to be part of the main characters but unfortunately you forgot. you ain't having that extra superhuman memory just because you are an author.

the bunch of hyenas before you reasoned with the prince, but you slowly realise that the prince was none other than Prince Jake. Inspired by that one puppy image idol from fourth generation of kpop, you were apparently slurping your noodles in the local restaurant when you watched him imitating a dog from the tv, causing you to choke on your noodles.

it's safe to say, he's hot enough that he had to be part of your main characters. aah, that signature dashing smile of his as he defended the female lead with his wisely chosen string of words which immediately melted everyone's heart at sight.

times like this you wish you were actually the female lead, but the logical side of you beg to differ; you are not emotionally capable of spewing cringy romantic words for that's only reserved for writing. So thank you, i'll pass.

Surely, Prince Jake ain't the male lead for your precious female lead but you just let them converse with each other despite her with her absolute kindness, urging you to talk with them too, atleast a word. it sort of felt for a moment like she was trying to match you with the prince.

like no please, you'd rather not to. hot guys are hot, but they're not worth the emotional investment past the fangirling section.

plus the prince doesn't seem interested you as he doesn't spare not even one look at you which obviously you couldn't care any less, you sneakily went out the ball after a series of mishaps—for example your heavy puffy ass gown with its sole purpose to only look pretty but the reality ain't that pretty to say the least, panting like a dog as you took each step towards the entrance all while cussing yourself for ignoring your logical part of brain that you shouldn't have been adding humongous useless words to describe the gown just to make it sound extremely pleasing to the readers.

now you're the one to bear the consequences of your own writing, the fuck.

"one! two!—" a long, long, depressing sigh echoes. "three! ah!—" consequently falling upon your face, what a perfect day indeed. you just wanted to go home, tuck yourself in your comforting blanket, eat your hot cup of ramen or indulge yourself in the sea of chocolate while daydreaming of your favourite idols and fictional characters.

not this awful disaster of you getting tangled in the courts' affairs.

"i suppose, you need help, milady?"

oh no, certainly not. don't call me milady, pretend i do not exist for i certainly do not have the social skills to pretend that i like you, or form a decent conversation especially with men.

"milady?"

you curled yourself, burying your head into the comfort of your gowns. wondering quite a bit of how odd you look in the middle of the hallway.

"milady?" his voice-like whisper came closer, obviously standing beside you right now. "are you okay?"

fuck it. "please, i beg of you to kindly leave me alone as my day has been utterly ruined and—" oh wait, he seems oddly familiar. those lush fluffy hair and kittenish orbs that only softens among those he were close enough.

prince jungwon.

oh! the male lead, oh my god! your jaw hang so low it fell on the ground, your eyes sparkled in dozens of star like universe as you took in his marvelous beauty that you had spent creating meticulously after studying all the '101 rules of how to create the perfect male lead that had the readers heart evaporating & a huge ass green forest that certainly would cause blazing flames'.

"oh my god! you look absolutely gorgeous, i've done it really well didn't i?! oh my god!"

"o-oh—! absolutely, you did well!" he immediately replied back, pressing his lips tight nervously.

wait what? what did he say? oh shit, oh well, covering your mouth instantly as you accidentally let it out before the prince, your precious male lead that you solely created for the female lead. "i—.."

the prince, your very precious character—obviously taken aback with a slight blush dusting of his adorable cheeks as he raise his fist up to his lips, coughing a couple of seconds. a personality trait you very well are familiar of cause that's how you wrote him when he fall in love with the female lead.

your eyes ogled out at that familiar sight, screaming at the back of your mind—wait, wait! you're not supposed to fall in love with me, you idiot! go back! go inside the ball, she's inside there!

"that's oddly brave of you, milady. i'd certainly go as far as to say that i've never seen such traits from a lady." kitten eyes softening at you, crouching down as he lend both of his hands for you. you raised your eyebrow confusingly at what is he trying to pull at but you realise he was intending to get you up.

"u-uhm? uh, sorry. i could get up on my own, actually." yeah, that's what you did. pushing yourself back up despite his protests because you ain't gonna let him fall any further for you, nah uh, not in this life, your mission is to get him and your female lead together inside the frames of birds holding flower wreaths as they went on to their happily ever after.

not with you!

"may i have the honour to know your name, though, milady?" why the fuck isn't he leaving, what is there so interesting in you that he is still standing here asking you such generic questions.

you shouldn't be having the characters attention on you as you obviously wrote it that way, and that even though your character in the novel had tried to get the prince's heart, despite resorting to foul actions, that he never truly had been attracted to her despite this characters' seductive aura.

for you squealed so loud at the scene you wrote, with jungwon putting her in her place. "you are not her, and you would never be her." along with the bunch of your readers hosting a flamboyant celebration under the comments, screaming over how loyal he was.

so what in the actual fuck is this?

"you don't need my name." you nonchalantly answered.

"my apologies?"

"you see, my best friend is in the ball—" you gestured your hands to the entrance of the ballroom, "and she needs your help more than i do."

"wait? why would she need my help?" his eyebrows knitted together in utter confusion as you pushed him through his back.

"of course, she do! don't ask anything!"

"wait!— my name is!" he forcefully turn to face you again, but you immediately covered his mouth with your hands—kabedonning him against the wall.

an excruciating silence occured between you two in the silent hallway, Jungwon freezing to his core when your other hand shoot beside his head.

"listen i don't need your name, dear sir." you emphasise each word, you certainly don't need to know his name nor his status as a prince, not wanting to risk any possible connection with him judging by how he acted before you just now.

"b-but!" his words were muffled into the void as you cupped his mouth tighter.

"shh, shh. stop talking and listen, will you?!"

jungwon nodded slowly, what an odd situation he was in right now, he thought. but somehow he likes it.

"so first step, is go inside the ballroom. second, look for the lady in pink gown, and third—"

"t-third?"

"third is tell her your name! my best friend needs it more than i do!" you release him from your grasp as you went to swing open the huge double door, "now go!" waving a goodbye before kicking his body through the entrance, pulling the door back with your entire strength despite his protests.

oh of course, you finally let out a gag after suppressing it in front of him the entire time as you've never had a proper conversation with a male without stuttering, somewhat a sad tragedy for you, unfortunately. you felt quite guilty about your readers who swoon over the romances you wrote between your leads, weeping over how you're so good at it—not knowing you're a complete introvert with only a gigantic ass dictionary with you.

finally, the male lead and female lead's romances are about to start! you squealed with your hands clasping as you went on your way to the carriage, gesturing for the rider to embark on the way to your heavenly puffy manor with the widest big grin ever that it had him questioning you, "has any gentleman had caught your heart, milady? a couple of hours ago, you were often beyond distraught to attend the ball but insisted when you heard Lady Liz was going."

"oh, you silly." you giggled as you swayed your hand, "of course, that's one of the reasons. but there's another one.."

"may i ask what is it, then?"

you leaned in closer, urging him to get closer as you whispered. "i got the chance to become a Cupid!"

"a Cupid?" you squealed before the old man, hopping like a child for quite awhile before flying into the carriage much to his surprise, but only shook his head in amusement—appalled by how his mistress had changed so much.

"so?" you couldn't help yourself from pulling out the widest eccentric grin at the female lead, extremely curious and ecstatic over what romances had bloom between her and Jungwon.

Liz raises her eyebrow in confusion, "so?.. what do you mean, milady?"

you shrugged, falling back to your seat as you raise your eyebrow in a comical way, "that.." whispering ever so seductively, "prince."

"p-prince?

"yes!" the teacup rattles at your excitement oozing so much that you tapped the table a couple of times. "what happen? what's the tea~"

she lets out a soft giggle, a bit amused by your excitement. "i have no idea what you're trying to imply, milady."

"wait? what are you saying? didn't the prince went to you last night?"

Liz shook her head slowly, her expressions clearly stating that she absolutely don't know what and who you were talking about as a smile pulled up on her lips once again, taking a few sip from her teacup.

veins popped out from your neck as it dawned on you, your head snapped towards the castle on top of the mountain, you stupid of a prince! you cussed at him endlessly at the back of your mind, tightening your fist as your ears and nose fuming in anger. how dare he? he didn't listen to you at all? what in the actual fuck? would this somehow divert the original route? a dozen question arise into your mind one after another, causing you to let out an exaggerated sigh.

facepalming yourself as you imagined the imaginary heavenly light on top of you, weeping to yourself about how tremendously unlucky you are to have a hard headed male lead. it's impossible, you have never added a trait so irritating like this in his profile so how could this happen?

"milady?" the gentle voice of your precious female lead pulled you out of your inner desperation, you leaned in closer, whining so much over how unlucky you were and such, the rest only being in your mind as you pouted.

"ah, i remember now, the prince—"

"WHAT?—" you immediately seated yourself after giving her a potential heart attack, "my apologies, what did you actually.. remember?"

"i assume you were talking about the prince from yesterday? prince jake?"

"no not that bitch— oh certainly not him, ehem.." you took a couple of exaggerated coughs, avoiding her evident confusion. "isn't there a prince.. name jungwon with you that night?"

"oh my goodness! right! prince jungwon!" she shook her head in disbelief with her finger on her head.

right, how did you even forgot that the female lead in front of you had a "weak ass memory" in her profile description. tsk tsk, truly a forgetful author you are. you should be trying your best to remember the things you wrote before and revise it as best as you can, to avoid any possible problems in the future, atleast.

"right, how did i even forget, the prince asked me for your name, milady—"

"huh?" you look at her with confusion, as you were out of reality a couple of seconds ago. your orbs terribly widened as her words slowly sinking in to your brain. "HUH?"

ask your name?! why your name, why not hers?! what did the prince ate that night before stumbling onto your way that he had to ask for your name before the female lead—his own lover?!

laughing awkwardly, you raise your leg on top of another as you nervously swayed your hands repeatedly. "oh dear, oh dear. you might have heard it wrong, the prince?—" snorting outloud as you gestured to yourself, "asking for my name? what a funny news!"

"i didn't, milady. the prince came to me and asked me for your name, as he was immensely curious of who you are so i—"

"so what?—" you can't believe this, you really can't bring yourself to believe any words she was uttering. you should have been bestowed by the news that the prince had taken an interest in her, a hand in marriage, or anything, anything as long as you're out of the picture! "y-you didn't tell him my name, d-didn't you?"

"of course, i did!" exclaimed she did with the widest grin ever.

why are you so freaking happy over this?! clasping your head in your hands as you tragically fall on your knees causing the lady to gasp in shock, ushering to your side to get you up.

"milady?! what's wrong?"

"d-dear," you pouted as you look up to her, "you didn't tell him where my manor's at, r-right?"

she simply replied, "i did? the prince informed me that he's going to send a letter for you to be his partner to the ball."

an imaginary arrow struck back to your heart, forming a humongous hole that threatens to give you a panic attack. what? what in the actual fuck? did you accidentally did something to divert the original story you yourself created? but you didn't even do anything! you tried to do your best to keep the interaction with him as short as possible and he dared to take an interest in you?!

"milady, a letter from the royal palace had arrived for you."

"discard it. throw it. keep it away from my sight."

"milady?!" Liz and the head of the maid exclaimed in utter shock at your nonchalant answer.

"forget about it, forget about it." you clasped your forehead in utter disappointment, yet your brain were creating another plan b for this unexpected turn of events. what should you do? even more so, what would you do now that the prince had asked for you to be by his side to the ballroom?

this won't do, you won't let this happen—you had to look as unattractive and ugly as possible for him to cringe on and finally divert his attention back to the rightfully person who deserved it; the female lead.

your maids could only fall apart every single time you pluck out the enchanting gems they attached on your hair, ears and wrists. their efforts deemed futile as always as you had no mood for any sort of events, it was like a slap to their face as you initially weren't like this. you overheard them that they couldn't get used to how you were adamant in staying behind the spotlight as you often did your very best in dressing yourself up before, with the sole intention of gaining the favour of men and even more better, a prince.

of course, they are totally oblivious to your real identity. only a series of jaw gaping one after another with your change of character, at first—you had a dilemma over whether you should act like the character you created but you later scrap the idea as soon as the anxiety of being engulfed in the crowd suffocated your chest. opting to avoid as many as balls or public events as possible, but that obviously didn't work out that well since you heard of the female lead's arrival from the country side—just like you intended it to be.

and being the proud mother (writer) you are, of course why wouldn't you take one single look at her and see of how far she had came? but alas, one interaction leads to another one and so on—till finally, you became her best friend throughout her entire journey. waiting for the male lead's arrival, and watch their romances blooming and per se—but oh well, look at the situation you were in right now; total disaster.

you truly despise being in such an extravagant puffy gown and the numerous accessories hugging your skin, it's tremendously uncomfortable that you wanted to rip it off part in front of the prince standing before you right now, and right here.

asking for your hand to dance with that odd kittenish smile, that you swore you had never ever written in his personality profile; he should never have been this casual and chill over a person he had just met. he should've been cold as fuck, icy to touch, and a spiralling disaster if you dare to talk to him, so why?

plus how could he have taken an interest in you? you couldn't possibly have added a dose of the love at first sight trope, didn't you? you despised that trope to your very core.

"milady? may i?" he extended his hand before you, patiently waiting for your answer.

you had decided that you're going to reject him quick and efficient—just like the local fast food restaurant your mouth kept drooling over for, smashing a five star review for their inhuman speedy delivery.

"you see, prince jungwon. i have no desire to have a connection with you, a relationship, as a matter of fact."

he raised his eyebrow, seemingly unfazed by your bold words. "i'm curious milady, why so? have i done something that perhaps had annoyed you?"

cliché question, you loathe that. "what if i said you did?"

"then tell me, milady. i'll try my hardest to own up to you—" he took a steps forward, which causes you to immediately step back as well with a frown on your face. you can't, not in this life, to even give him a single chance to get close to you. nah uh.

"no need, and stay one meter apart, please." you pointed your index finger towards the floor and he hesitated, but complied immediately.

"i." you raise your index finger back to yourself and then at him, "don't like you. do you understand?"

"b-but?"

"stop questioning me, prince jungwon." you stayed firm in your spot, "i believe it's a common decency to step back when a lady had voiced out her opinion, a prince like you certainly would understand, am i right?"

Jungwon was clearly taken aback, the fact that you didn't give him a single chance to utter a word nor take a step closer was a hard punch to his face. It feels as if he was trying to reach for you, but you efficiently dodged it with ease. It kind of.. annoys him.

"base on how you didn't say anything anymore, i assumed we're done here! well then, goodbye prince jungwon." you turned your heels towards the entrance, not bothering to waste any time at this goddamn ball. "i hope this will be the very last." you scoffed inside your mind, eager for the story to return to it's original route, and that the prince would soon deem you useless and such—returning to the female lead's arms.

hm, now where's your precious female lead? she should've appeared right now and right here, strike the pot while it's hot!

"i'm afraid i can't back down that easily, milady." jungwon took a few steps forward, wrapping his hand round your wrist as he spun you around to face his eyes filled with blazing determination. one that you specifically added on top of his profile so that your readers would kept it in mind.

your breath hitched down your throat as you remembered there's only two reasons he could have this; one that reminds you when he was at war, shouting at the top of his voice to encourage his soldiers as they push through the enemies, and another reason of it appearing is when he have to get what he wanted, or else all hell will break loose, chaos will ensue.

right, you're truly an idiot. staying a few years in this novel without any memories, and only for it to surface back when you stumble upon the library—dozens of books flickering a series of eccentric images in your mind. It had cause you to lose all memories of important details, only emerging everytime you are presented with a situation you couldn't comprehend. such as when you forgot that the female lead had memory problems and such.

"i'll only present this choices to you, milady. since you tremendously intrigued me over how well spoken you were and fascinating indeed—" bitch, you don't even know how you had the sudden ability to confront him but you were just sure as hell that you don't want to ruin your own novel. no fucking way.

you can't let him have the upper hand on you.

"let me go." irritated to your core, you tried untangle Jungwon's tight grasp on your wrist but he won't budge even an inch which only had you fuming in anger. "i said let me go, bitch!"

the crowd emits a series of gasps and murmurs as you spun around—twisting the prince's arms which had him yelping in pain, and ultimately pinning him onto the ground. with rage consuming you that nothing was going in your way, you slammed your hands on the both side of his head. clenching your jaw and gritting your teeth as you emphasised each word. "you are one a dumb hell of a bitch, when i said i do not want to see you anymore. i mean it. so—"

"so what?" his smug look resurfaces, one that emerges whenever he was being challenged. yes, do that! he should despise you, not take an interest in you! he should loathe you so much that he can't even gaze at you for a second. excitement surged through your veins as you open your mouth, preparing for the last blow.

"so, get lost. just because you're a prince doesn't mean every girl would fall for you, idiot."

an even more louder gasp emits from the crowd as they clearly heard what you said, their jaw gaping and some covering their mouths with their hands as their mind are now bombarded with random questions over how exceedingly brave you are to insult the royal prince, and of what fate will you met now that you've done such an atrocious act.

a low giggle sent shivers down your spine, and goosebumps to riled over your neck as you realise the prince under you had the widest smirk on his face. you frowned deeply, he shouldn't be smirking! he should be fuming in anger and throwing you out of the palace at this moment. so why?!...

"oh milady, how truly fascinating you are." you let out a loud yelp when he grabbed both of your wrists, pulling you closer to his face—a dangerous close proximity against his fluttering eyelashes and lips that your breath caught up in your throat which causes your cheeks to heated up in embarrassment of what kind of position you two were in right now. "i like you, you would certainly be a perfect fit to be by my side."

"what?!" you exclaimed, jaws dropping and eyes about to pop out at his very words. "i don't want to be by your side—"

"a lady like you, i'm afraid to say, intrigues me very much..." Jungwon shots a kittenish wink right through your heart. "be my wife, milady. i'll show you how good I can be for you."

#「 talesofyuan 」 fics #did i. a side character became the male lead's wife?!#enha #enhypen #enhypen x reader #enha imagines #enha x reader #enhypen oneshots #enhypen scenarios #enha fanfic #enhypen x female reader #enha fluff #jungwon smut #enhypen fluff #enha smau #enhypen jungwon #yang jungwon

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blueicequeen19 · 1 year

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Unwanted Attention

Masturbation, sexting, toys, Kook obsessed with JJ and he’s not about it 😏

I look down at my phone to see a incoming video call from her. The girl I’ve told to fuck off on numerous occasions but she won’t take no for an answer. When I asked her how she got my number, she told me that half the Kook girls had it because they all wanted me to ruffle their feathers. Something about a bad boy and pissing off their daddies.

Well it wasn’t happening. The Pogues came first and I knew they’d hate me if I stooped as low as fucking Kooks. Those girls were stuck up and totally not my type. Yet this one is annoyingly persistent.

I rake my hand through my hair as I step away from the party heading towards the water before hitting accept. I don’t even get words out before her tits fill the screen. Perfect. Round. More than a handful. Suckable. Bitable. Fuck. I’m hard.

“JJ.” She moans my name, the camera switching to show her fucking herself with a big pink dildo. Her clit is plump and swollen and slick with her arousal. She’s so goddamn wet.

“Listen.. I..” I start but she cuts me off with another sexy moan. My chest is tight. My balls are heavy and my dick is practically steel. I fucking hate this girl. HATE her. But here I am about to cum in my fucking shorts over the sight of her.

“I’m pretending it’s you, JJ. I wish it was your cock.” My knees nearly give out at her words.

“Why.” It’s all I can manage. My throat is tight and my chest feels ready to explode. I can barely catch my breath.

“What’s not to want?” She purrs, adjusting the angle closer until I can hear the sloppy wet sounds of her fucking her own pussy.

“It’s not going to happen. You can’t just—.”

“I’m close! Fuck, JJ, I need you so badly.. what’s a girl gotta do?” She begs, all desperate and needy. I grit my teeth, glancing over my shoulder to make sure no one has followed me before turning all my attention back to her.

“Spread your legs wider. Fuck yourself deeper. Harder.” I growl, unable to stop myself from palming my dick in my shorts as she does as I ordered.

“Oh— god—.” She cuts off, her cries piercing the air as she cums. I can’t breathe as I watch her coat the toy in cum until she finally stills, the only sound becoming her shallow breathing. I palm my aching dick, dying for relief.

“That should’ve been you.” She whispers, pulling the toy out and showing me the evidence of her release. The toy is thicker at the tip and longer than I thought. Fuck, she might be sore later. I shake off my emotions and let my gaze harden.

“Don’t call me again.” I snap, hitting the end button and pocketing my phone before she begs me to come over and actually fuck her.

#smutwarning #outer banks smut #jj maybank smut #jj maybank fic #obx2 #jj maybank imagine #rudy pankow #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank x you #jj obx

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trashcanfanfics · 2 years

Note

i would like to ask an imagine ir headcannons about Alastor, Angel Dust, Husk, Vox and Blitzø when their s/o tells them "i love you" for the first time

I think I did something like this for Alastor and Vox in an overlord headcanon ask but I'll do them for Angel, Husk, and Blitz :)

Edit: I can't fuckin believe I forgot Husk goddammit

Angel Dust:

You were tired after a very long day of just trying to go to the store to stock up the hotel kitchen. Charlie had unfortunately made you the unlucky soul to go out to do it. You found it hard to hate her, but in this moment you disliked her extremely. The car you'd been loaned was stolen and you had to try and carry everything back on your own. No one from the hotel was answering their phone, except your boyfriend who was on the other side of the Pentagram for a show. So you were on your own and completely fucked.

Hours later, you've been in several fights over these groceries and hit with the car that was stolen from you, but you finally made it to the hotel. Up the steps and stumbling your way to the kitchen, you think about how to ease your aching body.

The groceries put away, and a new list for tomorrow to get the things you'd lost/went bad in the time it took to get home, you flop on your bed with a groan. A few minutes later you fell asleep.

You woke up to a commotion. Groggy, you sat up and winced at the ache in all of your limbs. The noises sounded distant, like it was in the lobby, but loud enough to rouse you from a fitful nap. You stood with a slight stumble to go see what it could be, and to possibly tell whoever it is to shut the fuck up.

On the stairs, you heard Angel's voice yelling and more angry than you've ever known him to be. Charlie's voice came softer, trying to mediate between the other angry voice. It seemed like Vaggie and Angel were going at it again. You made your way slowly down the stairs, wincing at the pain in your feet and knees from your little adventure today.

"You fucks! You sent them out to get some stupid fuckin' groceries and you don't even make sure they're okay after they called you so many fuckin' times!" All four of his arms were waving around and his eyes were slightly bloodshot from the exertion of yelling at the top of his lungs. Vaggie looked ready to kill him again, and with a bit of shame mixed into her expression.

"Angel, I'm sure they're fine--" Charlie was cut off by Angel's yelling once again.

"They aren't answerin' their phone! None of you assholes have seen 'em! If they're so fuckin' fine then where the goddamn fuck are they?!" He stops a moment to catch his breath. "Where are they?" His voice changed from anger to desperation. His four shoulders slumped as he looked at the ground. You cleared your throat.

"Uh, Angel?" You voice was rough from the nap. He whipped around, the movement causing you to sway with dizziness. "Woah..." Angel hurried over to you and grabbed you up in all his arms, squeezing you tight.

"Oh my god, I thought something happened to you!" He pulled back to look at you, your eyes tired, your limbs limp, scratches and cuts and forming bruises. "Why...Why are you so banged up?" You blinked and looked at him before shaking your head.

"I'm tired." You had barely said the sentence before Angel scooped you up and took you back upstairs. Vaggie's distant huff of annoyance and Charlie's "glad you're okay!" were the last things from the conversation as Angel took you back to your room.

Thanks for carrying me, babe." You were placed on your soft bed and Angel made quick work of taking off your shoes. He didn't answer as he went to the connected bathroom. You heard the faucet start before you saw him enter the room again. "Angel?"

"Why didn't you answer your phone?" His voice sounded angry, but in a hollow way. Not accusatory, not really. It sounded worried, haunted almost. He made his way to you and helped you out of your shirt. "I called you. A lot." Your heart ached worse than the rest of your body at the small tone.

"It was broken when some of the groceries were stolen." You pointed to the night stand, where you placed the broken remnants of your poor phone. Angel glared at it like it was the one to blame for everything wrong in his life. He helped you get out of the rest of your clothes and into the tub.

"Let me help." He grabbed a rag and cleaned your scratches and cuts. His hands were gentle and he apologized softly every time you winced. He helped dry you off and bandaged the worse of the cuts before allowing you to change into fresh underwear and pajamas.

You two were cuddled up in your bed. His arms gently around you and your head in his fluff. Angel had been soft and quiet this entire time. It made you think that he probably thought something more serious had happened. You thought about the last thing you said to him before he left to work. "Get going, bitch" wasn't what you would want to leave him with.

"Hey, you still up?" Angel only groaned in response and you decided to continue. "I want you to know that I love you." Angel only held you tighter at your words. You knew he reciprocated and you snuggled up closer before falling into a better sleep.

Blitz:

All day you wanted to talk to him. All day you waited patiently for him to be done with work. He just kept getting busy. You hadn't even gotten more than a "hi" with a small peck. Normally that'd satisfy you, you would be fine all day with that. Today was different. Today was exactly 666 days since you started dating. You'd been counting and wanted to do a silly anniversary like all the other dumb couples.

"I can't even be mad at him." You flopped on your couch. "He wasn't counting with me. This was just me being sentimental." You rolled over and curled on your side. It felt ridiculous to be upset about it. Childish. A ping from your phone dragged you out of your wallowing for a second. You picked it up.

Blitz Baby <3: Wanna get takout tnite

You: Are you asking a question?? Or is this you demanding??

Blitz Baby <3: Asking

You: Then yes ;*

Blitz Baby <3: ;* ;* ;*

You giggled, feeling a little bit better. Maybe you two could finally watch that movie you'd been wanting to for a while. A newfound excitement filled you. You loved things like this. Nights in, watching movies or playing games or even just talking. Simple, just you two. Intimacy in the best way. You're sure Blitz felt the same. He seemed to really enjoy both your alone time together.

The both of you communicated a time and decided to chill at your place this time. You'd gotten the food, cleaned up a little, got into the nicest comfy clothes you had. Everything was set and perfect and cozy. There was even a pillow fort and plenty of blankets. You were buzzing with excitement when you heard your phone pinged.

Blitz Baby <3: Mite hv t reshcedg som thn came up

You: Aw what?? :( Okay...

Blitz Baby <3: Gimme liek 30 min I try tmak it short

You: Okay

Somehow you knew this was going to happen. It always did when you wanted to hang out. Work took him too long, you had your own job, his thing with the owl prince. Too many things got in the way. But you were stubborn and had the attitude that if something wanted to take him from you, it'd have to pry him from your cold dead hands. Tonight that was kinda squandered.

Hours had gone by and still no sign from him. No text, no call, no knock on the door. Nothing. A part of you was worried something happened; the rest was just upset. Not at him, but the universe. You were laying on your couch, pillow fort taken down in a fit of sadness. Only a few pillows were allowed to stay to help comfort you. You put his food in the fridge and ate most of yours already. A little bit was saved because he liked to eat some of your plate like he liked to feed you some of his.

A knock at your door roused you from your almost sleep. You sniffed and rolled off the couch to head towards the door. Attempting to rub the redness from your eyes, you curse yourself for allowing yourself a small cry over some arbitrary thing you made up. A giant bouquet was shoved into your face.

"What the--!" You grab the offending flowers and look to the criminal responsible for the attack. There, stood in the hallway of your apartment building, was your boyfriend. "Blitz what the fuck? I thought you were busy?" His cat like grin grew on his face as he slithered by you into your apartment.

"Well, I was but, y'know." He went to the fridge and pulled out the food, popping it into the microwave. You grabbed your scissors to cut the ends at an angle only to find they'd already been cut. Blitz handed you a vase.

"You wanna watch a movie?" You put the water filled vase on the table and discard the wrapper on the flowers. "I've got that we talked about one in the dvd player already." The microwave beeped as he agreed with a hum.

"The flowers really go with the paint." They didn't but you appreciate the thought. You both left them to their vase and awful puke green wall paint.

The couch was still kind of warm from your sad wallowing earlier. You curled up to an arm on one side as he snuggled up beside you, feeding you bites every so often. Your arm was around his shoulders. The movie was some B-list horror about lake fungus coming alive and mutating the wildlife. It was probably some sort of message about saving nature or some shit, but it was funny and full of camp.

"I wanted to tell you something, by the way." You set your head on one of his huge horns. "It's kinda dumb."

"Yeah, so are a lot of things." He didn't move his head, but lifted up a forkful of whatever he was eating. "Shoot." You took the bite and chewed slowly, thinking over how you wanted to word this without sounding like the dumbest bitch in Hell.

"Today was a stupid little thing that I wanted to celebrate." You started. You felt him tense up. "It wasn't major, more like a fun thing that doesn't mean anything." You've said "thing" too many times. Abort! Abort!

"Well, what was it?" He finally moved so he could look at at you. You looked down and back to the tv. A breath or two and you thought more about what you wanted to say.

"It's been exactly 666 days since we started dating and I thought that was funny so I wanted to celebrate it like an anniversary." You stared at the credits rolling on the screen. "It doesn't matter, it was kinda dumb." You shrugged your shoulders. Blitz gently grabbed your face and made you look at him.

"I counted the days too." He admitted with a small smile, his brows knitted together. "It's kinda why I wanted to hang out today." He flops back into your side. You let out a small "oof". He fed you another bite of food before tossing the empty container onto the coffee table. The imp wiggled around to get comfy. You laughed a little and laid down so you'd both be comfy. Arms wrapped around each other, you couldn't be happier.

"I love you." You blurted after a few moments of silently tracing his white spot. Looking down, you saw Blitz already asleep. "Jesus Christ it's only been a minute." You let out a sigh of amused exasperation. That sentence can be used tomorrow to make it hard for him to leave for work in the morning.

Husk:

All day had been a living nightmare. You hadn't had the chance to sit longer than a minute at any given time. Charlie had her hands full with her and Vaggie's visit to the center of the Pride Ring. Some family reunion; the news was covering every appearance of another Prince of Hell and their immediate family. With the Pride Princess's attention elsewhere, she left most of the paper work to you. Today was full of talking with contractors and running around to get materials for the fixing of the Hotel. You'd been cussed out, smacked, overloaded, looked down on, and laughed at. In other words, you were overwhelmed and exhausted. All you wanted to do was curl up and sleep, maybe even cry.

Husk watched you run in and out the entire day. He'd seen how you looked worse and worse as the minutes ticked by. There was a pang in his chest every time you would do a half wave with a tired smile every time you passed him. He hated to see you so overworked. If he remembered correctly, Alastor was supposed to be doing half the work you were trying to juggle. Said asshole was smiling smugly in the shadows, watching you struggle with sadistic glee. Husk could feel the sticky air that hung around the red bastard nearby. It pissed him off, and Alastor knew it. That was worse.

"Finally done?" Husk grumbled out as you threw down a stack of paperwork you still had to do and sat on a bar stool. He glared at the documents. You sighed and laid your head on the cool, polished wood of the bar top. Husk winced at the way your back cracked as you went basically boneless. He poured you a cup of orange juice. A book somewhere said something about orange slices being a good idea after sports; this was the closest thing he had. The exhaustion on your face was heartbreaking as you looked at the glass.

"I don't want to exist right now." Your mumbled wish was emphasized by a small sniff. Husk put his clawed hand on your head and gave you a small scratch. You always did that when he was feeling down, maybe this could help you too. A small sigh of bliss was a good encouragement.

"What a heartwarming moment! I didn't think you had it in you, Husker!" The bane of your existence finally decided to show himself. You groaned at his loud voice interrupting the small bit of calm you were enjoying. The Radio Demon sat down next to you and threw an arm around your tired form.

"Go fuck yourself, you bastard." Husk threw Alastor's arm off you. Static popped as Alastor fixed his hair nonchalantly. You gave your lover a tired smile of appreciation. His undead heart ached at the sight.

"Now, now, no need to be crass!" The ever smiling demon laughed, making you wince. Husk's ears flattened as his anger flared. "If they wanted to be left alone, all they'd need to do is ask." That seemed to be the final straw for the cat.

"The only reason they're too tired to even be near you is because you're an asshole who loves to watch people suffer!" Husk pointed a claw at the red menace. His tail thrashed behind him, wings puffed up to make him look bigger. "Not only that, you're even more exhausting today because of your fuckin' smug face. You know you were supposed to help them today but you enjoy causing people misery more than you like controlling everything so you decided to hide in the shadows like the piece of shit you are!" You raised your head at Husk's outburst, jaw hung open. You'd never seen your boyfriend so mad.

"Husk--" You tried to comfort or calm him down. The last this you wanted was for Alastor decide to torture Husk over one bad day. Alastor's smile grew more amused at every word. Husk's glare grew with it. The deer demon threw his arm around your shoulders again and pulled you to his side.

"Would you look at that! You see how your loverboy raises his hackles! What a show, don't you think dear?" His grip tightened on you as you tried to push him away. You didn't have the energy to tell him off today, nor the strength to shove him off his stool, it seemed. Husk growled.

"Get your. Fuckin' hands. Off them." Husk's words were said through gritted teeth. Alastor was about to say something but Husk hissed at him. You felt like you were sitting in the middle of a vortex. They were both staring each other down with an intensity you'd never seen before. Miraculously, Alastor let you go and stood up.

"Fine, fine, I suppose I should be getting to work, anyhow." And with a snap of the deer's fingers, he was gone, along with the paperwork you'd placed on the bar top. A sigh slipped from your lips as you placed your head back down in relief. You really thought you were about to witness Husk's second death. It took the last bit of energy you had.

"Sorry 'bout that." Husk rounded the bar and gently scooped you into his arms. "Didn't mean to make you feel worse." You only groaned in response as you rested your head against his chest. He carried you upstairs and to his room.

Husk's room was the same design as yours when you first got here. A standard red wallpaper with dark wood furniture, red sheets and dim lighting. He hadn't bothered to change it, other than some of your clothes littering the floor. There were a few knickknacks you'd given him, some from his apartment. He'd always act aloof or uninterested when you'd give him something in the beginning of your relationship, but you knew he liked them.

"Wait here." He gently placed you on the bed. You basically moaned as you sank into the soft mattress. He left the room and you heard his footsteps retreat down the hall. You used this time to take off your shoes and get comfier in the bed. The weight of your eyelids caused you to close them.

Husk re-entered the room, the sound of the door clicking back closed making you open your eyes again. He walked over to you and offered the glass of orange juice from earlier. You smiled and sat up a bit to drink some of it.

"Husk." Your eyes blinked slowly before looking up at him with a slightly bigger, tired smile. "I love you." The words made him tense up. He looked at the lamp across the room, his tail twitched at the end and wings fluffed up then back down. You waited patiently for his response. He fidgeted a bit more before looking at you then back down at the half empty cup in your hand.

"You should sleep, you look exhausted." He gently too the cup from you and set it on the nightstand. You laid back down and he went to turn off the light and draw the curtains. It left you in near darkness. You tensed slightly when you felt him crawl up beside you, but soon relaxed. He pulled you into his gentle embrace and covered you both with a wing as his tail curled over your thigh. A gentle purr lulled you into a much needed sleep.

"Love you too." The grumbled words were the last thing you registered before rest fully took over.

#hazbin hotel x reader #angel dust x reader #helluva boss x reader #blitzo x reader #husk x reader #trashcan answers you

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zepskies · 5 months

Text

Wake Me Up - Part 2

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Reader

Summary: A few weeks after you and Ben celebrate your first Christmas together, Ben is returning from another mission with the Supe Affairs team. When he discovers that you’ve been taken, he’ll do whatever it takes to find you. And then, to help you heal.

AN: Thank you so much for your lovely responses on Part 1! Last week's angst was very physical. Now let's get into emotional...

Song Inspo: “I Can Read Your Mind” by the Doobie Brothers.

Word Count: 6.4K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, PSTD, hurt/comfort, medical trauma and injuries…and a bit of Nurse Benjamin? lol

💚 Wake Me Up Masterlist || Break Me Down Masterlist

Part 2: “All in Your Eyes”

At first, it was all shapeless color.

It felt like a small eternity before your vision cleared, and you dimly became aware of being in a hospital room. Your steady heartbeat clipped away on the monitor.

You had an IV in your hand and wires suction-cupped to your chest. Your raggedy clothes had been replaced with a blue paper gown, hidden under the blankets keeping you warm.

It was a slow process, and it hurt, but you managed to turn your head. You saw a man sitting in the corner with a laptop balanced on his lap. He typed with two fingers at a time, which reminded you of your grandfather. His brown hair fell over his furrowed brows, but his beard was well-trimmed.

His head soon rose, possibly feeling the weight of your gaze. His eyes widened a fraction, and he hastily closed the laptop and set it down on his seat before he went to you. You frowned when he came to sit at your bedside, and even touched your cheek with a gentle hand.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said. His voice was deep and smooth. “How’re you feeling?”

You didn’t have the energy to lean away from his hand, but you did give him a look of weary confusion.

“I…I don’t…who are you?” you asked.

His green eyes went blank for a moment. His hand fell from your cheek.

Then he chuckled in disbelief.

“Eyes are barely open, and already you’re fucking around,” he said.

That confused you even more. You were saved from answering, however, when there came a knock at the door. A blonde young woman peeked in. She brightened with a shocked, but happy smile when she saw you were awake.

“Hey! Oh my God, you’re awake,” she whispered in excitement. She went to your bed on the other side and picked up your hand. It took you a moment to remember her name, but you did recognize her.

“A-Annie? What…what happened?” you asked. You didn’t recognize the roughness in your own voice.

Annie shared a sobered look with the man sitting beside you, and she looked down at you again.

“Oh, hun. What do you remember?” she said.

You tried hard to think…but you couldn’t. It was all blurry and muddled in your mind.

Then, it was incredibly painful. A sharp, piercing pain that permeated through your skull and rattled down your spine, waking up the rest of your body in the worst of ways.

You whimpered, and the monitor began to beep more incessantly as your heart rate began to climb. You uttered a cry of pain while you held your aching head. You felt the gauze wrapped across your temples, forehead, and under your chin, half-covering your face.

The man turned to Annie with an angry frown.

“Get the goddamn doctor!” he snapped. But he reached for your closest hand and held it gently. He met your tearful eyes. Part of him didn’t know quite how to comfort you though. His eyes flit over your pained face, the way you were gripping your head with one hand.

He brushed his thumb over the one he held.

“…It’s okay, I got you,” he said eventually. “Just breathe.”

You couldn’t respond. There was too much pain, too much confusion. The last thing you saw was the worry in his eyes, before your head fell back against your pillow.

Your world faded away once again.

Dr. Helen Jeong, the neurologist Grace hired specifically to attend you, had been with you for a while. When she came out, Ben, Annie, your mother Marie, your sister Louisa, and the rest of the team (except for Butcher) were in the waiting room. All of them wanted to hear how you were doing, as well as the doctor’s prognosis.

Ben stood with his arms crossed, and Marie and Louisa followed suit. Technically, Marie was your next of kin, considering you and Ben weren’t married. She was close to tears again, but Louisa was supporting her.

“She’ll need a few more tests to confirm, but it looks like dissociative amnesia,” said Dr. Jeong. “It could be selective. Meaning, she remembers parts of her life, but not others, specifically tied to the past few days and the past year.”

“And me,” said Ben. He was frowning angrily. “Why doesn’t she remember me?”

She gave him a patient look.

“Her skull is fractured, but she’s also gone through an emotional trauma, as well as a physical one," she said. "The memories she’s lost are likely linked to that trauma, and so, her brain is trying to block out anything related to that painful time. It’s the body’s way of coping.”

Somehow, that explanation didn’t make it any better. Something dark and unfamiliar had been churning in Ben’s gut for days, but now he was forced to reckon with it.

It was guilt, and it was eating at his insides, clawing up to his throat. He covered it up with a hot layer of anger.

“Aside from time to heal from her injuries, it’s important that she be taken care of in a familiar, low-stress environment,” said Dr. Jeong. She aimed that last bit at Ben.

“How long until she’s better?” Louisa asked. “Will her memories come back at all?”

Ben shot her a dark look for even asking that question, but the doctor bobbed her head.

“It may take a while. Weeks, or even months, but have patience with her. As she heals, and with therapy, her memories should come back eventually,” she said. She gave Ben in particular a more reassuring glance.

He wasn’t interested in being reassured. He wanted results.

The doctor moved on so she could schedule an MRI for you, among other tests. Annie went over and laid a tentative hand on Ben’s arm. He glared at her touch and slid his gaze over to her.

“Look, we’re here for her…and for you,” she said. Even though she withdrew her hand, she looked sincere. “Whatever she needs, just let us know.”

Hughie was just behind her with a sympathetic look of agreement. M.M., Kimiko, and Frenchie were quietly supportive, if somber. You’d recognized Annie and Hughie earlier, but the others were strangers to you as well—likely because you’d met the other two at Supe Affairs, before you took on one fateful mission that would lead you to Ben. And him to you.

He let out a breath and gave Annie a minimal nod.

She smiled a little, and she and Hughie went back into your room to say goodbye for now. They promised to come back and visit, along with the others.

Meanwhile, Marie and Louisa were talking quietly. Ben’s ears perked up to it.

“I think she should come stay with you, Mom, until she’s better,” Louisa said.

When Ben heard that, he approached them. His darker frown was back in place.

“She’s coming home with me,” he said, in a tone that boded no argument. He should have remembered that your sister was too much like you sometimes. Fucking stubborn.

“If she doesn’t know you, she’s not going to be comfortable with you,” Louisa pointed out.

Marie gave her daughter a look, one that said she could’ve had a little more tact there.

“The best way for her to get her memories back is for her to stay with me, in a familiar place. In her home,” Ben said, his voice terse and shoulders tense.

“But trying to remember is hurting her,” Louisa said. “She needs to heal from her injuries first. And oh, how about this? No one will even tell us how the hell this happened in the first place!”

Ben’s frown deepened. Your younger sister had been warming up to him a bit more since the Christmas holiday you all spent together last month, but it seemed she was just as protective of you as you were of her.

Fine. Ben understood it, but Louisa was just a college student, not even old enough to order a fucking beer. He wouldn’t have this little girl telling him what was best for you.

However, as he glanced at your mother, he also couldn’t bring himself to answer Louisa’s non-question. At least, not with the whole truth.

“It was retaliation,” he replied, “for a supe we put away a while back.”

Louisa sighed heavily. Her lower lip trembled as tears welled up in her eyes, and she bit her lip and shared a look with her mother.

“Why did they want her though?” Louisa asked Ben, sniffling.

He held the tremor of unease deep inside, and he thought fast.

“He had connections in the CIA. She was the only part of the team here at the base, so he singled her out,” he said. The lie rolled off his tongue without much effort, even though part of it did add to the dark churning in his gut. His gaze fell beyond them.

“All of this is a moot fucking point,” he said. “All she needs is my blood, and she’ll be just fine.”

Louisa wiped under her wet eyes and scoffed.

“You think she’s going to accept a blood transfusion from a supe? Look, I’m sorry, but she’s not the person you know right now—”

“All the more reason to fix this sack of bullshit,” Ben snapped.

He turned on his heel and headed for your room. By now, Annie, Hughie, and the rest of them had cleared out. You were dozing, it seemed, but your eyes opened when Ben thundered in, followed closely by Marie and Louisa.

“Ben,” Louisa warned.

“What’s going on?” you asked weakly.

Ben shook his head and went to your bedside. He took up your hand and didn’t notice (or ignored) the apprehension in your eyes.

“Look, I know you think you don’t know me. You’ve been through…a lot,” he said. He paused when he considered the hell you’d probably endured the past few days. His gut began to roil again, but he pushed forward.

“Last year, you got hurt. Bad enough that you were going to need surgery,” he explained. “But I gave you some of my blood, and you healed right up. I’m gonna do the same for you now.”

You saw that he was serious, that he probably believed he was telling the truth. You just didn’t know this man—this supe that they’d told you was actually Soldier Boy. Instinctively you tried to pull your hand out of his grasp.

“No thanks,” you said, trying to hide your nerves. “I think I’m good healing on my own.”

Ben frowned. He held your hand a fraction tighter.

“Look—”

“No, you look,” you said in frustration, and a frisson of wariness. “I know you think I’m your…girlfriend or life partner or whatever the fuck, but I don’t know you.”

Just as the words left your lips, something sharp and painful flashed in your skull.

You can’t. You can’t. You can’t.

“But you do. You fucking know me!” Ben insisted. His grip on your hand tightened enough to make you flinch, a whimper sounding in your throat.

“Hey!” Louisa snapped at him.

“Ben,” Marie said, more gently, but not without urgency.

He realized what he was doing, and he forced himself to relax his grip. He watched you take your hand back and look at him like he was some kind of animal. He also realized then that you were scared. Scared of him.

Fuck me…

By degrees, he relented. Heaving a sigh, he carded a hand through his hair and gave a short nod.

“All right,” he said, and he met your eyes. “I’m, uh…I’m sorry, sweetheart. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

He held your wary gaze until you nodded in acceptance. He took in your face, bruised, and still stained pink from the blood that had been cleaned away with antiseptic wipes. Your neck, arms, and chest were the same; your other wounds were stitched up and bandaged.

According to the first doctor who evaluated you after you came out of emergency surgery (Ben had already forgotten the broad’s name), you’d also sustained broken ribs and a fractured cheekbone, aside from your other injuries.

“And…what about the rest of it?” Ben had asked. He spoke alone with the doctor, just outside your room. Marie and Louisa were in there with you now in the ICU.

The doctor shook her head, offering a look of professional reassurance.

“No. There’s no evidence of sexual trauma,” she said.

Ben took that information in with a nod. Inside his chest, however, the clenching around his heart eased a great deal.

But even with that relief, just your battered face, and the way you were looking at him now…it was all too much.

Ben ignored the voice deep inside that said this was what he deserved.

He stood up, and he left you with your family.

While Louisa had to go back to her dorm for school tomorrow, Marie stayed with you that night. You zoned in and out while New Girl played on the little TV on the wall.

Marie caressed your hair gently, though she was mindful of the way most of your head was wrapped after surgery to fix your skull. If only they could fix your mind too.

“That man…” you trailed. “Um, Soldier Boy. All that crazy shit he was saying…was it true?”

Marie gave you a look for your use of language, but she nodded gravely, and with sadness.

“Yes, Ben was telling the truth,” she said. “He’s the one who saved you. Believe me, he’s very upset that you’re hurt like this.”

You tried to process that as you frowned in contemplation. He’d certainly been…pushy. And determined, like he could actually heal you.

It didn’t matter though. You weren’t about to let a supe feed you his blood like a damn vampire, or whatever Compound V-tainted shit he tried to give you. You weren’t Bella Swan, and this wasn’t fucking Twilight.

“Ben” was rough, and demanding, and gave off a real assholish exterior. Just before he left, though, you also saw his upset. He had taken in your injuries like he was angry, just at the state of you. Like he was mad that he hadn’t been able to prevent it.

“I guess he went home,” you said. Marie shook her head.

“No, he’s still here.”

Your brows knitted together. “What?”

“He’s in the waiting room downstairs,” she explained. “Grace made sure he had a special pass so he could stay with us in the hospital, just in case…”

“In case of what?” you asked. Marie smiled and continued to brush your hair back.

“In case we need him,” she said. “For protection, he said.”

Her eyes shone with sadness again, like she knew something you didn’t. It made you suspicious, but you were surprised that he was still here, despite what you’d said to him.

…Huh, you thought.

Thanks to the (fucking awesome) power of morphine, you fell asleep shortly after.

A week later, you were still recovering in the hospital. The shitty fact of it was, between the medication for your injuries and the risk of pulling your stitches, you could barely move. Dr. Burke was pleased that you at least had feeling in your extremities. One of her main concerns for you had been mobility issues.

Well, you still had to use a bedpan, and sometimes you missed your mouth when you ate pudding, but at least you could feel your feet.

Marie took the whole work week off from her job in order to stay with you. Louisa visited you every day she could after her classes, but she had a recital coming up, and you didn’t want her to lose focus. You encouraged her to only come if and when she finished getting in all the practice she needed.

And Ben…well, he came often. Mostly when you were sleeping. And every time you woke up, you saw something new from him: a beautiful bouquet of flowers, imported chocolates, a snack from the deli down the street from the hospital, a good breakfast from your favorite café in the city, or even several orders of takeout for you, him, and Marie.

You also noticed how your mother doted on him almost as much as she did on you, offering to grab him cups of coffee, or laying her blanket over him while he napped in the big lounge chair close to your bedside.

The guy just refused to leave. So you didn’t say anything about it. You just watched him whenever you were lucid enough to notice he was there.

As it became easier for you to stay awake, and to observe his quiet, but solid presence, the more your wariness of Ben bled away.

You soon began to realize that you were curious about him. If you really had been with him before, how had you two met? And what had made you get with a supe, let alone the original supe Vought ever introduced to America?

You considered him now while he dozed in that uncomfortable looking chair. His brown locks had once again swept over his brows, almost obscuring his eyes. Part of you itched to lean over and brush it all away from his face. If only you were close enough.

You could admit, if just within the safety of your mind, that he was a damn fine specimen of a man. Between the cut of that bearded jaw, the broadness of his arms and chest, the length of those widespread legs…

“Keep staring at me and you’ll wear a damn hole in my face,” he muttered.

You inhaled sharply, and his eyes cracked open. A small smirk raised his lips in amusement. You smiled as well, more in embarrassment at being caught.

Ben let out a long breath and rolled the cracks out of his neck, confirming your assumption that the chair was even more uncomfortable than it looked. You felt a bit bad for him, that he was putting himself through all that for your sake…for someone who didn’t remember him.

He turned to you in askance. “How’re you holding up?”

You shrugged.

“Okay. Pain meds are finally kicking in, at least for the hour.”

He nodded, dragging a hand over his beard. He knew that you’d eaten lunch with your second dose of the day not too long ago.

“You still hungry?” he asked. “I don’t know how they could give you that shit. What was that, some poor fucking excuse for baby food?”

“Whatever it was, it wasn’t pleasant,” you agreed, but the doctor had requested something you could easily digest, with all the medication you were on.

Ben shook his head and rocked onto his feet. He’d get you a candy bar or something. He knew Twix was your favorite.

“Um…Ben,” you said, halting his steps. He turned to you with a raise of his brows. You pointed over to the folded quilt at the foot of your bed. Your mom had brought it from home.

“Would you give me that blanket over there?” you asked. “I’m a little cold.”

You’d get it yourself, but it pained you to fold yourself over. Ben was gracious enough to go over and get the blanket for you. He even opened it up and covered your body up to your chest. His face was stoic, more or less, but there was care in his hands. You found yourself staring up at his face. He leaned against the guardrail of your bed and met your eyes.

“Thank you,” you said, in a near whisper. “And, um…my water?”

You pointed to the plastic cup and jug on the rolling tray to his left. He shot you a look, but he did as you asked, pouring some fresh water into the cup and handing it to you. His fingers brushed with yours on the pass, but you tried not to focus on the warmth of his hand. Instead, you took a few sips from the cup and handed it back to him. He set it back on the tray for you.

“What’d I do to get the hot nurse?” you couldn’t help but tease.

Ben’s brows rose again, somewhat incredulous this time. Then, he was unable to restrain a cocky smile.

“Hmm, I’m a let that one go, since you’re laid up,” he said.

His gaze roamed your face. He noted that your purplish bruises were easing up somewhat, to green and yellow. Your lacerations were beginning to heal. And before, where there had been wariness, he now saw curiosity in your eyes.

“Can I ask you something?” you drew enough courage to ask.

His lips twitching to one corner, he lowered the guardrail and sat down on the edge of your bed. He gave you an expectant look. You sucked in a breath to steel yourself.

“How long have we been a…a thing?” you asked, pointing between the both of you.

Ben quirked a brow. “About a year now.”

You nodded, though your eyes were wide in surprise. You actually began to blush.

Ben smirked. He reached for the phone in his pocket and handed it over to you, after scrolling to find his photo album.

“Does that look like we don’t know each other?” he asked.

You shot him a wry glance, but you took the phone and started looking through the album. Many of the pictures that featured both of you looked like ones you’d taken, just from the angle. One picture was rather innocuous of him sitting on a couch, presumably watching TV, while you rested on his shoulder and smiled at the camera. His arm was wrapped around your waist.

Another was of you glaring at him in surprise, mid-bite on a large chili hot dog. He wore a Cheshire grin while leaning in close to your cheek.

There were several more than you flipped through, but each one made you sting with the unfamiliarity of it all. You couldn’t remember any of this, but it was undeniable what you and Ben were to each other.

Then you happened on a picture of just you, fresh out of the shower with a towel barely wrapped around you. You looked annoyed, but by the evidence of your smile, also amused that he’d surprised you with the picture.

Your blush intensified as you scrolled past that one. Then you encountered more pictures of you and him, each position filled with more bare flesh—and even more compromising than the next. You refused to press play on any of the videos.

“Oookay,” you said with a full flush heating your face and neck, and the tips of your ears. You minimized the album and all but tossed the phone back at him.

Ben’s smirk had deepened the longer he watched you peruse through the pictures. Now he chuckled and pocketed his phone.

“Like what you see, huh, sweetheart?” he couldn’t help but tease.

Frankly, you were adorable, getting all embarrassed, crossing your arms and pulling the blanket up to your neck. You shot him a look of warning.

What, you could eye him like a honey-glazed ham, flirt with him even, but you couldn’t take a little on the return side?

Ben chuckled some more and reached for your hand, to uncross your arms. You allowed it with a thinly veiled wariness. You weren’t afraid of him…anymore. But that didn’t mean there was no reason to keep your guard up around this guy.

Meanwhile, Ben actually struggled to figure out what he wanted to say to you. Something that wouldn’t put you off, or come off too strong. This was just too fucking strange…

He met your gaze with a heavy exhale.

“You’re going to be let out of here soon enough,” he said. “You don’t need to be scared of me. I’m not gonna hurt you. Matter of fact, I saved you.”

I’ve saved you more times than I can fucking count at this point, he thought wryly.

You stared back at him in contemplation. He sensed you were listening, really trying to hear him.

“You do care about me, don’t you?” you asked, almost in wonder.

Ben didn’t answer you right away. Your question took him off guard a bit, but he also found himself meeting your gaze.

“I think that’s pretty fucking obvious,” he said. You frowned at him then.

“Not entirely," you said. "Not if you don’t say it, Romeo.”

Ben stilled. Against his will, he remembered the last real words he’d said to you before this nightmare began.

“I love you,” you’d said. He could hear your pretty smile through the phone. “Just wanted to make sure you knew that.”

“Mhmm,” Ben replied, smiling himself. “I’ll see you soon, baby doll.”

He could also hear your disappointment, there in your brief silence.

“Come on, say it,” you implored.

Ben restrained a sigh. He cast a subtle look from the corner of his eye, watching Butcher, M.M., and Kimiko loading the car with their weapons, along with the supe they’d captured. They were all too close for comfort.

“Say what?” Ben asked, feigning ignorance. Your sigh reached him, stinging him.

“You know exactly what,” you replied.

He knew what you wanted, but he still didn’t give it to you.

He didn’t allow himself.

Now, he brushed a thumb over the back of your hand, and he sighed. Sometimes, regret weighed just as bad as guilt, even if you couldn’t admit to either one.

His gaze now slid up to yours.

“Well, I do… I care about you,” Ben said.

You’re fucking mine, his selfish heart added. He just didn’t think you’d react well to that admission.

“What do you say about coming home with me?” he asked. “I think being around all your stuff will help you…get better.”

You debated his proposition, and you realized his idea made sense. If this man was really your boyfriend, and you’d been living with him for a year…then maybe you could trust him.

Just not entirely.

“I want my mom to come too,” you said.

Ben smiled. It was a small, but true smile, and it took you by surprise. But you only felt your face getting warm again when he pressed his lips to the back of your hand.

“Yeah, she can come help me take care of you, ‘til you’re feeling better,” he said.

You regarded him for a moment, still wondering if you could trust him. The longer you stared into his eyes, the more you found yourself relenting.

“Okay,” you agreed. “I’ll go with you.”

After you were finally discharged from the hospital, Ben drove you and Marie out of the city to his apartment in Scarsdale. Technically, it was your apartment too.

He promised that it had been fitted with a much better security system, now with motion cameras around the apartment, and sensors on the roof. (You didn’t know that Hughie would have to explain to Ben how all that shit worked on his phone.)

The apartment itself was familiar to you, but it felt fuzzy in your mind. Like you had a dream of being here, living a life that wasn’t yours.

Thanks to the stairs, Ben left your bags at the foot of them, before he carefully maneuvered you into his arms without pressing on any of your stitches. You sucked in a shaky breath and held onto his shoulders, squeezing your eyes tight for a moment as the movement jostled your sense of equilibrium.

“You okay?” he asked. You blinked your eyes open and met his. His brows were furrowed in concern, but it was the intensity of his eyes that stole your breath. Part of you wanted to smile, half out of nerves, but you tempered it.

“Peachy,” you replied.

His lips twitched. He then moved carefully up the stairs.

He set you back down on your feet once he reached the top, at your insistence. Marie came in from behind with her suitcase and your forearm crutch, but Ben still kept a supporting arm around your waist.

“I’ve got it,” you told him, a bit nervous and hasty to escape his hold.

He released you, and reluctantly watched you head further into the apartment on your own two feet (and crutch). You wandered into each room like you were looking for a damn portal into Narnia.

It was hard for Ben to watch you like this. With a sigh, he went back downstairs to grab the rest of your things. He set them down in the living room while you ambled off into the guest room. Marie touched his arm in comfort.

“It’ll be okay, honey,” she said.

She’d developed a soft spot for Ben not too long after meeting him. And though he’d never admitted it, the sentiment was reciprocated.

He didn’t answer her, but after a moment, he nodded. She rubbed his arm with a faint smile and went to check on you.

Marie soon found you in the office you and Ben shared. It didn’t look like he used this room often, while your desk was covered in papers and files. It did, however, smell like his cologne in here.

Or, well, the scent was masculine and woodsy—like sandalwood and spice (and a hint of weed, as evidenced from the ashtray on his desk). You had to assume the scent belonged to him, even though you didn’t think he’d worn cologne at all in the hospital. Or maybe you just inherently recognized it as his.

Huh. Smell is the strongest sense, you mused to yourself.

The thought of you remembering anything at all from what you’d lost had you the slightest bit excited, and nervous. Dr. Jeong said you’d been through a terrible trauma. The evidence of it now littered your body and had nearly broken you. So you were fairly certain that there were things you didn’t want to remember.

The touch of your mother’s hand on your shoulder had you jolting. You breathed in relief when you saw her. Her eyes widened and she held up placating hands.

“Oh! I’m sorry,” she said. “You okay?”

You nodded, though you continued to take in your surroundings with a small frown. She helped you sit in one of the office chairs, as your strength was already waning.

“It seems like everything he said was true. It’s just…it’s a lot,” you said.

“Of course it is,” said Marie. “But if it helps, you seemed very happy here. You were just glowing all night with him at the Christmas party.”

Great, yet another event that was entirely blank in your mind. If you couldn’t remember celebrating your favorite holiday, then what was the point? You huffed.

“I just find it hard to believe that I’d end up with a supe,” you admitted. You worked at Supe Affairs for God’s sake.

Marie only laughed and rubbed your back.

“Well, you found a good one,” she said.

A good one, huh? you shook your head in true wonder.

Now that was food for thought.

When you first arrived, Ben had led you to the master bedroom and said it was your room. So why the fuck was he climbing into bed with you?

“Excuse me,” you frowned at him, drawing the blankets closer over your body. You only had on a large shirt over your underwear. It was how you preferred to dress for bed, and it was easier than pulling a pair of shorts over the healing scars on your legs.

Ben had on a gray shirt and some plaid pajama pants. He’d shucked off his old man loafers before making the right side of the bed dip with his weight. He raised a brow at you.

“What?” he asked.

“What do you think you’re doing?” you asked.

“Going to bed, sweetheart. Been a long fucking week,” he retorted.

“I thought this was my bed,” you said.

“It’s our bed,” he corrected. He grabbed the edge of the blanket to pull some of it towards him, but you pulled it tighter against you.

“Look,” you said flatly. “I agreed to come here and stay with you, but I didn’t agree to this kind of close quarters.”

Ben stared back at you in annoyance and willed his temper not to snap. So fucking what if he shared the bed with you? It was a California king. The odds of your bodies even touching were slim to none.

However, he saw that stubborn look in your eyes. It was all too familiar.

Christ on a cross. He forgot how goddamn difficult you were in the beginning.

And really, you two were at the beginning, all over again. He’d gotten you to trust him, slightly, but he knew the rest would take time.

Is this really fucking worth it? came an insidious thought deep inside. The selfish part that had ruled for most of his life.

Then, he spied the silver Rolex on his nightstand—the one you’d gifted him for Christmas, along with the photo album that you’d put together for him. It included the only pictures he kept of his mother, and new ones you’d made with him. They were pictures you’d collected and captured of your life together so far.

With a deep sigh, Ben wordlessly got out of bed. He grabbed up his pillow and a throw blanket that had slid to the floor, and he made his way to the living room. Marie was taking up the only guest bedroom, so he supposed he was relegated to the couch in his own home. How the fuck did that happen?

He sat down heavily in the middle of the couch and had to take some deep breaths. His head slowly fell into his hands, elbows resting on his knees. With both hands, he tried to rub the exhaustion and frustration from his face.

There were words he couldn’t say. However, within the safety of his mind, he was forced to reckon with it.

This was his fault. He knew it, down to his bones.

It was all really his fucking fault.

He should’ve gotten you a protective security detail from the beginning. He just didn’t think anyone would have the balls to…

Ben breathed past the tightness in his chest that was once again clawing at his throat.

Well, this fucking blows like a cheap whore, he thought.

And as you might expect, he slept fitfully that night.

The next morning, you winced at the ache in your head that was now customary for you. You had practically drowned in this giant-ass bed, but the reality was, you’d barely slept. You just couldn’t get comfortable enough to stay asleep.

You didn’t know if it was because it was an unfamiliar place, or because you now had a lower dose of pain meds than you’d been given in the hospital, or if it was because there was just something missing here.

You sighed and hauled yourself out of bed to freshen up. Really, you should’ve waited for your mother or Ben to help you out of bed, but you weren’t used to being incapacitated like this. And even when you were down, it had been ingrained in you (through your father’s special brand of “parenting”) to play through the pain.

So you grabbed your crutch from beside the bed, and somehow you managed to make it to the bathroom by yourself.

After dressing in sweatpants, a bra, and a tank top, you padded out into the hall. Your mom was still sleeping, but you found Ben in the living room.

He was sprawled out across the couch. Half the covers had slipped off his body and pooled on the floor. Again, you tried not to admire the length and broadness of his form, and the way that shirt stretched across his chest and arms.

His arm was curled across his closed eyes, but he lowered it when he heard you approaching.

His eyes were a bit red and bleary. It didn’t look like he’d slept very well either. You felt bad for that, as you leaned on the back of the couch to greet him.

“Morning, Sleeping Beauty,” you teased him a little. “You slept like shit out here, didn’t you?”

“What was your first damn clue?” he groused. You had a feeling he was grumpy in the morning, regardless of how well he slept.

“Okay, I’m sorry about that,” you said. Even though you had every right to sleep alone, you still felt bad for making him sleep out here. “How about I make us some coffee?”

He nodded with a grunt. You smiled and teetered only slightly on your way to the kitchen. Ben frowned as he realized it.

“You shouldn’t be walking around like that yet,” he called after you.

He forced himself to get off the couch, rolling to his feet. You shot him a stubborn look.

“I’m fine,” you said.

Ben’s frown deepened with annoyance.

…Right. Okay, you weren’t exactly fine.

You were still exhausted. Still felt like utter crap, as stiffness pulled at your muscles and pain at your stitches and broken ribs. And, oh yes, your head was still broken.

But, this was the most mobile you’d been in a few weeks. You were determined to do at least one normal, productive thing today. Even if it was just making coffee, then you were going to count that as a win.

By the time Ben joined you, the coffee was done percolating and you handed him a mug. He took a sip before he remembered to tell you…no cream.

He looked into the mug in wonder. You’d actually made his coffee with sugar, no cream. Just like he liked it.

Noticing the look on his face, you paused.

“Oh, sorry. I forgot to ask how you take it.”

“No,” he said, sitting across from you at the breakfast bar. “It’s just right.”

You blinked in surprise, but then you shrugged and sipped at your own cup of coffee, which had both cream and sugar. While you were preoccupied with brainstorming where to order in for breakfast, Ben allowed himself to smile a little.

You were in there, somewhere.

He just needed to help you come out.

AN: See? I promise, there's hope. 💚

(But there's also still drama ahead...)

Next Time:

“We’re not gonna have this discussion again. You need to fucking eat,” he said. “I could feed you, though I promise you’re not gonna like it.”

His surly, frowning face was annoying you. His deep voice was annoying you. His tall, ridiculous wall-of-man body in your line of vision was annoying you, clothed in a rumpled shirt and the sweatpants he’d slept in.

Everything about him annoyed you right now.

But that could also have something to do with the pounding ache in the back of your skull, radiating forward and between your eyes.

“Bro, I’m on like, three kinds of medication,” you replied in weary irritation. “With what appetite do you expect me to eat?”

Bro? His eyebrow twitched.

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 3

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Break Me Down Masterlist

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

BMD/Series Tag List (Part 1):

@deans-spinster-witch @this-is-me19 @waynes-multiverse @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @spalady26

@spnwoman @syrma-sensei @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @muhahaha303 @123passwort

@mrsjenniferwinchester @lyarr24 @xoxovienna @lollag0w0 @globetrotter28

@nancymcl @ashbatz @secretdreamlandmentality @kristophalis @wonderland2022

@emily-winchester @shelh93 @sl33pylilbunny @spoonmynoodle @chernayawidow

@buckybarnes-1917 @asgardprincess97 @sometimes-i-sing @itsyellow @theonlymaninthesky

@kimberleymjw @is-this-a-febreze-commercial @iamsapphine @sanscas @se-fucking-hun

@lassie-bird @jessjad @yepimthatperson @fromcaintodean @stoneyggirl2

@spnfamily-j2 @im-a-slut-for-fluff @lacilou @venicesem @mimaria420

@tearsfortheyouth @agalliasi @chriszgirl92 @kazsrm67 @deansbbyx

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blackswan7x · 4 months

Text

— jjba: you ride Joseph Joestar’s face

character: Joseph Joestar, female reader

rating: NSFW. minors DNI.

Imagine…

Despite your protests, Joseph insisted he wanted you to sit on his face.

You objected saying you’d much rather lie on your back if he wanted to go down on you, but he wasn’t having it.

“When I say I want you to sit on my face, babe, I mean it. Besides could you imagine a more handsome seat for you. Honestly?” He had gave you his mischievous grin that was so gorgeous sometimes it made you ache.

So of course…you said yes.

Now, he is underneath you. You sit astride is face, positioned so you are resting your hands on his strong pecs and looking at the rest of his naked body. You try to touch his throbbing cock, hard and neglected and leaking precum across his lower stomach but he swats your hand away.

He had made it clear beforehand this was suppose to be all about your pleasure.

Soon, he has you whining and whimpering at the way he enthusiastically laps at your folds and teases your sensitive clit. He sucks hard suddenly and you throw your head back, your hands rest on his firm pecs as your arch your back.

Suddenly, he pulls away from your core.

“FUCK!” He groans loudly, causing you to shiver. “You taste so good, baby. Goddamn.”

He slaps your ass hard and you moan at how good it feels, any pain quickly transforming into endorphins that make you tremble. He grabs your ass with his big, calloused hands and spreads your cheeks apart.

You blush terribly, feeling so exposed to him but some part of you loves being this vulnerable to him.

“Oh my god!” He moans, “You’re dripping me for me.”

Any response you had is quickly lost as his mouth latches on to your engorged clit as two thick fingers press inside your swollen pussy. He curls his fingers in just the right way to stimulate from the inside as he continues his torturous licking of your clit

You rock your hips against his face, really riding him and it only prompts him to chuckle and increase his pace on you. Your thighs begin to shake and you feel the sparks of the pleasure to come deep within your belly

It all becomes too much. The sound of his moans as he worships your pussy. The feeling of his fingers filling you up. The added friction of your own hips grinding against his face. The rush of orgasm ignites within you, setting fire to your entire body.

Joseph works you through your high never stopping his fingers inside you or the suction of his mouth on your clit.

You clutch onto his waist as you cry out. You watch his cock twitch and somehow grow even harder as you moan. You shake and pant as the high leaves you, but you know you could go again.

You don’t care if he’s said this was all about you.

You need to taste him.

You need to give him as much pleasure as he’s given to you.

You lay down on him, already feeling electrified at the way his muscled body presses against your soft curves.

You take his thick length in your hand and begin to stroke him.

“Couldn’t resist me any longer cou— OH GOD!”Joseph’s smug words quickly turn to a groan as you take him fully into your hot mouth.

You use your hand to works his base as you hollow your cheeks and press your tongue along the bottom of his cock. You go until your cheeks ache and part from him with lewd pop of your mouth.

“Your next line is, ‘god, I love you…” you tease, before kissing his tip.

“God!” He moans, his hands gripping your hips, lost in the pleasure you’ve given him, “I love you….hey, wait! Th-that’s my thing!”

You laugh before taking him once more.

#jjba smut #jjba fanfic #jjba drabble #jjba joseph #joseph joestar x y/n #joseph joestar x reader #joseph joestar x you #joseph joestar x female reader #joseph joestar #battle tendency #jojos bizarre adventure #jjba part 2

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transmascsteveharrington · 1 year

Text

Sometimes Eddie can't believe that they've made it. He'll look at Steve, like right now across the lawn, watches him teaching little Emma how to put sausages and burgers on the grill, and Eddie still can't believe it.

For the longest time as a teen Eddie was convinced he would end up in the 27 Club. Trying to escape the reality of his meager life expectancy as a queer freak trailer trash kid in a small town in bumfuck Indiana by glamorizing going out with a sex, rock'n'roll, and drugs fuelled bang before the age of 30. He never thought it would be an angry mob of jocks and a thunderstorm of bloodhungry demobats that would almost take him out before the age of 20.

Eddie only managed to step away from death's door thanks to the miracle that is Steve Harrington. And he truly is a miracle. Not just because he carried Eddie's half-dead body out of the upside down and nursed him back to health. Not just because he helped get Eddie's name cleared and his charges dropped. No, everything about Steve felt like a goddamn miracle. The way he smiled, his bitchy but entertaining little jabs, the taste of his chicken noodle soup, the way he would comfort everyone who needed it. But the most miraculous thing to Eddie had been that Steve had chosen him. Had fallen in love with him. Had stayed with him.

Still feels like a miracle every morning when Eddie wakes up in Steve's arms both of their bodies aching. As if he could tell what Eddie is thinking Steve looks up from the grill and finds Eddie's eyes. He gives Eddie that private little smile, the smile that means, "you too are my miracle." Because Steve feels the exact same.

It took a couple more months and for Eddie and Steve to leave the god-forsaken small town of Hawkins behind for Eddie to believe that he might make it past 27. They moved to Indy first and then later to Chicago. Shabby apartments became home and strangers became friends, confidants, people that turned out to be just like Steve and Eddie and Robin. And then some of those friends started dying. Eddie kinda lost count of how many funerals they went to during those years. Is thankful every day that they made it, is thankful for all the friends that did make it.

He watches some of them across the lawn or on the porch, chatting, carrying potato salad, laughing and lifting up their kids or even grandkids. Eddie watches them all and takes in the miracle that is grey hair and wrinkles, looks at Steve and loves how the nickname "The Hair" doesn't quite apply anymore, curses the pain in his own back and kinda sees it a little bit as a blessing at the same time. As a reminder that they have made it. As a reminder that they get to have this, that despite supernatural powers and bigoted people they got to have this.

They got to grow older and will continue to grow older. They got to get married (three times: once in Amsterdam, once in Massachusetts and once last year in their backyard renewing their vows, celebrating gay marriage being legalized). Two arms warp around Eddie from behind and a soft kiss is pressed into his cheek.

"Hi dad," Allison, their eldest, says and let's go of him.

"Hey honey," Eddie says and pulls her into a proper hug, holding her tight.

She moved to West Coast for college, near where Will and Mike are located now, so Eddie and Steve don't get to see her all that much, as opposed to George who just moved to Detroit. It's nice, means Eddie and Steve get to see little Emma relatively often. As if on cue Emma turns around and looks from Steve to Eddie and Allison.

"Aunt Allie," she yells and runs across the yard to hug her aunt, leaving Steve all alone at the grill.

While Emma and Allison hug, Eddie makes his way over to Steve. Thinks once more how lucky they are that they got to adopt two beautiful kids, now have a grandkid too. Fucking miracle. Eddie reaches Steve and sneaks his arms around him, chin hooked over his shoulder.

"Oh hello," Steve says and turns his head enough to steal a quick peck. "What are you doing here?"

"Missed you," Eddie mumbles and buries his face in Steve's neck, nose brushing against Steve's scar.

"Sap," Steve says, but then adds, "Missed you too, baby."

Eddie closes his eyes and just drifts. Takes in the smell of Steve and bbq, hears children laughing and friends talking, feels Steve's warm body pressed against his. With the lives they have led, the places they came from the odds have never been in their favor. But somehow, by pure luck, miracle, determination and stubbornness they made it. And Eddie is thankful for it every day. Thankful for Steve, and Allision and George, and little Emma and everyone else part of their little miracle.

They've made it. Eddie still sometimes can't believe it.

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #stranger things #stranger things fic #eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie munson fic #steve harrington fic #steddie fanfiction #my writing

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loko4koko · 11 months

Text

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ Miya Atsumu x fem!Reader ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

>fanart_credit: GREEN_U_U_ (via_twitter)

MDNI 18+

>word_count: 7384

>contents: alcohol mentions (major plot point), implied drunk sex/hookup, kinda implied sex with a stranger, implied and explicit rough sex, drunk marriage proposal/wedding, atsumu being super rich for plot purposes, slight pda, slight dry humping/grinding, explicit p in v, oral sex (f!receiving), fingering (f!receiving), atsumu talking filthy, atsumu ripping reader’s panties off, multiple orgasms (f!receiving), cervix/womb fucking (very brief), mating press, multiple positions, creampie, atsumu being the world’s best husband *~*

skull pounding. head aching. brain melting.

those are the only ways you could describe waking up right now. face contorting and stretching as you blink bleary eyes, you close them just as quickly with a pained moan when the light of day shining through the windows hits you. you know you fucked up, know you got far too wasted last night because you never feel this hungover- not unless you down an excessive amount of shots in a not nearly spaced out enough timeframe. you rub at your face with the hand not curled under your pillow and something feels…strange. there’s something cold, hard, metallic that almost scratches you and your brow furrows, forcing your eyes open despite the brightness to look at your palm.

“what the fuck..?” you whisper, voice still strained with exhaustion and you’re staring in confusion as you turn your hand around to look at the back side. okay, you were right on first glance, that’s a fucking ring sitting on your finger. a decent sized rock, princess cut set on a silver band, one that you have to doubt it’s realness for the simple fact that you’ve never seen it before and, if it were a true diamond, would cost an amount of money that you could only call exorbitant. you stare at the ring for a moment before realizing that the backdrop of your current view is..not where you’d expected to go to sleep last night (this morning? you aren’t quite sure to be honest.) the hotel room is far more opulent than the one you’d dropped your bags into. this room is at least double, maybe even 3 times as big with floor to ceiling windows and a view too high and holy shit, this is basically a penthouse. you are in someone’s room- no, someone’s suite with what is potentially a diamond ring on your finger and now you’re worrying that you got so goddamn drunk that you managed to break into someone’s insanely costly hotel and decorated yourself with their insanely costly jewelry. your eyes could rival a full moon as you realize that you’d been freaking out so much about the room and the ring that you didn’t even notice you weren’t alone.

“oh..my god,” you cry out to yourself quietly, eyes now focused solely on the muscular arm that’s draped over your middle. you notice, only then, that you are bare under the sheets and your heart is racing so fast you’re concerned about the possibility of a heart attack. oh yeah, you really, absolutely, assuredly fucked up last night.

the person that the arm is attached to groans, said limb wrapping tighter around you and dragging you back against an equally sinewy chest. you want to turn over, get a good look at just who it is you ended up going home with, whose bed you’re in, who you ended up ass-naked with, but you’re too scared. shallowly, you think you might have to run away forever if you ended up here with someone…not to your taste. you hope and pray that hammered you had good standards, even if she made extraordinarily poor decisions. you settle back in, staring straight ahead with fretful eyes as you try to think- try to use the few brain cells you haven’t killed to remember just what shook down last night. the last thing you fully remember is getting to the second club you arrived at, your best friend still in tow as you got to the bar, ordered tequila shooters and “blowjob” shots. you must’ve wrapped your lips around too many because you sure don’t remember leaving there, don’t remember meeting any guys you’d want to go home with. you try your best but you just..can’t. can’t picture it, can’t picture the face of the man behind you, wrapped around you like it’s where he belongs.

you sit there, stewing in the fact that your memory is well and truly fucked, for about 15 minutes before the mystery man groans again, but this time you know he’s awake, know he’s becoming aware of the situation when you hear an “oh, fuck” from behind you. you think it just might be time to bite the bullet so you start the turnover, bracing yourself for the impact that you might’ve gone home with some sweaty creep with a face only a mother could love. you meet his eyes with your own and you find that you’re…quite pleasantly surprised. it’s obvious that you’re both scanning each other, seeing just how bad your choices might’ve been and he hasn’t cringed or jumped away in disgust so maybe he has the same reaction that you do.

it takes you a moment to realize, but you do actually recognize him, however, not from last night. no, you recognize him from your television screen. the shock in your eyes has to be apparent as you come to realize that the man before you- the faux-blonde with eyes just as confused as yours- is the star setter of the Japan national team. a man you’d seen on television because he competed in the goddamn olympics.

Miya Atsumu.

you have no control over the way your mouth falls open and a dumbfounded “holy shit” escapes. admittedly, you knew your taste could be rather questionable at times but there’s a little bit of pride in you that you’d at least ended up in bed with a very accomplished and very hot athlete. your eyes travel down his face, starting from those thick eyebrows, down to those big, brown eyes, down the slope of his nose and to lips that you’re sure you kissed an immeasurable amount of times, if the lipstick that’s still smeared on them has anything to do with you. yeah, that’s definitely him.

“uh, don’t-don’t take this the wrong way but..d’ya remember anything from last night?” he questions you nervously, probably afraid of offending you and you’re a little bit glad to know you aren’t the only one having this thought right now. you frown, lip between your teeth as you shake your head. “no..i actually was gonna ask you the same thing. this,” you say, lifting your hand and showing him the ring on your finger, “is not mine. it wasn’t on my finger when i first went out, so we should probably check the news and see if we robbed a jewelry store or something.” he laughs softly, nodding in agreement before reaching to pull the lush blanket from his body. he has no shame about being nude, not that he should, not with a body like that. he’s taller than he seemed on the tv screens- broad, sculpted shoulders that taper down into a waist you wouldn’t mind digging your fingers into. he’s got his back to you and even his butt is nice, well toned from what you can assume is vigorous volleyball training. you’re caught gawking when he turns around to face you, still naked as the day he was born, clearing his throat with a wink in your direction and a little smirk playing at his lips.

“didn’t mean to interrupt, sweet thing. jus’ wanted to get yer name. ‘m atsumu, miya atsumu.” the burn in your cheeks feels like hellfire and you look away, stuttering as you tell him who you are. you try not to stare again, not that it seems he’d mind, but from the little glimpse you do catch, you can see why there’s a dull ache between your hips.

about 45 minutes and 2 baths in the (very lavish) ofuro later, you’re both decent enough to sit and try to combine your brainpower into remembering what happened over the previous 10 or so hours. you wish to god you could remember how the night went, at least the part when you’d ended up in bed with a man like atsumu, but you think you had a good time if the dark marks spread across your neck, chest, and thighs are any indication.

atsumu is kind, much kinder than you expected a pro athlete to be, if you’re truthful. he hands you a menu and tells you you can have anything you want from it, and you’re shocked when you realize just how expensive all of the items on it are. even a glass of the “organic, freshly hand-squeezed orange juice” costs more than what you’d spend on 2 whole cartons back home and you realize just how out of your element you are here.

“um, i’ll just have a latte and some fruit..” you say sheepishly, handing atsumu the menu back and he frowns, nudging the pamphlet back into your hands. “ah, sweet thing, ya gotta eat more than that. need’ta soak up all the alcohol, yeah? i think i remember champagne being brought out at some point. c’mon, whatever ya like, really.” he gives you a smile, doing a little “go on” motion with his large hands and you bite your lip, nodding as you look over the menu again. you end up deciding on the american breakfast, offering waffles and sausage and the fruit you’d originally asked for, along with the coffee you so desperately need. atsumu, however, with the appetite of an athlete goes for a full japanese spread and when you remember the price from the menu and your estimations of how much the room you’re in could’ve costed, you take a glance at the ring on your finger again. there’s a small part of you that’s starting to doubt your original thoughts of it being a fake stone, what with the obviously enormous amount of money atsumu must have at his disposal. no, there’s no way you two could’ve gotten that drunk..right?

atsumu pulls you from your thoughts as the room service breakfast arrives, the server placing the platters in front of you at the table you sit at. atsumu thanks her, gives her what looks to be a generous tip and she’s off again. you quietly dig into your breakfast as you delve back in to the little memory you have of the night, and the more you eat, the more bits and pieces come back to you. you remember the champagne that the blonde mentioned earlier and you vaguely see yourselves downing glass after glass of the bubbly substance, flashes of you and atsumu making out somewhere that wasn’t the club popping into your head, but it’s spotty again after that. you sip at the smooth latte in front of you, feeling like your brain is going to turn to goo and slide out of your ears if you keep trying to push for the memories, so you give it a rest for now.

soon after breakfast is finished and a few phone calls are made on atsumu’s end, you learn just how you met- thanks to someone you know as his national’s teammate, bokuto, who happened to be with him when this all started. you’d met at what is apparently the third club you’d hopped to, when he approached you at the bar and offered to buy you a drink in exchange for a dance. you can’t blame yourself for accepting the proposition, one of the rare times when a man who is actually good looking makes an advance towards you while you’re out partying. bokuto tells atsumu on speakerphone how he saw you two dancing for only a short while before the borderline public indecency of your raunchy kissing and grinding started, and the next time he’d turned back to look for his friend, you both were gone. you’re grateful for the lead, at least able to put together the beginning of the night you’d spent with the setter. you wonder just where the two of you’d gotten off to after that, though, and how it went from there to you waking up in his hotel room with a ring on your finger. you turn away from the incredible city view that the room offers to pace around for a bit, to see if it’ll activate your brain into giving you some more useful information. you’re walking along the trail that your clothes made when you’d first gotten up, from the door to the bed, when you notice a piece of paper lying on the ground. you pick it up, scanning it over quickly and you just might have to pick your jaw up off of the floor when you finish. there’s a blank look in your eyes as you walk over and hand it to atsumu, who scans it equally as fast and almost chokes on his orange juice.

“700,000 yen at a jewelers?! what the hell did i…oh..” his brain fully registers the situation when you slide the ring off of your finger, placing it on the table in front of him. you can’t even begin to fathom how you’d gotten so drunk together that the man went and bought you a ring worth that much at 3:45 in the morning. you both stare at the guilty piece of jewelry for a moment before atsumu sighs, picking it up and analyzing it up close.

“there’s no way i picked this out. ya got good taste, i’ll tell ya that.” you huff out a laugh, shaking your head. “well, i went home with you, didn’t i?” atsumu cracks up at that, gently placing the ring back down on the table. “oh, yer quite the charmer, sweet thing. can see why i bought ya a 700,000 yen ring, if ya were flirtin’ with me like that last night.” there’s blood rushing to your cheeks and you smile, biting your lip as you look away from him for a moment to think before you speak again.

“atsumu, do you..do you think we..got married last night? i mean the ring..the champagne..it can’t be just a coincidence, can it?” the blonde man raises a thick brow, face twisted up like it wasn’t something he’d considered before now and it’s obvious he’s deep in his thoughts.

“guess it’s possible, right? what else can ya think? i still can’t remember all of it but champagne makes it sound like we were celebrating somethin’, and bokuto said he didn’t remember seein’ us with any at the club, so it must’ve happened sometime after the ring.” you sigh, completely and utterly stumped. you feel a pang of guilt that you’d gotten a guy like atsumu wrapped up in something as crazy as this with you, but you know there’s blame to be had on both sides. it’s annoyingly flattering, though, that he’d met you only hours before he seemingly proposed to you. you must’ve had some crazy good game if you’d gotten this gorgeous (and incredibly wealthy) man to seek you out, out of all the women at the club, and was so entranced by you even in his drunken state that he paid hundreds of thousands for a piece of jewelry for you. you had to give yourself some props for that.

a few hours pass before you end up with another piece of the puzzle, arguably the most important one of all. atsumu decided that if you had nothing better to do than rack your brains for memories, then you could at least enjoy the amenities of the high-class hotel you were staying in while you chat and get to know each other better. he takes you down to the in-house spa, to relax in the hot tub and maybe get a massage, where someone gives you a very substantiating piece of evidence, so to speak. you’re in line for check in to the spa when the worker sees you approaching, big smile on his face when the two of you finally reach his desk.

“ah, mr. miya! and the now mrs. miya! are you two here for your newlyweds package?” the man is practically beaming as he congratulates you and shakes atsumu’s hand, commending him on securing a woman as beautiful as yourself and it has you in shock, blushing and trying hard not to look like you never expected him to say that. atsumu is careful with his words, not wanting to burst the clearly excited man’s little bubble of joy.

“ah, uh- yeah, right, thanks! how-how’d ya know about that exactly?” the man laughs and you’re not sure how good of a sign that is.

“well, you came in here last night practically shouting it from the rooftops! said how happy you were to be married to the most gorgeous woman you’d ever seen in your life. said some other things, too, but i, uh- i won’t repeat those.” he sends a wink to the two of you and the feeling in your face is so hot you’re sure they could heat the rocks they use in the spa on you. atsumu handles it well, though, nodding and smiling right along like he always knew about this. he sets up the check-in quickly after that, leading you away towards the changing rooms. he sends you in to get changed with promises to convene about the new information when he meets you on the other side.

your hands are shaking as you change out of the shirt atsumu had given you, one you realize has his name on the back and that sure doesn’t make you feel any less like his wife now. you can’t believe it’s true, you’d actually gotten drunk and married a man. not just a man, actually, but the miya atsumu. you thought this type of thing only happened in the movies but clearly not because you’re living it right now, right this very minute. you finish undressing down to your underwear as you were woefully unprepared for this situation, so you have no swimsuit to wear. you wrap a towel around yourself and slip into your complimentary slippers before heading out of the changing room and into the hot tub area. you’re removing your towel and placing your belongings on an empty set of chairs and a table when there’s a whistle behind you and when you look up, your husband atsumu is there, drinking you in with his eyes, same way he drank in the multitude of drinks that got you into this situation. that is to say, in large gulps.

“well, would ya look at my pretty little wife! i gotta be the luckiest guy in here, huh?” you roll your eyes with a coy smile, playfully blowing him a kiss as he drops his own stuff beside yours. he approaches you, impressive stature towering over you as his warm hand cups your jaw, eyes trailing down from your lips to the marks strewn across your body, like a roadmap of his desire, before they come back up to meet your gaze. “that guy sure was right, think ya gotta be the most beautiful woman i’ve ever seen. no wonder i had to get ya a ring as soon as possible.” you blink in surprise, sheepishly grinning at the man that stands before you.

“and you call me a charmer..go take a look in a mirror and we’ll see which one of us is the lucky one here, husband.” he laughs boisterously, thumb sweeping over your bottom lip and he pats your cheek. “ya give as good as ya get. like that about ya.” his words come out soft as cotton, and is it wrong that you want to kiss him right now? if this is how he’d be as a husband, you aren’t sure you even want to fix this situation. you like the way he looks at you, like he truly believes you’re the most beautiful person in the world and you kinda want him to look at you like that for years to come. god, you can’t believe yourself, falling in love in 5 minutes with a man you’d only met the night before. he just makes it so fucking easy.

you’re left standing there for a moment as he winks at you before slipping in to the hot tub, and it’s hard to explain to yourself how you feel, so you decide not to for the time being. you still have questions that need to be solved, now knowing how you met and that you are, in fact, married to atsumu, so you climb into the hot tub with him to relax your brain and see what else you can try to piece together. a moan leaves you as you sink in to the hot water, closing your eyes as you lean back against the tub and atsumu watches you, arms splayed out against the lip of the tub and a part of him wonders why you’re sitting so far away. you are his wife, after all, and that part of him thinks you should be pressed up against him so that the warmth he’s feeling isn’t just from the water. there’s a long while of relaxation, at least 20 minutes of steamy hot bliss before one of you breaks the silence again.

“so, husband, what’s the plan? should we find out where we got married next, or are we on to planning the honeymoon?” you don’t open your eyes when you speak so you can’t see the way atsumu looks at you, like he actually is ready to take you on a trip and consummate his marriage again. he almost doesn’t even care how the two of you’d gotten into this situation anymore, just happy that he’s in it with you. he can picture you, on the sidelines at his games, wearing his jersey and cheering him on and when he wins for you, he rushes over and kisses your breath away. he sees you in his kitchen when he comes home from a long trip and he drops his bags and his jaw at the sight of you, tiny t-shirt and tinier panties as you dance around, baking some confectionery that isn’t nearly as sweet as he thinks you are. he’d never given a lot of thought to marriage but now he is, now he wants it, but only if it’s with you, with your pretty face as the background of his phone, with your smile greeting him when he comes home, with your moans all gasping and breathy in his ear as his cock hits deep inside of your most sensitive parts every night.

“atsumu? you still there?” your voice shakes him out of his head and you’re eyeing him with a curious look, lip between your teeth and it’s truly taking everything in him not to drag you back up to his suite and have you crying his name as you leak all over his dick.

“ah, yeah, sweet thing, ‘m sorry, i was jus’ thinkin’.” his lips are upturned into a smirk and it has you sliding a few inches closer to him, sweet smile on your lips and oh, how he wants to rail that look right off of your face. “‘bout what? c’mon, you can tell me anything, i mean, we are married, right?” you chuckle. he thinks for a moment before he makes a decision, strong hands pulling you in to straddle his lap and you squeal in surprise, huffing out a laugh as you place your arms around his neck to stabilize yourself.

“jus’..thinkin how much of a shame it is that i can’t remember how good yer pussy was, how loud i made ya moan fer me last night, how sweet i bet ya tasted on my tongue.” atsumu wishes he could take a picture of the look on your face as you take in his filth, as you feel his cock stiffening under your ass. your wide eyes dart away from his and there’s a shy little “oh” that leaves you. you hadn’t expected something so..lewd- so downright vulgar- to leave his mouth but you can’t lie and say it’s not something you’ve thought about, too. for as much of your thoughts have been sweet- images of him holding you close while you watch films, sipping sake and feeding each other sweets on your anniversary, they’ve been indecent, as well. wondering what positions he’d put you into last night, wondering how pretty his brown eyes look when they stare at you from between your thighs, mouth too busy on your slippery cunt to make his teasing little quips. you let your eyes meet his again and you decide on boldness as your response, leaning in so close your lips almost brush his when you speak.

“wanna find out?”

atsumu couldn’t have stopped himself if he tried, pressing that quarter inch closer to surge your lips together, and it’s so obscene how he kisses you, so utterly salacious, all tongue in your mouth and teeth on the swell of your bottom lip. his hand comes up to hold your cheek and the other finds the curve of your ass under the water, groping and squeezing as much flesh as he can fit in his palm. he’s such a nasty man- large hand slowly guiding you back and forth on his lap, the grind of your pussy against him, against the length of his cock, only separated by thin layers of fabric. even through your underwear and his shorts you can feel the ridges and veins of his hard on, feel how long he is, how thick, and a moan gets swallowed up into the kiss, but neither of you are sure who it came from. the swap of spit goes on for a bit, teeth clinking in your shared hunger for one another before he separates you, thin string of someone’s saliva serving as a connection between you two, what you’d been up to in the hotel hot tub.

“ya gonna let me take ya upstairs, baby? need’ta make my wife’s hot little pussy cream all over me, need’ta feel ya.” there’s a haze in your eyes as you nod, real thoughts no longer occupying your brain, only atsumu now- atsumu’s cock, atsumu’s mouth, atsumu’s cum. you share one last sloppy kiss before you’re climbing off of his lap, stumbling your way out of the hot tub and hurrying to collect your things from the table. he’s not far behind you, slapping your ass as you bend over to grab your borrowed shirt and sandals. the two of you dry off quickly and wrap your towels tightly around yourselves, exchanging heated gazes as you bypass the changing rooms altogether and head straight for the elevators. you thank whatever god may be listening as you see you’re alone on the trip up to atsumu’s suite and he must’ve been too because he’s back on you the second the doors close. he’s got you pressed against the wall, your thigh hiked up to his hip and calloused fingers around your throat in a gentle squeeze, tongue in your mouth again and you’ve never been more grateful to be on a floor so high. you see now exactly how you ended up as his wife. how could you not be when he kisses you like you’re holding the last oxygen in the world, grinding his hips into yours like he needs the friction to keep warm? his mouth, hot and demanding in its claim on you, traces a line down from your lips to your throat, this time the opposite side of where he’d imprinted on you last night and it has breathy moans and gasps escaping you, fingers gripping those strong shoulders as he sucks and bites more marks into your flesh.

“f-fuck, ‘tsumu, want you so bad..” you sigh, hips moving in accord with his own, and you wonder if he can feel the dampness seeping through the thin layer of your panties. your neck is craned so far back you’re sure it’ll ache later, but you can’t be worried about that now, not when atsumu’s lips are at your ear, kissing the shell of it, tugging the lobe between his teeth.

“don’t worry, baby, yer gonna have me real soon. gonna fuck my sweet little wife so good, fuck, ‘m dyin’ to get my cock inside ya again.” and it’s not long before he’s making good on his promise. as soon as the elevator dings he’s lifting your other leg, long fingers digging into your thighs as he carries you down the halls to his suite, and god, he’s so strong- so secure in his hold on you, you just know he could do it with one hand if he wanted. he gets you in his room and kicks the door shut with his foot, dropping you onto the bed before dropping himself to his knees before you.

you’re perched up onto your elbows as you watch him and you gasp out a laugh when his impatience has him ripping your panties instead of pulling them off, kissing on your quivering inner thighs with promises to buy you new ones. he’ll buy you as many pairs as you want. hell, he’d buy you anything you want, he thinks, because the moment he gets a taste of your drooling cunt he knows he’ll never be satisfied with another flavor again. you’re sweeter on his tongue than he could’ve ever guessed and fuck, if you tasted this good last night he knows he made the right choice with his drunken proposal. your head falls back between your shoulders as he eats away- licking, slurping, sucking on your clit, on your pretty little pussy lips. the way you cry out for him has him never wanting to stop, wanting to stay glued between your legs forever as long as he gets to hear the way your moans get so whiny when his tongue flicks at your clit just right.

“ohmygod, ‘tsumu, just like that, right-right there, please,” you whimper, leaning your head back up to look at him and wow, is he pretty like this. his eyes are closed, lost in you- your taste, your smell, your essence. atsumu thinks there’s no better drug than this, than the way your slick little hole flutters on his tongue when he dips the muscle inside of you. your fingers are carding through his soft blonde locks, giving his roots a sharp tug when his teeth lightly catch your clit.

“oh! oh, f-fuck, i’m so close, gonna cum,” you whimper, legs shaking on their perch of his shoulders and you didn’t think he could suck on your clit harder but god, he does. your chest is heaving and your free hand scrambles for purchase in the expensive sheets and you’re there, falling over the edge, eyes squeezed shut and thighs clamping down around his head. he tongue-fucks you through it, thumb coming up to stimulate your sticky clit and it’s almost too much, too good. he’s moaning into you almost as loud as you’re moaning for him, savoring every little morsel of you that he can get like a man starved. when your eyes finally open again they fall on his face and he’s staring up at you, lips shiny and chin damp with your release and your skin feels so, so hot to be in.

“there she is,” atsumu grins boyishly, lips pressing against the crease of your thigh and hip, “fuck, ya taste so good. my pretty wife, so perfect and sweet.” he gently pulls your legs from his shoulders and rises from his knees, coming to lean over you on the bed. he kisses you slow, tongue forcing it’s way into your mouth to give you no choice but to taste yourself and you can’t help the whine that he swallows right up. he slides you further back on the bed, nimble hands slipping down to drop his shorts and oh, you can feel the hot mushroom head of his cock, damp and sticky with precum, nudge against your clit when he climbs between your thighs.

“ya ready for me, sweet thing? ‘m gonna fill ya up, need ya to take it all f’me,” he says against your lips and you nod desperately, knowing you’d take anything he was willing to give you. he presses one last gentle kiss to your lips before he’s leaning back, one hand on your waist and the other on the base of his cock, guiding his length to your dripping hole. he breaches you with the tip and fuck, does it feel good already, but then he’s sheathing inch after inch inside of you and your lips form a perfect ‘o’.

“my god,” he groans, “yer so fuckin’ tight. perfect little pussy on my perfect little wife. ya feel that? ya feel how deep i am?” your eyes are fluttering but you try hard to keep them open, meeting his own and you can’t even speak, just another nod in response because opening your mouth only has a gasping moan leaving you. he gives you a brief second to adjust, but really it’s for him too, your walls so warm and slick that he has to take a moment to breathe through it so he doesn’t blow his load immediately. but once that second is over, he’s dragging his cock back out of you, enough so that only the tip resides inside of you and when he fucks back into you, it punches your breath from your lungs. he starts a pace one could only call determined- determined to hit that spongy little spot inside of you, determined to have you creaming all over his cock, determined to make nothing but his name fall from your lips.

“ohhmyygodddd, ‘tsumu!! you’re s-so big, feel you s’deep ins-side me,” you cry, hands on his forearms as your nails dig deep into the flesh. atsumu doesn’t mind it, though- too wrapped up in how your hot cunt around him makes this wet, squishy sound when he slides in and out of you.

“yeah, baby? ‘m i fuckin’ ya good? ‘m i f-fuckin’ this sweet little pussy the way ya like?” his voice is heavy with lust and unconstrained need, hips smacksmacksmacking against yours with vigor. your answer to him comes out slurred, high-pitched and so fucked out already. “yesss, nngh, s-so good, so fucking good!”

his hands grip under your knees, pushing your thighs back against your chest in a mating press and fuck, if you thought he was deep before, you hadn’t seen anything yet. his cock is hitting places inside of you that you’d previously thought impossible, salty little drops forming in your lash line and when you blink your eyes open, you think you see heaven. it’s atsumu- blonde hairs sticking to his forehead, chest glistening with little droplets of sweat, face contorted in a blend of pleasure and concentration as he carves his cock through your insides. there’s no air in your lungs, no thoughts in your head, nothing in your eyes but want. he catches your gaze on him and a grin splits his lips and oh yeah, you’re so over. you have no choice but to be in love with him, with your husband.

“mmh, what a pretty little thing, lookin’ a’me like that. bet ya look even prettier cummin’ on my cock, huh?” his thrusts slow but they don’t lose intensity, only growing harder in place of speed. the hands on your thighs leave to find your own hands, lacing your fingers together as he presses you deep into the mattress. his face comes down to yours, lips practically meshed as he fills your ears with more deliciously pornographic words.

“‘m not lettin ya go, baby. n-no, ‘m gonna keep ya as my lovely little wife, fuck ya like this every goddamn day. y’feel so good- fuck, so wet and tight for me. can’t let ya go, can’t let anyone else have ya. give ya anything, give ya the whole w-world long as ya keep givin’ me this slutty. little. pussy. oh, yer squeezin’ me, baby, y’like the sound of that, huh? gettin’ fucked nice ‘n deep ‘n full every day, bein’ my good girl, my wife?”

your lecherous moans and hiccups of his name in his ear have him driving his hips into you with more and more force, and you can’t even tell him how hard you’re about to cum. he knows though- knows when your back arches up, when your tits press against his chest, when your squelching little cunt grips him so tight he can barely move. he knows you’re cumming for him when a scream of his name tears from your throat and your fingernails leave crescents on the back of his hands. and atsumu is so giving, keeps on grinding his hips into you to get you through it, keeps spilling his erotic promises against your lips.

“oh, fuck- yeah, that’s it- that’s my good girl.. gonna make ya cum like this til ya can’t, til yer pretty voice is gone and ya can’t scream for me anymore.” there’s nothing but truth in his words, his athlete’s stamina keeping his thrusts into you just as ruthless as when he started. the folded-up position he’s got you in, in combination with an orgasm so powerful, has you seeing stars, the man on top of you practically fucking into your womb with his depth. you feel him on your neck, his pink tongue out to chase a rogue droplet of sweat and good god, is he so filthy. there’s no denying it for you, though, just how much you like it. there’s no denying it for him, either, with how your cushy walls clamp down around him as you moan so wantonly.

never in your wildest dreams did you think you’d be here, tears swimming in your eyes as you watch atsumu bring a leg up over his shoulder, pressing kisses to the soft skin of your calf while his hips continue their swivel. he fucks you like he can see inside of you- like he can see just where that delicate little point inside of you resides with a target on it, thick tip of his cock driving against it over and over and over again. you’ve cum around him 3 times now, or maybe it was 4. your brain was so fogged with lust that it was hard to keep track. but atsumu had patience, he had the strength to hold himself off from filling you up with his cum until you were crying for it, begging for it. but he felt so good inside of you that you didn’t want it to end yet- desperate to feel the same ache in your hips that you’d felt last night.

atsumu’s kiss was miles away from the way he fucked you, lips on yours so gently and lovingly that if you couldn’t see your other halves, you’d have no idea that he was fucking into your searing hot core so roughly- so brutally. he gave your kiss-swollen bottom lip a tug before he parted from you, hissing as he pulls his cock out of you. you watch him as you catch your breath, allowing yourself to be jostled around when he comes to lay on his side beside you, wrapping one of those strong arms around you to drag you up against his chest. he lifts your thigh and mutters in your ear an instruction for you to hold it up and his hand comes down, guiding his dick back inside of you and it has your head falling back against him, mewls leaving your lips and groans leaving his.

“never gonna get tired of this pussy, baby. y’get so wet for me, fuck- swear i could drown in it. ‘m gettin’ so close, gonna give ya all my cum, ‘n ya gotta take it, okay? gotta keep it all in this hot little pussy of yers. ya gonna do that? y’gonna be a good girl for me and keep it all in?” the demands he murmurs into your ear make your cunt clutch onto him all the more tighter, breathing harsh and ragged as you nod.

“yeah, baby, ‘m gonna keep it all in- ah! please, please, need it- need you to give it to me. want your cum so bad, ‘tsumu..i-i’m so close, don’t stop, please.” there’s a burn in your hamstring from the way your thigh is hiked up into the air but you don’t care, atsumu is gonna give you his cum and that’s all that matters to you. his slender, calloused fingers caress your body, moving from your waist, to the swell of your tits that bounce from the force of his thrusts, all the way down to your puffy little clit. he plays with you expertly and you cry out that he’s got you close, gonna make you cum again and he didn’t need you to tell him that, can feel your cunt spasming around his cock and fuck, he’s close, too.

“hold it f’me, pretty, just a second, f-fuck, wanna cum together, need’ta feel ya squeezin’ the cum outta my cock,” he sighs. it’s so hard, so hard to hold out but you do it and it’s worth it in the end. when those lips on your ear say “cum for me, angel” and his hips lose their rhythm, cock inside you twitching away as he spills rope after rope of milky white into you, it’s worth it. you throat is raw at this point, has been for some time, and yet a hoarse scream still makes it’s way out of you, cunt convulsing as you milk him for everything he’s got.

a few minutes pass, though someone could’ve told you it was an hour and you’d believe them, and the two of you still lie there, sticky and sweaty and so fucking gratified. atsumu keeps you close to him, keeps his lips pressed to your throat and you finally feel yourself coming back to reality.

“y’good, baby? ‘s it alright if i leave ya for a second? gonna get ya some water and get a bath ready, won’t take long, okay?” you still can’t speak, fighting an internal battle with yourself to even keep your eyes open so you just nod, and atsumu leaves a kiss on your shoulder before he eases his softened cock out of you with a whine on your part, sweetly shushing you as he climbs out of bed. you don’t even realize that you fell asleep until he comes back, and you realize with a start that you’re being lifted from the bed. you get your eyes back in focus to see atsumu looking down at you, ever-present smile on his face as he carries you off to the bathroom to clean you. the two of you sit in the tub, your back against a much sturdier chest, warmth of the water soothing your aching muscles and abused cunt.

atsumu is as good a husband as he is a lover, lifting a glass of water he’d already prepared to your lips and he’s gentle with his hands when he rubs you down with a soapy cloth. he whispers about how good you were for him- how he wasn’t lying or just saying it to say it, how he really wants to try to make this work with you. you have no objection to it, you figure if you’d want to marry anyone in the world, it might as well be a man so sweet- so kind and giving, so passionate about everything he touches, including you.

your bath is cold soon after the two of you are clean and he brings you back to bed, dries you off and helps to dress you in another one of his shirts that you swim in. he does something else, too. he sits beside you, cups your face with a strong hand and kisses you softly, before he reaches for your left hand, smiling serenely at you as he slides the ring you’d taken off earlier back onto your finger. you grin at his display, squeezing his hand in yours as you find his lips again, no lust or overwhelming desire in it, just the feeling of something like love blossoming between you two- the newlyweds, mr. and mrs. miya atsumu.

>authors_note: i have no idea how this ended up at 7k+ but husband!atsumu just does that to me 😅 hope y’all enjoy!! kinda have ideas for a part 2 so if you’re interested in that lmk!

>thank you for reading ♡

>masterlist.exe

>requests are now LIVE!

#miya atsumu x reader #atsumu miya x reader #haikyu x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #miya atsumu #miya atsumu x you #haikyu smut #haikyuu smut #atsumu x reader #hq atsumu #atsumu x you #hq x reader

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avonne-writes · 6 months

Note

oh my god now that the show and the war is over I NEED domestic buck and bucky fics bonus points if buck is sick and they cuddle all day😅😅

I can’t wait to write this AU, but I have to finish Reverie first, so I hope you’d still like to read to it after 🩷 But until then, here's a snippet I've just written:

It's cold. So cold, that Gale thinks he’s back in Germany for a few seconds, locked in the filthy hopelessness of the stalag, with no end in sight. He’s swimming in sweat but his body trembles nevertheless. Icy pain rolls down his neck in waves. He can’t get any air through his nose so he tries to sleep with his mouth open, but that just makes his throat ache that much more. He wishes he could stop breathing long enough to fall asleep, but no such luck. The duvet doesn’t wrap around him tight enough. Curled up miserably on his side of the bed, he can’t do anything but convalesce. Even his bones hurt.

The front door opens downstairs, but it's too early for John to be home. Robbers? But there’s no sound of clinking china or cabinets being opened, only the jiggle of keys and then familiar, heavy footsteps up the creaking stairs. The bedroom door opens softly, then the world's most annoying voice whispers into the stale air of the room.

"Is our pretty little patient still with us?" When Gale ignores him, Bucky's socked feet thread across the carpet to the bed. His fingers drum on the wooden footboard. If Gale had the strength, he'd kick him. "Or did he become a butterfly?"

"What the goddamn hell are you talking about?" Gale gripes, his voice hoarse as though he was dying. He doesn’t open his eyes. He has no interest in seeing Bucky's mug when he’s getting on Gale's nerves like that.

"Well, you look like a giant caterpillar all cocooned up."

Gale doesn’t deign that worthy of a reply. He pulls the duvet the rest of the way over his head. There’s nothing he wants to see in the room anyway. He just wants to be left alone. Glass thuds on the bedside table.

"Got you some cold syrup."

The cover is pulled back from Gale's face and a pleasantly cool, dry palm presses to his forehead. Bucky sighs. When he speaks again, the joking tone drops from his voice. "That’s gotta be a fever."

He wipes the sweat from Gale's temple with his hand, then the bed dips by Gale's side. He hears clinking and banging, then a large palm slides under his head and pulls to prop it up. He cracks his eyes open to slits only to see Bucky bent over him with a spoonful of vile medicine in his free hand. Gale tries to push it away.

"Don't be a child, Buck, open up."

"Says the one yapping about caterpillars." Gale mumbles, so slow that he thinks Bucky won't let him finish the sentence, but he does. He looks amused, despite the tinges of worry around his eyes.

"Someone ought'a have a sense of humor."

"Wouldn’t bet on us." Gale squints at Bucky again, satisfied to see the flash of his grin.

But still, Bucky doesn’t let up - he holds the spoon in front of Gale's mouth until Gale sighs and swallows the syrup in it. "There."

Gale sinks back into the cushions and turns away from him, rolling closer to Bucky's side of the bed. It’s tempting to steal his pillow but with the clogged nose, Gale wouldn’t be able to smell him anyway. A hand rests on his shoulder, Bucky's thumb stroking.

"Care for some company?" Bucky asks. When Gale remains silent again, he continues filling the quiet. "I phoned my boss, told him I was sick."

"What, we share a body now?" Gale grumbles. "What if you do get sick?"

"Then I didn't lie, did I? If I get sick, I'd have caught it anyway, what with this narrow thing you picked." He pats the bed.

"You gave me the wrong measurements."

"Just admit that you wanna sleep in my arms."

"Did you get something for your head?"

Bucky laughs to himself in low chuckles, then Gale hears the rustle of clothes, the clink of a belt. The duvet pulls away from his back, leaving him freezing where the sweat-soaked pyjama shirt sticks to his skin. But he doesn’t have to suffer for long. The bed dips further, then a warm, naked chest presses to his back. Bucky tucks in the covers around them, them slips his arms around Gale to hold him close. It feels like heaven.

Gale sniffles. "I'm disgusting."

Bucky sighs as though he’s happy. He kisses Gale's overheated neck. "Course you are, you little caterpillar."

Gale grits his teeth. "Go away."

"No can do." He holds Gale tighter to his chest, and the shivers subside. "I'm sick, after all."

Gale decides not to say anything else. He remains irritated for two more minutes, then Bucky's warmth starts seeping into him through his clothes. He breathes out and falls asleep.

#mota #buck x bucky #john egan #gale cleven #my writing #sickfic #post-war domestic husbands

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ereardon · 1 year

Text

She Calls Him Daddy [Bob Floyd x Reader]

DILF Bob Floyd

Summary: Coming home from college for winter break, the last thing you expected was to run into your best friend’s father while out shopping for new lingerie to surprise your fuck buddy with. You had always tried to hide your attraction for Mr. Floyd because he was Anna’s father. But all rules are thrown out when Bob invites you over on Christmas Eve while Anna is at her mother’s house. You’ll never be able to look at your friend’s dad the same way ever again.

Pairing: DILF Bob Floyd x Reader

Warnings: Just pure filth and smut, cursing, age difference, power imbalance

WC: 6K

Your fingers brushed along the array of pastel lace before you paused, reaching out and selecting a hanger.

It was perfect. Silky black straps with delicate lace bra cups that led to a sheer lace middle cut high on the hips in a thong. You smiled. Jonah was going to lose his goddamn mind when he saw you in this.

You turned, instantly colliding with a person who had been right behind you, their back to you, your skimpy bodysuit flying to the floor as you began to fall. But the person you had crashed into reached down instantly, catching you before you absolutely ate shit in the middle of the store floor.

“Oh my God!” you exclaimed as the man’s hands caught your waist, hauling you to standing. “Thank you!”

A gasp left your mouth as you looked up.

“Mr. Floyd.”

“Y/N.” His voice was deep, sultry. You felt your face flush with embarrassment. He leaned down and retrieved the discarded hanger and black lingerie from the floor. But instead of handing it to you, he held it up and examined it.

“I’m, uh, buying it for a friend,” you lied.

Bob Floyd’s blue eyes met yours. His tone was patient, his mouth in a hard line. “Is that so?” he asked. “Not Anna I hope.”

“No, of course not.” At the mention of Anna, your best friend and Bob Floyd’s daughter, you wanted to crumple into a million pieces. You could never tell her that her father had caught you buying lingerie or that you had literally fallen into his arms like a damsel in distress.

Even if it made you ache between your legs. Even if a part of you had been crushing on Mr. Floyd since you were sixteen.

You couldn’t even admit it to yourself that sometimes, when you slept with Jonah, your college fuck buddy, you pictured Bob Floyd’s face when you closed your eyes. Same when you had your vibrator pressed tightly against your clit beneath the covers in the privacy of your dorm single. It was Bob Floyd’s face looming in your mind as you let yourself break apart.

Bob gripped the hanger tightly. He looked at the bodysuit and then at you. You felt like you could melt from the intensity of his gaze, even if it only lasted a second. “That would look good on you,” he said, voice low and you felt your heart beating erratically in your chest. “But this would look better.” He reached out and pulled a bra and panty set from the next rack over. It was a white bra with sheer demi cups and a matching high-waisted thong with a thick waistband and tiny pearls dotting the band. Clipped onto the hanger was a lace trimmed garter.

Words escaped you. Your jaw was practically hanging on the ground.

Bob stepped closer. Somehow, it was just the two of you in the entire store. You realized you never asked why he was in a lingerie and pajama shop, so close to Christmas. Bob leaned one muscular arm against the wall to his left. “Y/N. Do you have a boyfriend?”

You shook your head.

His eyes flitted to the black one piece that you had discarded on the rack. “So why are you buying something like that?” he asked. It was almost condescending, the way he said it. “To impress someone?” Bob added after a moment.

You nodded. “Maybe.”

Bob frowned. “I don’t like it.” Yes, he had made that very clear. Now for the rest of your life you would avoid black lingerie like the plague simply because you knew Bob Floyd didn’t like it.

You wanted to please him. It was sickening how badly you wanted his approval. Perhaps because your own father couldn’t care less where you ran off to on any given day and Bob cared deeply where Anna was at all times. He was a good father. A better father than yours.

Or perhaps it was the way he was looking at you. Like he was trying to memorize you so he could chisel you from marble later.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

Bob reached out, brushing your chin with his rough fingertips. You shuddered, need pulsating in your body like a pinball machine. “Don’t be,” he murmured gruffly. “I just don’t like the idea of you getting all dressed up for some boy who doesn’t know how to please you.”

You couldn’t believe that Bob Floyd of all people was looking at you like this. Like he wanted to rip off your clothes. You thought he saw you as a daughter. As just one of Anna’s little friends. He and his wife had gotten divorced nearly ten years ago. You had long known Bob Floyd as simply Anna’s dad. All of the single mothers at your school went crazy for him, but he didn’t give them a second glance. His focus was on Anna and getting her into a good college. But she had done that. She was at Brown. She was happy.

So what was he doing now?

Apparently, he was cornering you in an upscale lingerie boutique two days before Christmas. And the worst part was, you didn’t hate it. You didn’t hate it at all.

“Y/N,” Bob said. “Wait outside. And here, wear this.” He shrugged off his wool coat, draping it over your shoulders. You drowned in it. He was far taller and larger than you and you felt like a little girl wearing her father’s clothing. “I’ll meet you in a minute.”

You did as you were told, stepping out of the store and waiting, impatiently, until Bob returned a few minutes later with two store bags in his hands.

He handed you one and you looked up with shock. “Here.”

“I, um, I can’t.”

Bob slid his hands into his pockets. “Then return it if you want,” he replied. “Or you can come over tomorrow night and I can show you what those boys at Yale never could.”

Your mouth hung open. Was he saying what you thought he was saying?

Bob smiled, for the first time during your interaction. “Tomorrow, eight o’clock.” And then he was gone, leaving you standing under the striped awning wearing his heavy coat as he disappeared into the snow.

***

“Isn’t Anna at her mother’s house for Christmas?”

You shook your head, turning down the hall. “No, she was there for Thanksgiving.”

“That’s right,” your mom replied, rubbing her hands together mindlessly as she followed behind you. “Are you sure you want to spend Christmas Eve at her dad’s house? What about our annual pie bake off?”

You sighed, leaning one arm on the wooden door frame to your room. “Mom, please. I’ll be back first thing in the morning, I promise. I never get to see her anymore.”

“I know sweetheart.” She put her hand on your cheek softly. “Well, have fun and be safe.”

She closed the door and you rushed over to your closet, sliding it open and pulling out the bag from the lingerie store. With bated breath, you pulled out the neatly wrapped bundle, breaking the cloth tape seal on the tissue paper.

Inside, just as you had expected, was the white set that Bob Floyd had recommended. Bra, panties, matching garter and thigh highs.

There was also a small white card. You flipped it open.

Merry Christmas, Y/N.

-BF

You couldn’t help but be disappointed. You thought there would be something else. The invitation was to spend the night, wasn’t it? Or had you somehow misinterpreted what he said?

But the lingerie sitting perfectly in the box was a different story. That was the nail in the coffin.

Quickly, you got dressed, zipping your duffle bag shut and bidding goodnight to your parents, promising to text them once you got to Anna’s.

Your heart was beating erratically in your chest for the fifteen minute drive, and you thought you might spontaneously combust the moment you pulled into the familiar driveway. It was hard to unsee the history of your friendship with Anna outlined everywhere you looked.

The two of you tanning on the front lawn in the summers. The curb where you hit your head roller skating and had to get five stitches. How many times had you parked your old car in their driveway, waiting for Anna to slide into the passenger seat? How many times had the two of you snuck out of that house late at night for parties, scantily clad and carrying water bottles full of liquor you had pilfered from Mr. Floyd’s office where he kept his alcohol stash?

You parked the car and leaned back. You were really doing this. You had been thinking about Bob Floyd ever since you were a teenager. Now, you were nineteen. You had slept with other guys. You knew exactly what you were doing.

Which is how you found yourself with an overnight bag in one hand, knocking on the all-too-familiar wooden front door as snow fell softly around you in clumps.

The heavy door swung open. Bob Floyd stood wearing a blue cable knit sweater and a pair of ironed trousers, wool socks, his hair combed back neatly, his wire glasses square on his nose. He smiled. Behind him, the house was warm. It practically glowed. “Y/N,” he said softly.

“Mr. Floyd.”

“Come in,” he said. It was a demand. He grabbed the overnight bag from your hand seamlessly, leading you through the door, one hand on your back as he guided you into the hallway that opened up to the large living room in the back of the house. “I’ll take your coat.”

You shrugged out of the Italian wool overcoat and handed it to him, standing in a pair of ivory knee-high boots and a white turtleneck dress that clung tightly to your curves. Bob’s gaze rolled over you slowly.

“Have a seat,” he said. “Do you want a drink?”

“What do you have?”

Bob returned from the hall closet. “Honey, you know better than anyone what I have. Don’t think I didn’t know the two of you were sneaking into my liquor cabinet all those years.”

You flushed, turning around halfway on the couch to peer over the back at him, mouth agape. Bob chuckled, heading for the kitchen and returning a few seconds later with two glasses and a bottle of chilled champagne. “You knew?” you asked, aghast.

He sat down on the other end of the couch, pouring a glass of champagne and handing it to you. “Of course I knew,” he said, his voice thick and rumbling.

Bob poured himself a drink and then leaned back against the couch, one arm stretched out over the back.

“You think I didn’t watch you and Anna closely?” he added as you took a sip. It fizzed on your tongue and in your throat. “I’m her father, Y/N. It’s my duty to protect her. And you.”

Protect. The word rang in your head on repeat. Your eyes flicked down to Bob’s hands. So strong and lean, with veins running on the back of his hands toward his sweater-covered arms. You squirmed unintentionally on the couch.

Bob’s blue eyes were locked on yours. But instead of looking away, you let him in. God, he was beautiful. Jonah and all the other guys you had slept with had nothing compared to Bob Floyd. The small crinkle of skin next to his eyes was the only thing that betrayed his age. He was practically flawless. You weren’t the first person to notice how drop dead gorgeous Bob Floyd was. There were whispers behind Anna’s back. But Bob Floyd didn’t date. And besides, you were twenty years younger than him. What could he possibly want with you?

“Mr. Floyd,” you said and Bob smirked.

“Y/N,” he said, deep voice punctuating the air. “You can call me Bob.”

You shook your head. “It sounds wrong.”

He reached out a hand, nudging his thumb beneath your chin. “Does it feel wrong?”

“No.”

“Good girl.”

You practically whimpered. Bob’s azure eyes never left yours as he dropped his hand and rubbed his palm over his thigh in his khakis.

“Did you like my gift?”

You nodded.

“Are you wearing it now?”

Another nod. Bob’s eyes grew wider, darker. He shifted in his seat, setting his champagne glass down on the fancy wooden coffee table.

You crossed your legs, noting that Bob’s gaze followed you as you slowly lifted up one leg, crossing it over the other, adjusting yourself on the sofa a few inches closer to him.

Bob stood up, running one hand through his hair. He spun around.

“I can drive you home,” he said, “if you’d like. It’s snowing and it’s late. I realize now I didn’t ask if you wanted to come here.” He shook his head. “If you’re uncomfortable, we just pretend this never happened. You’re still Anna’s best friend, I’m still her father.”

You stood up, smoothing your dress with your hands and stepping closer. Hesitantly, you reached out, placing one hand on his chest. “I wanted to come.”

“Are you sure?”

You nodded. “You do know you’re the hot dad that every girl in our grade had a crush on, right?” You rolled your eyes. “Anna hated it.”

Bob smirked, one hand coming up and toying with your fingertips pressed against the soft fabric of his sweater. His fingers circled your wrist, tight, and you gasped. “Is that right?” he asked, voice husky.

“Mmhm.”

“What about you?” His fingers slipped past your wrist, up the sleeve of your dress, dancing lightly along the thin skin of your forearm. “Do you think of me?”

“Yes.” It was the truth. You flushed.

“When do you think of me, darlin?” he rasped. Bob shifted closer so you could feel the heat radiating off of him.

“When I'm alone,” you admitted softly. “When I touch myself.”

His fingers slid out from beneath your sleeve and you thought for a brief moment that he was going to turn you away, send you off on your merry way out into the snow with bruised pride and unseen lingerie.

But instead, Bob mumbled something underneath his breath before his eyes were piercing yours again, his hands finding their way to either side of your neck, tilting your head up toward him.

“Darlin’,” he groaned. “Trying to kill me?”

“Well you are old,” you murmured, "wouldn't be too difficult." He chuckled.

“I’m going to kiss you,” he whispered. “If you want to stop, we stop.”

You nodded, heart pounding wildly in your chest as Bob Floyd leaned down, sliding his mouth against yours, his fingers curling around your neck. You placed your hands on his arms, melting into the kiss.

Kissing Bob was like unlocking an entirely new facet of sex. His lips were soft, practically caressing yours, and his fingers pressed just deep enough into your neck and the base of your head as his tongue swirled in your mouth.

To your surprise, Bob groaned, stepping in closer, pressing his body against yours, pinning you against the wall as he towered over you, across you, every inch of your body on fire.

Bob pulled back, eyes wide, his lower half still pressed against yours, his face and shoulders leaning back a few inches. “Y/N? Do you want this?”

“Yes, Mr. Floyd.”

“Then take off your dress and get on your knees.”

Bob stepped back as you carefully lifted the hem of your white dress, pulling it up and over your head, dropping it on the ground and crossing your arms over your chest sheepishly.

He shook his head, reaching out and prying your arms off of your chest, exposing your breasts in the whisper of white mesh and lace, the dainty sheer g-string, the sheer thigh highs that you had worn to please him. “Fuck,” he murmurred, letting your arms go and trailing one fingertip over your right breast, circling the hardened nipple. You whimpered, aching for him. “God, you’re beautiful.”

Your eyes fluttered closed for a moment before they snapped open and Bob’s hand was drawn back. You sank to the floor, wetness already pooling in your panties.

“Go ahead,” Bob said, his voice almost gritty it was so hoarse. Your hands reached up for his belt, undoing the clasp clumsily before pressing ahead the button of his pants, unlooping it. Your eyes widened as your fingers wrapped around the metal zipper, tugging it down over his hard bulge. Bob groaned as your fingers drew over his cock, even through his boxers, and you tugged the waistband of his khakis down, kneeling back slightly. “You ready for my cock, darlin’?”

You nodded, skimming your fingers under the band of his boxer briefs, tugging them down as Bob’s hard cock sprang to attention. You audibly gasped and above you, Bob smirked. He was thick and impossibly long, angry red head seemingly staring at you, taunting you.

Immediately, you reached out and licked the tip with your tongue, swirling it around his leaking tip, your eyes locked on Bob’s. His hands stayed at his side like a mummy, but his blue eyes bore into yours.

You opened your mouth wider, pressing your thighs together as you leaned in, one hand on the base of his shaft while you pushed his cock into your mouth and throat, gagging around his length as his tip bashed against the back of your throat. Your eyes started to water but you kept your eyes on Bob, pulling back and gasping before taking him back into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks, sucking on him harshly.

“Fuck!” he grunted as you gagged around him, your fingers tight on the base of his cock. He reached out, threading his fingers into your hair carefully, pulling you back, wiping the frothy saliva from your lips as you kneeled at his feet, chest heaving. “You like that?” he asked.

You nodded. “Yes, Mr. Floyd.”

His eyes darkened. “Open,” he commanded and you opened your mouth as Bob fisted himself, pushing his cock all the way into your mouth and throat, fingers holding the back of your head in a gentle cradle. “Now put that pretty little mouth to good use,” he whispered, “and make me cum down your throat.”

Bob watched as you placed your hands on his hips, steadying yourself, using your head and neck to bob back and forth on his cock, sucking his length repeatedly.

Your right hand slid around the base of his cock, jerking the parts of him that wouldn’t fit into your mouth as you groaned, the vibrations sending Bob into the stratosphere. As you became more comfortable, you reached down, cupping his balls, squeezing them tightly before letting go as Bob panted above you.

Bob’s hand cradled your head and you opened wider as you felt him taking control, snapping his hips forward, thrusting his cock deep into your throat, causing you to sputter around him. “You can take it,” he murmured, pulling out a few inches before filling your mouth and throat again. “Such a good fucking girl, taking my cock. Now make me cum.”

You nodded, eyes watery, and Bob groaned, one of his hands bracing himself against the wall, the other preventing your head from hitting the wooden paneling as he drove his cock into your throat, letting out a string of curse words as you felt him stutter above you, his hot cum filling your throat and mouth, spilling out of the corners of your lips, mixing with the tears that were streaming down your cheeks.

Bob collapsed forward, resting his forehead on his arm, pushing his cock deeper into you one last time before pulling out as you swallowed his salty spend. He leaned back, panting, and swiped one thumb over your lips. “Come here.”

You stood, slightly wobbly, and inhaled sharply as Bob spun you around, placing his hands over yours against the wall. There was the sound of him pulling his pants back on, clicking the buckle, before his hands were back on your waist, thick fingers slipping into the lacy garter band, one hand traveling up and cupping your breast as he pressed against you from behind, his breath warm in your ear.

“Tell me what you want.”

Your eyes were closed. All that you could feel were Bob’s hands exploring your body. “You.” It was a whisper.

Bob spun you around until your back was against the wall and your eyes popped open. He leaned down, pressing his lips to yours, tasting himself on you, his fingers wrapping around your waist.

The next minute you were in Bob’s arms, your legs wrapped around his waist, his lips still on yours as he carried you through the living room, down the hall toward the master bedroom.

You had been in Bob Floyd’s bedroom once before.

A few years back, Anna had invited you over for a sleepover when Bob was away for a work trip. Her mother was also busy, which led the two of you to stay in the house alone. Anna had suggested sleeping in Bob’s room because it had a large TV mounted over the fireplace.

But after the movie marathon and once Anna fell asleep, you snuck off to the bathroom, opening a bottle of Bob’s cologne, inhaling his scent, wondering what it would be like to smell him up close.

As he laid you down on the king bed, you caught a whiff of that familiar cologne. Duc De Vervins Houbigant. You could clearly picture the sheer green and gold bottle. You had never thought you'd get this close to him.

Bob laid you down carefully. You sat up on your elbows, looking at him as he stood at the edge of the bed. Gently, Bob placed one hand on each of your knees, spreading your legs apart, his hands smoothing over the lace of your thigh highs, up to the garter straps which he snapped against your skin. He leaned forward, pressing his mouth to your exposed stomach, kissing the skin. You felt anticipation and desire pooling between your legs as Bob’s fingers dug into your hips.

“Please,” you begged and Bob lifted his head.

“Please what?”

You wanted to blush or feel embarrassment, but you couldn’t. Not with the way that Bob was looking at you. Like you were the only person he had eyes for. “Please fuck me Mr. Floyd.”

He practically growled. Bob leaned back, standing up straight and lifting off his sweater to reveal a pair of perfect abs. He looked better than any boy you had ever fucked, even at forty, and you found your mouth watering as he removed his pants, cock hard again. Bob kicked away the discarded clothes, crawling onto the bed, hovering over you before bending over, ripping the lace of your bra down to expose your nipple, taking it into his mouth and sucking harshly as you writhed beneath him.

“Oh!”

He licked the bud, nipping at it gently, as your hips jumped up uncontrollably, a throaty moan falling out of your mouth. Bob popped off of your nipple with a smirk, reaching beneath you and unclasping the bra, tearing it off and tossing it on the ground. His large hands massaged your bare breasts before one hand trailed down, brushing over the lace garter, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your panties.

Bob’s thick finger slid over your slick folds and you cried out as he nudged your clit before sinking down, teasing at your opening.

He pushed his finger into your cunt as you whimpered beneath him, the only sounds in the room were your pants and the loud smack of Bob’s knuckle hitting your opening as your juices dripped down to his wrist, your walls gripping his finger tightly. “So fucking tight,” he muttered, adding a second finger, stretching you wide as you twitched below him, pressing up against the heel of his hand, desperate for more contact. “Shh,” he whispered condescendingly. “You’ll cum when I want you to.”

You let out a groan, flopping back on the bed, letting Bob finger fuck you, hard, until you could feel yourself building to an orgasm.

And then he pulled out as you gasped, raising his fingers to his lips, sucking them dry before reaching down and tearing the panties at the side, flinging them off the bed.

Bob looked down at you. His gaze was so intense your first instinct was to look away. But instead you skimmed your fingers over his bicep where he had one arm outstretched near your head. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, groaning as you wrapped your legs around his waist, your wet core brushing against his erection.

“Darlin’,” he murmured. “You’ve never been fucked properly a day in your life, have you?”

You shook your head.

Bob reached over for a condom, tearing it open and rolling it over himself seamlessly. He dropped down to his forearm, face close to yours, other hand stroking your hip gently before maneuvering his cock until the tip was pressing against your entrance. “You want to stop, we stop,” he said softly. You nodded and Bob sank into your wet pussy, filling every inch of you as you whimpered, burying your face in his chest, small grunts as he pressed further inside, holding behind your knee, sinking into you.

Once he was fully sat inside of you, Bob moaned.

“Fuck me,” he muttered, brushing the hair back from your face, fingers resting on your cheeks, thumb pushing away the small tears that had gathered at the corner of your eye. “You’re so fucking tight.” You whined as he pulled back an inch, thrusting back into you. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as he plunged into your wet, welcoming cunt, a low string of curses on his tongue as he felt you stretch around him, your hands on his biceps, grounding yourself to him. “That’s it, baby,” he murmured, “fucking take this cock.”

“Bob!” You screamed as he leaned back on his knees, scooping up beneath you and pulling your chest in toward him until you were straddling him on the bed, Bob holding you steady as he fucked into you, your bare breasts slapping against his chest.

He grunted. “Fuck, yes, God you feel so fucking good.”

You wound your arms around Bob’s neck, your eyes on his as he held you close, his cock brushing that small spongy part inside of you that made you start wailing in pleasure. “Yes, yes!”

“Don’t cum,” he growled and your eyes filled with tears as he slowed down, pulling you off of him.

“What?”

“Get on your hands and knees,” he demanded and you turned over, scooting your ass back toward him, practically screaming as he filled you again in one thrust, his hands on your hips, pulling you back to meet his every thrust. “Good girl,” Bob said as you tipped your head down, feeling his sticky thighs press against the back of your own legs, his balls smacking your puffy, aching pussy lips.

“Please,” you begged, snaking one arm down, your fingers finding your sopping wet clit.

Bob grabbed your arm, pinning it to your stomach, pulling you up until your back was pressed against his chest, his arm tight against your chest, fingers gripping your left breast tightly. “You need to learn, Y/N,” he said, smoothing his other hand down between your legs as he continued to thrust into you from behind, “that a real man makes his woman beg, but he doesn't make her work for her orgasm. Now spread your legs for me, baby.”

You tipped your head back as Bob’s fingers brushed over where you craved them the most, instantly finding your clit, rubbing tight circles over the bud. “Fuck, oh my god, oh holy shit, yes please.”

Bob’s voice was throaty in your ear, his lips hot against the skin of your neck. “Cum all over my cock, baby. Fucking soak me.”

And then you were screaming, hot desire pooling in your stomach, bursting, your breath stalling as your breath caught in your throat and Bob pumped himself into you as your legs shook.

You started to fall forward but he caught you with both arms as you rode out your high on his cock, your body trembling with the aftershocks.

Bob loosened his grip on you, laying you down gently before rolling you over again, this time never letting his cock fall from between your legs as he repositioned the two of you so he was hovering above you, cock plunging into your exhausted cunt.

“So fucking beautiful,” he murmurred, head dipped down, kissing your neck as you whined. “Can you cum for me again, baby? Milk my cock.”

You were spent. But then Bob lifted his head, his gaze locked on yours, and his lips found yours, kissing you deeply, his free hand coming back between your bodies, thumb pressing gently over your clit as you whimpered into his mouth.

“That’s it,” Bob said, “right there darlin’. Want to watch you while I fucking fill you.”

He thrusted into you, hard, as his thumb slid over your clit and you found yourself shaking around him once again, crying out as Bob groaned loudly, hips stuttering, filling the condom with his hot cum as your walls massaged him, clinging to him tightly, your fingertips sliding down his sweaty and toned back, pulling him closely. Your leg was hooked around his waist and he collapsed onto you, face buried in your neck, his cock slowly softening inside of you as your heartbeat continued to rage on.

After a few seconds, Bob leaned up, pulling out of you slowly. You winced as he removed his cock, feeling empty and sore as he discarded the condom.

Bob laid back on the bed and instinctively you rolled into his side, slinging one leg over his thigh, head resting between his shoulder and arm. His fingertips stroked your side. He pressed a soft kiss to your temple. “Was that good for you?” you asked quietly.

Bob chuckled, and your head bounced around at the movement. “Yes, honey, it was good. It was better than good. You’re so fucking sexy.” He smoothed one hand over your waist. “I want to fuck you everywhere, every way that I can, until you can’t remember what it was like to fuck anyone else.”

You smiled. “Trust me, I’m not going to forget this.”

Bob grinned, sliding out of bed carefully. You frowned but he held out one hand. “Come on, let’s go get cleaned up.”

In the bathroom, Bob turned on the enormous two-person shower as you unclipped your thigh highs and garter, stepping into the marble shower, Bob joining you a second later, shutting the door. You stood under the hot water, letting it smooth over your skin and hair before turning to him. Bob looked at you with such an intensity you thought you might melt.

“Y/N,” he grumbled. You cocked your head to the side. “Sit down.” Bob pointed to the marble built-in seat on one side of the shower. You sat down with a frown. But then Bob sank to his knees, nudging open your legs, and you grinned. “I can’t stand it. I have to taste you.”

You leaned back with a loud moan as Bob’s sharp tongue flicked over your folds, finding your clit, circling the puffy, exhausted nerve as his large hands held your knees apart. “Mr. Floyd,” you begged and Bob looked up, eyes dark.

“Yes, darlin’?”

“You gonna make me cum again?”

Bob smirked. “As many times as I can, until you can’t even stand anymore.”

And then he was back between your legs, one finger in your cunt as his tongue flicked in circles over your clit while you leaned back, crying out when the heat started to pool in your stomach, threatening to break. “Mr. Floyd!” you screamed as you came all over his face, his lips and chin dripping with your cum when he pulled back, your thighs shaking.

Bob pulled you to standing, spinning you around until your hands were on the cool marble wall of the shower as he nudged your legs apart, rubbing his hard, massive cock against your ass cheeks before delivering a sharp slap as you gasped. “Are you clean?” he asked.

You nodded. “And I have an IUD.”

“Good.” Bob reached down, sinking into you in two quick thrusts, stuffing you impossibly deep as you groaned. “I’m going to fill you up, make you mine.” And then the two of you were gasping, panting, moaning as he fucked you from behind, your bare breasts pressing against the cool marble, Bob’s grunts loud in your ear as he lost himself inside of you. “Fucking perfect pussy,” he whispered, “so fucking tight, how does it feel to be fucked by a man, hmm princess? Could a boy ever make you feel like this?”

“Only you,” you whimpered, one cheek squished against the shower wall as Bob railed you from behind.

“Say it again.”

“Only your cock, Mr. Floyd!”

“That’s my girl,” he groaned, fingertips gripping your hips so hard you knew they’d leave bruises but you didn’t care. All you cared about was the unbelievable pleasure of having Bob Floyd fuck you senseless. “Where do you want me to cum?”

“Cum in me,” you begged. “Please?”

“Fuck.” Bob’s hips lifted and he cried out, spilling his warm cum inside of you, painting your walls, thrusting a few more times sloppily as your walls clenched around him, milking every last drop from his hard cock on his way down.

After the shower, Bob gave you a towel and you wrapped yourself up, sitting on the edge of the bed. He appeared in the doorway in a pair of pajama pants and no shirt, towel drying his hair.

“Did you bring pajamas?” he asked.

You cringed. You had brought everything else: makeup, makeup remover wipes, an extra pair of shoes, clothes for the next day. But you had forgotten pajamas. You shook your head.

Bob nodded, stepping toward a wooden chest of drawers and pulling out a long sleeved henley, handing it to you, along with a pair of boxers. You pulled them on as he stood with his arms crossed over his chest. “Are you hungry?”

You were starving. In the kitchen, Bob pulled out the makings for a grilled cheese and you sat on the counter, legs swinging against the lower cabinets, watching him prepare the sandwiches. How many times had you done the exact same thing as Anna raced around, making the two of you an afternoon snack?

Bob flipped the sandwiches in the pan and then turned to you. “What are you thinking?”

“You’re not going to tell Anna, right?”

He shook his head. “Of course not.”

“Because it doesn’t mean anything?”

Bob’s gaze hardened. “Is that what you think?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. Isn’t that what you wanted? Just sex. Just tonight.”

Bob lifted the sandwiches onto plates and turned off the burner. He stepped closer, placing his large hands on your knees. You thought back to twenty minutes ago when he had done the same thing in the shower and despite the fact that you had three orgasms under your belt for the night, excitement and lust started to creep into your bloodstream again. “Y/N,” he said, voice low and slow and it made your body ripple with excitement just hearing your name on his lips. “You mean something. You’re not just some random woman. I care about you.”

Your heart lifted.

Bob’s fingers pressed tightly against your skin before lifting off. He handed you a plate. “Now eat your sandwich, please. So I can take you to bed and fuck you again.”

You bit into the sandwich and groaned. It was good. Almost as good as the feeling of being fucked by Bob Floyd.

Bob stood on the opposite side of the kitchen, casually leaning up against the counter, eating his sandwich, his eyes never leaving yours.

You finished your grilled cheese, rinsed off the plate and washed your hands. Bob did the same and you smirked at him. “Mr. Floyd?”

“Yes, Y/N?”

“Can I suck your cock again?”

Bob smiled. “Still hungry, huh?” he asked. “Go on then, get on your knees, sweetheart. Make daddy cum.”

Tag list (also reusing my list from Friend Don't aka my general Bob list so if you don't want to be tagged in Bob fics going forward just let me know!): @wkndwlff @bobfloydsbabe @teacupsandtopgun @blue-aconite @clancycucumber230 @yanna-banana @whisperofsong @marvelshauntedhouse @that1nerd-20

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