AN: so like mst of my works, I gotta have word play. That's a yourmomswallet classic by now. Spanish translations are in (___) for reader convenience :))
So imagine you're sitting with Soap on a love seat while he's off duty. He's got his head in your lap and his feet dangling off the side of the armrest. As you run your fingers through his grown out hair, he looks up at you before making obnoxious kissing sounds at you.
"Seems like someone wants something. But I wonder if he knows the magic word..."
"¿Por favor?" (Please?)
"Oh, en Español. Veo." (Oh, in Spanish. I see.)
You lean down to kiss him, pecking his forehead and returning back to your show on the television. He glares at you as you smirk at what you've done.
"Ahem. Mas besos, por favor." (Ahem. More kissing, please.)
"No sé qué haces. Y no dijiste dónde." (I don't know what you're talking about. And you didn't say where.)
"Aquí." Pointing at his mouth, he puckers his lips. (Here.)
You roll your eyes at the kissing sounds starting again.
"Claro," you sigh, leaning down again to meet his lips instead. "¿Satisfecho?" (Sure. Satisfied?)
He grins mischievously and closes his eyes, your hands going back to combing through his hair.
"Smooch-as gracias, mi corazon." (Play on "Thank you very much, my heart.)
"Dios mío, sopa." (My God, soup.)
Slap! Your flat hand comes down on his forehead.
"Oi! I'll have you know I'm not "soup". It's "jabón." (Soap)
A/N: V short one-shot, inspired by that one scene in “Simple Life.” Iykyk... I tried to make him a little awkward teehee
Heavy footsteps lead to the armory of the base. Not too quick, not to slow, but just the right pace to signal the person was on a mission. Through the fluorescent lighting of the hall, the Austrian’s great build is hard to miss. Looking to the left, he sees the gate guarding the door of the armory and opens both doors to enter. Crouching down a bit, he spots a figure cleaning off something at a table.
“Oh, hey. Here to check on a weapon?”
“Yes.”
A chuckle.
“What exactly can I help you with?” An eyebrow lifts as the soldier sets the shotgun down. The soldier looks him up and down, changing demeanor based on who’s walked in.
“Oh, I-I broke my rifle. I was informed it would be... somewhere here.” He looks around to see different weapons in various states of repair.
“I see. Would you happen to have a name? Or will Tall, Dark, and Awkward do?” A smirk.
“König should suffice,” he says a bit defensively.
“Of course, king.”
König’s eyes dart away from the soldier. The soldier guides him over to the rifle that sustained the most damage it could without retiring its use.
“If this is how you play with your toys, I’d hate to see your playmates.”
He circles around to the other side of the table, facing the armory worker. Looking down at the firearm, he can see just how much he put the thing through.
“Then again, sometimes you have to play rough. Right?”
He looks to the mischievous eyes pinning him in place, taking away his words. König tries to stutter something akin to a response, but alas, his dialogue options were overloaded and resulted in a curt head nod.
“Now, let’s get to the damages. According to my sources, you need a new one. No way I’m fixing that in the condition it’s in.” A pause. “Unless you ask nicely.”
He clears his throat before letting out a cough.
“No need. I’m not one to have attachments to these types of things.”
Would it kill him to flirt a little bit?
“We usually charge for a new weapon to be assigned to someone, but you sound hot. So, you can have it for free.”
There is no charge to begin with.
Wide eyes blink at the statement. König looks like he’s rebooting in response to the compliment.
“I will be back to pick up the rifle. Tomorrow most likely. Thank you.” His blush is audible in the thanks.
Summary: As an underpaid barista trying to make it through college, the unlimited amount of cold brew and caffeine is a plus, as well as a certain customer. (Civilian slice of life type deal)
A/N: What I”m writing about has happened to me personally. I’d like to receive financial compensation, but all I got was this stupid one-shot fic w Meow-Meow of the month ://
Starting the day off with a good cup of coffee seems like the cultural norm of the world. While not being on duty, Simon thinks he seems normal enough taking his early morning run before hitting the local café closest to his house. This became a normal part of his day, grabbing a hit of caffeine that wasn’t carbonated or in a can. Despite being in his civvies and having a neutral manner about him, walking into the café to join the queue made him feel like an outlier compared to the others sipping on their cappuccinos and americanos inside.
He towered over the customers lined up. Not that it really mattered to him but being watched by strangers didn’t exactly make him ecstatic. Not that they could see his face, what with the black facemask on. He just wanted to get in, get coffee, get out. No extra syrups, milk substitutes, or whipped cream.
The change started with the new register worker. Rarely seeming to want to be behind that counter, making smiles genuine when they happened, and being quick with orders. The first encounter starts with him looking the worker in the eyes while uttering his large black coffee. Typical of most of society, they have to stare up at him if they wish to look him in the face, but the way the barista looks at him makes him feel even more exposed than he usually does in the café. He fumbles with his card as he pays, voice wavering when they ask him what his name is.
“Oh, uh. Ghost.”
Damnit. Panic.
Lifting an eyebrow, the barista looks up from the cup they’re marking to make sure that’s what he said.
“Ghost, as in a poltergeist? A spectre, if you will?”
“Nickname of mine.” That’s enough elaboration that a stranger will get from him, even if they have sparkling eyes and a charming way of making little noises when placing the cups down on the bar counter.
“Alright, “Ghost.” Your coffee’ll be ready at the end of the counter.”
“Thanks.”
He ends up with a small drawing of a ghost accompanying his name.
One of his runs has him stripping of his jacket before he can make it in the café. The bulging biceps and tattoos adorning his arms has everyone’s attention. Walking to the queue, he notices his little register worker isn’t there. Looking about the room, he can’t the one person he really wanted to see.
The relationship between Simon and you had progressed to cutting up with each other before he leaves to wait for his coffee on the other side of the room. He can’t really say your jokes are any better than his, but he enjoys them all the same, offering a deep chuckle or scoffing and quick “Shut up” in response.
“Black coffee, large and hot.” Looking up from reaching for his wallet, he sees the worker has suddenly turned into you.
“Looks like I need to get a ticket.”
“For what exactly?” He takes the bait.
“For the gun show that just walked in.” You laugh a bit, pointing to the card reader for him to pay. “Any way I can upgrade to a private?”
The way he looks away for a second makes your cheesy line all the more worth it. He forgot that his jacket wasn’t on his torso anymore but wrapped around his waist for convenience. Obviously, he’s a specimen of a man, one you wouldn’t mind getting to know more about. Strong hits seem a little overkill, but it never hurts to be thorough with men.
“‘Fraid I’m unable to squeeze you in. Raincheck?” He asks half expecting the banter to have stopped.
“I’ll keep you to that, Ghostie.”
Next time you see him, he has a friend with him: somewhat shorter with a mohawk and also dressed running attire.
“Already got you, Ghostie. What about your friend?” You tilt your head towards him.
“Ghostie? Cute nickname.” He laughs as he looks at Simon. “Dinnae what I should get, Ghostie.”
“Ignore him. Same as me, add sugar.”
“You know you’re the talk of the bar, right? Mr. Tall, Tatted, and Handsome? And everyone knows you’re going for a particular grump, right? So like, I’m surprised you’ve gone this long without saying anything. Are you two together but like, hush hush?”
Simon can only blink at the word vomit that came out of the coworker’s mouth after he puts his card in the chip reader. The beeps from the machine telling him to remove the card snaps him out of it. He didn’t know you called out today. He would’ve just skipped the coffee trip if he’d known.
“Not one to kiss and tell.”
“Well, if you’d like me to pass a message on, you know where to find me.”
He says his thanks before waiting for his name to be called.
Walking out of the café, he takes a sharp turn before running into a smaller figure. The lid of the hot coffee pops off from how hard he squeezes it, allowing the hot liquid to spill over his jacket.
“I’m so sorry. I was too fast approaching the do-” you pause when you see him.
His eyes widen a bit he sees how you’re dressed. Biking shorts, a light jacket with headphones around your neck, and trainers.
“You should be, love. This is, now was my best jacket for running. Can’t run in this soaking wet thing, now can I?” he questions teasingly.
“You remember that raincheck? Looks like your jacket could use a clean, and I could use a good show.”
“You've no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into.”
A plastic bag falls into Stevo's lap as a body flops next to him. Looking to the side, said "Punky" fumbles with the knot of the bag, taking in your black-lipped smile.
"Heeey! What culinary delights have we today, Quick Hands?"
Rattling plastic reveals the carelessly crafted random assortment of candy and cigarettes. A bigger smile replaces the one on your face, almost resembling one of the Cheshire Cat.
"Oh, the usual: lung of cancer and cavity inducers. My cruel mistresses.” You pretend to feel faint as you put your hand to your forehead and collapse onto him. The spikes imprint on your fishnet-clad shoulder, promptly tearing them even more than what you had distressed them to.
“Don’t suppose you happened to snag a lighter, would ya?” Stevo asks, shuffling through the many Dum-Dums and Air-Heads until he finds a pack of Camels.
“Would you happen to have lost this little lady?” You flash him the small Zippo that has seen better days. He looks at your hand and grins that grin that makes your stomach dive off a 10 story building.
“Ya know, I think you’d be a great magician if the whole “functioning member of society” career doesn’t work out, Klepto,” he mumbles out with a cigarette already in his mouth. “Whuh wah ih’? Accoun’an’?”
Flipping the lighter on, you light his cancer stick and grab your own from the carton.
“Actually, it’s computer programmer. Technology is the future, Stevo! Imagine,” you stick the cigarette in your mouth. “Getting information from a computer instead of having to look at a dictionary! O-Or sending messages back and forth with someone across the city in just minutes!” Your hands mimic the different scenarios your cig-muffled mouth exclaims, with Stevo just enjoying his nicotine and sugar.
“Wow! That’s…” he takes a drag, smoke expelling from his chapped lips. “So fucking cool!” He grins at you and your excitement of information expansion via computer connections.
“You ass! I’m being serious here!”
“And so am I! Can’t you see I’m elated for you here?” Arms spread to gesture that he is being serious.
“Oh yeah, make fun of the nerdy goth klepto. Especially the one who shared their klepto-shit with you.”
You flick open the Zippo once more to light your cigarette, only to be met with nothing but a small, meager spark that disappeared just as soon as it appeared. Glowering at the metal, you curse at it. You notice the red tip of Stevo’s cigarette moving around as he starts speaking.
“And have I thanked you for your generous contribution to the poor and needy? I can’t tell you how much this-”
His gratitude is cut off by your sudden physical closeness, then hands on his cheeks.
“Hol’ ‘till,” you tell him, aiming your stick at his.
The cigarette reluctantly lights, and within that seemingly everlasting moment, with tip-to-tip and knee-to-knee, Stevo feels his cheeks warm in your hands. The embers from him slowly light your stick, almost a symbolic testimony to what had been happening over the past few months. Slowly but surely, you’d lit his heart afire with your bright demeanour. Meeting you in the line for chicken pot pie day at the cafeteria, conspiring over the authenticity of the punk in front of you’s piercings, Stevo’s fist connecting with the guy’s face, patching up Stevo in your rundown Oldsmobile much to his chagrin.
The next months led to you spending a suspiciously large amount of time with him just to be considered great friends. His and Bob’s place was almost partly yours, permanent toothbrush and extra underwear indicating your crossing of the friendship line. The only time away from each other was for your job and classes. Stevo couldn’t imagine another day without listening to the latest Cure song you’re playing on repeat or discussing how his parents didn’t like how he was rebelling against the common denominator of the world.
You had created a monster- a poseur, to be exact.
“Good boy!” You praise him, exhaling smoke and ruffling his blue head. He couldn’t take his dilating eyes off the black ring around the tip of the cigarette, even when you pulled on his barbed choker.
“Now, let’s get going! I have coupons for the most lovely Chinese takeout place in town! I hope you’re in the mood for chicken-fried rice!”
“Who took the money from the communal cash jar? I was gonna buy some toeless socks, but I’m a few lire short.”
“Take a good look around the house and tell us what you think has changed,” says Trish to Narancia.
As he looks around the room, he sees nothing out of the ordinary. Everything looks to be unchanged. The squeaking emitting from the kitchen has him intrigued. What is that sound?
Stepping out of the kitchen door, Narancia spots him. Abbacchio, wearing the most heinous shoes that should never be worn.
“The sign clearly said that this would be 80% off! God, you’re incompetent!” The middle-aged lady glares at him.
“Ma’am, this item isn’t on sale. I think someone might have put it on the rack on accident,” Doppio informs, rubbing his neck.
“Well... I’d like to speak with your manager,” she says. She crosses her arms to try to intimidate him.
“I-I really don’t think that’s a good idea, ma’am.”
“You heard what I said! The customer is always right.”
“Okay, just stay here for a moment. I’ll be back.”
Doppio shuffles around the corner, and immediately, Diavolo appears from where Doppio disappeared, menacing and stalking over to the counter with intent.
“I overheard your conversation with my employee. And I’m going to tell you the same thing. It’s not on sale.”
The woman says nothing as she hurridly scoops up her items and quickly walks away.
The table has been set by Jotaro with a quick take out meal. The woman of the household is working late, so it’s up to Jotaro to take care of Jolyne. He calls the young girl into the room, making her run full speed into him. He picks her up and places her on the chair. She glares at the box in front of her, pushing it away and pointing at it.
“Why aren’t there chicken nuggets in this meal?” Jolyne interrogates her father.
“I-”
“It’s because of that job, isn’t it?” She slams her hands on the table to emphasize her point, frowning to make him feel even worse. Jotaro is taken aback.
“Wait, just let me-”
“Give me the job! Now!” Jolyne holds her hand out to metaphorically put his job in.
“Why would you get me something like this? You know I can’t wear this out!” you shout at him. Your hands shake a sparkling, shimmering jacket, too gaudy to possibly wear on a daily basis if you wanted to pass for an average citizen.
“Ah, that’s not what you said when you passed by the mannequin in the store.”
“I never said anything like that to you, though. Wait- Who told you I liked it?”
Running up to him with the jacket still in hand, you get in his face.
“Was it Trish? O-Or was it... Narancia? Oh, I’ll kill him!”
“I can’t say. All I want is for you to be happy and look good,” he tells you.
Cupping your face, he kisses you and walks off.
“Wait, tell me who it was!”
He makes a motion with his fingers, pretending to zip his mouth closed.
“Hey! Don’t you zip your mouth at me! Unzip it right now!”
“So what’s wrong with it?” you ask, worried for the state of your baby.
“Don’t got a clue, yet. I just popped the top,” he tells you while looking at the insides.
“You know, I really appreciate what you’re doing for me. No one else in the neighborhood would help fix my car.”
That’s a lie, and he knows it. You’re liked all around the town. Someone from the other side of the town would have driven 45 minutes to get to your house just to clean your car if you’d asked. Okuyasu doesn’t understand why you’d chose him of all people.
“Yeah, no problem. I’m not busy for the rest of the day.”
“Well, that’s good, because this might take a while. I know nothing about cars.”
“So, why me then? How do you know I fix cars and shit for a living?” He looks up at you, grinning mischievously. You blush in response. “Was it the way I look?”
“M-Mayhaps it was... greaser.”
“Hey, no name-calling. I’m the one fixing your car, remember?” He points at you accusingly.
“Okay, okay. Fine. I’m gonna go and fix something for lunch. Any requests?”
“Mmmm... anything’ll do. I’m not too picky. Nothing spicy, though. My stomach is sensitive.”
“Gotcha! Something sensitive for the sensitive greaser.”
Okuyasu watches as you leave before he can reply. He’s not sweating just because of the sun beaming down on him. You make him nervous. More than he should be around a close friend. Four years of friendship has made you close, but not as close as Josuke and him. Your relationship is confusing, though. Mixed signals leave him flustered and frustrated, and he can’t make sense of if you actually are interested in him or you’re just having your fun playing with his emotions.
As the sun goes down, Okuyasu realizes he hasn’t seen you in a few hours. What could you possibly be making? Maybe he shouldn’t have said anything about spicy food. He packs up his tools and wipes his hands and arms off. He had taken his leather jacket off after you left.
What he didn’t see was you staring out the window in secret, oogling his exposed arms. Every time he flexed, your mouth would salivate just a little bit more. Of course you wanted to be beneath that view someday. But that’s just a little too farfetched. He’d never be interested in you. Plenty of beautiful women who hang out at the garage he works for surely have already asked him out. You stand no chance, but you can’t help but flirt just to get a taste of what it could be.
“Hey! You finish?” you yell at him.
Looking up from his toolbox, he sees you with a tray of food, including egg salad sandwiches and a bottle of Calpis. His favourite. You look like an angel, delivering him sustenance to keep living in this wretched world. His body betrays him as he trips over the toolbox while trying to walk to you.
“Okuyasu!”
You set the food down on the curb and run to him, checking on him to make sure he’s not injured. He looked like he slammed his face into the concrete but he looks fine when you roll him over.
“Am I in heaven? A-Are you an angel?” Okuyasu seems starstruck. Considering he can only see stars and the faint outline of you.
“No, you goof. It’s just me. Your neighbor?” You wave your hand in front of his face and pick him up by the arm when he shows signs of being fully conscious. His arm felt so nice, thick and muscled. You savour these moments.
“O-Oh yeah. Sorry.” He rubs his neck and looks down at his legs. Stupid feet. Stupid Okuyasu. Can’t do anything right.
“Don’t apologize! You fell down. It’s not like you could help it.” You rub his back to comfort him.
This is what frustrates him. Are you doing this to be nice, like you do with everyone else, or are you touching him because you want to be near him? He sighs deeply.
Your face morphs into confusion. Did you do something to make him mad?
“What’s up, Oku?”
He notices that he’s showing his irritation in front of you. Shit. He straightens up to stand, leaving you squatting where he once was.
“I-I’m just hungry. Nothing big.” He tries to sound relaxed and calm, but to no avail, you catch on quickly.
“No really, dude. What’s up? You’ve been acting kinda strange the past few weeks.” Your hand catches his forearm to pull him back.
Okuyasu can’t hide his frown. He knows he’ll have to tell you sooner or later.
“I just- what are we? I’m being serious.”
“We’re friends! What are you talking about?” He pulls his arm away as he walks toward the food and sits.
“That’s what I thought.” Okuyasu settles his head in his hands, elbows on knees. “The issue I have with our friendship is that I can’t tell if you’re actually into me when you sweet talk and tease me.”
“Well, tell me Oku. Do you want me to be serious? Because I am. I’ve been trying for months!” You try not to make him feel bad about not being able to pick up the hints you’ve been showing him.
He’s speechless. You’ve been flirting with him this whole time while he’s been wishing it was for real? God, Okuyasu, you’ve really done it this time.
“Don’t beat yourself up over it! If it took you longer to realize, I wouldn’t have cared.” You sit down next to him and hug his sweaty body. “I care enough for you to wait and see if you actually are interested in me, too.”
“And I am! Geez, you must think I’m a total fool, now.” Your laugh makes him frown again.
“Okuyasu, you’re never going to be a fool in my mind. In fact, you’re one of the best people I know.” Your kiss on his forehead makes him freeze up.
“Now come inside. It’s too hot to be talking about this outside. I’ll even let you clean up with a shower.”
As you stand up with the food, you hear him yell at you.
“Wait! I don’t have a clean change of clothes!” He looks at you with confusion evident on his face. Okuyasu grabs his shirt and looks at the many grease and dirt stains on it.
“Well, yeah. That’s kinda the point, greaser.” Your wink sends him over the moon. It takes him a moment to process what you mean.
Meeting Fugo while he’s playing the piano. ***Part 5 Spoilers***
Why were you at this bar at midday? What compelled you to walk 4 blocks from work, just to sit and watch this lonely looking man play the piano? His fingers move with such passion, it seems he’s been perfecting his abilities for years. After you sat down at a table, you couldn’t take your eyes off him. His eyes scan the keyboard, solemn and reflective like the haunting melodies he plays.
You can’t handle the glum attitude he plays with. Whether or not he’s the bar’s employee, you have to make amends to the aura he emits. Grabbing something out of your briefcase, you walk over towards him with purpose.
“Excuse me, sir? Could you play something a little more... upbeat?” you ask him, trying to be as polite as possible.
He doesn’t look up, only ignoring you and playing more intensely, to the point where you think he’ll break the ivory off.
You frown at his intentional disregard. Money appears in the blonde’s face, which makes him glare at your hand. Couldn’t you see he’s pouring out his anger and grief and guilt? He wants to stab that hand with a fork. A fork. Stabbing. He can only think of Narancia. Every little thing he tries to forget keeps coming back to haunt him.
You shake the bills a bit to get his attention. His playing stops.
“So, Mr. Piano Man? You up to the task?” Your eyebrow raises.
The money is smacked out of your hand. Unbelief floods your face and emotions. How dare he?
You bend down and pick the money off the floor. Now angry with the man, you slam your fist on the keyboard, hard enough to get his attention. The sudden smash makes him look up at you. Oh, shit. He’s crying.
“A-Are you okay, sir? Did I scare you o-or something? Sir?”
You can’t seem to get him to calm down, his own hands banging the keys in frustration. Why can’t he seem to get them out of his mind? Was this a curse from not being loyal to his friends? He did what he needed to do, so it was justified.
The small piano stool was long enough for you to scoot yourself on to comfort the thin man. You hesitate to wrap your arms around him, waiting for him to push your arms off. He never makes a move, only his shoulders that prove he’s crying. Looking around, you see the customers are looking at your situation. Scowling at them, their stares disperse. You pat the skin and bones of a man. He feels like he could break, like he’s eaten nothing for the past months.
“Is this okay? D-Do you- Am I overstepping? I know we just met, but I can’t leave without making sure you’re okay.” Concern is all he can hear from you.
“I don’t want your pity. I don’t want your money. And I especially don’t need your HUG!” He pushes your arms away, making you jump off the stool.
“Hey! This isn’t pity, this is empathy. I know how it feels to breakdown, to hurt. We all need someone to lean on in times like this. Do you believe me?” Your anger is dispersed by the real worry. “I’m not telling you to let me in on your top secrets or anything. Just let me be a shoulder to cry on for now.”
“Why do you think I’m deserving of this treatment? I’ve done nothing but wrong.” His fingers fly across the keys, making a terrible sound. His fist pounds into the ivory again. At this rate, he’ll be paying for another piano again.
“H-Hey, let’s take our hands off the expensive instrument. Don’t need the owner getting involved, now do we?” You’re trying your hardest to keep him invested in the conversation, but it’s not working too well.
His warm hands are gathered up by your cool, smooth ones. He hasn’t had this kind of physical contact in ages. His body soaks it up, wanting more gentle caresses and hugs. But his brain, his brain tells him he’s only deserving of pain and suffering after all he’s done. Or hadn’t done.
“Tell me, Mr. Piano Man, what’s your name?” you ask him while stroking his hands with yours.
“I can’t say. I’d put you in danger. I can’t have another person being hurt because of me.”
“You act as if I can’t handle myself. Geez. Well, if you don’t want to say, I’ll just have to read your mind. Is that okay with you?”
“There’s no way you have psychic abilities of any kind. It’s not humanly possible,” he states, looking at you skeptically. “Go ahead, if you actually can.”
“All right then. This won’t hurt at all.”
“What do you mea- Hey! That’s my ear!” he shouts. He cups his left in after your finger leaves the canal.
“This is the way I can read your mind, sort of. Just give me a second.”
His visible disgust is shown when you stick the wax in your mouth. You’re insane. What kind of person sticks the bodily products of a stranger in their mouth and claims it makes them read minds? Maybe you’re the one with more problems than him.
“Let’s begin. A child prodigy, sort of college dropout, gangster, and all-around angry son of a bitch. Any of that right, Fugo?” You raise your eyebrows, signaling for him to correct you.
“E-Everything you just said was technically… correct. I might have some anger issues, but who doesn’t!” He glares at you. Too caught up in the moment, he realizes that the ability to taste earwax and learn about someone’s past isn’t exactly normal. He lowers his voice. “Are you perhaps a Stand user?”
The confusion in your voice is evident as you tell him you haven’t a clue of what he’s talking about.
“The ability manifested when I visited the desert in the United States. All of a sudden I had this magical gift. I’m not telling how I figured out how it works though. That’s personal.”
“It’s most likely a Stand of some kind. Since you know all about me, you must know about my Stand, Purple Haze. Don’t worry, no one can see Stands unless they’re a Stand user themselves.”
Some weird, rabid looking creature and man hybrid appears behind him. If that’s what a “Stand” looks like, you definitely don’t have one.
“S-So this is… a Stand?” You reach out to touch it, but all you get is drool. Your face scrunches up in disgust.
“Why do you look so appalled? You just ate my earwax,” Fugo says.
“There’s a difference between wanting to touch someone’s bodily fluids and getting them without consent.” You wipe your hand off on your pants. You must look like an idiot trying to touch something no one else can theoretically see.
“So, now that we’ve been introduced, can I try to help you? I’ve got about…” You look down at your watch. “10 minutes before I have to be back at work. I have a feeling you need a real hug.”
“I said I don’t need hugs. I don’t need anything, all right?”
“The least I can do is give you money for some food. I don’t want my new friend starving to death.” You place the money onto the piano.
“Who says we’re friends?”
“Me, of course.”
“Not to call you a liar, but I highly doubt that you want to be my friend.” He looks away, fingers playing another sad melody.
“Will you stop it with the self-loathing at the moment? I want to be friends because I want to. No other false intentions.”
“Sure, whatever you say. Fine. Prove what you say is true. I can’t blindly trust someone with information on me.” He stares you down with an intensity that has you wondering why you’re shaking inside. “Be here at the same time tomorrow. Maybe I’ll trust you then.”
“Okay, doubting Thomas. I’ll see you tomorrow, then. Promise.”
You walk away to grab your briefcase. So much for getting those papers filled out. As you leave the bar, you can hear the faint sound of a more pleasant sounding tune coming from the piano. You grin, happy that you’ve given him something to dwell on other than the deaths of his friends.
The bar door opens and closes constantly as Fugo looks behind him, obviously searching for you. It’s not like he wants to be your friend, but he doesn’t need anyone with his personal information walking around the streets of Italy. By the time your lunch break should be finished, he sees the exact briefcase as yesterday. Your bright smile and wave make him feel a little happier for some reason.
“Told you I’d be here! Sorry that I’m late. I had to talk to my boss about getting the rest of the day off.”
“N-No problem. Might I ask, why did you request for the day off?” Fugo is genuinely curious about your actions and intentions. There’s no way you would want to spend the rest of your busy day with a lousy nobody like him.
“I wanted full, uninterrupted time to keep you company. Did you eat anything with the money I gave you yesterday?” You seem awfully interested in his well-being, from what he can gather.
“Y-Yeah, I got a small margarita pizza. I’ll pay you back for it.” He goes to pull his wallet out of his pocket, but your hand stops him.
“Don’t bother with that. It’s useless.” You sound like Giorno. The new recruit. Now the Boss himself. He feels like crying again but holds back, not wanting to cause a scene like yesterday.
“Then what am I supposed to do? I can’t leave a debt unpaid.”
“Teach me to play, Mr. Piano Man,” you tell him, a smile on your face.
“I have the tendency to get angry when I’m frustrated. I’m warning you now.”
“Oh, scoot over. Friends can’t hurt friends.” You put your briefcase down and push him to the right side of the stool.
Friend. Fugo finds himself liking the idea, oddly enough.
Around 10 000 words. Make a cup of something, get a nice blanket or fan, and sit your butt down for some Himbo Goodness.
~~~~~~~~
With the midday sun beaming down on you, you can’t help but wear something on your head and eyes. You look like a shady dealer of some sort, walking in the shadows and shade of the streets. You can’t find the bar where the boys decided to meet, even though they said it was right across from the motel. As you search, you stop at the stalls and small stores of the town, just visiting around.
Checking your watch, you see that it’s past the time you’ve agreed to meet the gang, almost a quarter after 7. You curse yourself for getting carried away browsing the town’s shops. Hopefully, a new bracelet or ring will suffice for an apology to each of them. You walk around a bit more to try to find the bar. The bright sun has dimmed down a significant amount, to where you don’t need your sunglasses to make out signs and faces.
Finally, you find the bar. Illuminated by string lights and covered with interesting decorations, you walk into the building. You don’t immediately sit at the table they’re at, but go to the barkeep for a drink. They won’t miss you for just a few more minutes.
The tall stool feels like heaven to your tired feet. Setting your small satchel down on the bar top, you peel off your hood to reveal your face. The fans blast air into your face, your scalp and skin reveling in the way the breeze makes you feel cooler. You feel eyes staring at you, burning into your head. Looking over, you can see a buff looking man in a cowboy-like hat. His tunic is strange, too, unlike any shirt you’ve seen worn in the area. He must be a foreigner.
“Can I help you, sir?”
“Why, yes you can, baby. Yer all alone, and I’d hate to leave someone as pretty as you by yerself.” He has a somewhat charming smile on his face, trying to make you pay more attention to him. To impress you, he leans his arm on the bar and flexes, making sure to seem as natural as possible. You show no signs of being impressed, just a polite smile.
“Well, I’m not alone. Some of my friends are here with me.” You point behind you to your friends. He doesn’t exactly get the message as he assumes you’re accompanied by two women who are dressed like you. He sees the group he’s supposed to be following behind them. What could happen in a few moments without stalking them? Especially with a lovely thing like you as a distraction.
“Would ya mind me buying you a drink then? Anything for a beautiful woman,” he compliments.
“Hmmm… I’ll take you up on your offer, cowboy,” you say. You’re still suspicious of him, making a note to make sure he doesn’t tamper with your beverage. “Make it a whiskey on the rocks.”
“So ya like ‘em strong, huh?” he asks while getting the barkeep’s attention to order your drink.
“I’m a big girl,” you inform him.
As he orders, you look behind you to see if your friends are still there. You notice Joseph trying to wave you over. Interestingly enough, he seems impatient about it. His motions are obvious to any onlooker, as his exaggerated movements make him appear to be swatting insects quite feverishly.
“Excuse me, sir. My friend needs me at the moment. I’ll be right back!”
“No problem, baby. I’ll watch yer seat for ya.” He winks at you and you hesitantly smile back.
Walking to the table, you make sure the peculiar yet oddly charming man isn’t tampering with your drink. You didn’t need ‘being drugged’ added to your list of awful experiences during the adventure. The older man finally stops his swatting and waving to talk to you.
“Who’s that fellow over there?” he whispers. Taking a hint from his voice level, you follow along.
“I have no idea. He offered to get me a drink, so I’m just being nice for the free alcohol. Why? Is he one of Dio’s henchmen or something?” you ask, still watching over your just poured drink.
The broad man takes out a cigarette and lights it, taking a drag before drinking out of his glass. He downs it in one gulp.
It’s Avdol’s turn to warn you about the odd cowboy.
“We have suspicions that he’s been sent by Dio to track us. While you were gone, he seemed to be near every place that we were, constantly.”
Your eyebrows furrow as you pick up on what exactly happened when you were gone. Your mind churns to come with an idea to get information out of the man. As soon as a feasible plan comes into grasp, you make it known to the group and hightail it to the bar as to not seem like you plan on ditching him. Before you can leave, you’re stopped after a few steps.
“Are you sure you’ll be okay? This seems dangerous, and we don’t even know if this man is actually one of Dio’s henchmen. One of us can follow after you,” Kakyoin suggests.
“She’s a grown woman. Just let her go,” Jotaro insists. The man doesn’t look to be much of a threat.
You thank him for concern, but you know none of them would be able to help you out. Besides, your Stand was certainly able to handle whatever the man could throw at you. There’s no other choice other than to take this man head-on.
As you settle back in your seat, you can make out the ice that has slightly melted since you were gone. Unfortunately, your drink is watered down but still bearable. The sting in your throat and chest were enough to distract you from the slight water taste. You feel a bit more comfortable talking to the flirty man after having alcohol in your system.
“So, you never told me your name. Should I call you “stranger” for the rest of the night?” you ask, purposely fluffing your hair back to seem like you care about how you appear to him.
“I suppose I could let you know, but ya better make good on your sayin’ you’ll be with me the entire night,” he states, tapping off his cigarette’s ashes into a tray. Looking your way, meeting your eyes, he takes a drag of his cigarette and blows the smoke into a heart shape. How he did it, you didn’t know. The Crusaders look at each other in disgust at what’s taking place. Silently, they commend you for taking one for the team. For Holy.
You giggle. “Well, if you’ll let me. A big, strong man like you probably has a line up of pretty women just waiting for their turn.” You look away, pretending to be upset. Your hand meets your cheek and your lips pout.
Calloused fingers push your chin up to make you face him. Looking through your eyelashes, you see his cigarette is in the corner of his mouth as he grins at you.
“Sweetheart, Hol Horse always has time for a gal like you,” he winks.
“Oh, stop it. You’re making me blush. There’s no way you could ever find me attractive. I’m just a simple, plain girl.”
“Nah, none’a that now. A fine lady like yerself should know how beautiful you are,” he says as he points at you. You can’t believe how polite he is. For someone under Dio’s command, he doesn’t seem too bad of a guy. Unless he’s just trying to get into your pants.
“You know, I don’t do this too often, but would you… I dunno, maybe wanna…” you trail off to try to sound coy, wringing your hands. You knew he would be easy to persuade but just in case. Your clothes won’t allow you to do anything suggestive, so you have to rely on something else. A finger tracing your lips, a subtle nudge of the foot against his leg, a come hither gleam in your eyes. He’d be a fool not to pick up on the signs.
“Wh-What is it, baby?” You have his full attention.
“Oh, I’m just making a fool of myself. It was silly of me to think you’d wanna go somewhere more private.”
Hol grabs your hands with his calloused ones. His face seems quite serious.
“Darlin’, don’t tease a man like this. I don’t think ya know just how much I’ve been holdin’ back from askin’ ya the same thing,” he confesses. “Didn’t wanna seem desperate to get to know ya more.”
“Mr. Horse, it’d be my pleasure if you’d join me at my room tonight,” you whisper close to him.
The whole time you flirted with him, you had been inching closer and closer. So had he. At this point, you two are just a few inches from each other’s presence. You can smell the smoke on him, even after he’s put out his cig. His musky scent is accompanied by an earthy smell. He smells like man. Not that you really mind. Blue eyes and blonde hair with a side of stupid. Exactly how you like them.
“Lead the way, baby. I’ll follow you wherever ya like.”
As you get up out of the seat and smooth out your clothes, Hol pays for the drinks by setting a few bills on the bar. You make eye contact with the Crusaders and nod. Everything was under control so far.
“My motel room isn’t too far away. We don’t need a cab.”
Hol follows your lead. Trekking up the stairs and down the halls, you finally find your small room. Thank goodness you got a separate room this time. You didn’t want to have to explain why you had men’s underwear on your floor or men’s cologne in the air.
Unlocking the door is quick, and so is slipping inside. Right as he steps in, you shove him onto your newly made bed. His audible response makes you laugh. You rid your outer garment that guarded your body against the sun. You can feel his eyes on you as you strip. Smiling, you inform him that he can make himself comfortable as you visit the bathroom.
The bathroom pauses your act. Or could you even call it an act now? You’re enjoying yourself now. It has been a while since you’ve gotten a little love from another touch. Maybe you can enjoy Hol’s presence and also get some information out of him. Grinning, you look at yourself in the small mirror provided on the wall. You make sure your appearance is okay. Breath, hair, smell? You have everything covered. Looking underneath your clothes, you make sure you’re ready to have a little fun.
Hol also makes sure he’s ready to romp around with you while you’re in the other room. He knows he should be watching those five, but Dio would just have to wait. There’s no way he’s missing out on this. Looking around the room, he sees your suitcase and toiletry bag. Does he dare sneak? Hol takes another look towards the bathroom door and decides he has enough time.
Carefully, he opens up the unzipped flap and examines what you’ve brought. In neat rows, he sees shirts and pants folded up into small squares. Nothing juicy. Searching a bit more seems dangerous, but it’s a risk he’s willing to take. He unzips a small compartment on the side of the case with no results. Just some socks. Huffing, he tries another. Again, just some underwear. Boring and plain.
He’s interrupted by the bathroom door opening. You appear, face morphing into confusion. He looks like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
“What exactly do you think you’re doing, naughty boy?”
He laughs nervously while trying to explain himself coherently. After many stutters and random filler noises, you stop him.
“If you wanted to see my underwear, all you have to do is ask,” you state like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
Still nervous and shaken up from getting caught, his confident self seems to be a bit embarrassed. Were you serious?
“Umm- heh. C-Could I perhaps see your, uh, underwear, baby?” He sounds unsure of what you’ll say. His hand reaches behind his neck while he stands there, hand still holding onto some white panties. He throws them to the side when he realizes this, and you chuckle at his antics.
“I don’t think you really deserve it now. Do you?” Your eyebrows lift, challenging him to say otherwise.
Slowly walking towards him, you grab the underwear out of his hands. Hands run up his solid chest to his shirt collar. He’s pulled down to your height in one tug.
“Baby, I’ll take whatever you’ll give me,” he says breathlessly. You’ve got him hooked and haven’t even given him a taste. Your smile is a bit more sinister than before. Hol doesn’t know what he’s gotten himself into.
Fingernails scratching his neck lightly, you purr in his ears which in turn makes him shiver. The quiet room makes your words amplify. His face runs hot as you hold his cheeks. Holding his breath, he waits for your response. You bring his mouth close to yours and warn him.
“I hope you’re ready to work for it.”
Speechless, Hol is tossed back onto the bed. You waste no time pushing him against the headboard and straddling him. His hands find your hips and grip hard, most likely leaving bruises for tomorrow. You don’t mind. He’s surprised as you grab his neck and pull him up, breathing heavily from being tossed around. Noses meet and you smile again, this time in a more playful manner. Gentle kisses are placed on his neck and jaw, licks peppered in between sucking. Hol’s groans make you hum in satisfaction, happy that you’re making him feel like this. You’re too absorbed into marking him up as yours to notice that he’s reached up your shirt until you feel rough fingers tickling your sides. Immediately, your hands push him away.
“Did I say you could do that?” you ask as you trace your fingertips across his chest and arms.
Feathery touches of your lips on his ears make him gasp and grip the sheets of the bed. The blood in his body has left to one central point, but his body is still sensitive to your touch. Extremely sensitive. He’s never felt like this before, even with his level of experience. Every touch has lit a fire underneath his skin, flames spreading slowly as your fingers and lips mark every inch of exposed skin. Was this just the effect of being with you? Perhaps it was just the heat of the moment.
Little does Hol know, your Stand is the culprit behind the intense feelings. If your body fluids touch his body, his nerves’ and cells' reactions to any stimulant would increase. If you were to hit him now, the pain would feel a 100th more painful than it actually is. As long as you make sure to leave some type of fluid on him at all times, his body will be high off your Stand.
He’s starting to feel the scratch of the cloth of his shirt and pants. His brain tells him to take it off immediately, the burning starting to get hotter. You smirk at his sudden need to strip.
“Be a gentleman and give me a show, won’t you?” you ask him, aware that he’s desperate to get the fabric off his body, but not to the point where he’ll do absolutely anything to disrobe.
“O-Of course. Anythin’ fer- AAH!” He’s cut off by your nails scraping up his abs and obliques. “Anything fer you, sweetheart.” Practically panting by now, he struggles to keep his cool and strips slowly, one article at a time.
“That’s a good boy,” you praise him, helping him by taking his hat and placing it on your head. The moan that leaves him is a mixture from the sting from the friction of skin and cloth and the approval from you.
You sit back on his shins and watch him scoot up the headboard. First his shirt. His face contorts into a pained grimace, hands grabbing for his shirt hem to pull up and over his head. He can’t handle the sensitivity of his skin making contact with the shirt and keeps losing grasp of the thick fabric. You grin at his little misfortune but stay put, wanting to see how long he can keep going before caving in to ask for assistance. A noticeable bulge displays itself in his pants. You control yourself before you try to paw at it, but your mouth still salivates a bit just looking at it.
His hands take their time in lifting the shirt up. As they rise up, you get a better view to gawk at his bulky muscles and body hair. Dirty blonde hair dusted his chest and stomach, as well as freckles. Not too much, not too little. You lean forward and tug on a small patch, which makes him gasp for air. Assuming it’s real pain, you smooth out the hair and massage the area. His pained expression changes into one of relief. You take the shirt out of his hands and toss it behind you with the hat.
By now, he’s realized you won’t give him a chance to show his dominance. But he’s fine with being thrown about for a night. All the ladies he’s been with before assumed he was in charge when it came to the dirty act, or they were too shy to try to take control. You’re different. He trusts you enough to let you push and pull him around wherever you want. He’d never see you after this, so what’s wrong with taking a chance for just one night? A gentleman does what he can to please his lady. If that be taking every single slap or bite, so be it.
“P-Please, help me. These clothes is just- ah, burnin’ me up.”
Fingers play with his body hair a little longer before you respond with a smile. His incoherent speech is a sign he’s close to the full experience, but that just might be his way of speaking.
“I suppose I can help you out, just this once. But you’ll have to do something for me in return. Is that something you can handle?” Your head tilts in curiosity. Hopefully, he’s close to the point of no return, where his body can’t handle anything other than a light puff of air on his skin.
“Ahhh… promise. Wh-Whatever ya want, I’ll do it. Just get me outta these things,” Hol begs.
Sliding his pants down, you can see he’s wearing a pair of boxer-briefs. You can also see what is underneath them.
‘Just wait a little longer,’ you remind yourself.
Hol moans as your nails press into his thick thighs when you push down his pants to his knees. You move to the left side of him and pull down the garment farther, finally off his body. Both you and he are happy to have nothing on his body, except for the pair of underwear. Tossing his pants to the side, you take a glance at his face. Eyes are glazed over with tears and lust, face blushed. You can’t wait to see his face after his fifth orgasm, hoping for drool and nothing behind his eyes but lust. You’re going to milk him for all he’s worth.
Hol doesn’t understand the sudden giggle from you as you stare at him. ‘Did I do something funny? What- Oooohhh fuuuuuck that feels gooood.’
Gentle touches on the tip of his cock through his underwear make him grip the sheets around him. A single stroke of your finger makes him shake profusely. That’s what he’s been yearning for from the beginning of your teasing. Oh, it feels like heaven with the current use of your Stand. He doesn’t understand why he’s shaking, but he knows he doesn’t want it to stop.
“P-p-please… d-don’t stoooooop,” he slurs.
He has to stop himself from not lolling his tongue out as he begs. But it’s your personal goal to make him feel like he has no self-control over his body. You’re going to pleasure him to the point of no return, to where he physically can‘t see or feel anything but pure pleasure. He’s never felt like this before. He feels close to coming already.
“Remember, you still owe me a favour,” you remind him. His sluggish nods speed up as he realizes what you’re saying. “I need you to tell me when you’re going to come, all right? Be a good boy. Can you do that for me?” you ask him. You know he won’t be able to handle much, but you really want to push him to his limit. Would it really be that terrible of you to make him explode, just once?
“Y-yeah, can do,” he responds.
He’s unsure if he can hold his release back until you tell him otherwise. The feeling of your gentle caresses on his dick makes his body go crazy. Hol doesn’t know how many more strokes it will take before actually blowing up. His balls feel full, stuffed, his dick red and almost sore. You take your hand and cup it, stroking along the the cock’s underside and pushing it against his abs. The wet fabric on top also moves.
“I’m gonna-”
Hol is cut off by you kissing him. You straddle his lap again, making sure to press down with your hips into his.
“Don’t you dare.”
Gasps and moans make their way into your grinning mouth. He’s still being good for you, as his hands haven’t left the sheets still. He wants- no needs to touch you, but he’s scared you’ll move or tie him up. He feels an oncoming orgasm, and you pushing yourself closer to his clothed member and harder into the kiss isn’t helping his case. Your combined sounds fill the room. The moonlight and lamplight illuminate your features, making you look like an angel when you pull away. He can’t believe you’re real. You peck his open mouth once more before stroking his chest.
His nipples are sensitive, you already know that. What you don’t know is how much you can press and pull and suck on them before he’s coming through his thin underwear. Licking and sucking them, one after another, his nipples are swollen and puffy. Hol watches the top of your head in disbelief. He’s never been this taken care of during foreplay. Your tongue keeps flicking around his nipples and alternates between licking fat stripes on and swirling around the nubs. You build up and add your saliva to his skin to make stimulation stronger. As you pull away from his chest, the saliva moves with your mouth. You lick around your lips and the strings break off. Hol finds this scene too much for his overstimulated mind to handle and moans in response.
You can’t seem to take your eyes off his precum slicked cock. His cheeks are a little flushed as you rub your pointer finger against the tip. As you pull away from it, a little string of pre follows. The loud sounds come from him to let you know that he’s sensitive and ready. A smile appears on your face.
“You don’t mind if I have a taste, do you?” you ask innocently like you don’t know what kind of effect you have on him already. Of course, you know how he’s feeling. Desperate and needy for just about anything you’re willing to give him. His face flushes a deeper red, his freckles standing out.
“Everything I got, you can have.” If you put that precum covered finger in your mouth, he swears he’ll blow his load right then and there. “Just let me see ya do it, baby. Please.”
“Of course, Hol.” You smile at how he moans from just hearing his name come out of your mouth..
Your finger swipes the precum on your tongue and you lean in to show him. He looks like he’s about to cry out of pleasure from just seeing the erotic scene of his essence in your mouth. You’ll never know what exactly makes men want to cream themselves from seeing that. His eyes widen as you lean in even further, your tongue stroking his slightly chapped lips. His body takes this as a sign to open his mouth, unconsciously doing so. He’s never tasted himself like this, but it’s a pleasant experience. Sharing his own pre is kind of hot, in his opinion. The taste isn’t so hot.
As you share precum and an open mouth kiss, Hol starts to stick his own tongue out. Saliva swapping has never been so erotic in his life. Your body is like an aphrodisiac, an oasis in the middle of the hot desert. He needs more. He feels your fingers stroking and petting his chest, and in turn, his nipples. They’re solid and stiff, sensitive to the touch. He can’t hold in his moans that are caused by your touch. Your sucking on his tongue makes him feel even more sensitive. The more saliva you’re feeding him, the more he can feel everything you’re doing to him on a molecular level. He can’t complain, as you have his tongue in your mouth. Even if you didn’t, he wouldn’t trade this feeling for anything in the world.
Hol knows he should feel embarrassed by what’s taking place, but his body won’t let him resist one bit. His pride hasn’t been destroyed, it’s his self-control. There’s no way in hell he could ever let you leave now.
The strokes on his chest turn into pinches, with each touch excruciatingly painful and the aftermath tingly. Your mouth pulls away from his, unfortunately. You gently blow on his chest, his nipples somehow getting perkier and stiffer than you could have imagined. The burly man that sits beneath you whines loudly while his tongue struggles to be put back into his mouth. His hands drunkenly reach out to grab yours as you move to his chest.
“Be a good boy and keep your hands on the rail for me,” you instruct. Slowly and reluctantly, he grips the metal pole behind him with a whine.
Never before has Hol Horse followed directions so eagerly.
Lips take their time sucking hard on his neck, behind his ears, and collarbone. Your tongue flickers out occasionally to trace the purple marks forming as you make your way down. His whole neck and shoulders are covered in purple, shiny bruises. You smile and stroke his chest with your fingers, adding the slightest scratch just to hear his loud noises again. The press of his dick against his boxer-briefs makes him cry out in frustration. His eyes haven’t left your body since you parted ways with his tongue and lips. He misses your constant touch, and more importantly, your saliva oddly enough. Hol can’t place his finger on why he craves your bodily fluids incessantly, but his brain is hazed over with lust that he doesn’t dwell on it.
Your lips end up with his stiff right nipple in between them. The little moans that come from your wet tongue stroking and circling it make you smile with sadistic glee. He can’t see your face because of his closed eyes. Because of the pleasure, he’s retired all of his senses besides touch. His body can’t be bothered to comprehend any other stimuli that aren’t your fluttering fingers and the suckle of your lips on his teets. Sudden bites on his pecs and hard nubs make his pain rise, but his pleasure outweighs the pain via your immediate kisses and licks on the areas. He doesn’t know how much he can take at this point. Hol is worried he might just blow his load by chest stimulation alone. If you were to touch his throbbing dick with the lightest poke, he’d explode. His mouth is unable to warn you of his inevitable outcome, but you glean from his shaking legs and ongoing moans that he’s close.
Your legs move to the left side of him on the bed. His eyes open and watch you move, everything in slow motion. The bed dips as you slip off the covers. Looking back at him from the front of the bed, you warn him.
“If I see those hands move, I’ll have to add 3 more orgasms to your punishment.”
Hol would love that. The lack of release is showing on his blue underwear, precum making the fabric wet and slick and shiny. What he wouldn’t do for many, many releases. That’s what he thinks at least. His hands still grip the metal pole to satisfy you. You smile at his obedience. If he keeps this up, you might have to keep him around for the rest of the trip.
Pushing your pants down, your smooth skin and lace panties are put on display for him. He groans at the sight, and the sound makes you look at him from over your shoulder. Your bedroom eyes draw his attention from your bottom. There’s no possible way you could be this seductive. How were you single?
Hair in your face, lips plump from making out and sucking, cheeks flush from the many erotic touches you’ve given him; he can’t take it. Whines fall out of his mouth, as he’s unable to warn you of what’s about to happen.
“Ah- I’m about to-” he’s cut off by you.
“5 orgasms if you come. I’d suggest not doing it.”
Your stripping continues without looking at him as he struggles to keep it all in. His cock looks like a fountain by now. The semi-white, thick fluid runs out of his tip uncontrollably. A pained expression tells you he’s trying his hardest. You pull your shirt off and throw it in the corner where his clothes are. What you’re left in is a lacy black bra and panty set. Simple yet seductive. It seems to please Hol well enough, as he groans in what sounds like pain at the sight of you. You can’t possibly expect him not to come now.
You crawl up his legs and stop at his crotch. Your head is level with his cock now. The look you give him is pure sin as you seize him and feel his throbbing through the thin fabric. He takes a deep breath in. Your hand’s wet from the pre that’s leaked out, but that doesn’t faze you. One hand strokes his member through the underwear and the other latches onto his plump testes. You can just feel the cum that’s begging to be released.
Fondling his balls makes Hol moan in anguish. Your touch is firey and scorches his skin. His resolve is slipping as your hands tighten around both his balls and cock. This time he will definitely come, he thinks. He doesn’t care what type of punishment he’ll face, his brain and body are forcing him to release now.
A thick, white liquid squirts out through the fabric, pouring out onto your hand. You smirk at how he yells and moans while his dick throbs and twitches harder than ever before. His legs are shaking and his hands are about to snap the metal in half. You can’t force your eyes to look away from the disappointing scene in your hands. His cum has made its way up to your arms and his torso. Chest and stomach hair mix with semen to create a sticky sheen. He slowly and tiredly peers up at you through his lashes, sweat covering his forehead and temples. Your saliva is still there from the start of the decent. His eyes meet your disappointed ones.
‘It was worth it,’ he tries to convince himself.
You take your hand that’s covered in cum and lick off the fluids. He breathes in quickly. Hie wishes you were doing that to his cock. He needs your constant touch on his skin.
‘Oh yes, this was worth it.’
“You bad, bad boy. What should I do with a misbehaved boy like you? Any suggestions?”
You pretend to let him give you ideas. You’ve had this punishment in mind since the beginning.
He nervously chuckles. “How a-about you let me off with a warnin’? Swear I was tryin’ to hold it in.”
“Wish it were that easy. But now your punishment is worse than before,” you inform him as you play with the wet chest hair and happy trail, licking off your fingers as you go. “You’re going to wish you had waited.”
You direct him to lay down all the way. His head rests on the pillow as you crawl on your knees to straddle his head. His body is vibrating from the excitement of tasting you. He’s been craving this for so long. His tongue sticks out as you stick your fingers in his mouth, swirling to get them wet.
“Tell me what you want and I might just allow it before your penalty.”
“Please. Just a little taste- wait. I don’t know your- mmmmpppphhh!” Hol is cut short by your setting your covered wet core on his face.
The huge whiff he takes is fresh air to his senses. He feels at peace. His hands are still on the headboard’s bar. He hasn’t disobeyed completely, but he wants to feel your delicate skin. To have his hands imprint red and purple on your ass and thighs, to manually force your hips and pussy to gyrate on his face, that’s all he could ask for.
Hol’s tongue sticks out to press into the thin gusset of your panties and tastes the musky essence that has spread through the lace. He can’t get enough of the smell. His head presses closer and closer to your soaked panties, but you pull away each time he moves. You laugh as his head falls back to the pillow in frustration.
“I don’t think a name is needed if you just call me Mistress. Can my bad boy do that correctly?” you ask. Your nails scrape his scalp and he moans. Hol obviously needs to taste you again for the effect to be stronger, and you’re more than willing to let him. Your hand grips his hair as you await an answer, making him whine in pain. “Answer me, slut.”
“Y-yes! Yes, M-Mistress. I can do that. Anythin’ fer you.” He loves the name you give him.
Hands pet his hair. Exactly what you want to hear.
“Tell me what you need, Hol.”
“I-I need your p-pussy on my face. I wanna taste ya, smell yer cunt and lick it like it’s ma last meal. Use me, Mistress. I just want to please you. I need yer touch, can’t live without it,” he confesses, breathless and sweaty.
You smile at his word throw up. You’re enjoying this far too much, but this is the most fun you’ve had in a while. The desert isn’t exactly the prime location for finding lovers. Your little slut is exactly what you need to release your frustration and quench your thirst.
“Good boy.”
Your panties are wet but become wetter as Hol’s mouth, lips, and tongue work them to get to your core. His tongue traces your clit, feeling the pulse of it as he swirls around the nub. With your hands still locked into his hair, you hold his head in place as you grind. His nose is pressed into your clothed clit as his tongue presses against the covered opening and lips of your cunt. He can’t get enough of the taste, wanting, needing the underwear out of the way to be fully connected with you. His moans and attempts to tell you what he needs are muffled. The vibrations feel like heaven on your pussy.
“What could it possibly be now? I’ve let you come, and now it’s my turn. A gentleman would have let me come first, but it seems you’re just an inexperienced slut with how you blew your load so quickly.” Your words sting. He wants to protest, but his body won’t let him. He’s a good boy. An obedient slut. With your pussy on his mouth, he finds it difficult to speak. You move away from him as he groans at the loss.
“Need yer panties gone, Mistress. I can’t taste you good enough,” he pleads.
“My little boy wants more? Hmm?”
“Ah, y-yes please, Mistress. I need yer cunt. I promise I’m a good boy. I’ll lick ya real good. I’ll make you come as many times as you like.” He begs loudly with no thought of lowering his voice. He can’t even think about his own pleasure anymore. “I wanna be yer good boy, yer good slut.”
You hook your thumbs on the sides, shimmying the lacy thing down to your thighs and coming out of them. You don’t dispose of them right then; instead, putting them to his nose and mouth. He sniffs them and closes his eyes in pleasure. No words can describe how delectable you smell.
“You’re such a dirty boy, you know that? Sniffing and panting into my slicked up panties. It just gets you so worked up, huh slut?” You smirk at his nodding head, underwear still sitting on his face.
“Yes, Mistress. I’m a dirty boy. Yer dirty boy. Ain’t this horny fer nobody else. I love yer cunt.”
“Oh you do? You haven’t even tasted it yet,” you reply haughtily.
You push the panties closer to his nose as he takes a deep breath before speaking. His eyes are rolling into the back of his head.
“Don’t need ta. L-Love everythin’ about ya.”
“You really do want a taste. All right. Get ready, needy slut.”
His mouth eagerly meets your wet slit. His tongue pokes out to stroke your folds in heated passion. Your moans and grip on his hair fuel his movements further. He revels in the way you gasp when he sucks and nibbles on your clit, or when you roll your hips into his face as he tongue fucks you every so often. Your pussy seems to draw his tongue in deeper, making him moan. With the underwear on his face, he can’t see what you look like in this position exactly, making him more than a little frustrated. His groans express his dissatisfaction with the view, but he moans at the taste and scent of you without the panties in the way. Looking behind you, you’re satisfied with the effect you have on him and his cock. His hips thrust into nothing, cock and balls bouncing in tandem.
As he works on your cunt and clit, you get closer and closer to coming undone. The vibrations on your clit make you moan and shake. You pet his hair as you feel your orgasm coming to you in a wave of intense pleasure. Your instinct is to press closer to the thing making you come, Hol being forced to swallow everything you give him, not that he’s complaining. He sucks and licks even more than before. His hands want to move to make you grind down harder into his face. He needs you as close as possible.
“O-Oh fuck! Y-Yes, that’s a good slut. Mmmm you’re so needy for my sopping wet pussy. Don’t miss a drop.”
Your orgasm tastes even better than your saliva if that’s even possible. Even though it was you who came, his body feels white hot from the experience. He can’t feel his mouth anymore, or his tongue. Your cunt’s fluid tastes amazing, especially after your complete release. He wants more, coaxing another orgasm by flicking your clit incessantly right after you had just come. He needs more.
“I-If you keep- oh yeeeeesssss…” you trail off from the pure pleasure he’s giving you. “Keep that up. I might be more lenient on you.”
“Yeth, Mithwess,” Hol mumbles against you.
You grind your pussy against his face even harder, pressing his head in between your thighs more than he thought possible. He wants- no needs to get closer to you. Your body shakes stronger than before, making Hol happy to his surprise. He needs to please you until you’re satisfied. He needs to be called “good boy.” His tongue strokes are faster and more forceful. He tries to stimulate your clitoris as much as possible while licking your slit. He’s desperate for your cum. He needs you to come on his face. Now.
You scream out in pleasure as your cunt pulsates and squirts. Your juices cover his face and the panties. White is all you can see. Your hands grab one of his hands in an attempt to not lose balance. Pulling his fingers off the bar, you stuff them in your mouth and suck on them, swirling your tongue around the calloused tips and salivating. He feels every little movement of your mouth, from the suck of your lips to the light nibble of your teeth. Drool runs down his arm and he can’t stop the sounds that vibrate on your pussy. You keep squirting as his tongue rolls over your clit over and over again, pulling you down from the orgasm. When your sight comes back, you release his hand and turn around to move down. He moans out and bucks his hips up again and again and again. He’s stiff and red, ready to go again. Perfect.
Out of breath, you tell him, “You were such a good little slut. If you’re still good after edging, I’ll let your punishment go. But if you come without permission again, I’ll make it hurt.”
He seems to like what you’ve said, shivering in anticipation of what’s to come.
“Am I understood?”
“Yes, Mistress.”
You take your time moving back towards his throbbing dick, wobbling and unstable from two intense orgasms. You feel energized from being worshipped like that. Newfound confidence exudes from you as you shuffle to the end of the bed. Looking at Hol, you see the underwear is still blocking his view. You have some mercy on him.
“You can take those panties off, just put them in your mouth. And if you do anything with those hands other than grip the sheets or headboard, I’ll have no choice but to restrain you. You don’t want that, do you?”
He’s eager to answer you, already moving his numb arms to remove the panties.
“Of course. Anything you want, Mistress. Just let me please ya. I’m beggin’.”
Humming contently, you take his cock in your mouth and keep humming. Hol bucks into you, unable to control what he’s doing. He moans loudly, which makes you look up. You notice he’s forgotten to put the lacy drawers in his mouth and release his dick from the confines of your hot, wet mouth. Smirking at him, you snatch the panties away from his strong grip and forcefully stuff them in his mouth. He’s surprised as you do so, gasping from the sudden movements.
“You just can’t follow directions, dumb whore. You’re not going to get to come now.”
He spits out the wet fabric at the statement.
“N-NO! I-I-I mean, please, Mistress. I didn’t- I just forgot! Yer touch is just too good.”
“If my touch is too good for you, you don’t need it then,” you state, knowing good and well that’s not what he meant. You take the panties from him.
“Mistress, that ain’t what I meant. I need you. You know that. Please, I need you,” he pleads. “I need yer touch, yer pussy, anything you got fer me. I’ll do anything!”
“Prove it. Since you need me so much, stroke yourself with my panties and don’t come.”
Your challenge makes him look hopeless. Of course, he’s going to come if he masturbates in front of you. You smirk at how sad he looks at the black lace.
“Any complaints? I think I’m being fair.”
“No! No complaints here, baby- OW!”
You swat his cock quickly. It wobbles while still standing up. Your slap wasn’t that hard, just a warning tap.
“That’s not my name.”
“Of course, Mistress. I m-meant to say, ‘No complaints, Mistress.’”
“That’s what I thought. Sit up. Get to stroking, whore. I’m going to get comfortable.”
He gets situated on the bed with his back on the headboard. With the amount of precum he’s leaked, he has plenty to keep him going without any issues. His left-hand goes to fondle his balls as his right one starts pumping slowly. He takes his time as he grabs the panties to rub himself with. Your cum has made his body’s senses heighten even more than before. Every little stroke makes him moan out, the scratch from the lace on his sensitive head and shaft affecting his whole body. You watch him shake and moan, indulging in how torturous this is for him. Precum spills out of his tip and onto the panties.
You can’t stop from touching yourself, the scene igniting something new inside of you. Your fingers reach inside your pussy and your thumb circles around your sensitive clit. Hol can hear your gasps and moans and wet slapping sounds. He’s treated to the sight of you plunging your fingers in yourself. You work in tandem, Hol stroking his hard cock as you push into your wet cunt. You smile at him and bite your lip as you press against a certain spot. Your head falls back and he groans at the sight.
“Don’t come, pretty boy. I need you ready to burst when I fuck you.”
His hand speeds up and grips his balls harder. He’s about to come. He needs to come. But you won’t let him. With your attention on your orgasm, he could get away with coming quickly in the panties, but the consequences of being caught exceed the benefits of secretly coming. He slows down to keep from making you mad. Your eyes find his again, lust shining through your gaze. You bite down hard on your lip as you come for the third time. Your pussy pulsates from how much pleasure you’ve introduced it to. The cum runs out of your slit slowly. You shake as you come down from your high.
“Keep stroking. Don’t stop,” you command him. He nods, speeding up his motions.
You take your fingers that are covered with your essence and stick them in his mouth. He needs no instruction to start suckling on the digits. He loves the taste. He craves your pussy.
Taking your fingers out of his mouth, you settle behind him, making him scoot farther from the headboard. He doesn’t know what you’re doing, too distracted from trying not to come. You sit with your legs spread behind him. Your arms hug his torso and stroke his still cum-ridden chest in circles. The extra stimulation makes it harder for him to focus. Your hands run up and down, stopping to play with his still hard nipples. His back is sensitive when you press up against it with your lacy bra and plush breasts. Your arms come up to hold his head and push it towards yours. His mouth meets yours again for an open mouth kiss. Your tongue is the first to initiate contact with his, making him moan more. You love how vocal he is. His hand never stops moving as you watch him out of the corner of your eye. The way his arms’ muscles move is hypnotizing. Your tongues never stop dancing around each other while you’re distracted by his movements. He hasn’t come yet, making you quite happy. You might just get to come again with his cum in you.
You decide to up the ante.
“Give me the panties.” Panties are handed to you.
“Now wrap your arms over my thighs.” Thick, warm arms are draped over your thighs and wrap underneath them.
“Now what are you not allowed to do?”
“Come.”
“Good boy.”
Your hand wraps the panties around his reddish head, twisting them around to torture him more. His head flies back to your left shoulder, as your head is perched on his right. You can see all of him. The slight pooch of his freckled stomach makes you smile a little more, especially with his little whines in your ears now. He couldn’t get more adorable than this.
You show your appreciation and affection with kisses and licks to his neck. His head leans back farther, exposing his throat, where you add more hickies. The strokes on his throbbing member increase in speed and pressure. You squeeze Hol hard to draw out any sounds that might escape.
“Don't hold back your voice. I want to hear every single little sound you make, baby.”
This eggs him on to be louder. At this time of night, it’s hard to tell if any neighbors are awake. Surely, you’ll have complaints tomorrow morning.
The black lace is starting to get absolutely soaked from just Hol’s precum. You should have just stroked him with your hand and spit, but this added a new sensation. His dick twitches without stopping. His balls seem to tighten even more. He’s going to come.
You pull away from his mouth and dick and ask him quietly, “Do you want to come again?” He nods. You look at him pointedly like he knows better.
“Y-Yes, please. I need it so bad. My cock’s just achin’ fer yer touch, Mistress.”
Pretending to be in thought, you ask him, “But do you need to come again?”
“Whatever you think is best for your s-slut, Mistress.”
You’re happy with his response.
“Sit up, then. And throw that wet thing over there.”
Hol sits up upon command and flings the wet panties in the corner with an expectant grin on his face. You move around to his front and sit on his thighs. His muscles are thick enough for you get off from them, but you want something completely different.
You take your bra off, revealing your breasts to him. He groans, letting you know he likes what he sees. You smirk at his sounds and love how he isn’t shy about being vocal. You grab your tits and rub them together, flicking your nipples and moaning at the feeling. His hands come to rest on your hips, but you glare at him. His hands get the message and go back to the sheets.
His cock is pressed up against his stomach. The ruddy head and shaft look to be in pain, with pleasure needing to be released. Hol’s dick is thick and uncut, a blonde patch of hair framing his privates. You pet the pubic patch and grab onto his balls. His gasp is swallowed by your mouth. He loves how you taste. He needs you wrapped around him right now, though. He battles your mouth for dominance as you stroke and fondle him slowly. His sounds are muffled as you make out with him sloppily.
You start to take his cock and push the head near your entrance to tease him. The head brushes against your clit and down your slit. He can’t take it. The feeling of your hot, dripping cunt this close to his equally hot and dripping member almost makes him subject to punishment. Your hand tightens around his thick shaft, which makes him whine. Rubbing your pussy up and down with the engorged head, you move your hand up to squeeze right below his head to keep him from releasing. He groans at the contact with your wet lips and clit. He loves the velvety feeling of your cunt, soaked with his precum and your previous orgasms. Your sounds that follow make him whine. He’s the one that’s making you feel good. He’s the one who’s making you come.
Your hand lets his dick go and his body complains from the lack of contact. You stick your fingers that we’re just wrapped around his slick cock into his mouth. Hol doesn’t refuse your hand, instead, welcoming it with his tongue. In return, you press your cunt to his upright dick to tease him.
“Mmmm, that’s my good slut.”
He mumbles a thank you as best he can. Laughing, you pull your fingers out and stick them into your mouth. You lick every single finger individually to make a show for him. A smile grows on your face when you hear him moan out from a particularly strong grind of your hips. Your wet, saliva drenched fingers move between your body and his, right to his cock head. Your hand is somehow cold and makes the liquids that are now touching his hot member cold, too. He shivers at the difference in temperature. His pleasure filled haze is interrupted by your voice.
“Whose cock is this?”
Hol is confused, taken aback by the sudden loaded question. It is still his penis. It’s attached to him! But are you asking who’s in control of it? What do- sssshit!
A hand is pressed to his throat, not tight enough to hurt him, but enough to warn him to hurry up and answer.
“Y-Yers, Mistress. My co- uh I-I mean yer cock belongs to ya. I love what you do to it, makes me feel so-OOO FUCK!”
Hol screams out from you pushing his dick into your hot core. He can’t possibly take anything else that you could put him through. His throat is still constricted by your hand, cutting off his airways enough for him to panic. The fear that runs through his blood elevates his senses, with every stroke from your hot core making him convulse with pleasure. Feet and hands almost tear the sheets into pieces with the intensity that he grabs at them. Hol can’t comprehend what’s happening to his body. His breath catches in his throat, sputtering to get a word, a sentence, anything out. As you moan and praise him, you realize he’s frozen in fear and pleasure.
“Don’t worry, you’re not the first whore I’ve choked.”
Hol thinks that, somehow, your words were meant to be reassuring.
Constant pressure is applied as your body alternates between grinding, thrusting, and straight pounding into him. A solid man like him can take it. Your brain is interrupted by the original intention of this interaction. Get information on Dio.
You slow your roll and scratch his sensitive neck, hard enough to snap him out of his lust ridden trance. He looks desperate for you to start moving, thrusting into you slightly to tell you to start again. Hol sees a smile on your face, too sweet to be up to anything good. If he’s learned anything from being teased by you, it’s that you’re not to be taken lightly. You can change your mind in an instant with no regard to his wants. But he loves how exciting it is to test your waters, to watch you, to taste you.
“Who is Dio to you?” you ask him, breath tickling his ear.
His response isn’t immediate. Hol looks surprised to be asked about his boss in this setting. Were you sent by Dio to check on him? Or were you with that ragtag team out to destroy Dio? He tries to get information on you before telling you his true relations to the vampire.
“Wh-What’s he ta you?” he replies without thinking.
Your hips snap and your hands reach out to choke him again, this time harder than before.
“You’re in no position to question my loyalty to Lord Dio.” You feel the bile crawling up your throat from siding with Dio, even in the context you’re saying it in. The Crusaders own you. You’re talking your own room each motel visit, free dessert, first dibs on shotgun.
“O-Of course! Why would I say somethin’ s-stupid like that? I was just, uh, jokin’ with ya. I’m loyal to Dio, too,” he stutters out. His tone isn’t too convincing.
“Then why are you here? You should be watching those fucking Joestars. Or did you forget your place?” Your tone is sharp, warning him not to play around. His throat is turning redder by the second, your hands’ grip not loosening up at any moment.
“Y-Ya can’t expect me to not f-f- FUCK!” A squeeze. “T-To follow you! You’re gorgeous, Mistress!” A finger traces his jugular. Finally, no choking. Not that he hates it, he loves anything that you’ll do to him, he’s just never been choked in this context.
“You’re weak, slut. I shouldn’t even let you come, nevermind come in me.” You have him by the balls with that.
“No! Please. I promise I’ll be on their trail in a hot minute. Just let me come in ya,” he begs, his hands ready to be in a praying position. Hol knows he hasn’t a chance to convince you. His eyes close in defeat.
“Tell me what you know about him. I’ve yet to personally speak to him.”
He starts to speak but is cut off by you thrusting again. His mouth opens with no words coming out. What was he supposed to be doing?
“Speak now. Or will I have to force you?”
At that, Hol starts to jabber about everything he knows about Dio. He can’t exactly stop his mouth from moving because he’s concerned about you stopping. His body is completely hooked on your touch. He needs you.
Nodding along with his words, you keep bouncing. The slap of skin on skin is music to his ears as he rambles to you. As long as he keeps talking, you’ll keep moving. At some point, he mentions how shredded Dio is. That Dio has an 8 pack now.
You can’t listen to another word about Dio this and Dio that mixed in with occasional moans. You bring Hol’s mouth towards yours to shut him up. The taste of your mouth is addictive, his body shivering at the touch. He can’t get enough of you. The thought of coming inside of you, your cum mixing with his, has him shaking and convulsing even more. His toes curl, his fingers are restless. You can sense it when his thighs flex up into yours.
“You’ve been a good slut. I suppose you can come. But you’re cleaning whatever you spill.”
His body gives out on him as his cock spurts out rope after rope into you. Hol can’t lift a finger, much less open his eyes to see your breasts bouncing up and down with you. At some point in the haze, your hand moved in between your bodies to play with your clit. You’ll make sure he repays you for his little mess.
As his body relaxes and comes down from the high, he can finally see again. His sight doesn’t last a minute before it’s overcome by the creampie he’s given you. His eyes widen at the thought of having to eat his own cum. Hol is entranced by your sopping core, oozing with his semen, as your fingers scoop some up and into his mouth. He can’t believe he’s doing this. A few more scoops are forced in before you completely smother his mouth. His tongue is instantly on your cunt, licking and sucking up the liquid inside.
“You got to stuff me full. Wasn’t that kind of me? I think you need to pay me back. What do you think, slut?” you ask.
He nods his head against your pussy, mouth moving up and down. His tongue goes to your clit to suck, trying to make you come as fast as possible. Hol slides his hands up your thighs, clinging to your flesh, leaving handprints as he latches onto you. You let it go, for his hands make you press closer into his mouth. Your hands comb through his dirty blonde hair, your fingers press into his scalp to get Hol’s tongue to go deeper inside you, to lick every drop of his essence out. The motions of his lips and tongue leave you a shaking mess. You have to hold onto the metal bar above him to not fall from the pleasure.
Your orgasm hits you like a lightning bolt, sudden and electric. Hol’s face is covered in his and your liquids, as squirt after squirt comes out of your throbbing cunt. His eyes are closed in bliss, happy to have made you come again.
You pet his head in approval, him leaning into your touch. Leaning down and squatting above him, his dick finds your core again. You kiss his mouth while tasting him and yourself on his lips. Your sloppy makeout leaves him gasping for air. He needs you again. More. The grind of your hips leaves him in shock. You want more?
“Best believe I’m getting as much out of you as I can. You don’t mind do you, slut?”
All he can do is nod in response. It’s going to be a long night.
Hol startles awake. He doesn’t know where he is exactly. Taking a look around, he sees that it’s bright out and he’s in a motel room. Ah. The lady. Everything comes flooding back, including his boner. He smiles at the thought of being fucked, hoping for another few rounds before going back to work.
A knock on the door interrupts his thoughts.
“Is there anyone there? The owner has checked out!” a muffled voice calls out from outside the door.
Yahoo! My first request! Please enjoy anon and other readers! Feel free to send in something if you’d like!
Robert E. O. Speedwagon. A man of humble beginnings, who was brought up in the slums of England, who did the worst to stay alive, who couldn’t fathom why you would even want to be with him in the first place. He’s a bit rough around the edges, but he couldn’t say he was the worst human being in the world, certainly with the likes of Dio still mucking about on Earth.
When Jonathan introduced him to you, he was awestruck with your beauty. What made him fall in love with you was your gentle and giving nature, somewhat similar to your older brother’s. Robert felt something extraordinary in his stomach when he politely kissed your hand, akin to being punched and kicked in the stomach by ruffians in a surprise attack. You tried to hide the red hue on your face as he let go of you. His grasp and kiss were feathery but the impact he had upon your emotions was something of a great lightning bolt. Quick and intense was the meeting that left an impression upon you.
From your hand, he could smell the expensive perfume you had rolled on your wrist that morning. He had caught a whiff of what seemed like powdered sugar on your fingers. On your thumb, ink from the pen you had been writing with. Yet compassion and altruism overpowered his senses. Just as a Joestar ought to be, he thought to himself.
After that day, you tried to make up any reason to follow Jonathan around, making sure to sound reasonable when doing so. Most likely, the reason would always be to get away from Dio’s presence. Unbeknownst to you, Speedwagon poked and prodded Jonathan to meet at the Joestar mansion a bit too often for it to seem a coincidence. He didn’t wish to seem desperate to be in your presence, to have his senses filled with just you.
For days and days, you reminisced about the lingering gazes you shared with Robert, how he always greeted you with a kiss on the hand even though you were far past your first meeting. Were you reading too much into it? Did he actually yearn to be close to you just like you wished for him? Finally, you confessed. Hearing what Jonathan, Robert, and Will were going to do, you couldn’t bear to have your feelings left unheard. You approached him with fear in your heart, tears in your eyes.
“W-What’s the matter? Have you been hurt?” Robert hurried to your side as he sees you rush in the room.
“I-I can’t do this anymore. Please don’t go. Please!” you shouted at all three of them. “First Father, now it will be all three of you!”
“We have to. I wish there was another way, but Dio is only getting stronger as we sit around,” Jonathan informed you.
Your tears kept flowing out as Robert and Jonathan hold you close.
“I don’t think my heart can take it. What if you all die? I know this is selfish of me, but what will I do without you all?”
“Don’t worry about us. Just make sure you’re safe. We’ll be back as soon as possible,” William affirmed.
As Jonathan and William both left, Robert stayed. Your ironclad grip on him assured his assumptions of your feelings for him. Your face was tucked into his jacket, leaving stains.
“Listen here. You’d better come back, all right? I-I can’t lose you.”
“What? Why can’t ya lose me?”
“If I don’t tell you now and you never come back, I’d regret everything.” You tugged on his jacket lapels. Taking a deep breath, you confessed, “So, I suppose now is the right time to tell you that I have feelings for you. Feelings that a friend should never have in a relationship like ours.”
“Oh, my dear (y/n). I- you’ll never believe how long I’ve yearned to hear that from ya.” He stroked your hair as he looked at you attentively. Cheeks and eyes red, you sniffled.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean exactly what I said. You’re the only person I could ever be with. And wit’ your permission, I’d like to make it a reality.”
“H-How long have you felt this way? About me?”
“Longer than ya could’ve imagined.”
“Please, I’ve been dreaming about you since you first kissed my hand when we met. And I just kept falling deeper in love with you, kiss after kiss.”
Robert smiled when he heard that. Had no other man treated you as you should be? You deserved every kiss you desired and more.
“If it takes a kiss on the hand for ya to stay wit’ me forever, I’d kiss ya everyday ‘til you got tired of me,” he pledged. Looking you in the eyes, you could tell he was serious.
“Just… hold me for now. Now that I finally know how you feel about me, you leave to fight some powerful vampire. I want to at least know how it would feel to be able to embrace you every day like this before you leave me forever.” You started to cry again, leaving more trails on his shirt and jacket.
“What’d I say? I promise we’ll come back. Maybe with some bumps and bruises, but I know you and Erina will piece us back together like always.”
He held you for as long as he could before kissing your forehead and walking out the door.
You planted yourself on the floor next to the hospital staircase and cried. What if they all died? What would you do then? There was no way you’d ask Dio for mercy to stay alive.
After hours of sobbing, you finally made your way to your room. You knew it was too dangerous to follow along, making you essentially dead weight. You didn’t even know how to use Hamon. All you could do was hope and pray that they made it out okay.
The night became day and your worry increased. Did they lose against Dio? Should you pack your things to escape from your demise?
Seeing two figures in the morning sun, you realized there’s a missing person. Your tears returned as you ran into Jonathan’s arms, saddened by Will’s lack of appearance. You knew what that meant, but you didn’t want to believe the truth. It couldn’t be true. Robert hugged you from behind as you sobbed into Jonathan’s chest.
“I’m so sorry I broke my promise.” You could hear his sadness as he whispered to you.
All of you were recovering from the loss of William A. Zeppeli. In that time of mourning, you became closer to Robert. Spending time with him was the best way to take your mind off of the terrible things that had happened. Of course, you still were close with Jonathan and Erina, but you couldn’t stop sharing your thoughts with Robert first. Your relationship blossomed with him as Jonathan proposed to Erina. It was fate that they would be together in the end. The wedding was beautiful. If only your father and William could have been there.
Seeing off the two love birds off was quite a difficult task. You couldn’t bear to see them leave, having a bad feeling about their fate. You told Robert about your suspicious feelings and he tried to calm your worrying, that they would be okay. With your love by your side, you felt relieved to have another opinion.
Only a few days after the accident, the postman arrives at your new house. Delivered to you in the pouring rain, you ran to Robert for him to open it with you. You hoped for a postcard with a pristine landscape from Jonathan or Erina. Instead, you found a letter explaining the sinking of a burning ship. You added extra moisture to the paper, as you hugged Robert while he read from slightly inky stationary. You couldn’t believe what he was saying. You ran out of the room, cursing yourself for not trusting your feelings. If only you had been able to tell them. What a fool.
Instead of staying in the past, Robert reminded you that you must stay alert. The future favours the bold, so why not go to America? His suggestion makes you question your future. Would you travel with him, or stay in England, where it’s safe. Pleads and begs from him finally convinced you to join him. So you packed your scare belongings and followed him to America.
Lying in a bed of an inn, your small snores fill the quiet room, save for Robert’s scribbles of his pen. Making out loans and checks for his meager beginning company, he double checks every single mark he makes. He told you 30 minutes ago he would join you in bed, but yet here he is, obsessing over numbers in the candlelit room.
He looks back at you, taking in your calm facial expressions, the rise and fall of your chest. You look angelic in the candlelight. You unconsciously beckon him to the warm bed, but he knows he can’t just yet. One more check and then it’s lights out. He promises.
The sudden thrashing of covers makes him look over at you again. You look to be in pain and you grab at the sheets. The chair he sat in almost falls over after he gets up to run to you. He sits on the bed to hold your hands in place. His panicked face looks over yours.
“Love? Wake up! (y/n)! Please wake up!” he yells. He’s scared as you start hyperventilating but don’t wake up. Robert shakes you in an attempt to rouse you.
Finally, your eyes open up. The tears fall as he scoops you in his arms. You can’t speak, only whimper into his chest.
“Would ya mind tellin’ me what’s troubling you?” he asks politely, hesitant to dig too deep right after your nightmare.
You huddle closer to him, making him hold you tighter. Breathing in his scent, you can smell the ink and smoke from the candle. His hand rubs your arm to try to calm you down more. He’s relieved to find your breathing at a normal rate.
“I-I had a nightmare. It was- the ship- with Jo-,” you cut yourself off with more crying. Robert’s heart breaks as he hears your wails. He doesn’t care if you wake the whole inn up, he just wants you to feel better.
“I saw Jonathan and the burning ship. I could see Dio laughing at him, making him feel hopeless.” You look up at Robert. “I couldn’t do anything but stand there. Just like I did when the ship sail. I’m the worst human in the world, Robert! I could have saved them. If I had only followed my instinct.”
“Love, it wasn’t your fault. There was no stoppin’ that big boat. And we had no idea Dio ain’t dead. You and I both know that.” His warmth is comforting to your body. He takes out a handkerchief from his pant pocket to wipe your face. “Please don’t cry, love. Ain’t nothing we can do anymore. We gotta look out for each other now. Erina, her children. No tellin’ what Dio’s up ta. Just know I’ll always be here to protect ya. No breakin’ promises.”
Your crying stopped, and now you feel exhausted. Robert sees your eyes drooping and lays you down on the bed. A hand latches onto his arm to stop him from moving away.
“Please don’t leave me. I-I need you,” you beg him.
“I’m just blowin’ out the candle, love. I’ll be right back.”
He kisses your forehead before getting up. Robert quickly changes before the only light in the room goes out. You can see his scarred body and bulky physique through tired eyes. He walks back to you and lifts the covers to slip in. As soon as he’s under the sheets, you immediately wrap around him. Your feet interlock with his as your chests are touching. He turns a bit to let you lay on his chest, bringing his hand up to stroke your now dry cheeks.
“I’ll never leave ya. Be here as long as ya want me.”
“I promise to do the same for you, my darling.”
Robert doesn’t fall asleep for what seems like hours, just waiting and watching for you to have another nightmare. His heart can’t take another. He watches your face while running fingers through your hair, holding you close. He doesn’t risk taking his eyes off you in fear of you disappearing, just like everyone else. Despite his stress from work, his fear of you coming into contact with harm is always in the back of his mind. You’re always on his mind. You’re his love.
Applying Jolyne’s makeup for her. (yearning vibes and goofy gf times approaching.)
“Why do you even have this? You almost never wear blush,” you question, holding up said expensive stick in your hand.
“That’s Ermes’. She forgot to grab it last time she was here,” Jolyne explains. She’s typing on her phone as she converses with you.
A hand under her chin makes her look up at you.
“Well, I’m putting in on your face. Look at me.”
As you swipe the dusty red colour on her cheeks, she puffs them out. Your fingertips push the air out of her mouth and she blows your face with warm air. You roll your eyes as you rub her cheeks to distribute the colour.
“There! You look so cute!”
“Ah, you’re wrong. I’m sexy, don’t you think?” Jolyne poses oddly in the swivel chair and rolls away from you.
“Who says you can’t be sexy and cute?”
You grab her outstretched hands and plop yourself in her lap. She holds you close and rubs your noses together. Pushing your head into her neck, you can smell her soap from the shower she had just taken.
“So where would you like to go tonight? It’s your turn for date night,” you ask, playing with her fingers. You draw small hearts on her hand and arm, waiting for an answer.
“Anywhere’s fine, as long as I’m with you.” You roll your eyes and smack her arm playfully. “Fine. I’ve been wanting to try that new Italian place. You know, the one Josuke told us about?”
“I can do Italian tonight, sure.”
“Well, how about a Japanese American?” she suggests, wiggling her eyebrows.
“You’re lucky you’re cute.” You boop her nose and walk off to get yourself ready.
