#dilf in distress

[whumpsmith-participates]

Medhwump May 2024

Day 12 - Stabbed

TW: knife wound, blood, knife kink, blood kink, tobacco

@medwhumpmay

Relationships... Fetch hadn't had an interest in them since his divorce. First he wasn't in the right state of mind, and after that he just wasn't in the right line of work. Women were a distraction, or a weakness. Something potential enemies could try to exploit.

Sure, he had his flings sometimes, a one-night stand every once in a while, seduced targets for work, or purely for fun...but nothing that ever lasted longer than the moment itself. Leaving them no way to find him and moving on without ever bothering to remember their names.

And then he met her.

Granted, he didn't meet her in any of the ways mentioned above. No, he crossed her path once on a job, and she wasn't too happy with that. She taught him the meaning behind "hell hath no fury" and then some. Despite the rocky meeting, though, they managed to settle on an agreement and parted ways.

That was supposed to be the end of it.

But lately it seemed the universe had developed the annoying tendency to never let things go Fetch's way, especially when she was involved.

She was usually much more trouble than she was worth, and she didn't seem to know the meaning behind the word ‘no’ unless she was saying it, yet Fetch saw something in her. He just hadn't figured out what that was yet.

Maybe it was just the fact that it was rare to come across a woman in his line of work, or the fact that she was good at it, even though he ought to consider her a rookie for her age alone. Sure her technique had some rough edges, but at least she had a technique, a style to call her own. She had a talent for getting under people's skin before even pulling out her knife, and she was a recurring headache for Fetch in particular.

And yet, he couldn't get enough of her. Most women were put off by violence and blood, even in their line of work, but not her. Violence was like second nature to her, whether she struck first or merely provoked you until you lashed out. And blood, well…blood was usually a given if you knew her well enough, and Fetch knew her, every inch of her.

He wouldn't call it a relationship. No, a relationship requires trust and vulnerability, and both of those could get you killed around her, or at least get your ego stomped on. She didn't pull her punches, so neither did Fetch, which was probably the only way to handle her.

Her visits usually went one of two ways. She either barged in unannounced, fought with him, took what she wanted, and left him with a throbbing headache and an empty sack, or all of the above minus the last one. It was impossible to tell which one it was going to be off the bat. He had to work for it, while to her it was all fun and games…

He hadn't seen her in a while, not that that mattered much. She was unpredictable after all. So when he got back from buying new cigarettes one day, only to find Erick sitting outside on the stairs of his apartment, he couldn't immediately figure out why.

"What are you doing?" Fetch asked, while he closed and locked the van.

Erick was acting off. He didn't give him any attitude in his reply. Instead he gave him an uneasy look.

"Lavender is here…"

Fetch promptly opened one of the new packs of his cigarettes and lit one, needing a preemptive shot of nicotine. Then he pulled out his wallet and handed Erick some money.

"Get lost."

Erick looked down at the bill Fetch gave him.

"Wow, five whole dollars."

"I said get lost," Fetch replied, giving him a kick on his way up. He didn't stop to see if Erick had actually left once he reached his front door, he had more important things to attend to. He opened the door and stepped inside his apartment.

"You're out of milk."

"Get your own damn food, Rhodes."

She turned around, holding a bowl of cereal. Her hair was damp, leaving a wet spot on the shoulders of her shirt— Wait.

"Last time you at least waited til you had me out of my clothes before stealing my shirt," Fetch said, taking a drag from his cigarette.

"I had to do laundry, why else would I be here?" Lavender replied.

"Laundromat," Fetch just said.

"Your place was on my route."

"So would a laundromat be eventually."

"How many laundromats also have a shower and food though?"

Fetch took another drag from his cigarette, then he stepped forward and pushed her away from the counter so he could make himself some coffee. Lavender only gave him an inch of space, continuing to stand right next to him as she ate his cereal.

"I also had a question," she said.

"No," Fetch just said.

"At least let me ask it before you blow me off, you might even like it," Lavender said, nudging him.

Fetch rolled his eyes at her, finishing setting up his drip coffee and not looking back at her until the coffee was beginning to run through the machine.

"Fine," he finally said, "what’s the question?"

"What kinda places can I stab a guy without him immediately bleeding out on me?" Lavender asked.

"Who pissed you off?" Fetch asked.

"Not important, where do I hit him?" Lavender asked, beginning to drink the milk from the bowl.

"...you can get away with a lot if you just avoid most major arteries and organs," Fetch said with a shrug, "if you hate them enough, try starting with the ass. Lots of fat, no major arteries…gotta watch out for the sciatic nerve there though."

"I don't care about the nerves," Lavender said, "arteries go fucking everywhere."

Fetch took a last drag from his cigarette, before extinguishing it in the last sip of Lavender’s milk. She glared at him, but he didn’t seem fazed as he simply took the bowl from her hands and put it in the sink. Then he put his arm around her shoulder, nudging her away from the sink. Lavender tensed at first, but the nudge was gentle, not rough like before, so she set a step forward.

Fetch moved behind her, first pulling her hair back over her shoulders, before wrapping his hands around her throat. His grip was both gentle and sturdy at the same time, and she could feel her heartbeat thump against his hands.

"Common carotid," Fetch said, "very hard to miss, probably the fastest way to kill someone, which is the opposite of what you want. They come together with the subclavian arteries into the aorta arch, just above the heart…"

His hands moved down, brushing past her collar bones. His right hand moved to the centre and down over her chest, while his left brushed down over her arm.

"The brachial artery you also wanna avoid, as well as the radial and the ulnar, but here, between the wrist and the knuckles…"

He lightly trailed his fingers over the back of her hand, indicating the area he was talking about.

"That’s a good spot. Might lose function in a finger or two depending on how deep you go, but you said you don’t care about the nerves."

His hand moved off of hers, brushing over her stomach and tracing a line in the middle until he met his right hand on her chest.

"The aorta at the centre of the action, feeding into all your organs. That generally makes the entire torso off-limits, since everything is packed in nice and tight."

"So, hands and ass?" Lavender asked.

Fetch moved his hands again, his left brushing the side of her face, while his right moved down her chest, her side, her hip…

"The cheeks, if you wanna be mean, can take a lot before the blood loss reaches dangerous amounts," he said, "the thighs, on the exterior side, are mostly fat and muscle."

He squeezed a bit, massaging the muscle gently.

"A good hit here will cause the muscle to seize, making it hard for them to get away from you," he said, before moving his hand again, slowly creeping towards the inside of her thigh, "but on the interior, the closer you get to the groin, the more chance you hit the femoral artery."

His hand moved a little closer to the centre again, but this time Lavender stopped him, grabbing onto his wrist and turning her head a bit to glare at him.

"Keep going if you wanna lose that hand," she said.

Fetch just moved his other hand under her chin.

"Make me."

Lavender pushed his hand away before letting go so she could turn around, she slapped his other hand away too, only to grab his shirt next and pulling him closer for a rough kiss, biting down on his lip until he pushed her off. It didn’t stop her though. She leaned back against the kitchen counter, pulling him with her and closer for another kiss. She let him lift her onto the counter, his grip on her thighs rough enough to leave a bruise…but she wasn’t interested in bruises today.

She pulled on his shirt, he broke the kiss again so he could take it off, but she didn’t follow suit just yet. She pulled him closer again, one hand on his belt, the other weaving in his hair until she could close her fist around a good handful of it, her nails scraping over his scalp as she yanked his head back, trailing kisses down his throat. He swatted her other hand away from his belt, trying to unbuckle it before she’d change her mind.

But her mind was already set, they just didn’t have the same goal in mind today. After he swatted her hand away, she groped around behind her for the knife block on the counter, until her hand locked around one of the handles. She didn’t know which size she grabbed, but it shouldn’t matter. Unless he lied to her.

She moved her other hand from his hair to his jaw, grabbing it tightly and pulling his head back down for another kiss, he had his eyes closed like a total sucker. She grinned, and jabbed the knife into his thigh with a sudden and swift movement.

"F— Mrrrgh!"

Fetch’s pained cry was drowned in her kiss, before he finally managed to pull away and stepped back, only to fall over as his muscle seized up, just like he said it would. Lavender tilted her head with a smirk as she watched him writhe on the floor.

"I see~" she said, "that’ll do perfectly. Thank you~"

"What the fuck, Rhodes?!" Fetch hissed, feeling like he’d warped straight down from cloud nine to the ninth circle of hell instead. He used the table to try and sit up a bit, so he had both his hands free to try and put some pressure on either side of the knife, though that hurt like a son of a bitch.

"Just wanna see how long this gives me," Lavender said, "will you bleed out before I finish my laundry~?"

"...probably not," Fetch said through gritted teeth.

"Most of your blood is probably still in your dick anyway," Lavender said with a chuckle.

"I am going to cook you your own liver for dinner one day," Fetch growled.

"That sounds so romantic, but I’m gonna have to take a raincheck," Lavender said, hopping off the counter, "where’s your first aid kit?"

"You know where it is, you thieving minx," Fetch snapped.

Lavender didn’t even bother denying it. She simply headed into the bathroom and pulled the first aid kit from the medicine cabinet behind the mirror. She took it back to the kitchen, sitting down next to Fetch and beginning to pull the knife out as slowly and painfully as possible. How could she not? It was simply far too amusing to watch his face twist in pain and anger whilst trying to keep the sound to a minimum so his downstairs neighbour wouldn’t get too suspicious from all the noise.

After she pulled the knife out, Fetch pushed her away, insisting on doing the rest himself. However, to properly access his wound, he did end up needing her help to slide his jeans down, which of course was the perfect moment for Erick to return.

"Oh my GOD you have a bedroom for this!" he said, covering his eyes, though he had already seen too much.

"I thought I told you to get lost?!" Fetch growled.

"You gave me five dollars, that gets me jack shit in this economy," Erick said.

"You only gave him five?" Lavender asked.

"Yeah— Wait, the fuck do you care?"

"Cause I bet him you’d give him ten, now I owe him twenty," Lavender said, "should’ve known you’d be a cheapskate."

"I told you so," Erick said.

"Get lost, Erick," Lavender said, "I left some bills on the machine, if you take more than twenty I’ll kill your dad."

"Sure you will," Erick said, blindly groping around for the bathroom door, and slipping inside.

"Why don’t you take that twenty and buy some supplies? You’re gonna be scrubbing this whole floor for that attitude," Fetch said.

"If you’re still alive by then," Erick said, "try and keep it down a bit, Ethel’s already asking about fifty shades."

"Ask her if she’s heard of fifty shades of red," Lavender said, pressing her hand on Fetch’s wound.

"Goddamnit woman!"

Lavender Rhodes belongs to @scarletfish8eta (DA, X) Here's an image impression of how cool she is.

Lavender and Fetch first cross paths in the Weeks and Villain's View crossover "Your Move" followed by the sequels "My Move" and "Our Move" — Collectively known as the YMO AU

Masterlist Main account

Taglist for the dynamic duo: @lavndvrr

[whumpsmith]

DILF in Distress

The gloves came off. He usually wore them for protection, and secrecy. His knuckles still bruised from the last guy he beat up. It would hurt, but this captive deserved skin-to-skin contact, the authenticity of a real punch. He grabbed at his hair, yanking his head back and forcing him to look up, slapping his cheek with his other hand.

“It’s time to wake up, Fetcher. I brought you something special, just for you.”

Excerpt of my piece for the @zineofgid, link to full piece below the cut!

Shoutout to @salomeslashes for proofreading and making awesome suggestions for improvements, your help was very much appreciated!

The digital zine will be up for grabs until the end of the year, and you might be able to grab some leftover merch too! Find the store here!

CW: personal vendetta | revenge | alcohol abuse | intubation | forcefeeding | jennings gag | blood | strappado | organised crime | open ending | smartly dressed villain | manhandling | torture basement | older victim

Unbothered or intrigued? Then by all means come read the full piece~

And let me know what you think, pretty please

[djevelbl]

GRGRGRGRRRGGRGRGRHRH i'm gonna cry WHY is the pathetic wet cat SO FAR BEHIND EVERYONE???? THAT'S SOOOO OBVIOUSLY THE PERFECT CHOICE!!! HE'S SO SWEET AND PATHETIC!!!!!! GIMME HIS HEARTBREAK!!!!!!! WHY IS THE D I L F WINNING?!?!!!?!???!?!!???!?? like fair. but still. AT LEAST LET THE DUMB SIMP WIN THAT'D BE INFINITELY FUNNIER--

[courtchip]

per @dilf-in-peril's request, on a dusty pink bg, st. punk himself

[chronomally]

Not Jiang Fengmian directing his final words before the twin prides leave for the Wen Clan indoctrination at Wei Wuxian

[personasintro]

come for me | jjk

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬;��it's a first proper date he's supposed to plan, unfortunately it does not go according to his plan

⇢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dilf!jungkook x reader

⇢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: angst, fluff, smut, neighbors au, enemies to lovers (?)

⇢ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: explicit language, protected s*x, little spanking, rough and quick s*x

⇢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 6.6k+

a/n: this is one of the secrets I've been keeping and god it's finally here!! i wasn't even planning on finishing this today but I did and I'm so happy to share it with you! hope you like it <3

↳ previous parts

Jungkook is convinced the entire world sucks.

What should be considered as the most exciting time for some men, Jungkook finds it as a literal torture. Planning a date shouldn't be so tough. He has never truly done it before – not when he truly meant it. Whenever he went out for what could be considered as a pathetic attempt at a date, its purpose was clear. To fuck and end it with a mind-blowing orgasm on both parts. 

He has never done it like… this. 

Fuck.

Just the thought of it makes him want to throw up. He definitely can't mention that to you – who's pretty much clueless about his thoughts and would kick him in the balls if you knew. 

“I don't know dude, you should bring her roses.” Taehyung proposes, watching his friend in a mild panic as he bounces Ruda in his arms. 

“She's not like other girls.”

“What do you mean? Every woman loves roses! You can't go wrong with that!” Taehyung protests, offended that Jungkook rejected his idea right away. 

“I wouldn't say every but yeah, it's the effort that counts. Plus, she knows you've never done this before.” Yoongi joins in that conversation, shrugging nonchalantly while Jungkook nibbles on his bottom lip. 

Fuck! This is not like him. 

It's already enough his friends share an amused look, one he definitely notices and finds really offending. They find this entire thing very amusing while Jungkook is having a midlife crisis. 

“Okay, maybe forget about the flowers. What does she like?”

“What do you mean?” Jungkook frowns.

Yoongi rolls his eyes, “What things does she like to do? Does she like to eat? Likes to watch movies?”

Jungkook's a little taken back by those questions, a clueless expression clouding his face while Taehyung snorts in the background. He's too busy trying to think of a proper answer to glare at him in return. 

“I–I don't know,” he admits.

“You don't know?” Yoongi deadpans, “Come on dude, you gotta know something.”

“I don't know!” he exclaims in distress, causing Ruda to babble as if to remind him she's there. He shoots her an apologetic look, looking back at Yoongi. “We never really discussed that kind of stuff. We fucked. That's what she likes for sure.”

“Should you talk like that in front of the baby?” Taehyung points out, met with another glare that shuts him up. 

Ruda is too young to understand. He'll take care of his bad mouth by the time she understands, he naively thinks to himself.

“Then just fuck her.” 

Jungkook stares dumbfoundedly at his friend and his stupid idea. “Seriously? I'm supposed to take her on a date. Beats the whole purpose of it if I just fuck her instead.”

“Look at him, so much progress.” Taehyung mutters amusingly, causing Jungkook to grab one of Ruda's plushies and throw it aggressively at Taehyung's head. 

“Then just take her somewhere and fuck her after. If the date is awful, at least she gets her world rocked.”

They both start to laugh while Jungkook whines loudly, a groan following right after. “You guys are fucking with me. Literally, you're no help.”

“JK, we can't exactly help you when you have no idea what she likes. Maybe you should find out first and then think of something?”

“Oh, how did I not think of it sooner?” Jungkook mocks, doing a little stance with his arms while Ruda is in his hold. “Very smart, Yoongi. I don't want to make it seem as if I don't know what I'm doing.”

“What's so wrong about that?” Taehyung questions, “You just ask her what she prefers and it'll be easier to plan something.”

“Yeah, he's right.”

Jungkook sighs, pinching his brows. Ruda starts to fidget in his hold, causing him to sit down in a chair. He hands her one of her rattles as she starts to wildly shake it in her tiny hands. 

“Won't I look pathetic if I just asked her?”

“You literally look pathetic right now.”

“Taehyung, God help me–”

“Just ask her.” He cuts him off. 

Somehow, he made it sound easier than the thought of it is. 

The next time you see Jungkook is when you bring him the dinner you cooked. You haven't had that much time to see each other, with you working and his sleeping schedule all over the place, you had to settle with a message for the time being. It hasn't been that long, only like three days since he asked you on a date.

You're not going to lie, you feel a little giddy thinking of it. It's weird because you can't imagine the famous Jeon Jungkook on a date. If someone mentioned the words date and Jungkook in the same sentence, you would laugh them off. But now that it involves you, you find it almost flattering. He's taking you on a date. 

You. 

And no one else. 

You want to devilishly cackle at all those bitches that got to fuck him, wanted something more with him. Realizing that's kind of evil, you humble yourself because nothing's sure yet. 

Since this is very new to not only you but Jungkook as well, it's hard to have any say when it comes to the future. You're trying to prepare yourself for any outcomes but it's tough. Tougher than you think it would be. The idea of this failing makes you weirdly sad and you can't stand it.

However the sight in front of you completely brings you to other thoughts. You've never been someone who would thirst over dads. The whole DILF thing discussed between women was a pure fantasy, something they would romanize or even sexualize. Not that you were purely against it. Are women who find young dads hot that bad? 

The potential man would have to be hot in order to find them being a young dad hot. Some men just have that spark. And you've never really met one even remotely close to Jungkook.

And there he is. 

He opens his front door, hair slightly raffled and messy, as if he hasn't brushed it the entire day. He has one of his oversized gray shirts on, a map of spit or whatever that is decorating the thin material. He has a baby cloth draped over his shoulder, momentarily widening his eyes at the sight of you. 

Then realization hits him and he steals a glance at the watch around his wrist. He forgot you were supposed to drop in for dinner. 

Other than he looks fucking hot, even in his messy state, you also find him adorable how he stares at you with big doe eyes before he ushers you to come inside. 

“Where's my favorite baby?” you ask excitedly, keeping your tone down just in case she's sleeping. It's awfully quiet in Jungkook's apartment. 

“You make it sound as if you knew dozens of them.”

You give him a look, hearing him chuckling as he runs his fingers through his hair. “Rude.”

“She's sleeping,” he answers instead, but a cocky grin is attached to his moisturized lips. “She's been a little cranky this night,” He lets out a yawn. “Barely got any sleep.”

You pout at the thought of it. “You should've told me. We could switch or something.”

He stares at you dumbfounded as if you just came up with the craziest idea. Perhaps it is one. 

“You have a job, Y/N. I can't let you have a sleepless night.”

He has a point. Even if you were willing to spend a sleepless night helping him, you wouldn't really help much since you have to wake up early in the morning. You can't babysit during the day, unless it's the weekend. And babysitting during the night so Jungkook can sleep, even if for a few hours would cause you to look like a zombie the next morning.

You love your sleep. But you're willing to give it away for Ruda. And Jungkook. 

Jungkook ends that particular topic, leading you further down his apartment and to his kitchen where you place the containers. “It's tomato sauce pasta with chicken and basil. Not exactly a trophy winning menu but I tried to cook something quickly.”

“Fuck, I'm so hungry,” Jungkook whines, opening the container as he inhales the scent, a steam coming off it since you just finished cooking. “Thank you. It smells amazing.”

“No worries, I told you I wanna help in any way I can.” you assure him. 

He motions for you to sit down, already pulling out a glass for you where he pours you an apple juice. “Have you eaten?” he asks, already digging his fork into pasta.

“It's hot, be careful,” you warn him, even though the steam itself is enough of an indicator that it's indeed very hot. But Jungkook looks as if he's ready to swallow the entire thing with no thoughts. “And no. I came directly here but no worries, I will eat when I come home.”

“Nonsense,” Jungkook waves you off. You watch him stand up and before you can complain, he pulls out a plate for you and opens the other container you had prepared for him for tomorrow. “Here, let's eat together.”

“Jungkook–I have my food at home, I just came here to drop this–”

“Stay for a while.” he says simply, looking too irresistible and straight into your eyes for you to object. 

“Okay.”

You dig into the food, not realizing how hungry you've become once again. Your entire apartment smells like tomato sauce, garlic and basil. You hope by the time you come there, the opened windows did their job because you would hate to sleep in a smelly apartment. 

When you were cooking, you inhaled the smell a lot so naturally, you didn't feel as hungry anymore but now the hunger comes back. Without any argument, you both eat in silence while trying to talk about your days. 

You and Jungkook haven't really talked that much before. You both know what you spent most of the time doing. That's changing and it is a pleasant change.

It does feel slightly odd to be talking about casual stuff like your work. But once Jungkook takes over and talks you through their day. He's got a lot on his plate. He has a baby for fuck sake. He looks exhausted, yet his eyes are sparkling and he doesn't make it sound as if he's complaining. He informs you, even laughs at Ruda's cranky mood and what work she makes him go through. 

You're done and Jungkook takes it upon himself to clean the dishes and give you back your food containers, even though you told him it can wait. He protests and while he just as much protests with you cleaning the mess in his living room, you do it anyway.

There are toys and a few dirty and empty bottles laying around. There's not that much of a mess and it's done shortly after Jungkook finishes dishes.

You both decide to hang out for a while before you have to get home, take a shower and prepare yourself for the night. 

“Hey, I meant to ask you about something…”

Jungkook starts unsurely, arm outstretched behind your seat on his couch as you're cuddled to his side. You could fall asleep like this.

“It's about our date.”

You pull away slightly to look at his face, “Are you backing down from it?” you muse, watching the way his face turns into panic and that alone tells you that's far from the truth. It's enough to let you relax as you giggle.

“No!”

“Then what is it?” you ask, cuddling back but in a position where you still can see him. 

“What do you like to do?” he asks, a little awkward as he scratches the back of his head. “It sounds fucking stupid but I was wondering where to take you and I realized–we never talked about this stuff. And I–” Don't want to mess up. He doesn't finish.

Something warm collects in your chest and you try to hide a smile, not wanting him to feel as if you're finding him amusing or anything of that sort. Actually, you find him endearing. He's showing you a side of himself that you've never seen before.

“Whatever you plan, I'm sure I'll enjoy it.” You settle on saying, not having anything particular in mind which is not a help at all. 

“Come on!” Jungkook whines, “I'm trying here. I've never done this shit before.”

“Did you just call our date a shit?” you tease him, watching him open his mouth before he closes it and glares at you.

“I didn't mean it like that.”

“I know, I just love teasing you,” you muse, met with another glare which causes you to giggle silently. “I've never seen you like this. I'm quite enjoying it.”

“Yeah, make fun of me.” he scoffs a little.

Realizing this might not be just as fun and humorous as you make it seem to be, you also realize this must be important to him in a way. Your smile drops and you sit up, watching him slide his arm off the couch and into his lap. He stares there thoughtfully, avoiding your gaze.

“I'm sorry, I didn't think you would worry about it this much,” you tell him gently, “Depends on what time we would go on a date.”

“I called my mom and she can babysit until 9PM. She has to go back home after that.”

“Hm, okay. And what time are we meeting?”

“I thought maybe around… four?” he says, stealing a glance at you as your purse your lips in thought.

“How about we eat somewhere nice–nothing fancy!” you warn him, not really sure if he's the type to go all out since he has never done this before. 

But still, you want to make sure he doesn't spend a fortune on a single date. Plus, you would like to pay too. Not because he has a baby and other expenses, but because you're independent. You don't need a man to pay for everything.

Maybe eventually it would be nice to get spoiled a little. But at the moment, you can't imagine it. It wouldn't seem fair considering what a position he's in now. There's a little human here that needs more of everything than you do.

It's not something you've had to come to terms with, you've understood it from the beginning. Jungkook is a dad now. And it has a certain baggage with it. 

“And then we could do something–I don't know. Maybe we could think about it after? To see what we're in the mood for.”

“You sure you'll be okay with it?” he asks unsure.

He's met with a confusion as you pull back and say; “Why wouldn't I be? I just suggested it.” you giggle.

“Just askin'. I've never done this before.”

“So you said.” you tell him, standing up. “I would go and check Ruda but I don't want to wake her up. So kiss her for me, okay?” 

Jungkook looks like he's ready to protest, perhaps telling you to stay a little longer or even night, knowing it might be too soon for you. Once he checks the time, he remains quiet and the pout is the only thing visible on his face. 

You lean down, kissing him on his cheek. “Don't worry about the date too much, okay?”

He hums, though keeps his pessimism to himself. You wave at him for the last time and it's until he hears a soft click that he's once again alone with his daughter. The one that announces herself shortly after you leave. A loud sigh leaving his mouth as he stands up and goes to check on her. 

“What do you mean you can't come?” Jungkook shrieks, so out of his character that even his mother on the other line stays silent for a second.

“I'm sorry, Jungkookie. They canceled all train connections because of an accident.”

“Fuck,” he mumbles under his breath, hearing his mother scolding him but he pays her zero attention. “Can you grab a taxi or something? I'll pay for it.”

It's out of his budget but he's desperate. 

“No, it's too expensive plus I wouldn't be able to make it in time. You know how it is here. It's hard to find a taxi.”

He groans, rubbing his face frustratedly as he stares out of the window. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

He had it all planned. Even though you talked about getting food, he thought a lot – embarrassed to say – he even googled a few spots that were recommended around here. He would let you choose and maybe you would be able to visit them all within five hours that you would have for yourselves. 

But now everything's out of the window. 

“I could come tomorrow?” She tries to help, but Jungkook shakes his head.

You can't tomorrow. There's some kind of family party you need to attend. 

“No, it's fine, mom. I'll call you later.��

“I really am sorry, Jungkookie.”

He starts to think of every single thing that he knows. Every person gets on his mind and he wonders if he should call them. In a moment of realization and reality hitting back to him, he realizes he can't just call anyone to watch over his daughter. He sits down in disappointment, realizing how selfish that would be of him. 

He can't call Yoongi or Taehyung. They would not be able to take care of her and he would spend the entire date worrying, probably leaving to check on her. That's completely out of the question. None of his other friends, that probably fuck around as we're speaking would be able to help him.

None of his family members are around. Plus, they still haven't met Ruda – most of them – for some reason he thinks it's too early. He's still in a stage of trying to figure out to be a father. 

It's only his luck that his mom calls him from the train station, having no other way to come here. Just because some dumb fuck decided to jump in front of the train. 

He stops.

Fuck, he really is selfish.

He takes it back immediately, having more compassion now than ever since he has a whole baby to raise and take care of. 

You're supposed to be here any minute. He had it all planned. 

His mom should've been here soon, he would briefly talk her through Ruda's routine. He trusts her. She raised him and could surely take care of a baby. Plus, Ruda's sleep is better these days and she's too little to make a fuss about her dad not being here. 

When a knock resounds on his door, his entire stomach churns and he prepares himself for the disappointment that he seems to be. It's even worse when he opens the front door and you stand there, fully prepared in a short dress. Your hair is neat and nicely done, so is your make-up. Not that you aren't pretty either way, but he can definitely tell the extra effort you've put into yourself. 

It truly makes him feel like the biggest asshole. 

You smile, telling him something but he can't hear. He just stares, both out of awe and then frustration when he realizes what he's about to tell you. 

“What's wrong?” Your smile drops, making a note of his weird expression of pure sadness. 

“We can't go on a date,” He forces the words out of his mouth.

It's weird how his heart drops when you suddenly grab the strap of your bag, looking as if you're shielding yourself from him. 

“It's–My mom just called and she can't get on the train.”

“Oh,” you let out. “That sucks.”

“Yeah, um–come inside.” he says, gently grabbing your wrist as he pulls you inside. He doesn't need any nosy neighbors witnessing this very uncomfortable and awkward situation. 

You stand in his entry way, looking around in awkwardness as he scratches his temple.

He's obviously styled and prepared to go out. You've noticed his nice outfit right away. He's wearing black slacks with a casual white t-shirt tucked inside it. His hair is trimmed and styled back. You can smell his aftershave and hair gel along with his cologne. 

Clearly, he hasn't stood you up and what he's saying is the truth.

It's not like you doubt him but well – all of this is new and maybe it wouldn't be so out of character if Jungkook panicked and decided to make a lie to save himself. 

“I'm so sorry–I really had everything prepared for tonight. And it's completely ruined. I fucked up.”

You frown, staring at him for a second. “You didn't fuck up, Jungkook.” you tell him softly. “It's not your fault.”

“I thought of calling one of my friends, but they're not able to take care of Ruda–I can't just let them–”

Probably they wouldn't even want to babysit, now that he thinks of it.

“Jungkook, it's totally okay. I understand.”

“I can't let just anyone watch over her.”

“I understand,” you emphasize softly, smiling at him. “How about we take her with us?”

Jungkook's head snaps in your direction, looking at you as if you're crazy. “You wanna take a baby with us? Nothing against Ruda but–we're not gonna be able to enjoy it. She will cry eventually and I had plans–I can't possibly imagine taking her there–it's too much work.”

He panics and you need to get a hold of his shoulders to stop him.

“We don't have to take her to the restaurant or wherever you want to go,” you inform him, “We could just take her for a stroll and see from there? If she's gonna cry and be cranky, we'll just come back.”

You're not a mother yourself, but somehow you can empathize with his situation. He hasn't taken her out for too long, not onto too many public places. Until you count grocery stories and nearby parks. He's by himself most of the time. While he finally got the hang of the feeding, bath and sleeping routine, the thought of suddenly taking her there makes him unsure. Even though he knows he'll have to do it eventually. 

“Plus, I will be there. It's gonna be the two of us.” 

Something about that specific line makes him pause as he watches you. You give him a look, wondering what's the stare for but he just smiles. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” you assure him. “Nothing's ruined. Plus, I think I'll prefer Ruda's company there too.”

He looks at you suspiciously, almost like he doesn't believe you. And perhaps he doesn't. But you giggle. “I'm serious. There's gonna be time to enjoy ourselves alone.”

“I–” he stops, “Wow. Okay. I'll prepare her and we can go.”

“Great,” you smile, “I'll prepare her stroller. Do you have any formula prepared?”

“Yeah, had one prepared for mom. It should still be warm.” 

You both jump into action. Jungkook takes Ruda out of her cradle that he bought for her and has its place designed in his living room. She starts to wake up, her little face twisting as you coo at her while you walk past them. You prepare the bottle and stroller, watching Jungkook put her there as you bring some extra clothes for her just in case. 

You're out of his apartment in a record time, fully prepared as you shoo Jungkook and take the stroller. He walks beside you with a teasing smile, but there's a huge relief and content behind it. 

Jungkook's nerves are put at ease. 

Not only you but the situation proves to him that he can still go and eat out, even with a baby. Ruda has been like an angel. Once she's awake, she just stares around before she falls asleep shortly after. You feed her in a nearby park which slowly lullabies her to sleep.

After walking and getting to know each other's interests through stories, you find a nice restaurant where you can eat outside. It's not probably what Jungkook had planned but it has its own magic. 

Stroller kept next to you at all times, you fill up your stomach and even sleeping Ruda gets a few compliments along the way.

“Aw, what a cute baby! You have a very pretty baby.” The waitress tells you, beaming from a distance at sleeping Ruda, causing you both to smile.

None of you correct her. Why should you? She's a stranger and it doesn't matter what she thinks. You understand why she would think you're a family. It's a standard here. Nobody expects single dads out here. 

Well, not so single anymore. You hope.

“Thank you.” you smile at her in gratitude, eyes dropping to the sleeping angel that's next to you. Okay, maybe you appropriated Jungkook's daughter but he doesn't seem to mind. Actually, it seems like he's enjoying the sight in front of him.

“Your daughter is a star around here.” you tell Jungkook once the waitress is gone.

He chuckles, “Stealing my spotlight from birth.”

“Oh, she definitely helps you catch even more eyes.” you muse, watching him laugh in confusion. “Everyone's staring at you. All those women we walked past. They're thirsting over you.”

“Are you sure it's because of Ruda?”

You roll your eyes while grinning, “So cocky as usual.”

“What? I've always caught a female's gaze if that's what you were saying.”

“Obviously,” you roll your eyes again, “But there's something hot about a young hot dad. You're a DILF now.”

“Don't call me that.” he groans, causing you to laugh.

“Either way, it does bring you attention whether you like it or not.”

“Doesn't matter, I only like your attention,” he says. 

The two of you share a look as Jungkook cringes while laughing while you shriek in both excitement and disbelief. You probably look like a crazy couple. “That was smooth!”

He laughs, “I'm trying. I'm not romantic.”

“Are we having this conversation again?” You lift your brow. “Anyway, they can only look. You're on a date with me.”

It's a diplomatic way to say, aiming at something that hasn't been discussed yet. This is your first date after all. None of you have a certain plan. 

Yet, you're sure to admit that you don't like the attention Jungkook gets. 

“Does that make me your boyfriend?” he asks, tasting the way that words sound out of his mouth. 

“Do you want to be my boyfriend?”

“Hell yeah. If it means repelling all the men from you, I will be anything.”

You laugh, “You sound jealous.”

“Because I am,” he says, throwing a piece of sweet potato into his mouth. “I want you all to myself.”

“Hm, I'll think about it. Ruda has a place in my heart too.”

“I can share with her.” 

You both share a giggle together, something you've barely done before. 

“Does this make it official?” you question.

He shrugs, “If you want it to be. I know I do.”

“Me too,” you tell him giddily, sounding like an excited teenager. “I want to be your girlfriend.”

“Do people get together on a first date though?” he asks, finding you staring dumbfoundedly at him. “No, I'm serious. I really wanna know.”

You sit back, taking a sip of your drink. “Who cares? We kinda did it backwards anyway.”

“True,” Jungkook hums. “Who cares.”

Throughout those four hours of getting to know each other more, the connection between you grew some more. You've found out about Jungkook's secret hobby which is graphic art. It kind of explains the love for his tattoos as well. He's no longer just the boy that partied and fuck his way through his years. Actually, he's not that at all.

His guilty pleasure is eating snacks in the middle of the night, though he really tries to restrict himself from doing so. It's tougher to visit a gym these days, one of his obvious hobbies that you've already known. But he talked more about that and there wasn't a minute that it felt awkward or uncomfortable.

Ruda has been a pleasant company as well, her cuteness making both of you laugh and giggle. You were kind of bonding over her as well. Until it was starting to get darker and the two of you have decided to get back. 

On your way to the apartment complex, Ruda has pooped which proved your decision to go back to be right. Jungkook invites you to his place, not too keen on ending your date just yet and you agree. Though, you have to wake up early to pack your things and get ready for your cousin's birthday party, you don't want to leave them. 

You offer to take Ruda's nappy but Jungkook refuses, thinking it might be too much to ask of you but truly, you wouldn't mind. You try to tell him that but he just shakes his head, tells you to sit down and make yourself at home.

Shortly after, he comes back informing you that Ruda fell asleep. He joins you on the couch with what sounds like an exhausted sigh. The two of you share a look, both chuckling, silently of course because there's a baby sleeping in the other room. 

“Did you like it?” 

Jungkook fills up the momentary silence, voice slightly unsure and nervous.

He glances at you sideways, quickly looking away as he clears his throat.

“The date.”

“I did,” you giggle, nodding. “I really did. Thank you, it was very lovely.”

He allows himself to smile, mentally patting himself on his back for this going so smoothly. To be honest, he expected a disaster. It began like that, so he can't be blamed for expecting it to continue. But he's pleasantly surprised. 

Too happy about today. 

He feels like a freaking teenager and he gets this weird fluttering in his stomach. Urgh! He's not sure how he feels about it because it's new.

“Though you could've let me pay at least for the botanic park–or the museum.” you tell him, giving him a dirty but teasing look. 

You've really managed to visit many places Jungkook prepared for you. At first – which you're clueless about – he wasn't sure how to feel about it because he never went to a freaking museum. Maybe when he was on a school trip. It was totally involuntary, of course. But he caught himself enjoying it – and maybe it was because you were there – but he realized he doesn't mind enjoying himself, knowing it's because of you that he was able to. 

“No can do.” Jungkook shakes his head, teasing you some more which makes you groan. 

“I will pay next time.”

“Next time?” he teases, wiggling his brow.

“Aren't we dating now? It's what couples do, going on dates–”

“We are,” he hums. “What else do they do?”

You smirk, inching closer to him as you cuddle up to his side. He welcomes your touch, throwing his arm around you as he pulls you even closer while he doesn't take his eyes off you.

“They kiss,” you whisper, noses bumping into each other as you let your lips linger over his. Not quite kissing him but then it's too irresistible, he is, that in the end you press a soft kiss on his lips.

“They cuddle,” you continue, “Fuck.”

Jungkook chokes on his spit, “Don't say it like that.”

“Is Jeon Jungkook getting shy?” you tease, kissing his jaw. “You know a lot about fucking.”

“I–fuck–I do,” he agrees, voice sounding almost choked up. He tries to concentrate badly, he really does, but you're making it too hard when your kisses trail down his neck, making more parts of his body alive. “It just makes me–”

“What? Horny?” you tease and he groans.

“Well obviously,” he rolls his eyes, hands on your hips as you sit up and straddle his lap. “Wait–”

“Why?” you pause, cheeks heating up from embarrassment.

“No, wait, wait, wait–” He quickly says as if he could read your thoughts. He can surely see the starting embarrassment and the way you pull away, putting distance between you. “I really want nothing else than fuck you.”

“But?”

Jungkook presses his lips together, “I wanna take it slow. Won't it ruin if we just fuck right now?”

You give him a look, slightly caught off guard. “Why would we? We've done it before multiple times.”

“Yeah, we did but… but it was different, you know?” he says and weirdly, you do know what he means. However– “I just don't want to fuck this up.”

Your eyes soften, taking Jungkook's face into your hands as you press a soft kiss to his lips. “You won't fuck this up, Jungkook.”

“You don't know that.” He frowns.

“Well, yeah. I meant it in a more encouraging way. You're trying and I can see that. I do appreciate it.” you confess to him, silently and softly as if saying it out loud will make it embarrassing. You're a little sheepish when it comes to confessing such things. Talking deeply and emotionally with him. “I personally don't think us having sex tonight will ruin anything. But if that's what you're worried about, we don't have to. What I wanna say with this is–I respect it.”

He watches you, eyes clouded with restraint and desire. Currently having an inner battle with himself, he sighs and leans his head back.

“Plus, I think it's cute.”

“Cute?” he deadpans, moving his head down to look at you. 

“You're cute,” you admit, giggling at the look of disgust on his face. “This really means something to you.”

“Does it not to you?”

You laugh, “Of course it does.”

He smiles, pulling you closer as he's the one who kisses you now. “Fuck, you're really making this hard.”

“Not just this.” you point out, wiggling your brows at him when you shift in his lap, feeling his hardening length under you.

“Stop!” he shrieks silently in horrification.

You giggle, “We could watch a movie instead. Or talk.”

He rubs his lips together, eyes dropping low. For a moment, the two of you only stare at each other. There's desire, lust and impatience clouding the air around you, just as much as it fills your gazes. Jungkook's eyes are the first ones to drop down your lips. Staring at them painted in a nice shade that compliments your skin tone. They're moisturized and never looked so tempting. He's not sure. He can't think straight right now. 

“Fuck movie.” he pants, grabbing you by your sides and pulling you onto him. 

The kiss is no longer soft and minimal, you both practically throw at each other letting your bodies act upon their biggest temptation. The making out is messy and fast, no longer staying at that as Jungkook lays you down and starts kissing you down your neck. 

“Fuck, that feels good.” you gasp, moaning when Jungkook lowers down your dress and starts sucking the skin on top of your breasts. 

You arch into his touch and warmth, craving for every inch of him. It leads you to become even more impatient, ushering him to take off his shirt. He does and you immediately salivate at his pecs and muscles, hands trailing down his back and abs.

“Fuck, almost forgot how hot you are.” you confess. Okay, that might be a lie. It's hard not to notice how Jungkook glows with hotness, even if there are traces of exhaustion every day. 

“Oh, you forgot?” Jungkook teases, “Should remind you.”

“Mhm, you should.”

And boy, he does. 

In a split second, the dress is ripped off you and thrown somewhere on the floor, underwear followed right after. You complain about Jungkook's upper body still dressed, though there's something incredibly sexy about him wearing slacks with chest on full display. It's almost too shameful that he turns you around, getting you on all four. 

Both of you go completely feral. The position making your ass arch as Jungkook delivers a slap to it. He stops for a second though, freezes and waits for any sound coming from his bedroom. You watch him relax as he continues, a little smile playing on your lips. 

You hear him unzipping his slacks, not wanting to get the sight stolen from you so you turn around and stare at the scene in front of you across your shoulder. He smirks, noticing you watching as he reaches toward his coffee table.

Once he pulls out a foil packet, you give him a look with raised brow. “How did it get there?”

“My wallet dropped the other day and someone rang the door, I panicked and put it there.”

You laugh at his story, wondering if he's telling the truth. He looks like it though and quite frankly, you don't care. 

“Turned out to be convenient.”

“It did, thanks to whoever rang that day.”

He smiles, not elaborating any further as he takes off his remaining clothes. You hear the familiar sound of foil ripping and before you know it, Jungkook's tip pokes you at your asscheek. 

You might be already impatient enough, both of you too hungry for one another, but you also know there is no time to fool around when you now have the chance to have sex. Any second Ruda could wake up and put an end to your and Jungkook's desire. Seems like he knows it too because he gives you an apologetic look.

“It's okay, just fuck me.” you assure him with a moan, arching your back for him. 

He spits on his fingers, stretching you out with them and you sigh in content at the feeling. Giving you a few pumps to make you at least somehow prepared for him, you whine his name in ushering him and silently telling him you'll be fine.

That's all it takes for him to enter you, both of you swallowing down any set of curses and sounds. Jungkook pulls back just for him to thrust into you. He finds a perfect rhythm, rocking your bodies fast and roughly.

Jungkook growls, “Holy shit.”

He slaps your ass, trying to keep it down as you both giggle in the middle of it. It's soon cut off by his thrusts you try to meet. Giggles get switched by silent moans and pleas. Everything is heated and rushed, both of you ultimately aiming to orgasm knowing it could get interrupted any minute. Keeping that in mind, you don't hold yourself back and neither does Jungkook.

Despite your situation, he does not refrain himself a few slaps to your ass which only brings you closer to the end. 

“Jungkook–”

“Fucking hell, I wish I could hear you moaning and screaming.”

You wish you had more time, though you don't regret it happening now. You wouldn't have it any other way. Thinking that you both would have to wait for each other sounds like a proper torture. 

“You're fucking creaming my cock–fuck.” he groans silently, seeming to have as much as struggle to keep it down. 

Still, it's kind of hot to experience it. You never had to keep it down. Sure, there were many times when you specifically had sex and tried to be silent because of neighbors. With Jungkook, you never cared about neighbors before. Not that much at least.

“Fuck–I'm almost–there.”

“Come for me.” Jungkook grunts, hands gripping your ass so much that you're sure there will be bruises tomorrow.

And you do. Not even five seconds later, you bury your face into his couch and let moans disappear into its material. Jungkook follows right after you, not being able to hold it for much longer as he comes inside the condom. 

He stays inside for a moment, softening slowly as he carefully helps you to turn around. He sits back on his knees, condom soiled by your cum and juices but none of you move. 

You stare at each other, smiles coming up at the same time as you silently giggle. 

This is the best date ever.

[ja3hwa]

♡ 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐀 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐏𝐭.𝟏 | 𝐊.𝐇𝐉 ♡

【Synopsis】 : He couldn't help but think such filth when you were innocently fast asleep only merely a couple of feet away from him.

『Word count』 :  1.12k

-> Genre: Pure smut. Little plot. DBF.

Pairing: Dilf!Hongjoong x Park!Reader [Hwa's Daughter]

[Warnings] : Slightly Noncon (Reader is asleep at first). Masturbation. Cum play. Thoughts and fantasies. Pet names. Sir kinkish. Hongjoong is nasty. Also, Joong is like in his late 30s and tatted while the reader is only 23. Whoops.

Note: No one asked for this, but for some reason, I was hooked on the thought of the Dad's best friend trope, and Hongjoong is really coming for my heart. So, It was a perfect match in my eyes.

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You didn't know what came over yourself. It felt like the heating was turned up tenfold. Your nose scrunched as you began to move more and more in your sleep. Hongjoong couldn’t help but watch your discomfort in curiosity. Were you having a nightmare? No, you weren’t one to have them. But then again, maybe you just didn’t tell anyone. And being on a family trip in the middle of nowhere would cause distress.

Maybe I should wake her?… He thought, now sitting fully up on the pull-out couch bed. You were no longer tucked under the big fluffy covers on the single bed. No, you had thrown them off moments ago, revealing your mid-drift slightly from your short sleep top and the fact you weren't wearing any pants. God, you looked so cute in your black frilly panties…No, he couldn’t think of such a thing. Not when you were his best friend's daughter. 

But oh how you looked delicious. When he met Seonghwa, he had no clue he had a daughter, let alone one that was twenty-two. And when he agreed to go on this camping trip─more like staying in this large cabin on Seonghwa family’s land─he didn’t expect to see you tag along. You were stunning the moment he saw you hop out of your car. You were everything he would want in a woman and after spending hours of the day chatting and getting to know you he knew he was fucked. Anyone outside your conversations, like Seonghwa or his other friends and their kids, would see it as some harmless banter. But in reality, Hongjoong was shamelessly flirting. He didn’t mean it at first, but it just kept going, and you kept egging him on. So what was he supposed to do?

Since there were quite a lot of people that had come on the getaway, rooms were tight. And you had begged your father not to let you sleep in the rooms where the kids were cause you were certain one of San’s boys wanted more than innocent late-night chats… He ended up putting you in the same small study-turned-bedroom where there was a single bed and a double pull-out with Hongjoong. He originally offered to take the single, but you argued, saying his ‘old man back’ wouldn’t like it. He let you take it after that comment.

“J-joong…” you mumbled, almost inaudible. The older man's eyes snapped to your parted lips in a millisecond. Did you just say his name? No, he was definitely hearing things. “Joong, please.”

No, he definitely heard you that time. Your little panting, knitted brow, and soft moans. You weren’t having a nightmare. You were having a sex dream. And it was about him. God, did he wake up in another universe where everything went his way?! He ruffled his hair before rubbing his face in disbelief. He needed to hear you again, but as he took in your figure, he noticed you were now biting your lip, and your hips were jerking slowly. The pillow you were cuddling was tightly pressed up against your covered cunt in between your legs, and every little movement of your hips sent a shock of pleasure through your body.

You were humping your pillow at the thought of them while fast asleep.

He knew it was bad, but as his cock twitched for the millionth time he knew he needed to give himself some relief. And besides, you were sleeping, so you wouldn’t catch him only a couple of feet away from you, fucking his fists in time with your thrusts as your little moans carried out the nastiest fantasies his mind could conjure.... Right?

The thought of you laying out on his bed back at his penthouse. You're soaking on complete display as you beg him to hurry and touch you. He questions if you are a virgin, and if you were would you let him fuck you raw? Just the thought of slipping inside your tight virgin pussy while you tear up at his girth. He squeezed his cock tighter, staring at you intensely, he moved the sheets off himself, hissing slightly at the cool air hitting his hot angry tip. He needed more, he needed to hear his name spill from your mouth again. And it was as if the gods answered his prayers hearing you whimper, “P-please H-hongjoong.”

That was enough to tip him over the edge, speeding up his movements. He noticed the stutter in your hips. You were close to. He’d whisper to himself, “Let’s cum together baby. Cum all over my cock, fuuck.”

He wouldn’t be able to catch himself in time, splurting all over his hand, chest, and some dripping on his thigh. Fuck, he came so much. His eyes were shut, head leaning back against the backing of the couch. His heart was thumping in his ears so loudly he couldn’t even hear anything more. He was in complete ecstasy and peace. That was until he felt the bed dip, making his heart stop and eyes widen. “oh uh..I. um..” fuck, he was so fucked. You were sitting on the end of his bed, half asleep with the haziest expression while staring at his cock still tightly in his hand. His dick twitched, causing a groan, mostly from annoyance as he had been caught and he does even feel an ounce of guilt.

“D-did I cause t-that…” You said sweetly, so innocently. Could you get any more perfect?!

“I’m sorry angel, just go back to sleep, yeah…” He tucks himself back into his boxers, feeling his cum stick to the fabric which caused him to gag. He’s gonna have to slip out for a shower. But you didn’t budge as you took in his words. Instead, you pushed past any anxiety you had over the past days wondering whether Hongjoong liked you the same way, and moved closer to grab his hand that still had some of his cum on. You had woken up over five minutes ago before Hongjoong had creamed himself. His head was thrown back and he was in complete bliss and it caused you to cum just from the sight alone. “A-Angel…”

You didn’t let him speak another word as you placed two of his fingers in your mouth, swirling your tongue around them. Soaking them. And once they were wet enough, you pulled them out with an audible pop. Slowly, without breaking eye contact with the older male, you moved his hand down until those two wet fingers dipped into your completely ruined panties, letting him feel exactly how wet you were for him. They would slip so perfectly into your cunt causing you to sigh in relief, feeling so full just from his fingers alone. “Aren’t you gonna help me, sir.”

Hongjoong was done for.

—♡

[pilfappreciator]

Did another oopsie and accidentally deleted another ask (*bangs head on table*) BUT HOPEFULLY THE LOVELY ANON WHO SENT IT SEES THIS!!

DADZONE & Child! Reader: John Dory

Includes: GN! Reader, Child! Reader, Adopted! Reader, accidental DILF John Dory, slight angst

TW: mention of spiders and body horror near the end (nothing too graphic but just in case)

🥽 This man doesn't trust himself enough not to fuck up another meaningful relationship ://

🥽 Personally, how I see it, becoming a father is probably the last thing on JD's to-do list. I mean he's definitely got the skills (being the oldest of five and having to raise his brothers means he's picked up a few things), and I like to think that it's something he longs for deep down, but considering how BADLY he fumbled with his brothers the last time they were all in the same room...

🥽 So yeah. In theory would be SO down to start a family of his own, but in practice?? He is EXTREMELY hesitant

🥽 THAT BEING SAID!! Chances are he probably found you as an egg

🥽 He was out one day, hiking out in the forest or exploring coastal coves or rock climbing, when all of a sudden he just… stumbles across an egg. Just sitting there in a patch of moss or nestled into a log

🥽 Ends up taking the egg with him back to Ronda, but not before an actual HOUR of confused staring? Distressed pacing back and forth?? Panicked rambling all the while???

🥽 (the fact that Ronda tried to eat the egg upon his return doesn't help at all)

🥽 John Dory spends the next month or so visiting nearby troll villages and asking anyone who crosses his path "Hey man did you drop this? 😬"

🥽 In the end he decides to take you in himself. Partly because he's gotten tired of all the looks other trolls keep giving him for trying to force an egg into their hands, and also because he… may have grown attached to said egg in the past few weeks. I mean by the end of day 3 he'd already given you a name so you know he's screwed ahsjkakaa

🥽 He tells himself he's taking you in because it's what any good citizen would do (He is a lair. He is 100% doing it for himself)

🥽 The day you hatch is LITERALLY one of the best days of his life? Like he's just making himself some dinner and suddenly he hears crackling coming from his hair?? And then there's babbling???

🥽 This man is going about his day with you nestled in his hair (basically the troll equivalent to carrying a baby on your hip lol). He's choppin trees, foraging for food, and driving his armadillo van all while he's got an actual egg sitting on his head. Absolutely talks to you the whole time, too. He has no idea if you can actually hear him but like.. this man spent the last 20 years all alone in the woods, okay, his ass is lonely :((

🥽 Yknow that thing parents do where they hold up headphones to a woman's womb and play Mozart or whatever to make the baby "smarter" or some shit?? Yeah that's JD. He's doing the same thing to his egg

🥽 no Mozart tho ONLY BROZONE 😤😤 HIS BABY HAS GOTTA HAVE GOOD TASTE AND NOTHING LESS

🥽 If he's really feeling himself then he'll sing the songs himself. And then proceed to give unprompted lore behind the lyrics and the songs "true meaning" (songs include Brozone classics such as Baby Boy Got My Heart In A Headlock Boy and Baby Baby Love You Like A Pizza But Hate You Like There's Pineapple On It Babe)

🥽 "holy crap YOU'RE SO SMALL—"

🥽 UGLY CRYING HOLDING YOU IN THE CROOK OF HIS ARM CARESSING YOUR SOFT LITTLE FACE WITH HIS FINGER

🥽 Will die if you reach for him with your tiny baby hands or just smile up at him

🥽 He's still gonna carry you around in his hair while he goes about his day and stuff ngl. Like for him, it's a signature of your guys' bond and you bet your ass he's gonna be milking it for as long as he can (definitely dreads the day you become too big/old for it)

🥽 Most definitely tries to teach you survival skills as soon as possible. He's teaching you how to fish, he's demonstrating how to start a fire with the bare essentials, he's letting you DRIVE RONDA—

🥽 "It's an important skill to have, champ, trust me!"

"...but I'm only five."

"Never too early for a learner's permit!"

🥽 Defnitely tries to reel in that controlling/perfectionist mindset of his, at least for your sake. The last thing he wants is a repeat of what went down with his brothers. As a result he's probably more lenient when you get into trouble or do something wrong

🥽 Fr tho like... you'll accidentally(?) cause an explosion and his ass will be standing, hands on his hips like "I'm not mad, just disappointed 🤨"

🥽 You thought you were getting spoon fed Brozone content as an egg?? Well congrats on being born cuz now you're getting served Brozone content for BREAKFAST 👏 DINNER 👏 AND 👏 LUNCH

🥽 JDs most definitely the type of guy to break into song whenever he's doing the most mundane of tasks (laundry, cooking, cleaning, etc), and yes he fully expects you to join in and know all the lyrics helloooo?? You've basically been raised on Brozone songs at this point like cmon, don't leave him hanging!

🥽 FR THO!! If you grow up to be a Brozone stan, he's never gonna be more proud of himself <33

🥽 This man definitely has a physical collection of every song/album/cover his band has ever done (I'm mean this is the same guy who kept his brothers underwear in a frame for 20 years so ://). He treats every CD, record, cassette tape, etc. like the priceless artifacts they are and YES, HES GONNA PASS THEM ONTO YOU LIKE THEYR FAMILIY HEIRLOOMS DID YOU EXPECT ANY LESS

🥽 If you grow up to lean more towards a different genre of music or Brozone just doesn't end up being your cup of tea... JDs gonna be a lil devastating ngl

🥽 Pls assure him that he has not failed as a father

🥽 Jokes aside tho! I feel like despite his wounded ego, JD will at least TRY to see your point of view. I mean he's definitely gonna be a bit of a grandpa about it—

*while the two of you are listening to your favorite song*

"I mean, I GUESS it's okay... not nearly as lyrically genius as Brozone's hit single: Baby Girl Ur Sweet Like A Milkshake Girl But I'm Lactose Intolerant Baby 🙄"

"Dad. Please shut up."

—but rest assured that he WILL support you and your music taste <33

🥽 You want merch of your favorite band/artist? No worries he's (stealing it right off the shelf) got money to pay for it! Is there a new album about to drop? He's (breaking into a store in the middle of night like a rabid racoon) patiently waiting in line just to buy it for you! You wanna go to a concert? He's using Ronda to (break speed limits, run people over, disobey every known traffic rule) get good parking at the venue!!

🥽 SPEAKING OF CONCERTS!! I feel like he'd be able to offer solid advice on the do's and don'ts of attending a concert. Like... my guy was in a popular band back in the day and he knows first hand how outta hand concerts can get. He has SEEN some shit ajskskaka

🥽 JD definitely has a photo album full of pictures from back in the day. Some of them are snapshots of him and the rest of Brozone, but a majority of the pictures are just of him and his family— away from the stage and cameras. Just him and his brothers and grandma Rosiepuff too...

🥽 He remembers the exact moment every picture was taken, and he'll tell you every bit of context. Birthday, pranks gone wrong, holidays, first day of school— there's a snapshot for just about every milestone. All you have to do is ask and JD is more than happy to relay every childhood anecdote he can remember

🥽 It gets to the point where you eventually know just about everything about your uncles... WHO YOU HAVE NEVER EVEN MET YET AKSKSKAKAK

🥽 It's definitely something that freaks them out once you finally DO meet them

🥽 Like you'll have a conversation with Clay and they'll be like "yeah I'm not a big fan of spiders haha" and you just go "Oh that makes sense considering you used to have vivid nightmares about them crawling under your skin and tickling you to death" and Clay's just like "how the fuck did you know that????"

🥽 "Dude stop telling your kid everything about us"

"I haven't seen you guys in 20 years! I just wanted them to feel close to their uncles ;(("

"THEY DONT NEED TO KNOW ABOUT HOW I USED TO PICK MY NOSE WHEN I WAS SEVEN"

🥽 John Dory, Older Brother Who Overshares About His Younger Siblings my beloved <33

Ermmm yeahhhh this was originally gonna be one big post including ALL the brothers... but then I started writing for JD and got carries away... so yeah this ask is gonna have to be a multi-parter AJSJSJAKKA SORRY ANON I COULDN'T HELP MYSELF 🤥

NEXT PARTS ARE IN THE WORKS!!

Bruce | Clay | Floyd | Branch

[fairysluna]

hi! not sure if you’re receiving request rn but if u are would u do a one shot cregan x targ wife? basically domestic stuff with their kids who’s half wolf and dragon and all the fluff <33 i love ur writing style sm!! don’t forget to take care of urself :)

AMONG DRAGONS AND WOLVES

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Targ!Reader.

Summary: Once the time has arrived for your child's dragon egg to hatch, things don't go as planned, and Cregan simply cannot stand the sight of his son's saddened eyes.

Tags/TW: fluff, mentions of pregnancy, cregan being a dilf, and just that I think, it's pure fluff tbh.

Author's Note: THANK U for requesting this, I've been waiting to write something like this since I wrote my first Cregan one shot. Just softie Cregan for you, anon, hope you like it!!🤍

Word Count: 2.0k

"What are you doing here?" He asked, visibly worried as he stood up from the snow leaving the two boys behind, "You should be resting…"

A small chuckle left you as he placed his big hand on top of your swollen belly, you looked down at it for a few seconds before looking up to his face. The love in his eyes was visibly obvious as you felt, once again, bewitched by his deep brown stare. The same butterflies that were present the day of your wedding, were flying in your stomach as you felt his loving touch on you. So protective and caring.

"It's time for Rickon to go to his classes with the Maester," you informed. The older child looked at you with puppy eyes, begging for you to not send him away from his little brother, "go on, pup, he's waiting for you… you can play with Aelor after you've finished."

The brown haired boy stood up from the snow and walked half-hearted towards the castle. Once he passed right beside you, you stopped him to kiss him softly on his forehead before letting him go. As a response, he wrinkled his nose and left obediently. Cregan saw the tender scene with a smile on his face,

"He was comforting his brother," Cregan said, "Aelor needed his company."

"We've talked about this, this is usual, this happens to everyone… My brother, Aemond, went through the same thing and now he rides Vhagar," you shrugged.

"He's ten, he doesn't understand it, he feels unworthy," he turned around to look at him.

Aelor Stark, a beautiful brown haired boy who carries his mother's eyes. The first born son product of your love for Cregan. He was bigger than the other children of his age, and his only friends were his half-brother, Rickon, and his younger sister of five, Lysara.

And while Lysara's egg already hatched, Aelor's hasn't been so lucky to say the same. The poor boy spent the prior night crying on your lap as Cregan looked at you with pure distress in his eyes, knowing that he wasn't able to do anything that could cheer his son up. That same night, you told Aelor that he could claim a dragon of his own once he was old enough… but, as your husband said, his sadness was not only because he didn't have a dragon yet, he felt sad because he felt as if he was unworthy of having one.

"I can't bear to look at his saddened eyes," Cregan said, "he has your eyes, everytime i see sadness in them is as if I'm seeing sadness in yours. I can't allow my family to be miserable."

"We're not, my love," you quickly answered, placing your hand on his cheek, "you have given us nothing but pure happiness. What is happening is beyond our control, is what nature desires."

"We need to do something," he spoke sternly, "I will not sit back and see our son suffer."

You couldn’t help but smile genuinely at his sweet words.

"There's nothing left to do, we just need to wait and take him to King's Landing so he can claim an already hatched dragon… there are plenty of them."

"Is it my fault?" Cregan asked suddenly with a soft voice. You quickly frown, visibly confused.

"Your fault?"

"What if my- my genes are too strong and his Valyrian blood is not working… he already has brown hair, and-"

A chuckle was heard as you stood on your tiptoes to silent him with a soft kiss. He immediately grabbed your waist as he sighed once you captured his lips in a touch that made him forget about everything for just a couple of seconds. That was the power you had on him.

Once you pulled back, Cregan's eyes slowly fluttered open until his eyes met yours. He took a deep breath and you smiled,

"This is not your fault," you said slowly, trying to make him understand, "you're a wise man, husband, it surprises me that you were able to think such a foolish thing."

"I apologize," he muttered, a bit embarrassed.

"No need, my love," you softly shook your head and sighed before pecking his lips, "now, Lysa is asking for her father, she said you promised her to help her with her Valyrian classes."

Cregan smiled embarrassed, a soft tone of pink covered his cheeks as he looked down at the snow beneath his thick boots. You bit your own bottom lip as you let out a breathy laugh, seeing your husband being so flustered was a bit amusing for you.

Especially because you knew you were the only one who was able to make him feel that way.

"She told you, she betrayed our pact,'' he said between soft chuckles.

"I told you it wasn't necessary…"

"I want to be able to teach them, my love. They're my children too, I need to be part of their culture."

"That's very kind of you," your arms wrapped around his waist as you kiss him again.

"You won't be able to gossip about me in another language," he joked between pecks.

"I would never gossip about you, you fool," you laughed.

Cregan placed his hands on your face and took a look at your features for a long time. He would always do that; hold your face between his big hands and stare at your beauty for a few seconds, admiring every single bit of you. He sighed, completely enamored by the view in front of him, and then he gently rubbed his nose against yours, closing his eyes but still being able to perceive your small smile.

"You're the most beautiful woman in the world, my love," he whispers, pressing his forehead in yours, "I love you more than words can tell, my princess."

Your heart, filled with joy, skipped a beat as you heard that nickname that he now uses only in intimate moments like this, for he wanted to let you know how you had all the control of him. You opened your eyes, looking at those gleaming dark eyes that you loved so dearly.

Those tiny little moments made you think about how lucky you were.

Later at night, when the crackling sound of the fireplace was the only thing you were able to hear, you were laying in bed with Aelor under one arm and Lysara kissing and caressing your belly as she spoke to her new sibling growing inside of you. You looked at the scene, with tender eyes and a giant smile decorating your face.

"Sagon gīda, zaldrītsos," Be careful, little dragon, you told her gently, caressing her curly brown hair, "Your little brother or sister is too small yet, so you have to be careful, okay?"

"I hope is a girl…" Aelor whispered on your side. You turned to look at him, asking him to explain his answer, "maybe she'll be able to have a dragon if she's a girl like Lysa."

You pressed your lips in a thin line as you cupped your son's face and caressed his chubby cheeks. A soft kiss was left on his forehead as you shook your head,

"Listen to me, zoklītsos." Little wolf, you called him, "gender has nothing to do with it, and you will have a dragon."

"But-"

"In a few months we'll visit your grandmother, and once we're in the capital we'll go to the Dragon Keep, where you will choose a dragon to claim," you spoke softly, but sternly at the same time, "so, just be patient and wait."

"I'm sorry, muña," he said before he cuddles under your arm once again.

"No need to-"

Your words were interrupted as the door suddenly opened with a deafening sound as it smacked against the wall. Your first instinct was to grab Lysara and Aelor, and place them behind you as you grab your small dagger from under your pillow.

However, your body relaxed once you saw Rickon entering the room with a suspicious big smile and laughing as he covered his mouth. You took a deep breath and you hid the dagger under the pillow once again.

"Rickon, darling, you scared me," you said, scolding him but keeping your voice as soft as you could, "what is it that has you so cheerfully laughing, huh?"

"We have a surprise for Aelor!" He said happily.

"We?" You asked.

Cregan walked inside the room as soon as those words left your mouth, and your eyes widened as you looked at the half grown direwolf between his arms. It looked quite small in them.

Your husband had the same smile as the one his first child had, two pairs of eyes gleaming with excitement as they looked at your eldest son. Soon you realized what was going on, and a horror look was seen in your face as you grabbed Lysara and held her close to your body.

"Absolutely not!" You said, trying to grab Aelor too but he already stood up from the bed, "Aelor!" You scolded him.

"What is this?!" The small child asked as he caressed the soft fur of the wolf.

"Your new pet, my boy," Cregan said, kneeling so Aelor was at the same height as the animal.

"Cregan?" You asked, confused and astonished, "mind to explain what is the meaning of this?"

You stood up from the bed, your daughter hanging from your arms as you walked back, far from the animal that started to move its ears each time Aelor would touch its belly.

Cregan left the wolf on the floor and walked towards you, removing the girl from your arms and holding her in his instead.

"Be careful, my love," he warned you, "you cannot strain yourself, not with our little pup growing inside you."

"Cregan, what is this?" You asked again, yelping as the wolf started to howl.

He laughed softly, "my love, you ride a dragon, how can you be scared of a wolf?"

"I'm a Targaryen, we bond with our dragons, they would never harm us."

"Starks bond with direwolves, love…" he explained softly, "Look at them, they already love each other and they've just met."

You looked at your son as the wolf licked his cheek and he laughed gleefully. Rickon was looking at them with excitement, for now he had another thing in common with his little brother. Your heart lighted up after seeing Aelor smiling like that after days of only seeing saddened eyes on him. That mere thought softened your heart, and made you sigh.

"Cregan…"

"Listen, I will take care of everything, okay?" He said, grabbing your hand and kissing it gently, "And I assure you, my love, nothing will happen to you because I will always be here to protect you."

"Whose idea was to get this… thing?"

"Uh… mine," he muttered, smiling shyly, "I told you I had to do something about it, I can't bear to see my family being miserable."

Your haze softened at his words; you were Cregan's weakness but he was certainly yours too. The only one that can make you bend.

"Alright, he can keep his pet, but it will stay away from me," you warned, "I don't want that thing being close to me, I feel that it will chew my face off."

Cregan only laughed at your words before kissing your lips.

Aelor stood up from the floor and ran towards Cregan, hugging him tightly as he cheerfully yelled, "thank you, kepa! thank you!"

You would've looked at the tender scene being displayed in front of you, but your eyes were fixed on the animal sitting on the carpet. The wolf made eye contact with you, and tilted its head as it sighed. With your lips pressed in a thin line, you heard at your daughter saying,

"Can I have one too, kepa?"

With widened eyes you looked at your daughter, seeing how her eyes shone with the sight of the direwolf just a few meters away from you.

"Oh, Gods…" you muttered, caressing your belly.

You started to beg for the next one to claim a dragon instead of a frightening wolf.

[cherryberry-sugarandspice]

Could I request some hcs with Atsv Miguel x Milf Reader? Instead of (Dilf) him with Gabriella like the fic on ao3 what about a mommy or spider woman mommy reader with his child?

ugh ima go crazy with this one yall *barking* like miguel enjoys a domestic life

Miguel O'Hara x Milf!Reader Headcanons

Miguel is definitely overprotective of you during your pregnancy. He always calls or texts to check in on you and the baby, attends every ultrasound and asks a CRAZY amount of questions, and if you're about to run out of prenatal vitamins, he goes to the store to buy you two extra bottles.

He attends to every need. If you call him while he's patrolling the city for a hot dog or a cheeseburger with a jar of mayo, you bet your ass he's buying what you're craving.

He adores your round belly. Hands have to be constantly on it. Whether the two of you lay in bed or out in public, his hands are always on your belly.

By your side the entire time during your labor. Massages your aching hips as you go through contractions and supports you as the two of you walk around the hallways. He wipes away your tears and tells you how good you're doing. He holds your hand as you push, smiling once he hears the cries of his newborn baby.

A little girl, because come on, he's a girl dad.

Miguel first makes sure both his girls are good before going to get your burgers, because during your 47 hour labor (yeah it was long) you were only allowed ice chips and you were STARVING. So he got you two burgers and a large fry, because his wife just went through hours of grueling labor and needs to fill that belly up.

Loves your body before the birth and loves it after. Your belly is wrinkly and covered in stretch marks, love handles pudging out and thighs big. He noticed once the two of you got home that you were having a hard time with yourself, and listed off a number of reasons why he adores your body, which actually took thirty minutes and if you hadn't stopped him he would've kept going

Miguel is appreciative of you. Nine months of growing his baby inside of you and going through a long labor, making him a father. He loves you for your time and sacrifice and always make sure you know it. Whether its buying you flowers every two weeks or kissing you all over, telling you how much he loves you

He'll get up in the middle of the night whenever the baby cried or allowed you to sleep in. He does skin to skin contact with the baby, sitting in bed with the baby resting on his chest while checking updates on the multiverse on his watch.

The baby will make noises of distress and he'll smile, turning off his watch and holding his little girl in his hands. "What, mamas? What is it? Are you hungry? Or were you having a bad dream?" He'll rock her a bit before she settles down, and place a kiss on top of her head, breathing in that new born scent. "I'll always keep you safe, mija. You and mama are my world. I promise you, that with me, you will never have to worry."

Once the six weeks of healing are up, the two of you do wait an additional few weeks before having sex. Miguel didn't want to risk hurting you or getting pregnant again, considering you just had a baby. So when the baby was old enough to stay at your parents house for a night, the two of you threw yourselves at each other like wild animals.

Miguel went crazy with his mouth on your cunt, pushing your legs down to your chest, tongue swirling all over your wet folds before slithering into your hole. He focuses on your pleasure first before his own, because after all, you were the one who sacrificed your body. He was just the guy who nutted in you.

Loves wrapping his lips around your aching breasts and drink your milk, rubbing his condom covered cock against your pussy before sliding himself in, you digging your nails into his back as pleasure consumes your body.

"Yeah, that feel good?" he'll groan into your ear, his lips coated in golden nectar. He grinds his hips slowly into you, making sure not to hurt you. Until you begged him to move faster does he fuck into you, his arms on either side of your head, moaning into your ear.

After sex, he'll clean you up, dress the both of you in his t-shirts (his shirt fits on him snug but it's like a night gown on you). Miguel will hug you close, kissing your neck, saying, "You've made my life 100 times better, you know that, right?"

Miguel loves the little family he has and will anything to keep his family safe.

[whumpsmith-participates]

Medwhump May 2024

Day 2 - Running out of time

TW: blood, gun violence, tourniquet, strong language, verbally abusive whumper, whumper turned whumpee, tobacco, dilf in distress, open ending

@medwhumpmay

The roles were always pretty clear between Fetch and Erick. Fetch would give orders and Erick would follow them. If Erick didn't follow them, then Fetch would hurt him. And when Erick got hurt, Fetch would patch him back up.

But roles have a tendency to reverse sometimes, and on the rare instance that it happened between Fetch and Erick, it was usually pretty drastic, like...let's say Fetch took a bullet, and it was up to Erick to get him to safety. Or, well...he got himself to safety first. Driving away from the incident, before pulling over and realising he'd already lost quite a lot of blood. Okay, no reason to panic.

"Kid, come here," he said through gritted teeth.

Erick didn't need to be told twice, for once, scrambling out of his hiding spot in the back of the van and joining Fetch in the front, sitting in the passenger's seat, eyes widening when he saw the blood pooling beneath Fetch's chair.

"A-are you okay, sir?" he asked.

"What does it fucking look like?" Fetch snapped, "get some rope and a screwdriver or a wrench. I'll teach you how to improvise a tourniquet."

"A-and then what?!" Erick asked, "Take you to hospital?"

"Absolutely fucking not!" Fetch said, "They'd call the cops on my ass right away. No, I need to call Tito, but first this!"

"R-right," Erick said, quickly diving back into the back to search Fetch's bag for rope. He didn't have to look too hard. His bag was filled with coild of rope, rolls of tape, cloths, cuffs, chains— But I digress...

Erick grabbed the first coil of rope he found, before opening the toolbox behind the driver's seat, grabbing the first thing he saw; a hammer.

"Will this work?" he asked, showing Fetch the items.

"Good enough," Fetch said with a groan, "tie the rope around my leg, right here."

Erick nodded, wrapping the rope around Fetch's thigh where he pointed and tying a knot in it.

"L-like that?"

"Yeah, now stick the hammer between and twist it to tighten it," Fetch instructed.

"I-isn't that dangerous? To cut off the blood flow like that?" Erick asked.

"That bullet nicked a fucking artery, do you want me to bleed out?!" Fetch snapped, grabbing the teen by the front of his shirt.

"S-sorry, you're right," Erick quickly said, before sliding the hammer underneath the rope as instructed and beginning to turn it to tighten the rope.

"Okay, okay, that's enough," Fetch said, "find a way to fix it in place."

"Tape!" Erick said, quickly retrieving a roll from Fetch's bag, even remembering to grab a piece of cloth as well to put additional pressure on the wound, planning to tape that into place as well, but it was hard to work when Fetch kept pulling away and even kicked at him.

"God damn it! Are you trying to kill me?!" he growled.

"I know it hurts, but I can't help you if you don't stop moving," Erick said.

"Don't talk back to me!"

"I think you can make an exception just this once," Erick said, pressing a bit harder than necessary on his wound.

"Son of a— Fine! Just hurry up!"

"Then hold. Still."

Fetch growled, but tried a bit harder to hold still while Erick finished taping everything into place, before sitting back, absent-mindedly wiping the blood on his hands onto his jeans.

"O-okay, now what?" he asked.

Did Fetch know someone who could treat him? Could they trick someone at the hospital so they wouldn't call the police? Was he even in the right state of mind to think clearly?

"Now we switch seats," Fetch said, already holding his arm out.

Erick somewhat awkwardly let him lean on him as he switched from the driver's seat to the passenger's seat, attempting to hold back a pained groan before pulling his phone from his pocket. Erick sat back on the floor between the two seats still. Even though Fetch had told him they were switching, he still felt it would be wrong to just go sit in his seat without express permission. Was he going to ask him to drive? He'd only had a lesson or two when Fetch happened to have a good day, so he wasn't too sure he was up for it just yet.

"Tito, it's me," Fetch suddenly said, pulling Erick from his thoughts. It seemed he'd finally started his call.

"Jonas? I don't have time for your bullshit, put me through to Tito," Fetch continued, pulling his cigarettes from his pocket and handing them to Erick so he could help him.

Erick gingerly took a cigarette from the pack, handing it to Fetch before taking his lighter and lighting it for him. It sounded like he could use the nicotine to get through the phonecall alone, let alone the fact that he just got shot.

"I don't care if he's having sex with his wife right now. Put him on!" he yelled.

Fetch took a couple of drags from his cigarette while waiting for Jonas to put his boss on the line, almost managing to finish it before he finally got an answer again.

"Tito, about time," he said, "I need a doctor, pronto."

Erick couldn't help but to feel relieved as Fetch got through to Tito. He wouldn't put it past Jonas to stall until Fetch bled out, but it seemed like today wouldn't be the day...yet.

"I don't think I can make it that far. I got two hours and an inexperienced driver. Can't you send someone to meet me halfway?" Fetch explained, "tell them I got an arterial bleed and a tourniquet, they'll understand— Erick start the car."

That seemed like a clear enough order. Erick nodded, quickly getting behind the wheel and needing an attempt or two before he managed to get the van's engine going. He winced a bit, it didn't help his confidence much, but they didn't have much choice. He put on his seatbelt and adjusted the mirrors while waiting for Fetch to finish his phonecall.

"I told you they'd understand," he grumbled, "we're leaving now. I'll call you when we get there."

He hung up, tossing his phone in the little compartment below the radio, before putting on his own seatbelt as well.

"Okay," he said, surprisngly calmly, "check your mirrors, put her in first gear, and if the road is clear, turn on your blinker and slowly take your foot off the clutch until you feel it catch then give a little gas to pull up slowly."

Erick nodded, following his instructions and managing to pull away surprisingly smoothly. Frankly, it was easy to stay calm if Fetch was calm too. He hadn't gone much further than a drive around the block or two in his first driving lessons, so Fetch knew he had to keep the teen calm to be able to get to their destination safely and without being pulled over.

"Okay, now turn onto the ramp and start speeding up. You gotta be going fast enough to merge onto the freeway safely."

"I-I've never driven on the freeway before," Erick said, panicking slightly.

"You were gonna have to do it a first time eventually, now step on the gas," Fetch said, "keep an eye on your mirror, check over your shoulder, and turn on your blinker. People will give you space if you don't cut them off."

"There's no one next to me or behind me," Erick reported, checking over his shoulder before turning on the indicator.

"Small movements on the wheel at this speed," Fetch reminded him.

"Y-yes sir."

"Great, now just stay between the lines, I'll let you know when you have to get off. Keep your speed constant, don't slow down too much, and for the love of god don't speed. We don't need any cops on our ass right now."

"What if there are cops?" Erick asked, suddenly feeling hyper-aware of every vehicle around them.

"You ignore them," Fetch said, "if you act nervous you'll only draw their attention."

"But I am nervous."

"How do you think I feel?! I got shot in the fucking leg!" Fetch snapped.

"Don't yell at me! I'm driving you to your doctor, aren't I?" Erick snapped back.

Fetch looked like he wanted to hit him, but he knew better. Erick also knew very well that his attitude would catch up with him eventually, but for now he was in the right. Fetch needed him right now...wait, maybe Fetch was also scared? Erick immediately felt bad.

"I'm sorry, sir," he said, "it's going to be okay. I'll try not to draw any attention to us, and we'll get to your doctor in time, and it's all going to be okay."

"I don't care whether I die or not, but if you don't scrub every inch of this van once we get there, you'll have another thing coming," Fetch grumbled.

"Yes, sir," Erick just said.

Honestly, he was already planning to clean the van as soon as he got the chance. It would give him something to do while waiting for the doctor to treat Fetch, and the slippery pool of blood just below the pedals were already getting on his nerves.

Either way, Fetch settled down a bit, returning to giving directions as calmly as he could. Erick decided to pretend it was just a very long driving lesson, trying his hardest to ignore how pale Fetch was looking, or the tremble in his hand when he pointed to something, or the waver in his voice when he spoke up again after being quiet for a bit.

Eventually they left the freeway, and the city behind them, beginning to drive down long, empty roads. Erick relaxed a bit more. The odds of being seen by police, or causing an accident in his inexperience decreased a lot. However, it seemed Fetch's odds were also decreasing a bit, as his condition seemed to keep getting worse. Was the tourniquet not tight enough after all? They had a long stretch of empty and straight road ahead, so Erick wagered a bit of a longer look, finally noticing the second pool of blood gathering underneath the passenger's seat.

"F-Fetch? Fetch! Are you bleeding anywhere else?!"

"What?" Fetch replied, seeming to have trouble focusing, "Of cours'not. I'd know if I was...bleeding anywhere else."

"J-just stay awake, please, I-I don't know what to do!" Erick said, "how far out are we? Where are we going? Fetch? Fetch?!"

He promptly slammed the brakes as Fetch didn't reply, the engine nearly stalling until he remembered to switch gears, before pulling over and bringing the van to a full stop. It seemed Fetch had passed out, and he didn't have a lot of time to figure out what to do next. He quickly grabbed Fetch's phone, the screen thankfully covered in bloody fingerprints to help him figure out his passcode, especially as the prints got vaguer after each input.

"No way it's that easy," Erick mumbled, trying the combination 1-2-3-4.

"Okay, fuck, it was that easy," Erick sighed, shaking his head as he opened the contacts app and swiped to the 'recents' tab. All numbers were unlisted, but the one at the top started with 702, the area code for Las Vegas. It had to be Tito's number, or at least the fastest way to reach him. He quickly pressed 'call' and held the phone to his ear as he listened to it ring.

"Ah, Fetcher, that was quick. I thought you said you were further away?"

"Mr Rana!" Erick said, "i-it's me, actually. Fetch passed out and I don't know where to go!"

"Oh dear, oh you poor boy," Tito said, "if I give you the address, do you think you can find it on your own?"

"Y-yeah, I think so, thank you," Erick said, "please hurry, I think he's lost too much blood."

"Just breathe, Erick. I'll have Jonas text you the address right away," Tito said, "I'm putting you on speaker, can you put me on speaker too so you can call and drive at the same time?"

"R-right, okay," Erick said, lowering the phone and finding the speaker button. He turned the volume all the way up and kept the phone in his lap as he started the van again when the text already came though.

"When you open the link Jonas sent you, it should automatically show you where you are and how far away you are from the destination, okay?" Tito said.

"Yeah, yeah, I know how Maps works," Erick said, "um...looks like I'm ten minutes out. I-it's just down the road."

"Very good," Tito said, "now watch your speed. Ten minutes should be just fine."

"There's a cemetary only six minutes down the other way, sir."

"Jonas... Ignore him, Erick. Just keep going like you were before."

Erick was already ignoring Jonas, the sound of his voice sending chills down his spine otherwise. He also didn't quite watch his speed. What were the odds of police catching him these last ten minutes? Fetch would run out of time if he didn't hurry, and honestly he couldn't even begin to imagine what to do if he died here today.

He blinked the tears out of his eyes, glancing down at the map to make sure the next turn coming up was his. He slowed down a bit too late, nearly spinning out as he turned onto the dirt road, but he managed to get the van straight again. His destination would come up in about two minutes, but he had no idea what to look for.

"Mr Rana, what am I looking for?" he asked, wincing a bit at how teary he sounded.

"Our associates should have a plain truck, like a small moving truck," Jonas answered, "it'll probably be hidden from the road behind a building. If you can't locate it just honk the horn and they'll show themselves."

"O-okay, okay," Erick said breathlessly, eyes darting to either side of the road to look for anything that could hide a small truck.

The phone beeped that he had reached his destination, and all there was was a large barn. Erick slammed the brakes again, pulling up in front of the barn and just started honking.

The barn doors swung open, revealing the small truck parked inside, and Erick was too relieved that they'd made it to care about the two men approaching the van with guns. He just stopped honking and showed his hands, showed he was unarmed. He wanted to ask Tito for advice, but when he looked down at the phone he saw the call had ended. Great.

One of the men ordered him to get out of the van, making him stand with his hands on the hood, while the other one dragged Fetch out of the passenger's seat and towards the barn. Erick was searched for any weapons, before being allowed to relax.

"Sorry about that, can't be too careful these days," the man said.

Erick wasn't sure what to reply, he felt like throwing up, or collapsing, or anything, but he couldn't really move.

"Okay, why don't you go inside and help yourself to some water?" the man said, "I'll park the van behind the barn. Go on."

Erick managed to nod, slowly heading inside the barn. He was probably going to get shit for not cleaning the van right away like he promised he would...if Fetch would even survive to give him any.

shoutout to @momagie-blog for helping me come up with the plot for this prompt. I was a little lost in the sauce and she helped me simplify it~

Open end, ftw!

Jonas and Tito are side characters in Villain's View.

Masterlist Main account

[cupcakeinat0r]

Broadway Baby Ch. 4

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

Summary: Unexpectedly, You meet Miguel’s mother immediately after your performance (the one on stage and the one in ur dressing room *wink wink*).

Warnings: half SFW half NSFW, call me Hannah Montana w how I got the best of both worlds <3, Phone Sex, mentions of toys, masturbation, size kink!!!!, but starts off with major fluff <3

Tags, etc.: Gave Miguel a loving mother cuz he deserves it <3 Sugar Daddy AU, Miguel is a scrumptious DILF and Soft!Dom, Reader is Latina-coded n written by a Latina <3, age gap (wahoo!!), and Miguel is a very horny man.

Word Count: 6.7k

(right, so remember when I said this one was nearing 10k?? No I didn’t <3 Decided last min to cut this n make the rest a part of ch.5!!)

It was above your expectations. Your first time was everything you dreamed of and more, and there was no one else you would’ve rather lost it to than this man you were being cradled by right now. You felt so safe here. He made you feel so safe.

He was the sweetest, most caring, most intelligent, and absolute finest man you’ve ever laid your eyes on, and he took your innocence so graciously. The way he made love to you felt much more than just sex. It was caring and soft. Any inkling of doubt in your own inexperience that sat in your mind and stomach was immediately dismissed with his encouraging and comforting words. As you rest in his arms and catch your breath in your dressing room, the sweet nothings he had muttered in your ear while making love to you seconds ago replayed in your mind and you smile. When you weren’t focused on your craft or career, you dreamt about a knight in shining armor coming and sweeping you off your feet like this, and you found him, or to be exact, he found you. That moment you had walked out those stage doors and out into the alley to sign Gabriella’s autograph, he knew it’d be you, and watching you teach her piano today only reaffirmed his feelings.

The sight of you speaking to his daughter with a voice that could lull even the most distressed infant. Gabriella was asking you millions of questions, but your patience was doubled that. You were so understanding, and if at times she didn’t get what you explained, you didn’t mind repeating yourself at all. In no way did you make Gabriella feel stupid or a burden because you saw yourself in her. Yes, even though you wouldn’t have it in your soul to treat her or anyone in any other manner because that was just the type of person you were anyways, you were mainly affectionate towards her because of how much she reminds you of yourself. So curious, so wondrous about everything around her. So upbeat and lively. Such a happy girl. You would’ve never guessed Gabriella was going through a tough time due to the unfortunate passing of her birth mother. Granted, you still had the pleasure of having a live mother, so this only made you feel inspired by Gabriella even more. Teaching this girl wasn’t just gonna be an opportunity for extra bucks, but something you felt responsible for. You owed it to this little, precious girl because if it was your singing and dancing that inspired her and made her happy like it did for you when you were around her age, then it was your duty to teach her everything you know.

And so you sat in that piano room today, and you nurtured her little mind and taught her, the beginning of a beautiful student-teacher relationship blossoming. You had no idea how to teach a child, this being your first time ever teaching anyone, but it came to you as it went. Naturally. In your eyes, Gabriella couldn’t mess up, because you were already her cheerleader. In the short amount of time you knew her, all you wanted was to see her win. No, she wasn’t just gonna be a student. That was your friend. She was your kid, even if you didn’t realize it at this moment.

You could already tell you were gonna love being her teacher.

Miguel saw that in your eyes. Every time he peeked into the room when neither of you had noticed, he saw how genuine in your teaching you were. It was so… domestic. He melted at the sight. His heart soared at the fact that he’s found someone that could make his little girl smile like that. After seeing your performance that one night, she couldn’t stop raving about you since you were her favorite character, and Miguel had the privilege of getting to rave right along with her. He had tucked her in and she was still chatting on about how amazing you were, Miguel’s response being, “estoy completamente de acuerdo, mija” (I completely agree with you). now he feels like the luckiest man in the universe knowing you feel the same about him.

“Papa, are you in there?” You both hear the small voice outside your dressing room door, instantaneously picking up your clothes and hastily fixing yourselves to look presentable after having heard her knocks.

As you put on your clothes, you think about facing Gabriella after just having sex with her father… you begin to feel worried. Of course you don’t want her to think anything or let alone know anything, but if this relationship was to continue, she’ll have to know at some point that her teacher is with her father.

Another wave of anxiety came over once you remember Gabriella wasn’t out there alone. She’s with her grandmother. You’re about to face the woman that brought the man you just got pounded by into the world. The timing couldn’t have been more embarrassing. Obviously, you didn’t think about all this before you were getting your pussy deliciously destroyed.

Miguel can see this train of thought visible on your face as he’s putting his clothes back, the gears shifting in your head loud enough for him to hear, and so he goes to your side, motioning for you to look at him.

“Hey,” his voice is soft, as well as his gaze, “Don’t worry. For tonight, just act natural, however, we will have a much more in depth conversation about this later, I promise. I want you to be comfortable. I’ll simply introduce you as Gabriella’s teacher for the moment. Is that okay?” He places a hand gently on your shoulder looking for your confirmation.

You nod, a visible smile on your lips. “Yes, that’s fine. Thank you for checking in with me.” You place your hand on top of his, in which he takes it and places a kiss on your knuckles, “claro que si, princesa (of course, princess). I want you to always feel at ease, okay? No matter how many times I need to reassure you.” After helping you zip up your dress, Miguel helps you put your coat on, and he opens the door, looking down to see Gabriella.

“There you are, papa! What took you so long!” She giggles as she’s picked up by her father. “Sorry, birthday princess, I just wanted to make sure Miss y/n got our flowers and gift.” You both look at each other.

Yea right.

“Ooooo, did you like it, Miss y/n! I picked the flowers myself!” She says with a smile.

“I absolutely love them, Gabriella, thank you so much! You’ve got some good taste… Can’t wait to take them home, they’ll look absolutely beautiful!” You chirped as you got closer to her and Miguel. You look over to see an older woman, who’s giving you a slight smile. She has fine lines adorning her face, her graying, almost white hair fixed into a curated low bun, strands of hair framing her face.

“Abuela (grandma), look, this is y/n, she’s the one that signed my playbill and now she’s my teacher!” Gabriella looks at her grandmother, Miguel moving to the side so that you and Conchata were facing each other.

“Mama, this is y/n, Gabriella’s teacher. Estaba hablando de ella el otro día ¿recuerdas?” (I was talking about her the other day, remember?) He says, still holding Gabriella in his arms.

So this is who he bought this place for, Conchata thinks.

Yea, she heard plenty about you. Miguel had mentioned how absolutely amazing and how practically perfect you are in every way. It was after one of your rehearsals, Miguel had his daily conversation with you before heading out. He went to have a cup of coffee with his mother before his shift at Alchemax. It was that afternoon he first mentioned you to his mother. Miguel tried to play it off as if you were just some colleague or business partner; that donating 10 grand to this theater was an “investment”…. Oh yea, this was an investment alright. An investment for his bed. Conchata knew better. She saw the way his eyes lit up every time he said your name. Every time he told her how sweet you are. Every time he told her how passionate and hard working you were. How smart you were. How driven you were. How talented you were. Conchata knew that look. She could see it from miles away. She wasn’t born yesterday. She was his age once upon a time. Something else that gave away Miguel’s infatuation with you was the mere fact that he talked about you. Miguel was never the type of person to talk a lot, let alone, boast about a person. He’d been the quiet type since he was a child. He was too busy dealing with so many personalities at Alchemax, often repeating himself more times than he’d like to, hence why he was often short with his answers. He has friends he’d talk a little about, sure, but never in the way he spoke about you, so Conchata found it odd that in one random afternoon, he was going on and on about some actress he and Gabriella met.

Plus, Miguel knew nothing about art. Give Miguel a mile-long formula and he could crack it within minutes, but theater? Music? Conchata knew something was up when he signed that contract.

You mustered every bit of confidence in your timid soul and smiled widely, offering your hand. “Encantada, señora. I’ve heard so many wonderful things about you!” (pleased to meet you, Mrs). You feel like you wait forever for her to take your hand, but she finally takes it, her smile faintly widening when she does. You both give each other the traditional kiss on the cheek.

Conchata is an intimidating woman, to say the least. Considering Miguel’s class in the city, she can be normally seen wearing the finest clothing. Although she had a strong aura, there was still a bit of warmth to her. You didn’t feel threatened or scared, however, you wanted her to like you, not only because of the given circumstances, but just in general. She almost reminded you of your own mother back home. Conchata exuded powerful Latina excellence, so naturally, you wanted her approval.

She looks you up and down, and you seem to be safe as you don’t see any sign of disapproval from her expression.

“Y/n, this is my mother, Conchata.”

“Mucho gusto, y/n. I could say the same about you. These two talk non-stop about you and the show.” (Nice to meet you).

You shoot Miguel a smile. “Your granddaughter is an absolute sweetheart, I already love teaching her. She’s incredibly smart as well!” You add to get a conversation going.

“She takes after her father’s smarts, for sure. The good looks, however, were after her mother, que dios la guarde.” (May God protect her) She looks over at Miguel, a slight joke in her tone as she states that her intelligence is from him but her beauty came from her mother. Miguel rolls his eyes, still taking the joke light heartedly. You think to say something along the lines of Miguel being extremely gorgeous and Gabriella possibly taking after that as well, but you deemed it way too soon for comments like that. You didn’t want to step over any boundaries or give yourself away. Besides, you didn’t want to invade in this cute moment between mother and son.

From your point of view, the two seem to have an equally beautiful relationship as the one Miguel has with his daughter. You smile at their interaction just now. Miguel has mentioned his mother to you during rehearsals before, so you know surface-level things about their history and relationship.

Despite his wife’s death taking a toll on him and his family, they seem to be okay, able to smile and even laugh in her name now. This both comforted you and scared you. Who were you to become involved with them? To cut into Miguel’s life when he had a whole wife before you? You wanted to be serious with Miguel, which would be a conversation you two have soon, but you also don't want to replace her. You didn’t want to be Gabriella’s replacement for a mother. Would she accept you as one? The sudden thought of constantly being compared to his first wife plagued you. Were you truly prepared to be involved with Miguel in this way? Were you willing to go down this road with him?

You decide this will be something you’ll continue to think about later, since now all you want to do is give the birthday girl the present you promised: a private tour of the theater. Gabriella looked so thrilled to be there.

You give his mother a sympathetic smile before you’re about to say something in regards to her late daughter in law, but you figured it could be saved for another time. “Well, I believe Miss y/n has something to show you, Mija.” Miguel says. Gabriella beams with joy and looks over at you. “You didn’t think I’d forget, did you?” You say, scrunching your face at her as she’s lowered back to the floor by Miguel. She jumps excitedly and runs to hold your hand. You take it, Gabriella holding on tight as she looks up at you with eyes of pure admiration.

“I’m sooo excited to see everything! I wanna know everything about the stage, please!” She requests, making you smile and giggle at her adorable smile.

“Of course, mama, let’s start over there, yea?” The two of you begin to walk out of the dressing room foyer, some of the remaining cast and crew members bidding their farewell to you as they go home for the night. You lead her toward the end of the corridor into the wings. “Oooo what are those?” She says, pointing at the row of curtains on stage left. She takes her small hand and grazes it across the velvet of the fabric, making it ripple with each swing of her hand. “Those are called the ‘wings’, mama. This is where I enter from sometimes. See these racks of clothes?” She nods, “I change into those costumes during the show. Right in this spot. I only have 20-30 seconds to change into each of them!” Her eyes widened at this, gasping in disbelief. “Whoa, that’s like… super fast!”

Miguel and Conchata follow behind you two, walking side by side as they watch you become Gabriella’s tour guide, telling her every little fact about every inch of the stage. The birthday girl looks around the stage in total awe, still holding onto your hand. Conchata can see Miguel smiling at you, but you don’t see it.

“She seems nice.” She breaks the silence between the two of them. Miguel is taken out of his trance and looks at his mother, both still walking in the now completely empty and quiet theater, the four of them alone. He breathes in, looking at his mother as he anticipates what the conversation will bring. He predicts his mother can sense that he sees something with you.

There isn’t anything like the intuition of a mother. Especially a Latin mother.

“Yes, she really is. She 's great. Gabriella está loca con ella.” (Gabriella is crazy about her). Conchata only hums in agreement.

“She teaches only piano or?” “No, no, dance and voice, as well. Tomorrow will be Gabri’s voice lesson.” He says, his gaze remaining on you two as you explain to her the different stage directions. He’s fascinated by how engaged you are with Gabriella, his daughter listening and hanging into every word you say. It makes him smile to see his daughter look at you the way she does: like you were her hero. Because you were. “Ah, pero ella ya no quiere jugar futbol?” (She doesn’t wanna play soccer anymore?) Conchata raises her eyebrow at Miguel. Miguel hesitates for a moment. He knew where his mother was getting at now.

Gabriella had shown great interest in soccer for the longest time now, even got signed up for the club at elementary school after begging to. It wasn’t until she watched you in your show that she became slightly interested in the performing arts. It wasn’t untrue that she was totally enamored by the production, nor was it untrue that she said she’d like to learn, but both Miguel and Conchata knew that as of right now, Gabriella had her heart set on Soccer.

Miguel cleared his throat, “no, of course she still wants to play soccer this is just…” he shrugs, trying to find the right words, “this is something that’s fun for her.” Conchata nods. She knows something’s up and Miguel can feel it. Conchata knew her son.

It wasn’t until Gabriella was born did their Mother-son relationship get better, but it wasn’t always this good. There had been a tension between them during his teen years, something that worsened over the course of Conchata’s second marriage. Unfortunately, Miguel was an affair baby, and this took a heavy toll on his mentality. There was a lot of degradation and favoritism amongst the dysfunctional family, but since Gabriella was born, and Conchata divorced her second husband, a lot of healing and talking it out had occurred, resulting in a much better and improved relationship. They have their days or moments, more like, but it’s gotten way better. In the past 7 or so years, their relationship took slow yet long strides toward reconciliation. Now, Miguel felt he was able to look to his Mother for advice and comfort, which was heavily appreciated during the period in which his wife had fallen sick and was approaching her last days. In those devastating times, their relationship had blossomed, it was just a shame that it took his wife’s death for it to happen. Point is, Conchata knows her son better than anyone.

Your private lessons were mostly for his daughter’s pleasure, yes, but it wasn’t the only reason he had asked for them. He wanted to get closer to you, and what better way to do that than to have you come to his home regularly and teach his daughter some valuable skills to become a well-rounded human being. It was a win-win situation. His daughter gets enrichment. He gets you all to himself.

“You sure it’s for Gabriella… or for you?” This was a rhetorical question. Conchata, with a knowing smirk, held her head high and her eyes remaining forward. Miguel looks over at her and stops walking. She stops as well, looking back at him now. “Ver la?” (See?/Right?). The corners of his mouth begin to lift as he shakes his head slowly. “Nothing gets past you, eh?”

“Mijo, I’m your mother, I know everything.” They now link arms and resume walking behind you and Gabriella, watching the two of you as you now show her the mechanics of the back stage.

“And for the record, I didn’t get Gabri those lessons only for that reason,” he chuckles, Conchata letting out a small chuckle as well, “Como ya te dije, ella adora a y/n. Haven’t seen her this happy in a while.” (Like I told you, she adores y/n). Conchata’s gaze softens at his words. She then watches how you hold hands with Gabriella, walking her through the various props and set pieces, passionately talking about how everything worked and answering any questions Gabriella had. She examines you for a moment.

You seem like a good girl.

“I haven’t seen you this upbeat in a while either,” She smiles at Miguel, teeth showing this time, “You’ve been… ay, yo no se (oh, I don’t know)… como que (like)… glowing lately. That’s good. Estoy Feliz por ti. (I’m happy for you). Necesito esto, mijo. (You need this, son),” Miguel smiles back at her, “It’s about time my son found someone that makes him smile like this again. I miss that smile,” she says looking up at him. She rubs her hand affectionately on his arm as they continue walking, “pero la quiero para cenar. Necesito saber más sobre ella para tener una opinión,” (But I still want her over for dinner, I need to know more about her to have an opinion), “pero (but) …. so far, so good.” She shrugs, making Miguel smile even more. He’s just glad to see that his mother is on board with this newfound romance.

“She’s a bit young, no?” She looks back at you again, as if inspecting you, “será mejor que no te aproveches de ella-“ (you better not be taking advantage of her) Miguel furrows his brows, kissing his teeth, “claro que no, mama” (of course not, mother). “Bueno… you better not. I know I wasn’t always the mother you deserved, but I know I raised you better than that.”

“Si, mama, yo se” (yes, mother, I know.)

She grins again, “Deberías tener suerte de que una mujer como ella esté con un viejito.” She laughs at Miguel, who rolls his eyes, unable to fight back a chuckle (you should feel lucky that a woman like her is ok to be with an old man). Miguel glares at her, grinning at her playful tease.

“You weren’t just giving her the necklace in there, were you?”, her voice is low, but Miguel snaps his head toward her, his eyes wide, “Mama!” “-Ay, alright, you don’t have to tell me.” There’s a short beat between them.

“solo digo, no me importaría tener más nietos.” (Just saying, I wouldn’t mind more grand babies). “Mama, por favor (mom, please)-“ “Okay, okay, fine, I’ll drop it.”

“But you know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

“Yes, ma, I know.”

They both continue to chat amongst themselves as they still follow closely behind you and Gabri around the theater.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Gracias, Miss y/n!” Gabriella gives you one last hug after the hundreds she’s already given you throughout the tour.

“No problema, mama! You’re welcome to come to the theater anytime. I hope you had a wonderful birthday!” You say, tightening the hug. “I did! I did! This is the best birthday ever. Your life is so cool.” She says, inspiration in her voice. It makes you almost wanna cry. It’s moments like these that make you so happy to be a performer. When you pull away, you notice the bow in her hair has gone limp, so you quickly fix it as you add, “I’ll see you tomorrow for your lesson, okay?”

“Yup! I can’t wait!” You brush a strand of loose baby hairs behind her ear, “Me either. Have a good night's rest, mama. See you tomorrow.” You stand as she turns and runs to her grandmother.

“Gracias por todos, y/n. You did a magnificent job in the show. I can see why my granddaughter loves it so much,” (thank you for everything). The older woman says in a poised, soft voice, “and you’re extremely talented. I expect big things coming your way.” You smile at her, going in and exchanging the usual kiss on the cheek before parties separate for the night, “Muchas gracias, señora,” (thank you so much, mrs) You bow your head humbly, “It was very nice to meet you.”

“Igualmente (likewise). I’m happy to know that she’s receiving quality lessons from a quality professional.” Your smile widens. “You’re too kind! Gabriella is a wonderful student, it’s an honor, truly. She’s an amazing girl.” You make Gabriella, who stands next to her grandmother with a handful of Conchata’s skirt in her hand, blush. Conchata nods, “Thank you, but we have Miguel to thank for that.” Miguel smiles at the comment, looking at the floor before his gaze falls on you at last, your gaze locking on his. “You’re right. He’s a wonderful father.” You say.

Conchata smiles at the way you both look at each other longingly before looking at Miguel, who tells her he’ll meet them at the car in just a moment. She nods, taking her granddaughter’s hand, both waving goodbye to you.

Once they were out of sight, Miguel had you in his arms, already smothering the crown of your head in pecks.

“You know… a little heads up would’ve maybe been appreciated.” You say half jokingly with a sheepish smile.

“Forgive me, sweetie, I thought they would’ve waited in the auditorium. Didn’t think they’d be knocking on your dressing room door.” You both chuckle at this.

“That’s okay. I guess I’ll let it slide.” You dramatically place the back of your hand on your forehead, winning another chuckle out of Miguel. “She likes you already, anyways.”

“Aw, en serio? (seriously)""Oh yea, she said you were her favorite character during the intermission,” he takes his hand to fix the collar of your coat so that it covers you from the cold a bit more before continuing, ”but outside the stage, she likes you even more. Says she wants you over for dinner n’ everything.” You playfully pretend to brush off your shoulder, “What can I say, the people love me.”

Miguel laughs at your smugness, “Yea, well, no one’s taking my #1 fan position.” Miguel pulls you closer to his chest. It was pretty cold outside, and he’d hate for you to catch something.

“Oh-ho-ho, you might wanna take it up with your daughter on that one, mister.” You say, your index finger poking at his chest a few times with a smirk on your face.

“Hey, now hold on,” Miguel had a playful scowl on his face, “I should get priority, I’m the one who took her to see the show.” You chuckle. Miguel was right. If it wasn’t for Miguel taking Gabriella to see your show, none of y’all would’ve met.

“Say, how did a geneticist find himself involved with a Broadway show anyway?” You raised your eyebrow.

“Hm, well…if I remember correctly…” Miguel didn’t have to think twice about how it happened. He remembers the exact moment like it was yesterday. “I was in my office and noticed the billboard outside my window had changed. Next thing I know, I’m taking my suit to the dry cleaners because I dropped my coffee at the sight. I’ll never forget how gorgeous it was.” He looked down at you, a look of pure adoration in his expression, the lights from the headline of the theater illuminating his complexion.

“And what was on this billboard?”

“You.”

Even though you already saw that answer coming, your smile grows, as well as the red hue on the apple of your cheeks.

“I thought to myself, ‘I have to go see this. I have to meet her somehow’.” He looks off into the night at the bustling streets, reminiscing on the day he bought tickets for himself and his daughter and surprised Gabriella with front row seats.

“And look at me now,” he looks back down at you, his lips curled into a warm smile, “I’ve got the gorgeous girl from the billboard in my arms.” You pretend to think, pursing your lips, “Ohhh, I don’t knowww, did you get the girl?”

Miguel’s smile widens, a twinge of mischief in his look. “You’re completely right. I need to take you out first. Tomorrow, after the show. I’ll pick you up right here.” He says it more as a statement than an offer. It makes you swoon. You love a man that can name a time and place. Once again, Miguel hasn’t failed to make you a blushing, giddy mess, despite your efforts to play it cool.

“O-okay. Where to?”

“It’s a surprise.”

You shy away, smiling at the cement beneath you two, but not for long since Miguel lifts your chin. “I wish I can take you home with me, preciosa,” he pouts, “And as always, you were amazing.”

You blush even harder now even though the cold has made you pink in the face already.

“Pare ya (stop already), You’ve told me millions of times before.” “Nunca (never). I’ll tell you a million times more, muñequita (doll). And I wasn’t just talking about the show, either,” He speaks more quietly, the bass of his voice tickling your insides, “And our little performance in the dressing room… fuck… Me hará pensar en ti y ese cuerpo toda la noche (gonna have me thinking about you and that body all night). M’gonna miss my pretty girl tonight.” He coos. You’re submerged even more in his muscles and chest, his lips planting kisses on top of your head. The overdose of physical touch and praise was making you dazed.

The combination of Miguel’s smooth voice and his pet names for you have you butterflies. You genuinely felt like the most fragile, ethereal being in his big, warm arms. You melted into goo in his arms. It was almost strange how warm Miguel was, like a human heater, but you weren’t complaining. You didn’t want him to leave. You wanted to go home with him and cuddle this big softy more than anything else.

You got on your tiptoes, leaning your head back slightly so as to give him better access to your chilled lips, “dame un besito?” (Give me a kiss?) You ask with a pout and pure innocence which made Miguel weak in the knees. And how could he deny his pretty girl? He’d give you anything you wanted. “Claro que si, mamita.” (Of course, mami). The crisp cold air on your lips is consumed by his luscious lips on yours. You could’ve taken this moment and put it in a movie, It was so romantic. His hand not only offered warmth to your face, thumb caressing your cheek, but it also was the icing on the cake to the most cinematic moment of your life… and you’re an actor.

“Mmm, Imma miss you, too. Oh! And thank you so much for the necklace! It’s absolutely amazing and I love it. You didn’t have to do that!” Your fingers play with the Swarovski diamonds. “Denada, princesita, (your welcome, princess), and there’ll be plenty more after that,” you scoff, smiling at the floor again, “I’m serious. You’re gonna have to get used to it.” He lifts your chin again, demanding eye contact.

“You’re stuck with me, sweetheart.”

“I guess I could live with that.” You giggle.

You both arranged your plans for tomorrow before exchanging one last tender kiss goodnight. Miguel waits for you as you go back inside to grab your things. He doesn’t go into his car until he sees you leave and enter the subway station. He didn’t like you using public transportation, especially this late at night, but after promising him that you’re literally only a 15 minute train ride away and that you’ll call him once you get home, he allowed it. Even though he repeatedly told you it wouldn’t be an issue to take you home, you still didn’t want to be a bother since you knew he also still had to drop off his mother.

He was now on his way home, after having dropped off his mother at her place, you being the only thing on his mind. Gabriella, sitting in the back, was knocked out. He thinks about how he won’t be getting any sleep tonight, but is happy to see Gabriella is getting her rest.

He thinks about what y’all had done in your dressing room. How good you were for him. You looked so pretty for him, all shy and spread out for him on your vanity. It amazed him how perfectly you fit. Like you were made for him. 4 years without sex. He had to try and reel it back in a couple times while y’all fucked. He wanted to be gentle with you, knowing it was your first time. He wanted to make it special for you, because you deserve nothing less. Had y’all been together for a bit or so already, he would’ve ravaged you until you couldn’t walk. It was so hard having to control all that pent up sexual frustration. He knew he was thirsty for good pussy, but he didn’t truly realize just how badly he needed it until he had you. Now, he wanted more. You had him hooked.

But then he thought about you. Just you being you. Your little laughs, your soft smile, your slight accent. The way you speak. The mannerisms that were unique to you. The way you think. The way you walk. As if you weren’t perfect enough, the way you treat Gabriella was nothing short of heart warming. Anyone else would’ve dismissed her hyper personality, but you handled her with such grace. You were too good to be true. He felt so lucky. He was sent back to his high school days when he would crush on a girl. He wanted so badly to be with someone again; to be soft with someone after a long, hard day at Alchemax. To spoil someone. To take naps with someone. To come home to someone’s arms. Hell, he might’ve been too prideful to admit it, but he wouldn’t mind being babied by someone every day occasionally. For someone to melt away his stress and to tell him how good he’s doing. To have someone’s chest to bury his face into after having to deal with people all day long. Someone to break down his walls again. Someone he feels safe with. He won’t be able to sleep tonight because he knew that, for the first time in a very long time, he won’t be so lonely anymore. He hadn’t felt like this since, well, his first marriage.

A part of him did feel bad, a guilty feeling looming over his conscience the day he met you and fell head over heels. He didn’t want to forget his first wife or betray her memory in any way. His mother had told him in the car before being dropped off that he was allowed to find love. She reassured and validated him, which made him feel a bit better. She told him how his previous wife wouldn’t want to watch him live his life alone. He deserved to be happy. Conchata also would’ve been pissed if he didn’t cease the opportunity of a lifetime, so that there was also some motivation.

If he was being honest with himself, he was beginning to think that he’d live the rest of his life on his own, as a single father, and he was sort of okay with that. It was either that or finding the most perfect partner, settling for less simply for the sake of not being alone wasn’t an option. He would’ve been happy with Gabriella’s love. She was his whole life. You were just a miraculous bonus. You were that perfect someone. You reminded him of what the adrenaline of crushing on someone felt like. For the first time in four long, lonesome years, you gave him a chance at love again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gabriella has been tucked in, some reports from the lab have been looked over, and now Miguel has just gotten out the shower, wearing only some pj pants. He runs a towel over his hair, lazily drying it, then hears his phone go off.

Knowing it’s you, he nearly jumps for it.

“Hola, preciosa, You home yet?

You ok?”

His voice sounds worried. When you didn’t call when you said you would, he immediately started thinking the worst.

“Yes, yes, I just got home!

The train broke down

midway, we were all

waiting there for almost

an hour.” You groaned.

“I was getting worried,

Mama. I’m just glad your safe.

Nothing happened on the way?”

“Nothing happened,

really, I’m fine, Miguel!”

“I just wanna make sure.

Next time, I’m taking you home.”

“Ay, Miguel, no impieces,

the subway is fine for me-“

“Well it’s not for me.

No me molesta, really.

Yo quiero.”

You let out a sigh.

“Please? At least for

the nighttime?”

“So you’re gonna drive

me halfway across the

city after every show?”

“Mhm.”

You take a beat. This man was honestly so good to you.

“You’re crazy.”

“About you.”

“Yea, I can tell.”

“Uhuh, I know you’re smiling

on the other end.”

“No I’m not.” Yes you were.

“no mientas, nena.”

“or what?”

Yup. You’re gonna play that game.

“Oh? Or maybe I’ll have to

come over there n’ teach

you a lesson, eh, beba?”

“I wish you would. I

miss you already.”

“Aw, yea? dime

que extrañas, princesa…”

“Oh, I dunno…”

“You’re absolutely adorable,

you know that?

C’mon, baby, you don’t have to be

shy on me now. You’re

safe, mama. Dimelo.”

“Oh, alright… I miss how safe

n protected you make me

feel… how small you

make me feel in your

arms… wish you were

here with me, papi.”

“Aw, sweet heart….

say that again for me.”

“Want you here with me,

papi… Make me feel so

good.”

“Mhm… sigue hablando,

mamita.”

“Quiero sentir esas manos

grandes por todo mi cuerpo.”

“Mm, algo mas, beba?”

“Mm… mhm…” your breathing

seems to become labored.

“usa tu palabras, nena.”

“Mmngh… want you on top of

me, daddy… want that big

cock of yours so baaad.”

“Mmfuck baby, I know, I know,

soon though… shit… gonna take

you out for dinner tomorrow and

as soon as I take you home…

o-oh fuck… gonna destroy that pussy

all night long like the good girl you are.”

“Please, pretty please, I can’t

wait… so wet at just the thought…”

“fuck…yo se, mamita,

pero for tonight,

need you to play with that pretty

pussy of yours for me, mkay?

Got me stroking my dick at the

thought of your wet pussy.”

“not…. Not enough,

Miggy…”

“Awww, pobrecita, so

needy…. Imma make it up to you,

‘kay? I promise, baby.

Gonna make you sit on my face

until I’m drenched…”

“God, yes…”

“-n ima fuck that tight little pussy

over n over again until you

can’t think anymore. Gonna have

you bouncin on my thick cock n tell you

how pretty you look on it.”

“But my pussy needs you now,

daddyy... “

“Coño, mami, just

keep trying for me, ‘kay?”

“I wantchu to

fill me up. My fingers

aren’t enough.”

“Aw, Need daddy’s fat cock

that badly, huh?”

“Mhm, so dumb for it.

Just wanna be your…

Oh my god…. Your lil cock slut.

wantchu to ruin me.”

“Mmnnshit… que nena sucia

tu eres, coño. Why don’t you

use a toy for me, hm?

Pretend it’s me stretchin’

you out, bebita.”

“Okay… oohhh… Mmm…Miguellll, ”

“Atta girl, you’re doing so good

for me, f- fuck! Papi

needs you, too, sweetheart-”

“Papi, I’m close…”

“Let it out for

me, baby, let yourself

feel good, Mm?”

You then let out soft whimpers and moans as you pump your toy in and out of you, riding your high.

“Fuck, you sound so fucking

pretty, princess.

Be a good girl for me and

send me some pictures and

videos, yea?

Show me what you’re doin to

that cute cunnie over there.”

“Ungh, o-okay, papi,

I will.”

“Aww, that’s a good girl,

so perfect for me. No puedo esperar

para comerte y tenerte todo para mí.”

After you came on your fingers, you sent Miguel a couple photos and videos of you spreading yourself for him. You’ve never done this before, so this was a total experiment for you, your blush the deepest red it’s ever been. You weren’t sure what angles to use or how to position yourself, but regardless of your worries, you made art, and it was art that Miguel had loved and saved to a private folder to look back on in the future. He’s def looking at them at work tomorrow. You bit your lip to find messages of photos and clips of his own massive cock in his equally large fist, his seed splayed out on his thick thighs and across his sculpted v-line, the sight making the heat between your legs ache once more. It made you salivate.

gracias a dios por este hombre que bellamente has creado y me has dado.

(Thank you god for this man you so beautifully created and given to me).

You think tonight will be a night for falling asleep with the help of your rose toy again. But that’s ok.

Miguel will definitely make it up to you the next day, and that was a promise.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hope u liked it!!!

Also rlly hope y’all like Conchata, she’s supposed to give kind of cool mom/rich grandma vibes.

She def has those mysterious strawberry candies that live in the bottom of her Louis bag, always ready to give to the kids.

Like I said, Miguel only knows peace n happiness in my mind palace, and so he’s gonna have a good mom bc I want him to <3 Gabriel is still his brother as well, I’ll talk about him later tho 👀

Anyways, see y’all in the next chapter!!!

Mwah!!! Xoxo

Cutie patootie taglist:

@honey-eyed-munson

@migueloharastruelove

[ereardon]

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

@double-j @topguncultleader @momc95 @hangmandruigandmav

@minamisulemisa @shawnsblue

@seresinhangmanjake @brehonodea @babyminghao @crthurston

@angelbabyange @taytaylala12 @mizzzpink @mygyn @sadpetalsstuff @averyhotchner @oneelleandaneye @shanimallina87

@wittywhispers @wildlyobserving @eyesthatroll @localhockeygirl @xomrsalliej4787xo @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox

@sexytholland @djs8891 @rxmtoon @darkestbeforethedawn16

@cactajuice @purplevortexx @dempy @lemur46

@louie-bug @arson-tm @valkyrja-siren-blog @avengers-fixation

@fudge13 @phantomxoxo @a-court-of-roscoe-and-baby @not-two-shrimp @emorychase @horseshoegirl @abaker74 @evans-dejong @storysimp @emma8895eb  @briseisgone @katiedid-3 @beacheybabes97 @mandylove1000

[forsworned]

I NEED more Elias Walker content before I die😫😫💀

God Knows I Tried ft. Elias Walker

Synopsis: Your daddy issues are raging and your long-time 'victim' has been none other than your superior and captain, Elias Walker. After a failed attempt to capture and kill Rorke, you go to "comfort" him, but he seems to have other plans for you.

Author's Note: AND GUESS WHAT I WILL PROVIDE FOR YOU, I'M GLAD WE'RE REVIVING GHOSTS IN THE FORM OF DROOLING OVER DILFS BC LORD KNOWS I NEED SOME MORE MCDADDY CLUB LOVIN

Tags: NSFW, Daddy Issues, Age Gap, Power Dynamics, Reader has long hair???

Elias ruffles his fingers through his silver hair after he removes his distressed and worn mask, setting it down on his desk as he sharply inhales. He hadn't gotten to Rorke on time and that pissed him off, and rightfully so. The bastard had been getting away every damn time. His body is tense and he feels as though his anger is brimming from within, bubbling to the surface and he yearns to do something about it.

So when you come rapping on his door, ripping him away from his inner turmoil, and he hears the pleasant sound of your voice through the small crack asking, "Can I come in?" He is more than willing to oblige.

His body completely faces you now, beaconing you over, and taking in your figure in your all-black tactical uniform. It fits you like a second skin, but his intense gaze shifts to your smooth visage. The moonlight catches in your teeth when you greet him. "Can I speak to you for a moment, Sir?"

He raises a brow at you. "Somethin' on your mind, Sergeant?"

Truthfully, you had no idea why you came in. You just found yourself walking back to his office rather than your bunk. After today's failure, you want nothing more than to comfort him. You slowly step forward, just a few feet away from him. "Was just checkin' on you...?"

God, you were so stupid. Checking in? Come on...

A flash of amusement etches into his features, he tilts his head as he studies your expression. "Checkin' in?" He leans his palms against his wooden desk.

"Yeah, I mean--I know this is something very close to you..."

Oh. My. God. Would you shut the everliving fuck up!?

He sighs and turns to the night sky. The moon is full, and its luminance brings a sense of calm to him. He chuckles at your obvious statement, but he doesn't chide you about it. Something about you makes the hardass in him a little soft. "Suppose so."

You swallow and fiddle with the leather on your gloves, waiting to think of something, anything else to add to the conversation, but your mind is coming up blank.

"Tell me, Sergeant--why did you really come into my office?"

Your heart drops to your ass, and your stomach does the thing. Not the hot-and-sexy-thing, but the oh-shit-I-just-got caught thing.

Elias is a sharp man; follows his intuition, checks every corner he treks, and was raised by plain-spoken folk. He can see through most people and unfortunately, you're most people. You wear your heart on your sleeve, your gaze lingers longer than usual and although it may not be obvious to others, you imitate most of his behaviorisms.

Where you used to take your coffee sweet and milky, you now take black. The way you now drink sparkling water over soda. Your go-to music is The Eagles and Creed over Ed Sheeran and Taylor Swift (though you still did listen to them, it was seldom). Even your eating habits have changed drastically from avid fast food eater to health nut, although that seems more like a get in shape sorta ordeal due to your fast-paced, rigorous work environment. Either way, you have definitely been picking up on a lot of things that he actively does.

You avert your gaze to your fatigued boots. "I don't know."

"Step forward, soldier." He commands, and you oblige. Not because he commanded it, but because you want to be nearer to him. To take in the scent of gunpowder and the leftover aroma of his aftershave.

You're a foot away from him now, hands tucked behind your back, eyes forward. His dark eyes size you up, and you feel the sweat forming on the nape of your neck. 

"Eyes up." His fingers tap under your chin and your lip quivers a bit when you meet his gaze. "You gonna tell me what's really on your mind?"

He taps on your chin once more. "And don't lie to me."

You swallow thickly. "It's not...appropriate."

He clicks his tongue and a half smile appears on his lips. "That right?"

You nod. "Yes, sir."

"I want to hear it."

But he sees the trepidation that overcomes your features. It’s been so painfully obvious to him. Your little crush. It was endearing, cute, mere puppy love, but he would be lying to himself if he hadn’t thought of molding your walls with his girthy cock. He usually tiptoes around it, but the mission from earlier is bringing on an itch that he can’t quite scratch. Not even a Playboy mag could get him right anymore.

He sighs. "You're not my bud to blossom, sweetheart." Brushing the strands out of your face. You tremble at his touch, yet you lean into it. God, he could do anything to you and you'd let him.

"But I'd let you." You grasp his hand. His eyes ream in surprise, but the building arousal jostles up his spine. He may think that blossom is not for him, but he's intently observing how your desire stirs, seeping into your veins. His breath spreads out your petals, the smell of your perfume permeating, intoxicating him.

Your lips part open and his thumb slips in, your saliva coating his gunpowder-stained skin draws an involuntary groan from him. He wants to devour you, but he can't. You're too sweet, too decadent, too fresh. He needs to take his time to savor you. It's wrong, but he can't help himself. Especially when you look up at him with those pretty, perfect doe eyes with his fingers in your mouth.

Your free hand palms at his crotch. It's intrepid, daring how forward you are about your fiery fervor for him. He cocks an eyebrow at you, but he doesn't halt your actions.

"That's a big weapon you're slingin' there, sir." You smirk up at him, squeezing his member over his trousers. "Can I cock it?"

He chuckles at your cheekiness. He wants to disarm you, wipe off everything on his desk, and throw you up there. And you'd be so easy to lift too...

But he's shocked when your lips lock with his, a dauntless action on your part. A subordinate fraternizing with her superior? It's enough to get you locked up, and dishonorably charged, but this wasn't the minor leagues anymore. You were hunting for bigger fish. Something that's beyond the crumbling American government outside these four walls. There's a spark between the both of you that you've been waiting to ignite in him, and he can no longer suppress his deepest hunger pains for his carnal needs.

And soon he is swiping away at the stacks of papers and stationery that lines his desk, hoisting you up to sit that pretty ass on his mahogany counter. A gruff moan escapes his lips as you collide once more, and you're practically clawing at his chest. His tongue slips between your lips wanting to collect yours as your teeth clash in desperate need for each other's solace.

His hands grasp at your wrists, slowing you down, wanting to relish in your taste, your smell, your touch, and the way you moan when he dips his head in the crook of your neck to sensually kiss at your sweet spot. Perspiration builds at the base of his forehead as he slowly unzips your fleece, revealing more of your skin and he kisses at your sternum. Your fingers thread through his silver hair and your breaths become labored at his hot touch.

He wants to build as much anticipation as possible before he takes all of you, all of what you'll allow him at least. Impatiently, your arms cross over your chest, pinching at the hem and smoothly peeling off the skin-tight fabric, leaving you only in your tactical bra. Elias pauses for a second. He loves to appreciate the finer things in life.

His fingers caress your disheveled plait from the top to where your hair tie keeps it bound and he gently removes it. You analyze the lust and admiration in his features as he carefully unweaves your hair.

You watch as his Adam's apple oscillates. "You're beautiful." He susurrates, carding his fingers through your hair. Your heart stammers against your chest when you notice how he looks at you. The rough pads of his fingers glide over your collarbone to the strap of your bra, and slides either side off of your shoulder to reveal your naked breasts. Your nipples instantly harden from the chill in the room, and he gulps before reaching out to squeeze your left one.

To say it had been a while was simply an understatement. The touch of a woman has been lost on him since the death of his wife. So soft, so supple. He pinches at your bud and you involuntarily arch your back and whine out. The guilt he feels dissipates the second his lips latch onto your nipple and you shudder as his tongue swirls around the sensitive skin. "Captain...!"

He gently hushes and kisses your lips tenderly, then your cheek, your jaw as he cops another feel, grabbing two handfuls of your tits while he sucks on your neck. One of his hands glides over the expanse of your abdomen, to unbuckle your belt and unzip your trousers--

"Dad?"

Shit, he left the office unlocked. But it's too late. His boys are stepping through the door, although it's not long before their eyes ream at your half-naked form, legs spread with their father between them. Hesh quickly shuts the door and you both glance down, feeling the guilt skulk into your minds.

"I should go--" Elias sputters, and you nod as you scramble to put your clothes back on. Now this was humiliating. Being caught by his sons fraternizing with their father is just the icing on the cake of it all. You straighten your hair and fix your collar as you begin to head out the door, but his hand catches your wrist bringing you back flush against his chest.

"Don't think I'm lettin' them scare you off." He caresses your cheek, with thumb and you sigh, cheeks still warm with embarrassment. "I ain't done with you yet, sweetheart. Got that?"

He raises his brows at you and you nod. "Yes, sir."

He kisses you softly and your heart skips a beat. "Go on, now." He gestures toward the door. "I'll deal with those two."

Your lashes flutter up at him and you feel warmth all over. He smiles at you, kissing your wrist and it's no wonder you keep forgetting to leave. His gaze, his aura it's alluring and you keep pulling back in for more.

He chuckles at the hearts in your eyes. "That's an order, soldier."

You straighten at his words and nod before rushing out the door, ensuring you hear the click as you close it and quickly get to your quarters. A feeling of heaviness weighs on your shoulders as soon as you shut your door. How were you going to face Hesh and Logan?

[kaiser-author-san-iii]

What if creator reader is separated from their nephew and nugget is crying, sobbing - just wanting to be with [Y/n] when all of a sudden they see some dilf/grandpa looking dude (Pierro) and then it all clicks to him and decides to adopt them for now all while helping Nugget find their guardian/relative who happens to be the all ruling deity that created the world.

---

He felt it's been hours as his feet attempted to carry him to safety where that was. He had never been here as his parents not his favorite guardian ever took him to a place like this. It all seemed too strange and also scary as he heard sounds of things that he has never heard of before.

He would have been brave if they were here since when they were, everything seemed to be afraid of them. That's why he loved them so much - they were his protector.

But they weren't here.

What if the monster that's out there gets him? He's small. He can't outrun many things.

"Where are you? Mami... Papa...! Tita! I'm scared!" The voice of the child cared through the winds but no one heard.

Or at least that is what the child thought as it clutched onto the one thing that he brought with him - a stuffed animal plushie that was gifted to him by his guardian when he was five. It was some sort of raccoon animal but didn't look like a raccoon with it's cute tail and fluffed up red and white fur.

Beneath the very ground, the land started to sing and cry as they had no way to comfort the boy personally, except maybe to send a sort of message to anyone that was in the area of the forest nearest to him. There were a few but they were too far away and of course, the animals and fungi would only frighten the child.

There was one.

One that had been shunned, one that has been in hiding in far away lands but had come to the great Dendro forests once again in hopes of new methods. He had heard the cries of the child and decided to follow the sounds, a few of his subordinates following the foreboding man of a nation now destroyed by time and gods.

His lone icy colored eye watched the path ahead to a clearing where the cries were coming from. He could have easily ignored it as lost children were quite common in the Sumeru forests as told to him by Dottore and from what he remembered. But this cry, there was nothing to explain other his heart shattered from hearing the pain, to hear an innocent be so distressed.

As if is body was moving on his own.

"Titi! W-where are you?!" The young child huddled into what looked like a small burrow possibly made by a small fox or even the whopperflowers that decided to stay close but were eliminated quickly by his subordinates. Guarding the entrance of the burrow where he easily hid were two dendro slimes though one was big. The Child seemed to be scared but the slimes seemed to make flowers appear on top of its head as a way to comfort the crying child.

A crying child was worrisome enough.

But if the crying child had sparkling silver streaming down his cheeks?

'Teyvat had started with a simple speck floating endlessly. A great force soon took possession of it. Day and night, it worked endlessly until the speck grew and grew. The great earth overgrew with the power of fire spewing, forming mountains and land together, storms brewed with the help of a simple blow from the Force themselves, creating the winds, the storms - lightning, and rain were created from the frustrations and determination of Them. Over time, thanks to the rain, the oceans, lakes, and rivers, the land had become to freeze, and in others, forests had become bountiful. From the bountiful lands of green, soon great beasts of each domain rose from a slumber they had no recollection of. Awaiting them in front of them was a being of pure golden and silver light, a wave of their hand, and the great beasts, "dragons" as they were bestowed by the light, bowed before the Light. Before them stood the Divine Creator. The ruler of Teyvat. They had breathed life into their world and what else could they do other than what they asked, which was to live well and prosper. It's unknown what happened as it all went so quick. Many events occurred at the same time but what everyone remembered was the favoritism the Creator showed to the nation of Khaenri'ah.

Oh, how the creator loved Khaenri'ah. How they were so willing to do more, happy to learn more and had treated Them like one of them.

They were a nation closest to the Creator and the first to know that the Creator had a family and one of them was with child and their Creator loved the said child. The child was said to be who will inherit Teyvat.

The Heir.

The Little Prince.

"One day, I shall bring him here to show him all that I love and hope he will love as well. One day, I want him to walk and talk among you all so he appreciates you all. He will be dearly loved and he shall be friend to all - my future benevolent prince."

He was one of the lucky few who have read the scripts of when the creator was still among them. How they adored the idea of Gods and humans living in harmony and the future friends he might have.

Of course, They always appreciated free will. Something that the Anemo Archon was inspired by. They never really placed harsh judgement. They always treated everyone fairly.

But seeing the child in person like this must be a dream. Did this mean that the benevolent Creator has returned? If so, where are They? And why is the Heir crying?

Pierro carefully approached the child and though the slimes should have been dispatched and before he could give the order, the slimes stopped as if they knew the Harbinger would help. The child still crying and sparkling silver streamed down his cheeks and hiccuping.

Everyone surrounding the area took pity. They had to ensure the Heirs happiness.

"Little one, where is your Guardian?" He asked gently and was happy to see that he stopped, wiping his tears for a moment before replying. The child was unsure to say anything but his instincts were telling him that the man was a good man.

"I... I don't know. We were in [Guardians name] ride home when.. when there was a big crash...! I was so scared I c-closed my eyes! I open them and they were gone..! I don't know where I am! I miss Tita! I want my Tita! I wanna go home! I must ask mama and papa to punish the fool who hurt Titia's ride! Ah! Tita! I hope they're not hurt!"

Anger soon filled their bodies.

Someone brought harm to the Heir and the Creator?!

Divine retribution is indeed in the makings for whom dared to bring harm to their Creator and the Heir.

But first...

"What is your name, Little Prince?"

The child looked up, wiping more of the tears from his face and tried to put on a brave face. He has to be strong until he finds his Guardian again!

"I'm [Nephew's Name]! But... Tita calls me Nugget! Or Little Prince like you did, Mister."

Nugget was happy that the man smiled and even patted his head. Though he looked "stern" and "emotionless" like those people his Tita mentioned, the man was very kind. And he was the one he stuck to when he decided to go with them. And Mister Pierro promised to help him find his Tita. If they're in danger, then he'll be able to come and rescue them like the hero he is!

"Mister Pierro, do you have friends?"

"Friends? Something like that." Pierro will indulge in the Little Prince. Who cannot?

"Then we have an army! We have lots of people to look for Tita and it'll be easy! Oh, you'll like them mister. They're really nice and though clumsy, are the best!"

He couldn't wait to see the Creator in person. To see the benevolent being that his predecessors practically worshiped. The man who formed the Fatui will assure that he will leave no rock unturned till their Grace is safe in the lands of Snezhnaya

---

That's all I got. Thanks folks :3

[amymbona]

What if Dilf!Art was put into the ballet instructor au?? Like After the tennis match that Art and Patrick had, that hugged confirmed a friendship again. Of course Art and Patrick retired, tired of the pressure tennis put on them, the pressure of being with Tashi. So Art and Patrick remained close friends, living close to each other, having their daughters be friends. When Patrick put Eleanor into ballet classes Art thought it would be good for Lily to something different than her dad and mom did. So both of the girls had ballet classes, being in the class, being taught by the same lovely ballet teacher. Now Patrick was the one who absolutely fell in love with her first, if we’re doing timelines. He talked about her to Art, and he really didn’t think anything of it, because he didn’t pay much attention, not when he would go picking up his happy daughter with her arms interlocked with Eleanor’s as they skipped towards him and Patrick. But when the ballet teacher spoke softly to Art about Lily’s improvements in ballet he immediately understood Patrick’s obsession. She was so soft and caring, so youthful, it was something Art definitely needed throughout his life. Art thought the same things Patrick did, that she was the one who could probably take away all of his problems, all of those days he’d eat such bland food for his tennis diet, pushing himself so he could make Tashi proud, doing anything for Tashi but nothing was ever enough, she wanted good tennis and he wanted love. (IM SORRY, I WANT BOTH MEN)

Okay so this is actually fucking insane 😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁

You don't even notice their growing affection towards you, especially Art's. You've known Patrick for quite a while and so you're used to him being, how to say it... friendly. Really fucking friendly. Subtly touching you, complimenting the way you treat his darling daughter and make sure she gets to develop her talent.

And poor Art is feeling completely distressed, as if he wasn't capable of even half of whatever Patrick can do. He tries to joke with you and you respond equally as softly, even giggling at some of his silly jokes. He thinks you're an angel, but he's also afraid you like Patrick more. At least you don't make any decisions considering the kids, because you've been treating his Lily as if she was here since the beginning.

Art brings the topic of you once, when the boys are alone, which is the first time that it happens (as Patrick was usually the one to rant about you).

"She's really pretty."

"Who?" Patrick asks without looking up from his phone, probably thinking he's talking about some random celebrity.

"Lily and El's ballet teacher," Art mumbles.

Patrick teases the living hell out of Art that evening. And he makes sure to pay attention to his blonde friend's behaviour the next time they go to pick their girls up from practice. A pleasant discovery is made when Art stutters as he attempts to respond to something your say and his cheeks heat up like two full strawberries. Yeah, he makes fun of it.

But it also gets poor Patrick worried, considering everything that has happened over the last fifteen years... When Art got chosen by Tashi and favored by the whole tennis industry. The cutest one of the two. And considering your own softness and the ethereal aura of your being, he's thinking you might choose Art over him.

Without knowing or ever discussing it, the two friends become jealous of once another, or rather afraid, both of them finding themselves so deeply attached to you. Two confident men who used to be so smug and full of themselves are reduced to worried babies that can't help but feel neglected.

Luckily, their smart girls pick up on their dads' distress. Unaware of the reason, they play detectives and they dump their suspicionw on you. When you're talking with Art and Patrick the next time while the girls are changing in the locker rooms, you bring that topic up.

"The girls told me that you two have been having some issues. They said that you look worried. Is something going on?"

You speak to them like you're an angel sent from the heavens above, they really both want to drop to their knees and cry until you decide to be merciful enough and take them into your arms. The little frown of worry on your face and the crease between your brows are enough to send both of their hearts beating faster.

"Worried?" Patrick asks with a casual chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "Do we look worried Art?"

You asshole, Art thinks, shooting his friend a glance. "I- I don't think so. Perhaps we're just getting older. A mid-life crisis, you know."

A giggle from your mouth gets them both to tremble on their feet.

"Okay, okay, I won't pry," you assure them with a nod and that beautiful smile of yours, "But if you feel like talking to someone, don't be afraid to reach out."

You pat both of their shoulders delicately, Art just ends up glancing at you with an open mouth as you move while Patrick has to physically prevent himself from grabbing you and stopping you from walking away.

Later in the evening, when their girls are asleep, they discuss your existence over the phone. Luckily, still on the best friend wavelength, they both come up with the same ideas. Somehow getting you close to them, closer than a normal ballet teacher should be to her students' parents, especially a father. Especially two fathers.