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shouyuus · 1 month ago

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chapter three: sleep of the living, dreams of the dead

roronoa zoro, 4,958 words; fluff and angst, enemies to lovers, relationship progress being made, emotionally constipated!zoro, slow burn, captain!luffy being captain, decent amount of banter, slow healing, strawhat!reader, tru hurt/comfort, no "y/n", domestic fluff

summary: in which zoro helps you make sakura-mochi and you keep good on your promise

a/n: we are indeed getting somewhere in their relationship!!! we get some fluffy moments of respite in this chapter <3 i hope you all enjoy!

< to the table of contents

That night, swinging in his hammock, he tries to picture it, as he’d so often done in the past — wondering about you, picturing you. Before seeing you again, he’d tried to imagine what you might look like, based solely on his memory. He spares a moment now to wonder, staring up at the moon-slatted ceilings of his small room — why? Why you?

You weren’t the only person in that sleepy little town, and you definitely weren’t close enough for him to call you a friend. But then again, he reflects bitterly, the only person he’d considered a friend from then is dead.

So suppose you are the next best thing. Suppose it’s just the nebulous workings of the human mind, of the brush-stroke memories he’d attached to the shape of you simply because you were there. And you were different.

Different from all the other boys and girls at the doujou. Different from him and Kuina too.

And there, something clunks inside his chest, blunt and oppressive, the same way it had when he’d run into that Tashigi girl in Loguetown. So maybe that’s it — maybe he’d held onto the memory of you because it was one of the last solid things that tied him to Kuina. You and the Wadou Ichimonji. But as much as other swordsmen might wax poetic about how a blade is a living thing, he can’t reminisce with a sword, can’t share a drink over those silver-lining days and star-spangled nights.

Sometimes if he closes his eyes, he can still hear it, the sound clear as if it were echoing into his room from the decks above — you and Kuina laughing, your heads bent over the basket of sweets, eyes glittering as you picked all the prettiest ones.

It was the only time he’d ever seen Kuina smile the way she did. The only time he’d seen you look so pleased.

The dull clatter in his chest sharpens to a throbbing ache, as flesh would around a fresh knife wound. He flips over onto his side and sighs.

He doesn’t remember falling asleep.

The memory comes to him, clear and sharp as fresh-cut glass. The autumn sun paints thick streaks across the doujou floors, and afternoon practice has just ended. You’re sitting by the door, your hands folded neatly in your lap, your hair twisted back in a simple braid that fell over your right shoulder, tied off with a dark red bow. Anyone could see the care that was taken with it — the love inherent in the simple detail.

Zoro makes a show of stretching his arms over his head, yawning as the other boys all scramble towards you, Shimotsuki-sensei tutting as he watches, an indulgent grin on his lips.

“Gimme the blue one!”

“No I want the blue one!”

“Fine then gimme the yellow one!”

“I want the one that’s three layers!”

“That one is the prettiest —”

“As if you know what pretty means.”

“Yeah, well real men don’t like pretty things.”

Zoro scoffs, turning his head resolutely away. But a while later, you patter over with your basket, dropping down in front of him.

“There’s still the sakura one left, if you’d like.”

Zoro frowns, “A — a real swordsman knows the meaning of abstinence.”

You giggle, reaching into your basket to pull out a plain-looking mochi, pale pink and powdered in sugar. Zoro can tell from the dark red bleeding through the translucent skin that there’s an azuki filling �� his favorite.

He gulps.

“Well, how can you know abstinence… if you don’t know indulgence first?”

Zoro chews on his lips for a second before making a show of rolling his eyes and plucking the mochi from your hand. He bites into it and swallows passed a delighted shiver. It’s delicious — the azuki sweet and creamy, the cherry-blossom skin perfectly chewy. It sticks to his teeth in the best way and he has to fight down a bright blush threatening his cheeks.

“Th-thanks.”

You smile, clearly pleased.

“Those are my favorite too,” you say, folding a white cloth over the mouth of the basket before pushing it aside — precise movements, not a moment wasted.

Zoro thinks, brashly, that you would’ve been a great swordswoman. Kuina’s always talking about how he’s wasting his movements by swinging wide or cutting too deep.

“Did… did you make them yourself?” he asks, scratching at his cheek, chancing you a single glance. You’re watching him with wide, dark eyes, clear and entrancing. He swallows, his mouth feeling suddenly very, very dry.

“Not all of them,” you look down at your hands, and he sighs with relief. It’s strange, holding your gaze like that — he’d always fancied that you could see more than you let on.

“Just the plain ones — I’m not good enough yet to make the more complicated ones,” you explain, toying with the tips of your fingers. Your nails are short and perfectly filed. There are bits of white stuck under them. Zoro wonders whether it’s sugar or flour or maybe a mix of both.

You look back at him with a crooked grin.

“But just between you and me —” you lean in, your eyes glittering, your voice conspiratorial, “the plain ones are always the best.

— — —

Zoro jerks awake to the sound of laughter, and grumbling, he twists himself out of the hammock, squinting in the morning light. Somehow, he’d slept clear passed dawn, and he curses himself for missing out on his morning katas.

Rounding his door, he follows the sound of voices till he comes into the kitchen, only to find you and Sanji, laughing, standing too close, the air around you a snowfall of powdered sugar. The slanting rays of the rising sun casts the entire scene in a sparkling, ambered glow, as if encasing the moment in honey.

Like this, the pale of sugar falling from your fingers looks like dust-motes caught in the liquid light.

“Zoro! You’re awake!” and there, the laughter in your voice, running undercurrent to the way you say his name. It’s been so long since he’d heard his name said like something more than just a name —

He purses his lips and scowls. An ugly, nameless thing rears its head inside Zoro’s chest.

“Yeah well — couldn’t really sleep last night.”

And he knows it’s unfair to be taking this out on you; he sees it in the flicker of emotions that passes by your face — hurt, confusion, hesitation, regret.

“Zoro —”

“Whatever. Just tell me when breakfast is ready.” He spins around and slinks out of the room, his chest twisting tight as a hangman’s noose, his heart a riot of irregular beats, slamming against his ribs.

“Zoro —!”

He makes it all the way up onto the main deck, his fingers digging into the hilt of his swords, heat pluming up and up and up till he swirls around to pin you with an icy stare.

“What?”

You shrink back, your brows furrowing, and for a second, he almost feels bad, feels like the naive boy he used to be, so desperate to prove himself to Kuina, and to you.

“I — we were just —” you look away, your eyes cutting across the flat deck of the ship towards the trap door that leads to the rooms below.

Zoro lets out a hollow laugh, backing away, his footsteps falling heavy, “No, it’s fine. You don’t have to explain. We don’t owe each other anything.”

Your gaze swings towards him, eyes wide and lips trembling.

Zoro notes with a savage satisfaction that your gaze is kaleidoscoped in unshed tears.

“No! That’s not — I’m —” your breath catches over your words, time and time again and Zoro allows himself a cruel grin, watching you struggle.

“You’re what?” he asks, unable to keep the poison from his voice.

“I’m sorry!”

Zoro nearly snarls as he rounds on you, a few quick steps carrying him into your personal space; you back away, scrambling back till your back thumps against the main mast.

“Sorry?” he repeats, his voice dangerous and low, “yeah… sure. Whatever.” He jerks back, shaking his head.

You narrow your eyes, “Don’t.”

Zoro’s lip curls, “Don’t?”

“Don’t walk away,” you say, swiping a hand across your mouth, licking your lips as you push yourself off the mast to face him.

“Oh, yeah? What else am I supposed to do, huh?” Zoro asks, casting his eyes up towards the endlessly blue sky. He feels anger bursting inside him like summertime sparklers, the fuses short, the explosions bright and unrelenting.

“Just… let me explain —”

“Explain? Explain what? How you nearly killed me twice? How you threatened me with my life? How you let me believe that you were dead for —” he throws his hands up, turning away from you, shaking his head, “for almost two months?”

“I had no choice!” you shout, your fists balled at your sides, “you really think Baroque Works — Crocodile would’ve let me send you a — a message?”

Zoro scoffs, “Well you could’a done something. Anything.”

You deflate, your fists loosening. You lean back against the mast, looking anywhere but at Zoro’s face.

“I didn’t mean to… to make you worry.”

Zoro lets out a hollow laugh.

“I wasn’t worried.”

Even without looking, he feels you wince at his words. He takes three steps towards you, and jerks your face up with two fingers and hisses into your face.

“I was mourning the death of a friend.”

Your breath hitches — he sees it in the way your pupils constrict, in the way your expression falls slack.

“If I — but I couldn’t — you don’t know what they did —”

Zoro very nearly sneers, the gaping wound inside him pulsing red and fire-poker hot as he lets go of your chin.

“You think you’re the only one with a tragic backstory? Look around,” he gestures around the main deck, where the whole crew’s gathered, with various expressions of shock and trepidation scattered across their faces.

Zoro tightens his hold, bearing down over you as he whispers, “You’re not special. Get over yourself.”

He jerks his hand away, turning to stalk back towards the trap door. He hears you cough behind him.

“You’re a real dick, Roronoa, you know that?”

He’s pleased to hear that at least your voice is shaky, even as your words burrow themselves beneath his skin.

He barely glances over his shoulder, “Yeah. Been told a good few times.”

And he strides from the deck, slamming the trap door behind him as he does.

— — —

“Hey.”

Zoro groans, barely peeling open one eye as Luffy edges his way into the small storage room.

“What?” Zoro asks, casting his eyes back at the wood-beamed ceiling.

Luffy crosses his arms, seemingly searching for the right words.

“That wasn’t very cool of you — what you did back there. But — I can kind of get where you’re coming from.”

Zoro chokes back an indignant laugh, “Yeah?”

Luffy nods, spurred on by his apparent acceptance, “Yeah! Like — I get it! You’re just mad that someone you cared so much about let you believe she was dead! But now that she’s not dead… you don’t really know what to do with your feelings!”

Zoro narrows his eyes, uncertain what to do with the surprisingly accurate diagnosis. Luffy is grinning, looking mightily pleased with himself as he plops down on top of a wooden barrel, crossing his legs.

“It’s a bit more than that,” Zoro says, letting his eyes flicker back to the ceiling.

“Yeah? Then tell me!”

Zoro sighs, considering his words.

“I mean, do you even know what it’s like? Thinkin’ you’ve lost one of your —” Zoro nearly chokes on the word, barbed and abrasive in his throat, but he forces it through, “your friends?”

Luffy nods, his smile never faltering, “Sure! You almost died at the Baratie and that really, really sucked for a while!”

Zoro jerks up, running a hand through his hair.

“That’s not — I mean —” he shakes his head, unable to entirely parse through his thoughts.

“It’s not really that different, is it?” Luffy asks.

Zoro groans, scratching at his scalp with his nails. He can’t refute Luffy, but he can’t verbalize why it had been so different for you either. It leaves him feeling gouged out and hollow as he slumps back into his hammock, leaving it swinging with the weight of his body.

“Its okay,” Luffy says, jumping to his feet and padding over to give Zoro a solid smack on the arm, “if you just say your sorry, I’m sure she’ll forgive you!”

Zoro nearly snarls as he scrambles up, but Luffy’s already bouncing out of the room, humming to himself.

“Oh! She’s in the kitchen — it’s weird, but I think she likes to make sweets when she’s stressed. Kinda nice though — it’s like we’ll never be short of desserts on the ship again!”

“Right,” Zoro says, leaning back into his hammock, scowling at the ceiling.

Luffy pauses by the door, “She’s not a bad person.”

Zoro sighs, hesitating perhaps a beat longer than he should have.

“Sure. If you say so.”

— — —

He dreams of you. He dreams of the later summer day when the air was so tepid that practice had ended early in lieu of letting all the students laze by the small koi pond in the backyard of the doujou complex.

You’d come over that morning with your usual sweets, and had stayed for lunch with the rest of the children.

Kuina had tried to teach you some basic forms with a wooden sword, but even from afar, Zoro could tell that you’re woefully inept at handling anything as long and unwieldy as a katana.

“If you practice, you’ll get better,” Kuina offers, leading you to the koi pond, where you’d peered curiously into the crystal clear water and gasped with pleasure at the white and black spotted fish that flickered beneath, their scales shimmering in the late summer sun.

“Betcha you couldn’t do a hundred swings,” Zoro says, thumbing at his nose, rolling up his sleeves. Next to you, Kuina rolls her eyes, but you stare at him for a long second before smiling.

“Sure! I can do a hundred.” You leap to your feet, and Kuina hands you one of the light wooden training swords.

Zoro takes great pains to pull out one of his real katanas, metal and cloth and all, dropping into a perfect sparring stance.

“One! Two!” he counts, swinging the sword down in a controlled motion, his heels digging in, his toes keeping him balanced.

You follow his movements, though after a good thirty of them, you gasp, the wooden sword clattering to the ground. Zoro turns, only to see you cradling one of your hands. He rushes forward, not caring that his own sword clanks down into the soft grass as well.

“It’s a splinter,” you say, forlorn as you hold up your forefinger to the light, a minuscule shard of wood protruding from the soft pad beneath your nail.

Zoro sighs, reaching out to grab your hand in his. He can’t help noticing the softness of your skin against his own callused palms, how small your hands feel in his.

“Hold still,” he says, peering at the splinter with a frown dug between his brows.

“I-it’s fine! My mom will take it out once I get home — and we’ve still got seventy more swings —”

Zoro tuts, shooting you a dark look, “If we don’t take care of it, it might get fester and get worse.”

You go quiet, your arm going slack as you let Zoro twist your hand this way and that. After a few more moments of silent assessment, Zoro leans in to press his thumb to the base of the splinter. You squeak in protest, jerking your arm back on instinct, but he’s stronger than you, even then, and he holds you still.

“Quit squirming! I’m gonna squeeze it out.”

You clamp down on your lips, eyes wide and watery as you force yourself still, and Zoro goes back to the gruesome work of forcing the splinter out bit by bit.

When finally, the needle of wood falls away from your hand, there’s bead of blood welling up into the wound. You press the finger into your mouth.

“Thanks,” you say, grinning at Zoro.

It’s only then that Zoro processes the blaze of heat that rushes into his cheeks. He looks away, clearing his throat.

“I’ve always hated those old practice swords — the handles aren’t wrapped well enough. Here —” he reaches down and hands you one of his real swords (the best and most well-balanced one), the hilt wrapped with fine black cloth, in a traditional diamond hatch.

Your wrists tip forward as he hands you the sword, but a second later, you hold it upright, marveling at it’s balance.

“Whoa… it’s so… beautiful.”

Zoro crinkles his nose, stepping back to pick up another one of his swords, dropping into a sparring stance again. He makes a concerted effort not to look in Shimotsuki-sensei’s direction, even though he can feel the man’s eyes tracking him, know the exact shape and luster of the man’s soft, knowing smile.

“C’mon, seventy more swings to go,” he gruffs, glancing back at you.

You nod eagerly, trying to mirror his stance. But your legs are too far apart, your knees not bent enough. And it’s plain as day the katana is a bit too long for your body. Still, Zoro smiles to himself as he begins to count again —

“Thirty-four, thirty-five —”

— — —

It’s a week before either of you speak to each other again. Though even Zoro has to be hard-pressed to not notice the delicate little sweets that now seem to accompany the ends of all their meals.

And he can hear your laughter, hard as he tries not to, the sound trickling into him like spring water — clear and sweet. He can see you frequently chatting with Nami, that familiar rosy glow to your cheeks, or hear you joking with Sanji, the pair of you staking opposite ends of the kitchen — you to make dessert, him to make whatever the hell he’s decided to make that day.

As for Zoro, he finds himself circling the periphery of these cheery moments, sticking to the shadows, somber as a vulture, watching you with dark eyes and a nameless weight bearing down on his chest. He knows he’s being unreasonable, that none of this is objectively your fault.

But as he’s heard Sanji say to Luffy more than once — feelings aren’t objective things. You kinda just have to let them be.

It’s a warm, sun-baked afternoon when he pushes into the kitchen and finds you there, by yourself for once, an apron tied around your waist, a bowl of fat, juicy strawberries sitting on the counter before you, the area around the counter dusted in a fine layer of flour and sugar.

“Ow — shit —” you drop the tiny parring knife you’d been holding, bringing your hand up to your eyes.

The late afternoon light cuts slantwise across the entire kitchen, illuminating the shape of you in a solid chunk of shadow, like a piece of cut cloth in the dappled, golden light, inked against the freshly waxed floors (courtesy of Usopp, at Sanji’s snack-based behest).

“What happened?” Zoro rushes forward before he can stop himself.

“N-nothing,” you say, making as if to jerk back, but Zoro catches your hand and forces it forward into the light. He can see the small snick the knife had made on your palm.

Scowling, he looks up at you, a silent question in his eyes.

“I was — I was peeling the strawberries.”

He’s caught momentarily off-guard by the strangeness of your answer.

“Peeling strawberries?”

You blush, the color saturating your skin like the berry juice staining your fingertips.

“Yeah! Cause… the strawberry skins have those little seeds in them, and that creates a strange texture if it’s mixed into the filling so —”

Zoro scoffs, reaching into a drawer to pull out a bandage and a small roll of gauze.

“Hold still,” he says, leaning down to wipe the cut lean.

You sigh, your voice falling flat as you say, only half-jokingly, “Don’t worry — it’s nothing. It won’t kill me.”

Zoro levels you with a sharp glare and you freeze mid-breath, clamping down over your lips as you drop your head to hide your eyes behind your soft bank of bangs. Zoro resumes his work, his heart thundering an irregular beat at the back of his throat.

He finishes bandaging you in silence, and then, he drops your hand and turns to leave.

“Wait —”

He stops, barely sparing you a look over his shoulder.

“I —” you teeter on the balls of your feet; he can feel you weighing your words, searching for the right ones to say. Finally, you settle on, “I’m making sakura-mochi next. Do you… do you want to try some?”

Zoro huffs, turning back around with slightly narrowed eyes. He regards you for a long moment before making his way to the sofa and dropping into it, folding his arms. You let out a visible breath, the tension draining from your shoulders as you make to pick up the parring knife again.

“Here, I got it.” Zoro is by your side in an instant, plucking the small knife from your grasp and tugging the bowl of fruit towards him.

“But —”

“I might not be a waiter, but I can handle my knives,” he says, squaring his shoulders as he starts the methodical work of skinning each strawberry.

The silence coagulates around the pair of you like melted butter, growing colder by the minute. You carefully measure out half a cup of warm water and pour it into the pristine white rice flour, kneading the forming dough as you go.

Zoro plunks one strawberry after another into a separate bowl, dropping the thin strips of pebbled skin into the trash.

After another few moments, you pause. So does he.

“That other day —”

“I should’ve told you —”

You both talk at the same time, both freezing after a single, starling heartbeat.

Zoro sighs, shrugging up a shoulder.

“You first.”

You resume your gentle kneading of the lumpy dough.

“No, it’s just… I… I get it. I know why your mad at me. But… it’s not that simple,” you say, your voice imploring.

Zoro’s shoulders stiffen, “Seemed pretty simple to me.”

“What did you expect me to do? Bare my soul to you the first time we’d met after almost a decade? After you’d been hunting me for weeks — for a bounty?”

Zoro drops his hands, one still poised on the knife’s handle, the other cradling a half-skinned strawberry.

“I wouldn’tve — you know I wouldn’t —” he nearly whips the knife across the room in frustration, but thinks better of it at the last second. It drops from his hand with a dull clatter as he reaches out to wipe his hands on a discarded towel.

“I… I hoped…” your voice fractures along the word and Zoro places the strawberry into its bowl.

“I hoped you might’ve… recognized —“ you try again, but Zoro shakes his head.

“A good hunter always keeps his distance,” he recites, words dull. You nod, pursing your lips. It was something sensei had taught him — don’t strike until you absolutely have to. And when you do, make it quick.

Slowly, you start to knead the dough again, pressing the heel of your hand into the center. Zoro watches the soft white of it bulge beneath your fingers, the rough lumps smoothing out until the entire thing is round and soft and perfect.

Zoro folds his arms, leaning a hip against the counter.

“Why didn’t you tell me? The first time?” he asks, the accusation now gone from his voice, replaced by something much, much worse — uncertainty.

“I couldn’t — not without Baroque Works tracking me and —” you bite off the last bit of your sentence, looking away.

“And what?” Zoro asks, his voice gentle.

“It’s nothing. You’re right — I should’ve —”

“No,” Zoro says, grabbing you by the wrists and forcing you to him, “tell me what they did to you. I — I want to know.”

You lick your lips, your eyes watery, fractaled by the dying light, “But… maybe I don’t want you to know. I don’t want — want to you think of me like — like that.”

Zoro lets out a mirthless puff of laughter, “Bit too late for that.”

Your eyes snap back to his, wide and searching.

He shrugs, grip loosening ever so slightly on your wrists.

“I —” he has to fight through the tightness in his throat, the dryness papering the back of his tongue, “I thought of you all the time,” he admits, licking his lips, “most nights, I’d have these dreams of when we were both —” he breaks off again, his mind mired in the haze of half-forgotten memories.

“When we were both kids?” you offer gently.

Zoro nods.

“So please… tell me what happened.”

You stare at him as he stares at you. He sighs, the edge of his lips twitching up ever so slightly.

“And… you promised.”

A tiny laugh punches out of you, startled and resigned all at once. You nod.

“Yeah… guess I did.”

The last dregs of sunset bleeds the room empty, and the pair of you are suddenly thrown into a pitched, primal dark. In it, your eyes shown, black and glassy.

“My parents were always living on borrowed time,” you say, trailing a finger through the fine dust of rice flour on the counter, “they…” you break off in a puff of laughter, the sound so course it doesn’t even register as a laugh.

“They couldn’t have a child, so they… got creative. They were young and in love, and desperate to start a family.”

Zoro frowns, trying to piece the disparate pieces of the story together.

“Do you know where Devil Fruits come from?” you ask, dusting your hands off before wiping them on your apron and reaching for a piece of wax paper to wrap your freshly made rice dough. Zoro watches you move through the seemingly mundane tasks, his mind spinning.

“Uh — not really. Never really thought about it.”

You nod, pressing the wax paper in around the edges of the dough, folding it in neat, origami lines until the whole thing is wrapped.

“Legends say that Devil Fruits are enchanted by Sea Devils — manifesting when humans want something enough to wish it into existence. Most of the time, the trade-off is simple — the Devil Fruit eater gains some kind of power, but gives up their ability to survive in seawater,” a wry smile plays at your lips.

“Have you ever thought of the average life expectancy for a Devil Fruit eater?”

Zoro shakes his head, frown carving deeper and deeper between his brows.

“Well, I can tell you — it’s not as long as you might think. Most of them end up dying young…”

From beyond the windows, a pale, silvery moon peaks out from the far horizon, casting the room in a cold, alien glow. You wrap your arms around yourself, as if defending against an unseen chill, and Zoro feels the familiar pull behind his navel, to reach out for you and pull you close.

“My parents wished, but when they got their wish, it wasn’t a god that had answered them — it was —“

“A Sea Devil.”

There’s no question in Zoro’s tone, no room for shock or wonder or bewilderment. He’d watched you die; and yet here you are in front of him, traced silver by the moonlight.

You nod, reaching up to drag your fingers through your hair, and Zoro watches, breathless, at the inky spill of it over your shoulder, shielding your face from the burgeoning light.

“What did they trade?” Zoro asks, though a part of him thinks he already knows.

“Their lives,” you answer simply.

Zoro narrows his eyes, “Still doesn’t explain how you ended up —“ he motions at the stagnant air between them. Above decks, he can hear the sound of a fire being built, the clatter of footsteps and the warm trickle of laughter.

You shrug, “The cardinal rule of wish-making, as any good fairy-tale will tell you,” you spin a finger around in the air before pointing it at Zoro, “is… specificity.”

Zoro grunts, casting his eyes down at the bowl of half-skinned strawberries.

“Careful what you wish for…” he says.

You raise your thumb, your forefinger still pointed at him, now in a finger-gun shape, before pulling an invisible trigger. Zoro feels a shiver shake him all the way down to his bones.

“Apparently, when they said ‘we’ll give you our lives’, they didn’t know they’d wished away my life too.”

Zoro swallows, “So… what? They made another deal?”

“Yep,” you sound entirely too bright, reaching behind yourself now to untie the apron, “they made another deal.”

“And what did they trade away this time?”

You slip the apron from around your middle, reaching out to hang it on a hook by the far wall. When you turn around, it’s to find Zoro still watching you, the curves of his face washed colorless by the moon.

You offer him a small, heartbreaking smile.

“The only thing they had left to trade — my death.”

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mountainsandmayhem · 8 months ago

Text

Shhh...Just A Little Bit More

Part Three (Soft Version)

DBF!Joel x Female!Reader - 18+

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 (Spicy Version)

Summary: Joel Miller caught you working where you shouldn't be after you promised to quit. Now he's taking matters into his own hands. Word Count 4.7k

CW: DBF!, Dom!, SoftDom!, use of nicknames (baby, sweet pea, baby girl etc.), Sub/Dom, DD/LG, use of a collar, use of toys. no use of y/n. no description of reader except for piercings. Praise, degradation. After care.

AN: THANK YOU for all your love on parts 1 and 2. I was in my feels when I wrote this, so this is the sweeter version of the two. I'd love to hear which version you preferred!

“Hey, buddy. It’s Joel.”

“Joel?” You can hear your dad’s muffled and panicked voice through the receiver. “Where’s my daughter? Why do you have her phone? It’s 5 am!”

“Remember that time Sarah ran away to your house and you told me that one day I might be doing the same for you?”

Your dad is silent for a while, a distorted higher pitched voice filters through before you hear your dad again, “It’s alright honey. She’s with Joel.” He lets out a deep sigh before adding, “I thought we skipped the rebellious phase with her.”

“She’s a good girl. I think she just needs some time to cool off.” Joel says, his voice is friendly and light.

You squeeze your thighs together and nuzzle deeper into Joel’s throat. You know what you need, and it isn’t to cool off. He and your dad have been friends since the day he moved in down the street. You were seven and Sarah was eleven, you thought she was the coolest person on the planet. Wonder what she’d think of you now, cuddled up against her dad after he just edged the fuck out of you after spanking you in an alleyway. You’re lost in your thoughts as Joel talks with your parents for a while.

A sane person would stop being so turned on right now. Fuck, I need Joel. So badly. Maybe I should rile him up some more.

“I’ll come by this afternoon,” Joel hugs you tighter, bringing you back to the conversation. “Ya, if she wants to, I’ll bring her. She’s ok, just never seen her more - frustrated.”

You squeeze his side, knowing he’s smirking about how frustrated and needy you truly are right now. He hangs up the phone and brings his lips to yours, kissing you harder this time. You moan into his mouth, hands roaming up his body to tangle in his hair.

Holy shit, Joel Miller is kissing me.

As you run your nails along his scalp he lets out a pleasurable sounding gasp. Oh, he likes that, he likes that very much.

Got ya, you think to yourself.

He pulls away to see you smiling at him. “This is why I usually tie naughty girls down,” his voice is completely different from how it was just moments ago. Deeper, more commanding, and it reverberates through you, right to your pussy. “Because they think they’ve found spots that will get them what they want. Let’s go home now, darlin’.”

Joel’s front door has barely closed before he’s pushing you up against the wall, caged in by his arms and strong chest.

Every bump on the drive home had you twitching, you tried your hardest not to gasp and moan but the combination of the gravel road, your insane state of heightened arousal, and the lack of underwear in your stiff denim shorts were all working against you.

“Did you come on the drive home?” He says coldly, lips pressing against your neck, hitting that sweet soft spot just below your ear.

“No, Joel,” you whine.

His teeth graze your throat and you cry out, “It’s Mr Miller, don’t make me remind you again.”

Your hands scramble for purchase as your knees start to give out, wrapping around the open flannel shirt he’s wearing over a fitted black t-shirt.

“I’m sorry, Mr Miller. I don’t…” you trail off, you aren’t sure if you should say you’ve never been a sub before, at least not to someone this experienced. You don’t want him to stop, you love what happened tonight and you want him to show you and teach you what this all means. But even more so, you trust him to teach you.

Joel stops kissing you, hands coming to your waist and lifting you so your eye level. When you wrap your legs around his trim waist you gasp out in a mix of pleasure and pain. Your poor cunt is begging for relief but you can’t barely stand your clit to be touched. His eyes look at you with concern.

I deserve to go to hell if she tells me she’s a virgin. Fuck, you were so stupid when it comes to her.

“I need you to finish that sentence, babygirl. You don’t what?”

Your cheeks turn an adorable shade of pink, so shy compared to that bratty girl who told him to kiss his ass. Joel has the gut sinking feeling that you might have him wrapped around your little finger already.

Dangerous.

Very very dangerous.

Not to mention stupid.

“I’ve just..” you start, he brings his hands to cup your face, moving a few strands of stray hairs that are stuck to your lips. “I haven’t had a Dom before. I don’t know what to do or what to call you.”

Cute, Joel thinks to himself, she’s so fucking cute right now.

“Well babygirl, when we are playing like this you do what I tell you, and if you don’t like what I tell you, you use the safe word. Do you remember it?”

You nod, biting your lip as you whisper, “Cowboy.”

His face lights up with pride and in that moment you realize you’ll do anything to have him look at you like that again. And when he throws in a gravelly, ‘good girl’, any inhibitions you had go out the window. You are a good girl, you want to be his good girl…forever.

He continues, “And when we are playing you call me Mr Miller. Otherwise, you can call me whatever you’d like.” He places a light kiss on the tip of your nose and you melt a little more into him and the wall behind you. “Do you have any other questions, baby?”

Do you know what it does to me when you call me baby?

Or kiss my nose or forehead like you have?

Can you spank me again?

Can you make me come?

Can I suck your dick?

How do you feel about anal?

“Umm,” you press your lips together, eyes taking in every little bit of his face, trying to memorize this moment. “How will I know when we are playing and when we aren’t?”

Fuck, if this girl lets me put a collar on her I’m going to come in my pants and then propose.

“There’s my smart girl,” he praises, his coffee and caramel coloured eyes washing over you. “We can have a symbol, something I give you when we play. And when you’re wearing it you’re mine.” His voice sounds full of passion all of a sudden, each work almost sears itself onto your heart.

Your heart is pounding at what he’s implied and you’re almost sure he can hear it. “What kind of symbol?”

He puts you down and then gets on one knee to untie your shoes and help you slip them off. His warm fingertips trail up your legs as he stands before taking your hand in his. With his large palm encasing yours, suddenly you feel safe and loved, your pussy flutters at the promise of him taking care of you in a way that only he can. You know you’re going to be ruined for all other men.

He leads you to his bedroom and it’s nothing like you remember when you’d play hide and seek while Sarah babysat you. Gone is the old wooden furniture and mismatched bedding. Replaced with a black metal bed frame, along with matching bedside tables and dresser, and the fluffiest white sheets you’ve ever seen. You so badly want to just sink in and get naked with Joel. It looks like it would be like getting fucked on a cloud or cotton candy and those thoughts are only solidified when he tells you to sit before he heads to the closet doors.

He slides the barn door of his large walk-in closet open. The room seems to wrap you up in Joel’s scent, warm and spicy with a hint of vanilla. As he walks into the closet he toes off his boots and then slides his flannel off, placing it on a hanger. It might be your very neglected pussy talking, but you swear you can see every muscle in his body underneath that shirt and you unconsciously spread your legs a little bit. He reaches up above the clothing and pulls out a black box with a lock on it and then looks at you mischievously as he pads back over to you.

“Sometimes,” he says gently, “A dom will give their sub a collar. When it’s on, we’re playing. You belongs to me. When it’s off, we can just act how we normally would.”

A collar, definitely not sure how you feel about that. You don’t want to be like a dog with a black leather collar around your neck. He slides the numbers to enter the combination and then flicks the clasp open.

To your surprise, he pulls out a dainty golden chain. It almost looks like a bunch of yellow paper clips strung together, and there’s a tiny lock pendant on the end. He runs the thin links through his fingers before looking over at you.

“You don’t have to do this, I can just take you home and we can go back to how things were. Ultimately, you always have the choice.” If a stranger could see the way he was looking at you right now, they’d never be able to tell he was capable of the spanking he gave you earlier.

“You’ll stop if I say ‘cowboy’?” You say, voice cracking, nervous and excited energy fighting for first place.

“Always, babygirl. I’m here to dominate you, but I’m also here to take care of you. A good dom will always take of their sub.”

“Then I want to. Please, Mr Miller. Make me yours.”

He almost growls as he pulls you to your feet. You squeal as he hoists you over his shoulder, his hands strong on the back of your thighs as he carries you to the floor-length mirror at the end of his closet. He stands behind you as he works the clasp, placing the thin gold collar around your neck and then doing it up. He’s so close that you can feel his cock harden at the sight of you as he officially makes you as his for the first time. Joel's thick fingers trace along the rings, he thumbs the little lock pendant before he grips your throat just below your jawline. He applies pressure to your pulse point as his now black eyes come to meet yours in the reflection and brings his lips to your ear.

With a growling, rough whisper he says, “You have five seconds to get naked and lay in my bed with your legs spread as wide as you can.”

The instant his hand releases, you sprint to his bed, stripping your clothes as you go. He counts to five with authority and after what happened his truck, and now this, you’re sure you’re never going to be able to count without getting turned on ever again.

“Such an eager little thing, aren’t you?”

Desperate to hear him praise you, you lay on your back, planting your feet on the bed before letting your knees fall open.

“Straighten your legs and put your hands above your head.” You position your body how he says, even though you’re completely exposed to him his eyes stay locked on yours. “This is how I want you when we start playing. Exactly how you are now.”

He grabs another box from his closet and places it on the foot of the bed, eyes travelling up your toned legs, “I’m going to show you what you’ll be going to work with inside of you tomorrow if you decide to stay there. I haven’t forgotten that you were a brat tonight.”

He opens the box and pulls out a black U-shaped piece of silicone and lays it on your belly. “Do you know what this….”

He stops mid-sentence, eyes lighting up as they rake over your tits. They dance from each nipple, taking in the tiny barbell and the thin hearts that encompass each one. “You are a naughty little thing, aren’t you?”

“I like pain,” you whisper, throat going dry at the admission.

“My little masochist,” he hums. “As I was saying, do you know that is?” He nods his head towards the little toy.

You shake your head, “No, Mr Miller.”

“That goes inside your gorgeous pussy. One part pushes on your g spot, the other on your clit. I have the remote.” He holds up a small plastic remote with a few shiny buttons.

“Oh,” you moan, your lips forming in the shape of the word, nipples getting harder at the thought.

“I will keep it turned on low enough that you will not come. In fact, it might be more like torture than pleasure.” His eyes are sparkling at the thought of you squirming for hours.

“But I don’t want to quit,” you whine. You’re a glutton for punishment and you know Joel will dish it out.

“How long is your shift?” He says, picking up the toy, the graze of his fingers along your belly sends an electric current through your body.

“Four hours,” your voice is husky with need.

“I’m going to get some lube and then put this toy inside of you now, babygirl. We’ll see how long you can last. Is that okay?”

“Of course, Mr Miller.” You try to sound confident but in the bright lights of his room, you can see how dark and serious he looks.

He lubes up the toy and then swipes some lube through your folds. Your back arches off the bed and you let out a loud high pitched moan when he hits your clit.

Fuck. I’m gonna come with the tiniest vibration and it’s probably going to hurt.

“So wet. So swollen. My poor girl,” he says mockingly, he’s loving that you’ve been suffering and on edge since the minute you saw him in that alleyway.

The toy slides in and the pressure just from the silicone alone sends the air whooshing out of your lungs. You’re gasping for breath, your clit feels like it’s being zapped with electricity and you immediately slam your thighs together and start to whimper.

A small, almost evil sounding chuckle comes from Joel as he holds up the remote. “Ready?”

“No,” you gasp, rolling onto your belly. “I can’t. Please don’t.”

“Are you going to quit?”

You cry out in frustration into one of his fluffy pillows and then whisper a sad, “no.”

The vibrator comes to life and the most intense mix of pain and pleasure floods your body. He’s right, the sensation isn’t enough to make you come, just enough so that you know it’s there. You bury your face deeper in the pillows, curling yourself into the fetal position, back towards Joel, as you try to breathe normally.

Joel strips down to his boxers before shutting off the lights. He slips into the sheets, covering you up along the way. “Good night, baby girl.”

“What?” You gasp. “Mr Miller. I….oh god…I c-can’t. It’s on.”

“You may as well get used to it. You’re going to work with it in tomorrow. No more talking. Go to sleep.”

Joel lays on his back, one arm behind his head, the other palm spread out on his chest. You flip around to face him, the early morning sun lighting his profile. There’s no way you’re going to be able to sleep, you shift your legs around.

Maybe if they’re spread I won’t feel the vibration as much.

That doesn’t seem to work so instead you squeeze them together. More pressure might make you come and then you can finally get some rest. Joel looks over at you as you jerk around silently.

“Come here,” he says, patting his chest. You cuddle into him, one leg draping over his warm body. The arm behind his head wraps around your naked body. He feels so soft but hard against you. You can’t help but hump against his hip bone. You’re right on the edge. So close to tipping over it and coming. So very close.

“Baby, it hasn’t even been four minutes, how are you going to last four hours?” He’s taunting you, trying to get you to beg. “You’re pathetic.”

You can feel sweat breaking out across your body. This is torture, was right. You hate that he was right, but you hate even more how much he’s loving it.

“Please,” you whisper.

He pulls back to be able to look into your eyes. “What are you going to do for me if I make you come?”

“Anything. Just. Please, Mr Miller.” You grind yourself into him harder, you’re so close that it’s almost unbearable.

“Quit your job, baby girl.” He demands again. “I’ll tell your parents you’re going to work for me.”

You start to pant as the pressure in your lower belly increases, you can feel wetness pooling inside of you, begging to be released. “I can’t take your money. Oh god - please - I ca-can’t. Hnnnnng. P-please.”

A tear runs down your cheek and you’re not even sure why you’re crying, probably out of frustration.

“You can. I’ll pay you to help around the house,” he holds up a hand, almost like he knows exactly what you’re doing today. “Not for the sex you’re guaranteed to get if you quit and come here.” He wipes the tear away and hikes his leg up to increase the pressure that’s already on the verge of making you pass out.

Stars start to blur your vision as you whisper, “ok. I’ll quit.”

Joel has you flipped onto your back, trapped under his weight before you can even register what’s happening. He’s kissing you deeply, tongue taking what it wants as your legs kick and shake under him.

“Please!” You cry between kisses.

His thick fingers slide between your puffy folds and the toy, you scream out as he pulls the toy from you.

“Shhh…just a little bit more. I’m going to make it better,” he says gently, kissing down your neck, swirling his tongue around each nipple piercing.

“Please. Please. Please, Mr Miller. Please. It hurts. I need, please.” You’re a mumbling mess and the words leaving your lips are practically incomprehensible.

“I know. Relax baby. Breathe.” He says between kisses down your sternum, his tongue tracing your curves. When he finally settles in between your thighs he swallows hard, he wants to dive right in, make you drench his face as you come. “Look at me, darlin’.”

His warm breath hits your pussy and you fight your hips from bucking up to his face as prop yourself up on an elbow and try to focus your eyesight on him. You didn’t know it was possible to be so turned on that you practically had tequila vision.

His voice is serious yet calm as he says, “I’m going to make you come using my fingers and my tongue. Is that ok?”

You nod your head and a faint ‘yes’, leaves your lips.

“Can I lick and touch both the outside and inside of this beautiful, weeping, pussy?”

His words from earlier echo through you. Ultimately, you always have the choice.

Joel Miller would never do something you didn’t want and that sets your soul on fire. He cares. About you. Only you. Wants to do things for you. You are not a burden here. You are not a burden to him.

“Yes, Mr Miller. Please. Touch me.” The room suddenly feels twenty degrees hotter, you can feel sweat beading on your skin.

“What’s your safe word?”

“Cowboy,” you hum, never taking your eyes away from his blown out obsidian gaze.

“That’s my girl,” he says, sliding his ring and middle finger around your desperate entrance. You cry out, dropping your body to the bed. Pleasure. Overwhelming pleasure. “No no baby girl, eyes on me.”

You somehow muster the strength to raise yourself onto shaky arms. His two strong fingers slide deep into your heat with minimal resistance and you immediately start gasping. Pleasure. Life altering, heart stopping pleasure.

“Fuuuuck. Baby. So tight. Have you ever squirted before?” His cheeks are flushed with need. He might be the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen.

Your breasts rise and fall with your ragged breaths. You shake your head and moan out a ‘no’.

He smiles down at your dripping cunt, “I can feel it. Gotta relax for me. Just breathe and let it happen.”

Nerves flutter in your stomach and then he curls his fingers forward, putting so much pressure on a soft spongy spot that you didn’t know existed. On instinct, your knees try to close but his wide frame keeps you open. You yell his name to the ceiling, he knows he should punish you for not calling him Mr Miller but you look so goddamn beautiful as you start to fall apart.

“Breathe baby,” he says as he curls his fingers once, twice, three more times. You can hear how wet you are and the pressure becomes unbearable. Stars blur your vision again, the walls of your pussy squeeze tightly around his fingers and then it’s just a blur. A blur of all consuming pleasure.

“That’s it. That’s my girl. Come for me. Soak me. Good girl,” Joel’s free hand pressed down on your mound as a wet heat leaks all over you. “Good fuckin’ girl. Let go for me.”

You’re not sure if you’re screaming or not, all you hear and feel is Joel. Everything is Joel. Strong hands, deep gravel voice, warm vanilla smell. He’s everywhere and you never want it to stop.

“Keep going. That’s it. You look so beautiful,” he says, licking a long stripe up your fluttering pussy, drinking up your juices. “Oooh yeah - gooood giiirrll”

Almost immediately after your orgasm crests it becomes too much. You’re so overstimulated that it hurts and your moans of pleasure become cries of pain. You forget your name, where you are, you even forget your safe word. But Joel knows, he always knows.

He stops pumping his fingers and says your name, “look at me sweet pea.”

You blink slowly, you’re wrecked, barely able to keep your eyelids open, almost convinced they’ve been replaced with steel. You’re sucking in air, did you not breathe that entire time?

“Breathe baby, you’re ok.” He says, stilling his fingers until you’re ready.

“I’m sorry, Mr Miller. I know I called you Joel. I won’t do it again.”

There she goes again, being so fucking cute. “It’s ok, darlin’ girl. I want you to let loose when you come.” He places a few light kisses along your thighs. The sheets and his t-shirt a soaked, he’ll need to change things before you both get some sleep. “I’m gonna pull my fingers out.”

You fall back to the bed and fist the sheets to ground yourself as he slides his fingers out. “You did such a good job. Made a huge mess. I’m so proud of you, babygirl.”

Every bone and muscle in your body seems to have dissolved and all you can muster is a weak smile and a little whimper of thanks. “I need to get you cleaned up. Stay here.”

Stay here? I have no bones. Where else will go?

The sound of running water coaxes your eyes to close. The mattress shifts under Joel’s weight as he sits beside you, lightly trailing his finger down the bridge of your nose. “I’m going to carry you to the shower. Ok?”

You let out an agreeable hum as he scoops you into his arms. His warm naked chest pressed against you. He walks into the shower with you, the steam warming your skin. He places you on your feet and guides you under the water with him. Water is hitting you from all angles. You open your eyes to see 3 showerheads in his large, modern glass shower. A large rainfall one above the two of you, then two down the wall. The bundle of fresh eucalyptus hanging from one head fills the shower with a fresh scent.

His fingers fumble with the clasp of your collar behind you, “how are you feeling after what happened tonight?”

You smile at the white and black tiled wall as the collar slides off your neck and into Joel’s hands. “Mmm - like I’m not gonna quit my job so we can do it again.”

“Don’t think I won’t put this on again right now and make you regret that.”

You giggle and press your body back into Joel’s. He’s completely naked behind you and you have the sudden urge to taste him. As you spin around and get to your knees he stops you, “don’t interrupt my aftercare, please.”

“Your what?”

He grabs the soap and a fresh wash cloth and starts to work it to lather. “I told you, it’s my job to take care of you.” It’s too early to admit it to you, but aftercare is Joel’s favourite part. He’s grumpy and rough on the outside, but he loves the tender moments after playing with his subs. Especially you, and that’s something he won’t even admit to himself yet.

He runs the soft cloth over your arms and chest, using extra caution not to catch on your nipple piercings. I like these,” he says, eyes memorizing every inch of the skin he’s washing.

“Thanks, you’re actually the first person to see them.”

“That right?” He moves the cloth down your stomach before kneeling in front of you and washing your legs. “You know what I think you should pierce next?”

“I have an appointment next week for something,” you tease. It’s not a lie, you have an appointment to get a second hole in each earlobe, but may as well play with him a little.

“Oh? Don’t tease an old man like that, baby girl. What new surprise am I gonna find?” He brings the cloth up and down your other leg.

“What do you want to find?”

His hands grip your hips and he spins you around. You have a small bruise forming on your one ass cheek and his cock jumps at the sight. “Belly button,” he says.

“Oh?” You say with surprise as he stands behind you and scrubs your back. You turn to look at him over your shoulder and add, “I was thinking of doing my clit.”

Joel’s hands come to his heart as he moans. “Fuck me, baby girl. I’d have to leave the god damn continent until it healed.”

You laugh as he brings his lips to yours. You’re suddenly very aware of the fact that you aren’t wearing a collar. But he’s kissing you and washing your body. Does this mean that Joel Miller, your dad’s best friend, might have the same sort of feelings that you have? Or is this just what he does with his subs after dehydrating them with his fingers and tongue.

“Stay in the warm water while I change the sheets. I’ll be back,” you look over your shoulder to finally take in his naked body. His back is lined with corded muscle, water droplets filling the dips and grooves of his sculpted body. It looks like you could bounce your whole fucking bank account off his round ass.

Am I salivating. I feel like I’m salivating.

He wraps a white bath sheet around his waist before you get to see his front - as much as you loved being taken care of earlier you should have looked down. You run some shampoo and conditioner through your hair, rinsing it out just as Joel comes back, now in a pair of fitted boxer briefs. He holds up a towel for you, and after turning off the water you pad over to him for him to wrap you up and gently dry you off.

“Thank you, Mr Miller,” you say instinctively.

He smiles softly at you as he dries every inch of your skin. “Go lay down, babygirl. I’ll get some lotion and then you need to get some sleep.”

When you walk out to his bed there’s a t-shirt and a bottle of water on the pillow for you.

Fuck. I’m in love.

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archiveofvirtue · 2 months ago

Text

COLLEGE SWEETHEARTS ⸻ sam winchester

content / sam winchester x female!oc, use of y/n, fluff, stanford sam, pre season one sam, college sweethearts, friends to lovers, mentions of alcohol, drunk reader, 2.7k words

summary / it's been no secret that you have the biggest crush on your friend Sam, it is so obvious that even Sam himself knows about it. As you are on your way home from a college party your intoxicated body almost independently moves towards his dorm, the alcohol in your system making you have the courage to finally let him know how you feel, but will it change anything or just mess up your friendship?

Your laughter filled the night air as you stumbled out of the bar with your friends, the soft glow of the campus lights making everything feel a little magical. You were warm from the drinks and from the fun, cheeks flushed and grinning as the cold nipped at your skin. You weren’t just tipsy—you were full on drunk. And in that dizzy, carefree state, only one thought floated to the top of your mind:

Sam Winchester.

You’d always had a thing for Sam. He wasn’t like the other guys on campus—where they were loud and carefree, Sam was more grounded, reserved, and just…different. There was a gentle kindness in his eyes that made your heart skip a beat every time he looked at you. He never joined in on nights out, preferring his books over beer, and you kind of loved that about him.

Your friends were still giggling over something as they walked ahead, but your mind was somewhere else entirely, caught up in a slightly reckless idea—a terrible, wonderful, alcohol-fueled idea. Without thinking it through, you sneaked away from the group, mumbling something about needing to go back to the dorms.

Your feet carried you almost automatically to Sam's dorm. You had been there before, of course, but never like this. It was well past 2am, and the campus was quiet, most students either still out or already asleep. Your pulse quickened as you reached his door, a rush of nerves mixing with the alcohol in your veins.

You hesitated for a moment, wondering if you should really do this. But the liquid courage surged up again, and you knocked, too loudly, on his door.

Inside, Sam was typing the last few lines of his paper. He had a deadline to meet, and while most of his classmates had been out enjoying their Friday night, he had been stuck in his room, working. He didn't mind though—this was how he preferred it. The quiet of the night allowed him to focus, and he was close to finishing.

The knock startled him, his hands pausing over the keyboard. Wondering who could be knocking at his door this late? He wasn't expecting anyone. With a frown, he stood up and crossed the room, opening the door carefully.

And there you were, hair slightly tousled, your eyes bright but unfocused. Your smile was a bit lopsided, and you looked up at him with a mix of nervousness and determination.

"Y/N?" Sam's voice was surprised but soft. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to see you," you said, your words slightly slurred. "I was out with the girls, and...I don't know, I just...wanted to see you."

Sam sighed, glancing down the hallway before gently pulling you inside. "You shouldn't be wandering around alone at this hour," he chided, though his tone was more concerned than anything.

You let him guide you into the room, where you plopped down on his bed, giggling. "I know, I know. But I missed you. You never come out with us, Sam. Why don't you ever come out with us?"

He smiled a little, closing the door behind you and leaning against his desk. "You know I'm not really into that scene," he said, watching you as you layed back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling.

"I think you'd have fun," you murmured. "I'd make sure of it."

There was something about the way you said it, a note of vulnerability beneath your playful words, that made Sam's heart ache a little. He had known for a while that you had a crush on him—it wasn't exactly a secret. And the truth was, he liked you too, more than he probably should. But he had always kept a respectful distance, not wanting to lead you on, especially since he wasn't sure where his feelings might lead.

You rolled over, propping yourself up on one elbow, gaze locking with his. "Sam..." you started, voice a little more serious now. "Why don't you ever make a move?"

The question hung in the air between you two, heavy with the weight of unspoken feelings. Sam sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Y/N, you're drunk," he said gently. "This isn't the right time for this conversation."

"Maybe not," you admitted, eyes dropping to the floor. "But it's how I feel. And I think you feel something too. Or am I wrong?"

Sam didn't answer immediately. He walked over to the bed and sat down next to you, his gaze fixed on the floor. "You're not wrong," he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I don't want to take advantage of how you're feeling right now."

You sat up, expression softening as you reached out to take his hand. "Sam, I might be drunk, but I'm not lying. I like you. I really like you."

He looked at you then, really looked at you, and for a moment, he saw a future where he could let himself fall for you completely, while gently caressing the back of your hand. The tension between you two seemed to thicken, growing heavier with every passing second. Your blurry gaze lingered on him, eyes soft and vulnerable, lips slightly parted as you were about to speak—but no words came out. The silence between you two wasn't awkward, but charged, like the air before a storm.

Sam felt it too, the pull between you, the way your proximity sent a strange warmth rushing through him. He had always been careful around you, keeping a polite distance, but tonight—tonight felt different. Your eyes were searching his face for something, breath slow and uneven, and for the first time, Sam allowed himself to really see you, to acknowledge the feelings he'd buried so deeply.

"Sam..." you whispered, voice barely audible, and before he could process what was happening, you leaned in. Your lips hovered near his, breath warm against his skin, and for a split second, Sam felt his resolve begin to crumble. His heart raced, and his hand instinctively reached up to brush a strand of your hair from your face. You were so close, eyes half-closed, and for a moment, he could picture it—the two of you crossing that invisible line.

Your lips touched his, soft and hesitant, and Sam nearly gave in, nearly let himself fall into the moment. He kissed you back, just for a heartbeat, and it was everything you'd imagined—sweet and tender.

But then, reality hit Sam like a wave. The taste of alcohol on your lips, the slight stumble in your movements—you were drunk. And as much as he wanted this, he couldn't let it happen like this.

He pulled back, breaking the kiss gently but firmly, his hands coming up to hold your shoulders, keeping a small but significant distance between you two.

"Y/N," he breathed out, his voice thick with emotion. "We can't. Not like this."

Your eyes fluttered open, confusion and hurt flashing across your face. "Why?" You asked softly, voice tinged with sadness. "I thought you wanted this too..."

"I do," Sam admitted, his thumb brushing the back of your hand again. "I really do. But you're not sober right now. And I don't want us to do something you'll regret in the morning."

You stared at him, your expression shifting from disappointment to understanding. He was right.

You lowered your head, shoulders slumping slightly as you nodded. "You're right," you whispered. "I'm sorry...I shouldn't have—"

"Hey," Sam interrupted, gently lifting your chin so your eyes met again. "You don't need to apologize. I just want to make sure we do this right. So let's talk about this once you're sober, okay?"

For a moment, you just looked at him, eyes searching his for reassurance. It wasn't rejection, but more of a promise, that when it happened, it would be real, and it would be right.

You two sat there in silence for a few moments, the tension from before easing into something more comfortable. Your eyes were starting to droop, the night finally catching up with you. Sam noticed and stood up, pulling a blanket from the end of his bed and wrapping it around your shoulders.

"You can sleep here tonight," he said softly. "I'll take the chair."

You wanted to protest, to tell him he didn't have to do that, but your eyelids were too heavy, and the warmth of the blanket was too inviting. "Okay," you mumbled, already half asleep.

As you drifted off, Sam sat back down at his desk, his paper forgotten. His thoughts were too tangled to focus on anything else. He watched you for a moment, your face peaceful in sleep, and he knew he had a lot to think about.

But for now, he was content just to watch over you, keeping you safe through the night.

In the morning you stirred awake, the light of the early hours filtering through the thin curtains. Your head pounded, a dull reminder of the night before, and you groaned softly, pressing a hand to your temple. The unfamiliar softness beneath you made you frown in confusion, bleary eyes taking in the room around you.

This wasn't your dorm room.

Panic surged through you, dispelling the last remnants of sleep. You sat up quickly, heart racing as you tried to piece together where you were and how you had gotten here. The room was neat, sparsely decorated with books stacked on a desk, a laptop sitting open next to a pile of papers. It was a guy's room, that much was obvious, but—

Then it hit you. Sam. This was Sam's room.

The memories from the previous night began to trickle back, one by one. The girls' night out, the drinks, your impulsive decision to stop by Sam's dorm, the confession you'd made while drunk out of your mind, the kiss. Heat flooded your cheeks as you recalled the way you'd practically thrown yourself at him, only for him to gently but firmly turn you down.

"Oh my God," you whispered to yourself, burying your face in your hands. The embarrassment was overwhelming, making your stomach twist. You couldn't believe you had done that, that you had put Sam in such an awkward position. And now, you were in his room, wearing the same clothes from the night before, makeup smudged, and your hair a mess.

You glanced over to the chair beside the bed, where a blanket lay crumpled. Sam must have slept there, giving up his bed for you. Your heart ached with both gratitude and shame. He had been nothing but kind and respectful, even when you had obviously crossed a line.

You needed to get out of there before he came back. You weren't ready to face him, not with everything still so fresh in your mind. You couldn't bear the thought of seeing the pity—or worse, the awkwardness—in his eyes.

Slipping out of bed as quietly as possible, you grabbed your shoes, which had been neatly placed by the door, and tiptoed toward the exit. You figured you could slip out, go back to your own dorm, and maybe—just maybe—you could pretend this never happened. You could ghost him for a while, let things cool down, and hope the next time you two saw each other, it wouldn't be as humiliating as this.

Your hand was on the doorknob, ready to twist it open, when the door suddenly swung inward, revealing Sam on the other side.

You froze, shoes in one hand, your face burning as your eyes met.

"Y/N," Sam said, his voice warm with surprise. He was holding two paper cups of coffee, and his expression softened when he saw you standing there, clearly about to bolt. "Hey, I was just coming back."

For a moment, you just stared at each other, the tension from last night hanging between the two of you. Your mind raced, trying to come up with something, anything, to say. But all you could manage was a weak, "Hi."

Sam smiled gently, holding out one of the coffee cups. "I got you some coffee. Thought you might need it."

You hesitated, your embarrassment still raw, but the kindness in his gesture was impossible to ignore. Slowly, you took the cup from him, your fingers brushing his for the briefest moment. "Thanks," you murmured, looking down at the cup as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world.

Sam stepped back, allowing you to move away from the door, and you reluctantly let go of the doorknob, returning to the center of the room. The silence stretched out between you, thick with unspoken words.

"You didn't have to do that," you finally said, voice small. "The coffee, I mean. Or...any of this."

Sam set his own cup down on the desk and turned to face you fully. "I wanted to," he said simply. "Y/N, about last night..."

Your heart sank at the words, but you forced yourself to meet his gaze. "Look, Sam, I'm really sorry about everything. I was drunk and stupid, and I shouldn't have put you in that position. I totally understand if you're upset or if things are weird now. I was just going to leave, so you didn't have to deal with—"

"Hey, stop," Sam interrupted gently, taking a step closer. "I'm not upset. And things don't have to be weird unless we let them."

You looked at him, confused. "But I...what I said last night..."

"You were honest," Sam said, his voice steady. "Maybe it wasn't the best timing, and yeah, you were drunk, but I know those feelings are real. I've been thinking about what you said."

You swallowed hard, mouth suddenly dry. "And?"

"And I don't want you to feel embarrassed about it," he continued, his eyes sincere. "I like you, y/n. I always have. But I wanted to make sure that if we talked about this, we were both in the right headspace. I didn't want to take advantage of how you were feeling last night."

A tiny flicker of hope ignited in your chest, but you were still wary, still nervous about what this all meant. "So...where does that leave us?" You asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Sam smiled, and it was the kind of smile that made your heart flutter. "It leaves us wherever we want to go," he said. "We can take things slow, talk about it more when you're ready, but I don't want to pretend like last night didn't happen. I care about you, y/n."

Relief washed over you, mingling with a cautious excitement. You still felt a little embarrassed, but the fact that Sam was willing to talk about this, to move forward without judgment, made it easier to breathe.

"Okay," you said softly, a small smile tugging at your lips. "I'd like that."

Sam's expression brightened, and he reached out, gently taking your hand in his. "Good," he said. "How about we start with breakfast? I know a place off-campus that has the best pancakes."

You laughed, the sound light and free, the tension finally beginning to ease. "That sounds perfect."

As you two left the room together, side by side, you felt the embarrassment of the night before slowly fading into something far less daunting. You weren't sure where this was going, but for the first time, you weren't scared of finding out.

feedback and requests are greatly appreciated !!

#sam winchester x reader #spnfandom #supernatural #writers on tumblr #oneshot #sam winchester #supernatural fanfiction #sam x reader #sam girl #sammy

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joojeans · 6 months ago

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˚◞♡ ⃗ I Dare You Pt. 2

♡ Bestfriend!Fuma x Afab!Reader

♡ Summary: You’re sitting on the floor with your friends playing a juvenile game–truth or dare. Things have been spiraling out of control for some time now, but what happens when you’re dared to turn on one of your best friends without touching them? Can they handle it? Can you handle it? Spoiler alert: neither of you can. Find out how things go from seriously fucked up to seriously fucked, one member at a time.

♡ WC: 3.7k

♡ Content: mildly jealous fuma, finger sucking, fuma calling reader pet names, fuma calling reader good girl, reader is foaming at the mouth for fuma tbh (i get it), soft dom fuma, light fingering, unprotected sex (be smart), the actual intercourse is a very small part of this but that's how i wanted it <3

♡ PREVIOUS | SERIES MASTERLIST | NEXT

You lift your head from Euijoo’s shoulder at the sound of your name, eyes finding the mouth responsible almost instantly–Nicholas. He’s giving you the look: the one that says put your phone away and play with us properly. You give him a sheepish smile and slide your phone into your back pocket, sitting up straighter to convey I want to be here.

“It’s your turn, by the way.”

“Oh.” Awkward.

“So, truth or dare?”

“Tru–” You stop yourself. The truth is usually easier, at least for you, but you feel a bit bad about not being as involved as everyone else, so you figure the riskier option might help make it up to them a little. It can’t be that bad, right? These are your best friends. “Uh, I mean, dare.”

“Oh?” This time, Nicholas is taken by surprise. “Gimme a sec, I wasn’t prepared for you to actually pick dare.”

You nod, sitting back on one arm while your other hand mindlessly plays with the rips in Euijoo’s jeans. As if inspired by you, he does the same on his other leg.

Nicholas’s face is morphing between concentration, intrigue, and curiosity as he looks around the room. It seems like he’s hoping to be spoon fed the dare by one of the other guy’s faces, and while it doesn’t seem to happen quite like that, it does kind of work.

“Okay, hear me out.”

Your stomach tenses at the words alone. Nicholas only prefaces things like that when he’s about to propose something your instincts will protest. “Nicholas.”

He holds his hands up in defense, a guilty smile playing on his lips. “Wait, wait. Just listen.”

You roll your eyes, your shoulders shrugging in surrender. Euijoo, Fuma, and K are all looking at Nicholas, certainly dying to know what he’s up to.

Nicholas starts carefully, the honey of his voice smoothing over any startling words. “It’s just that… I couldn’t help but notice that Fuma’s jaw was tense just now. Like, it was locked. And it was because he was watching you… with Euijoo.”

Every head in the room sans Nicholas cocks just slightly. No one seems to be privy to whatever Nicholas is talking about. You look at Euijoo, trying to put the puzzle pieces together for yourself, but he looks just as surprised as you. Your eyes scan him for any signs of you having done anything with him, though you know you haven’t. Then you realize.

Your fingers are still idly playing with the rip of his jeans. That’s it. It’s innocent enough, your fingertips only occasionally pushing inside of the material to lightly scratch at his skin, but you hadn’t even been totally conscious you were doing it.

“Wait. You’re saying this–” You motion generally to the jeans in question.

“Yes.”

You glance up, looking for Fuma. His jaw is definitely tense, but now it seems to be more out of annoyance than–what was it? Disgust? Jealousy?

You look back to Nicholas, still not sure what his point is and definitely sure you don’t want to annoy Fuma any further. “Okay, so what about it?”

Nicholas pushes his tongue into his cheek, a sly grin adorning his face as he prepares to finally reach the climax of this much-too-built-up dare. “I dare you to see how much more you can frustrate him. He seemed to want your attention, so why not let him have it? If you manage to turn him on, I’ll pay for your uber home.”

You only get a moment to process everything because Fuma is nudging Nicholas with his shoulder and muttering words you can’t hear. You’re worried that he’s uncomfortable even if it wasn’t you that started all this. You look from K to Euijoo, hoping that either of them will speak up, but they just look amused and confused, respectively.

Is Fuma really jealous? Does he think of you like that? You had never thought so, but you can’t exactly say you’d be complaining if he does. He’s Fuma. Handsome. Strong. Respectable.

“So are you saying you’re afraid to let her try?” Nicholas laughs. The conversation is finally audible to third party ears again.

Fuma clears his throat. “No. I’m saying that I don’t think it’s very fair to be putting her in that position.”

The atmosphere gets eerily quiet, awkward. You and everyone else know that you’re the only one that can speak for yourself. Strangely, you like having the upper hand like this. It feels like there are exciting possibilities with a handsome man that you’re now maybe starting to think about differently.

“I don’t mind, you know.” And you don’t.

The quietness carries on. Everyone needs you to elaborate.

“I mean, we’re all having fun here, right?” Everyone nods, albeit slowly. “And I could certainly use a free uber home later. So… why not? Unless you are opposed, of course.”

You plaster on a lighthearted, playful smile and it feels like the tension is slowly but surely being sucked out of the room. All four sets of eyes move to Fuma. His move.

“I can’t say that I was prepared for this, but… okay. Who am I to deny you an opportunity for a free ride, right?” His tone is equally playful and it relieves you.

Relieves everyone, really. Now that all parties are seeing eye to eye, everyone can breathe.

“Well, have at it.” Nicholas motions you towards Fuma and you chew on your lip for a moment. This is probably going to be really fun for you, but you haven’t exactly thought it through. Still, the show must go on.

You carefully sit up until you’re squatting on your feet. You lean forward until your knees hit the floor, crawling hands and knees in Fuma’s direction. He’s watching you, seemingly unaffected as his eyes stay locked on you.

His back is resting against the sofa as he sits on the floor, feet planted, knees bent, forearms resting on his knees. His feet are far enough apart that you can just squeeze yourself between his legs. You do, your hands linking themselves with his as you sit on your knees. His head falls back just slightly on his shoulders, looking down his nose at you. His lips are parted just slightly and his eyelids are lowered, but he otherwise looks the same as he always does.

“Hi, Fuma,” you coo, batting your lashes sweetly.

“Y/n.” There’s a seriousness to the way he speaks, but he gives you a small smile that can only be described as adoring.

“I hear you were feeling a little jealous.” You mock pout, bringing one of his hands up to your face to nuzzle it. “Is that right?”

Fuma exhales an almost-laugh, tongue pushing into his cheek. “I don’t know if I would call it that.” The other guys can’t see it, but the hand that’s brushing against your cheek squeezes yours. It feels like validation that he does feel something for you, even if he hasn’t said as much.

“No?” You free both of his hands from yours momentarily, instead placing all of your focus on one of them. You open his palm with your fingers–his one hand needs both of yours to do this properly–and massage up to his fingertips. “Seemed like you didn’t really like what I was doing with my fingers.”

It’s barely noticeable, but Fuma’s breath catches in his throat briefly. You cock your head innocently, watching as the gears behind his eyes turn, trying to figure out your next move so he can beat you to it.

“I should make that up to you, right?” You press soft kisses upon each fingertip. “Show you I’m sorry for upsetting you like that?”

Fuma watches intently as your lips travel across each fingertip, between each knuckle. “I mean– You don’t have to–”

Saving him the struggle of finding the right words in this complex situation, you pull your head back just enough to straighten his fingers completely and suck his index and middle finger between your lips. You can hear a gasp from someone in the room, but it’s not Fuma. The only reaction he gives you is an almost imperceptible slackening of his jaw.

Unwavering, you let your tongue snake around and between his fingers, humming happily. You thought you’d have to fake that part a little bit, but now that you’re actually doing this, you’re really fucking enjoying it. Something about Fuma not giving into you so easily is making wetness pool in your panties. To be frank, you can’t think of anything else you’d rather be doing other than sucking on Fuma’s pretty fingers. Maybe this was supposed to be about seeing how much you could get to Fuma, but it seems like you’re getting to yourself more than anything right now.

Fuma lets you get carried away, mouth working his fingers the way they would his cock. There’s a slight burning in your cheeks knowing that other people are watching you, but you can’t care enough to stop yourself. Worse, you feel your heart skip a beat when Fuma reaches out to brush away the few strands of hair that found themselves stuck in the little pool of saliva on the corner of your lips. Fuck, even right now he’s a gentleman.

You moan softly at the act of care, but it’s cut off by a second, surprised moan when Fuma presses his fingers down firmly on your tongue. You stop moving, eyes wide as you look at Fuma. He presses them down further until your mouth opens and your jaw forces apart. He just looks at you as you sit on your knees, mouth and jaw open for him, his fingers still pressing on your tongue. “Good girl.”

Oh fuck.

He removes his fingers from your mouth and wipes the saliva on your lips with his thumb. “Alright, that’s enough.”

You don’t know what to feel. Embarrassed? Maybe. Confused? Yeah. Turned on? Absofuckinglutely.

Nicholas speaks up before you can even begin to think of what to say. “Hey, you don’t get to decide when it’s over. Money is on the line here.” He’s half joking.

“I said it’s over. It worked. I don’t think you need to see the physical evidence.”

It worked?

In a move that would be extremely inappropriate on any other day, everyone in the room glances towards Fuma’s crotch. No one can be sure of anything based on the way he’s sitting, but considering he confirmed it himself, it seems that you were successful.

That’s great and all, but now you have to deal with the aftermath of all of your friends watching you act… like that. You have to change the subject immediately or you might die of embarrassment.

“Alright, Nicholas. Pull your phone out right now and send me the money you owe me.” You playfully toss your hair and retreat back to your spot next to Euijoo, hoping like hell everyone can forget what just happened.

Euijoo seems to stiffen a little when you sit next to him this time and you’re not sure if you love or hate that. Still, you rest your head against his upper arm, eyes trained on Nicholas to make sure he does what’s promised. He laughs when he realizes you very much meant right now and pulls his phone from his pocket.

“Don’t worry about it,” Fuma mumbles quietly to Nicholas. No one else hears him, but you’re hyper aware of him after… what just happened… so you do. Nicholas looks over at him, clearly confused, but Fuma explains himself. “Send her the money still, but I’ll take her home.”

Nicholas smirks.

You’re standing at the far end of the kitchen, head resting against the wall near the fridge. You’re ready to go home, but you don’t want to ruin the mood for everyone else by being the first to leave. Still, you decide to open uber and see how long it would take for a driver to come get you. As it goes, there’s a driver only five minutes away. Tempting.

“Should I grab my keys?”

You glance up from your phone to see Fuma standing at the other end of the kitchen. He looks calm and composed as ever. The way you feel looking at him could be considered anything but.

Silence hovers between you for several moments as you consider how to answer. Fuma never actually spoke with you about driving you home tonight. You’re pretty sure he doesn’t even know you overheard his hushed words to Nicholas. It seems bold for him to just assume you’d take him up on it, but then again… maybe not? You are friends. You seem to be forgetting that a lot tonight.

Still, you’re not an idiot.

“Yeah. If you don’t mind.”

With a nod, Fuma disappears into the living room. You mentally prepare for a ride home that is sure to be unlike any other.

He returns only a minute later, keys in hand. “I told them that we’re leaving and that you said goodbye. I hope that’s okay?” You nod. Your hero. You’re not in the right headspace for all the formalities tonight. Fuma offers you his arm and you hesitate, but you ultimately take it and walk out the front door with him.

The car ride is miserable. You’re both quiet and Fuma keeps asking if you’re feeling okay when you’re very much not feeling okay. Especially not when you’re watching the way his hand glides across the steering wheel effortlessly. Especially not when his other arm is propped against the driver’s side door, hand rubbing his jaw and lips. Especially not when you’re trying to not look at either of his hands and instead find your eyes trained on his lap, his muscular thighs looking all too inviting. It’s all you can do to not pounce on him in the middle of the highway.

Since when do you feel like this about Fuma?

Since approximately three hours ago.

You try like hell to shake it off and stare out your window instead. Safe.

When you pull up to your apartment, you expect to give Fuma an awkward goodbye hug and a thank you and then scurry away to hide yourself from him for the foreseeable future. That’s not what happens.

Fuma turns off the car and removes his keys. He steps out of the car and comes to your side to open it for you, arm protectively around your lower back as you let him guide you to your front door. You turn to face him then, eyes inquisitive.

“Well… goodnight? Thank you for the ride home. You really didn’t have to do that. I did get a free ride tonight, you know.” You laugh half-heartedly, mentally cursing yourself for bringing up anything even tangentially related to what happened between you tonight.

“You’re welcome. Are you going to open the door?”

You hesitate. Again. “Oh, uh… yes?” You unlock and push the door open, stepping just inside to say goodbye again. He just wants to make sure I’m safely inside before he leaves.

Nope. Fuma carefully nudges you further into your apartment so he can step inside as well, closing the door behind him.

What is going on?

You look up to Fuma and cock your head, prompting him to explain himself. He smiles at you with a subtle confidence that makes you feel like you’d do anything to please him. “What?��

“I don’t understand what’s happening right now.”

Fuma chuckles, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Y/n. You couldn’t sit still the entire ride home. Did you think I couldn’t feel you staring at me?”

He pauses in case you’d like to answer. You don’t.

“Did you or did you not want me to come inside with you tonight?”

Well…

“Fuck, Fuma. I don’t know. Nothing about what I’m feeling or wanting tonight feels normal.”

He nods, taking your hand and walking you to your dining table. He sits in the closest chair and carefully maneuvers you onto his lap. You’ve sat in his lap many times before, but never like this–not straddling him, not with his face so close to yours. “Let me help you figure it out then, mm?” A pause for you to nod your agreement. “Did you like it when you thought I was jealous earlier tonight?”

You narrow your eyes. “You were jealous.”

“Not the point. Did you like it?”

“Well…a little bit, yeah. I don’t know why.”

“That’s okay. Did you like it…” His hand cups your face, thumb brushing over your bottom lip. Your body memory recalls him doing that to clean your own drool off of you only hours before and your cunt throbs. “...when you had my fingers in your mouth?”

“Yes.” You answer too quickly. You didn’t mean to do that.

Fuma’s lips quirk into a small smirk, humming his approval. “Do you want me to kiss you right now?”

Fuck it. If he’s going to ask you about every single feeling and desire, you might as well just be completely honest.

“Fuma, if I’m being honest, I want you to do more than just kiss me right now.”

A brief flash of surprise reflects from Fuma’s eyes, but he never falters. He gathers your hand in his. “Is that so?” He places your hand over the button of his jeans. “Tell me what it is you want me to do then, angel.”

Your lips part in a silent gasp as you glance down. You can finally feel that he was affected by you even if he’s good at hiding it. Your hand tries to curl around the girth of his clothed cock, but his jeans are too thick and stiff. Your eyes flit back up to his, sparkling. You work on pulling his button loose and his zipper down as you speak, silently praying he doesn’t stop you. “I need to feel you inside me. Want you to make me cum.”

Fuma smiles, taking your hand away from his jeans and pressing a kiss against the back of it. “Using your words so well, yeah? That’s a good girl.” He laces his fingers through yours, free hand ghosting down to free himself from his jeans.

You chew on your lip at the sight of his uncovered cock, mouth instinctively watering, but he doesn’t let you get caught up for too long.

“Lift up just a little for me.”

You do as requested and he frees the hem of your dress from under you at all sides before letting you sit back down. His hand slides up the top of your soft thigh, inviting itself between them. You whimper at the proximity before he’s even touched you and he playfully slaps your thigh. “So needy. Cute.”

His hand continues its journey, feeling the wet cloth of your panties for only a moment before pulling them to the side. He lets his long middle finger glide between your slick folds, licking his lips as he realizes how truly needy you actually are. “Must’ve been so uncomfortable sitting in your pretty panties like this all night.” He guides the hand he was holding to his shoulder and leaves it there. Understanding, you hold it and Fuma pushes his finger inside you, relishing the relieved moan you gift him.

“There we go. Feels so much better, mm?”

You nod somewhere close to frantically. “So good, Fuma. Want more.”

“Mhmm. I know.” He adds a second finger and slowly starts to scissor them, making sure you’re nice and open for him. His eyes are all over your face as it scrunches up in pure pleasure, his free hand rubbing your hip to soothe you. “Think you’re ready to sit on my cock, angel?”

“Sofuckingready,” you breathe out at once. You lean your body forward, your arms wrapping around Fuma’s neck. You rest your forehead against his while he takes advantage of your positioning, removing his fingers from you and angling his cock towards your entrance.

He hesitates. You feel rabid.

“Tell me you’re sure.”

“God, I couldn’t be more fucking sure. Please.”

His lips twitch into a small smirk. “I got you.” He inserts himself inside you with one hand, his other gently guiding your body down. Your eyelids flutter from the fullness of him, slowly stretching you open until you’re fully impaled on him. He feels better than you could’ve imagined and your eyes close, feeling like you’re in a wet, lucid dream.

Usually, you would take control of the situation–moving yourself up and down his cock at your will–but something about being with Fuma makes you feel small. Like you should be taken care of instead. Like you don’t have to lift a finger.

Seemingly, he feels the same.

Both hands on your hips, Fuma takes care of you. He rolls his hips up into your aching cunt, his hands aiding him by guiding you along his length. He asks almost nothing of you, all too happy to single-handedly provide you both what you’ve been craving. He watches as your head slips back on your shoulders, your jaw slack from the blissful pleasure of him.

“There you go, angel.” His voice is solace. “Hold onto me.”

Your fingers curl into either side of his shoulders, doing your damnedest to keep yourself up. The room is eerily quiet–only the sounds of your slick, Fuma’s praises, and your soft exhales peppering the air. Despite how urgently you felt you needed this, everything about it is tender. The way he holds you, moves you, fucks you–it feels like love.

And maybe it is. You’ve always loved each other. Just…never like this.

Or maybe you didn’t know it was like this.

You’re not sure how long you carry on like this. You feel dazed, suspended in a beautiful haze with Fuma. Even your orgasm feels careful, gradually building until it takes over you, flooding your body with warmth and dopamine and oxytocin, flooding Fuma’s lap with a thank you. You don’t realize he also found release until you slowly blink your eyes back open to see the remnants of pleasure etched onto his face.

You smile at each other weakly, fondly. You lean your forehead against his once more, the two of you catching your breath in tandem. You feel his lips moving within centimeters of yours.

“Let’s go to bed.”

#fuma #fuma smut #&team smut #andteam smut #&team fuma smut #andteam fuma smut

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goldfades · 6 months ago

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𝐍𝐎 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐀𝐘 𝐎𝐑 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐃𝐎 /𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐈'𝐌 𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐄, 𝐈'𝐃 𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔, 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐄 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 -- / 𝐈'𝐋𝐋 𝐁𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐁𝐘 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐓𝐈𝐋 𝟑𝟎𝟎𝟓 ─ AF³⁵

౨ৎ ─ summary | requested -> "wait i love ur fics!! can i request a one shot of azzi (aka sweet angel whose never done anything wrong in her life) and loud & chaotic!reader who were childhood friends and now have the cutest relationship ever?? like a huge opposites attract thingy where reader is a cheerleader and that popular kid, and brings azzi out of her shell? and maybe the team is a bit suspicious at first but just falls in love with their relationship really quickly"

─ warnings | nothing but sweet, good old fluff!!! literally so adorable, my fav thing i've written in a while. my fav trope! oblivious best friends to obnoxious lovers!! the girls being a little skeptical but slowly also falling in love w/ r because she brings out the best in az, mention of a confession but literally nothing else

─ word count | 1.8k

─ ev's notes | i love my azzi baby and she needs more love!!!!! fuck EVERYBODY who doesn't like her cause babygirl is so unproblematic, she's literally an angel and the heart of uconn so FUCK OFF anyways. also i love all my azzi girls sm i had to feed them too, mwah!!!!!!!!!!

⇨ missing out on updates? check out my wcbb masterlist!

THERE HAD NEVER been a time when Azzi wasn't by your side.

Since the day you'd met her back in the sixth grade, she was always by your side. There was never a day where you questioned her loyalty or her friendship. Through the ups and downs of adolescence, through the awkwardness of high school, and into the uncertainties of young adulthood, Azzi remained a constant presence in your life.

She always admired everything about you ─ there was never a moment where she was annoyed by your extrovertness or how much you liked to talk, she actually enjoyed it. Azzi was never much of a talker, she was more of a listener so she liked to let you take the lead in conversations, always content to listen to your stories, your dreams, and your worries. She found solace in the rhythm of your voice, in the way your eyes lit up when you spoke about something you loved.

While you were the outgoing one, always ready to dive headfirst into any adventure, Azzi was the steady presence by your side, offering quiet wisdom and unwavering support. She may not have been the loudest voice in the room, but her presence spoke volumes, grounding you when you felt like you were spinning out of control.

Azzi's strength wasn't just in her ability to be a steadfast companion; it was also in her capacity for understanding. She had a way of seeing beyond the surface, of understanding the complexities of your emotions even when you couldn't understand them yourself.

In her own quiet way, Azzi was the glue that held your relationship together. She didn't need grand gestures or flashy displays of affection to show how much she cared; her loyalty and devotion spoke for themselves.

"Az!" You shouted as you practically threw yourself into her arms. She laughed as she held you close to her chest, her arms wrapping around your body.

As you nestled into Azzi's embrace, you couldn't help but feel a surge of warmth and happiness flood through you. Her laughter was like music to your ears, a melody that resonated deep within your soul.

It was finally summer and that meant it was her favorite time of year ─ spending every second with you. This was the second year you'd been separated because of college, so it wasn't entirely foreign but this year was a little harder than the last. She found herself missing you and thinking about you all the damn time, literally.

You could think of a couple reasons as to why, and one of them is because you'd both had confronted your long-time feelings for each other.

You both had danced around your feelings for each other for far too long, tiptoeing around the truth out of fear of ruining the beautiful friendship you shared. But as time went on, the pull between you grew stronger, until it became impossible to ignore.

The moment of truth came during a late-night conversation at your family's beach house, where words tumbled out in a rush of honesty and vulnerability. Azzi confessed her feelings for you, her heart laid bare for you to see. And to her relief and delight, you felt the same way. It felt like it was out of a movie; everything was perfect, Childish Gambino was playing through the speaker, the air felt just right and the waves whispered secrets in the background.

You pulled out of the hug with a grin as Azzi laughed again, putting her hands on your shoulders. "Damn, you're still short."

"Oh my god, we're still on this?" You let out a sigh, despite the sweet smile on your face. You've known each other since you were kids and still, her favorite thing to tease you about was your height.

And it wasn't even that you were abnormally short ─ she was just tall.

"What! I thought you woulda grown, sorry!" Azzi teased as you grumbled, rolling your eyes playfully.

"Well, you know what they say, good things come in small packages," you retorted with a smirk, earning another laugh from Azzi.

Azzi chuckled, giving you a playful shove. "Yeah, yeah, keep telling yourself that, shorty."

Before you could respond, Azzi's name was being called from behind her. Azzi turned around to wave toward the group of girls, her teammates and friends from UConn. You'd met them one time before and that was at one of the championship games last year, and meeting them was a stretch ─ you'd waved at them.

As Azzi turned to greet her teammates, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of nervousness flutter in your stomach. You remembered the last time you had met them, feeling like a fish out of water among a group of award-winning athletes and accomplished individuals.

"I'm right here, guys," Azzi sighed as her friends walked toward her. "Y/N, this is Aubrey, Aaliyah and Nika. Oh, and Paige,"

Paige sent her a glare toward Azzi but before she could retort, Nika nudged her and smiled politely at you.

"Hi," you smiled as you looked up at Azzi for reassurance. She gave a warm smile as she pulled you closer to her side, squeezing you. "I'm Y/N,"

Azzi had never seen you so nervous, it was almost endearing to see. You'd always been the outgoing one, but in this moment, you seemed almost shy and uncertain. It was a side of you that Azzi hadn't seen often, and it made her heart swell with affection.

"You're even prettier in person," Nika spoke as she smiled. The girls all exchanged glances as Nika realized what she had just said, laughing. "What! I mean, we had to stalk Azzi's girl before we met her, it's just part of the process-"

"My god, Nika," Paige laughed as Azzi squeezed your shoulder.

You blushed under their gazes, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and flattery at Nika's comment. Azzi's gentle squeeze on your shoulder offered reassurance, grounding you in the moment.

"Thanks, you guys too. I'm a stalker too, don't worry. I'm practically your guys' biggest fan," you joked, trying to lighten the mood with a touch of self-deprecation. The tension eased as the group laughed, and you felt a sense of relief wash over you.

Aubrey grinned. "Well, I guess we're all in good company then."

Aaliyah nodded. "Absolutely. It's always nice to meet a fan."

"Hey, hey. She's actually my biggest fan, cause you know, she's my girlfriend." Azzi cut in as the group laughed. You glanced up at Azzi, your heart practically jumping at the word girlfriend. You were her girlfriend, and it sounded so perfect. You gazed up at Azzi, your eyes meeting hers, and in that moment, everything felt right.

"Absolutely, I have like 20 different jerseys" you chimed in, unable to hide the fondness in your voice as you leaned into Azzi's side.

Azzi laughed as she shook her head. "She's not joking, she probably has more than me."

"I've been collecting them since high school, cause I wanted to make sure everyone knew I was her biggest fan when she makes into the WNBA," you explained, a hint of pride coloring your words. The admiration and support you felt for Azzi were palpable, evident in the way you spoke about her with such reverence and affection.

"Our reservation is for 8 and it's 7:45, we should probably get going," Nika suggested, glancing at her watch.

Azzi nodded, casting a fond glance at you. "Yeah, let's head out."

With a collective agreement, the group began to make their way toward the restaurant, chatting and laughing as they went. Azzi slipped her hand into yours, intertwining your fingers with hers as you walked side by side. With a smile, you squeezed Azzi's hand, feeling a surge of love and gratitude for the amazing woman by your side.

At the restaurant, Azzi had her arm around you as the host led the group to their table. You felt a sense of warmth and comfort in Azzi's embrace, the simple gesture serving as a reminder of the deep connection you shared.

As you settled into your seats, the buzz of conversation continued around you, filled with laughter and shared stories. Azzi leaned in close, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispered, "I'm so glad you're here with me."

You turned to her, a soft smile playing on your lips as you met her gaze. "Me too," you replied, your voice filled with sincerity.

Throughout the meal, Azzi's hand remained firmly entwined with yours, Azzi was at ease as she kept stealing glances your way, her eyes filled with adoration and affection. It was moments like these that reminded you why your bond with her was so special, why her presence in your life was irreplaceable.

Her friends could tell how absolutely whipped you both were for each other, it was obvious by the way you looked at each other.

They were all skeptical of you in the beginning, your instagram seemed too aesthetic and preppy for their taste, but as they got to know you, they realized there was much more depth to you than what your social media portrayed. You were genuine, kind-hearted, and fiercely loyal to Azzi, qualities that quickly won them over despite their initial reservations.

You brought out the laid-back, extroverted side of Azzi they rarely got to see. It was exciting to see, they loved seeing their girl happy and carefree in your presence. Your genuine affection for Azzi was evident in the way you looked at her, the way you made her laugh, and the way you supported her dreams and ambitions.

As the evening progressed, you found yourself engaged in lively conversation with Azzi's friends, sharing stories and laughter as you got to know each other better. With each passing moment, the initial skepticism faded away, replaced by genuine warmth.

And as you walked out of the restaurant next to Paige and Aubrey, the girls followed with smiles on their faces. Aaliyah pulled Azzi close as she caught her eye, a grin on her face.

"We took it up with the counsel and we approve," Aaliyah whispered as Azzi's face contorted into an amused expression.

"Bro, what do mean the counsel?" She repeated as they glanced toward the girls in front of them, who were now laughing at some joke Paige had made. "But thanks, it means a lot."

"We like her a lot," Nika chimed in, her voice filled with sincerity as she glanced back at you and Azzi walking behind them. "She's good for you, Az."

Azzi's heart swelled with affection for her friends as she wrapped an arm around Aaliyah's shoulders, pulling her into a tight side hug. "Thanks, guys. I'm really happy," she said, her voice filled with genuine gratitude. "That means everything to me."

She was ecstatic that you fit into her life so perfectly (not like she ever doubted your people skills and your charm), and hearing her friends express their approval only confirmed what she already knew deep down: you were the one for her.

As you all walked together, surrounded by the laughter and warmth of her friends, Azzi couldn't help but feel a sense of peace settle over her.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

#azzi fudd x reader #azzi fudd #uconn wbb x reader #uconn #uconn wbb #uconn huskies #ncaa wbb #uconn women’s basketball #azzi fudd x you #uconn women's basketball #women's college basketball

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xoheewon · 29 days ago

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Dangerous - LHS & YJW

synopsis: lee heeseung has always been the apple of your eye until one summer when you meet a cute guy on the beach.

pairing: heeseung x f!reader & jungwon x f!reader

genre: brothers best friend, fluff, angst, meet cute, smut

warnings: MDNI! cursing, cruelty, bullying?, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, creampie, violence, not proofread, lmk if i forgot anything

wc: 4.1k

Lee Heeseung is your #1 enemy.

Why? Because he’s too damn fine.

And you can’t have him.

Again, why? Because he’s your brother’s best friend.

Your brother Jake and Heeseung met when you were kids. Heeseung is only one year older than you and Jake, so they hit it off immediately, leaving you to pine after him like a lovesick puppy.

Even as a kid you thought he was cute, then when you got to high school and puberty struck, you almost went crazy.

Now as adults, you’re still pining after him. He’s grown into a kind, caring, fine ass man and you can’t do anything about it.

Jake knew about your crush on him from day one and forbid you from having anything to do with Heeseung.

Even Heeseung himself knew about your crush on him, only laughing and ruffling your hair saying it was “cute”.

You don’t want to be cute, you don’t want to be someone Heeseung just views as his best friend’s sister.

But what can you do? Any attempts to change his view of you have been ignored.

You can never escape him, and it makes it hard to get over him.

Ever since your families became friends, it’s been a tradition to take a trip to a house on the beach every summer.

Now, as you eavesdrop on Jake and Heeseung’s conversation, you feel your heart drop.

“Inviting Saemi on the trip was a great idea, she’s totally into you. Bet you’ll get laid come nightfall,” Jake says, and you can practically hear the smile on his face.

Heeseung invited a girl on the trip, one he’s probably into.

Sneaking past Jake’s room back into yours, you lay down on your bed, trying to ignore the tears pricking your eyes.

You shouldn’t cry, you already knew your chances with Heeseung were slim to none.

Still, it hurts to know that your feelings were completely squashed.

At least he never rejected you directly, that probably would have hurt worse.

You can’t help but wonder, has Heeseung ever looked at you differently? Does he even think you’re worth liking.

You know you shouldn’t depend on the feelings of one man, but Heeseung was always someone you wanted, yet you never felt wanted back.

Your cheeks are wet before you can even process it. Sniffling, you shut your eyes, hoping to just fall asleep so you don’t have to confront your feelings.

When you open your eyes again, it’s morning and the day of the trip.

Instead of traveling separately, your families choose to rent a large van to accommodate everyone.

There’s a loud knock on your bedroom door, “Wake up,” you hear Jake yell, “we’re leaving in an hour.”

Albeit groggily, you get up and get ready.

Heading downstairs, Heeseung and Jake are joined by your parents at the table.

You head for the living room, ignoring Heeseung and Jake and saying hello to your parents.

You sit on the couch eating a banana while everyone finishes getting ready to leave.

As everyone stands outside loading up the van, a car pulls up and you can only assume it’s Saemi who steps out.

She runs over to Heeseung, hugging him tightly before doing the same to Jake.

She introduces herself to your parents before making her way to you.

“Hi! I’ve heard so much about you from Jake, it’s nice to meet you, I’m Saemi.”

You put on a forced smile, shaking her hand, “I’m Y/N.”

Without another word, you walk past her and get in the van, making your way to the back row, hoping no one sits beside you.

Thankfully no one does and you put your headphones on ready to sleep for the whole trip.

That’s exactly what you do, and when you next open your eyes, it’s to Jake shaking you awake.

“We’re here, come on.”

You stretch, feeling refreshed and rejuvenated.

You get out last, getting your bags out of the trunk before making your way to the room you always use.

Wait. If there’s one more person on this trip, does this mean you’ll be sharing a room with Saemi?

You internally groan, not prepared for her to walk through the door, but you’re surprised as Jake’s face pops in instead.

“We’re sharing a room?” You ask, sighing in relief as Jake nods his head.

Then that means… Heeseung and Saemi are sharing a room?

God, you want to throw up.

You don’t say anything, vowing to not let it show how much this bothers you.

It’s still early in the afternoon, everyone decides to head to the beach.

You change into your bathing suit, grab your phone, a towel, sunscreen and make your way outside.

The beach is a mere few feet away. You find a spot to set up and apply sunscreen to your body.

You realize you need to get your back and are about to ask your mom when you hear the sound of barking coming close to you.

A fluffy white dog is going 100 miles per hour towards you and before you can react, it jumps into your lap.

“Maeum stop!”

Suddenly the only thing in your line of vision is tan skin and black hair.

The person, a man, takes the dog out of your lap.

Finally getting a glimpse of his face, you’re stunned at how handsome he is.

“I’m so sorry, did he hurt you?” The man asks, his large eyes filled with worry.

You stutter out an answer, “No! Not at all.”

“I’m sorry again, he just yanked himself out of my hands, I tried to catch him but he’s fast,” he giggles.

“It’s okay, don’t worry. I’m Y/N.” You’re usually never so bold as to introduce yourself to someone first but something about him is mesmerizing.

You put your hand out, and he takes it, shaking it lightly, “I’m Jungwon.”

“Do you wanna sit with me?” You ask, praying this doesn’t lead to you being embarrassed.

Jungwon looks surprised, but then he smiles and boy is it beautiful.

“Sure, I’d like that.”

He sits next to you on your towel, Maeum making his way back into your lap.

You spend the next 2 hours talking to Jungwon, learning things about one another.

Turns out he’s from the same area as you, and even goes to the same college. You’re surprised you’ve never seen one another.

He makes you laugh like you haven’t laughed in days.

When your families are getting ready to leave, you reluctantly say goodbye to Jungwon, but now without giving him your number first, promising to hang out again.

“Who was that, sweetie?” Your mom asks when you’re back in the house.

“That was Jungwon, his dog jumped me and I asked him to hang with me.”

“That’s nice,” your dad says, chuckling.

“Don’t think about doing anything funny, you just met him,” Jake says, wagging his finger at you.

You scoff, pushing him as everyone laughs while you blush.

The next day, you text Jungwon.

He asks you to hang out again and you eagerly agree.

He comes to the door, knocking and you rush to open it, pushing Jake out of the way.

“Hi, you look nice,” he says, making you swoon inside. No it’s nothing special, but it makes you happy nonetheless.

“Thank you, you look nice too.”

“Invite him inside Y/N,” your dad shouts from the kitchen.

“Do you wanna come in? You don’t have to.”

Jungwon nods, albeit hesitantly, stepping inside.

You take his arm, leading him to the kitchen.

Running through everyone quickly, you waste no time in getting yourselves out of there.

You miss the eyes following you on the way out.

There’s a city not far from the beach and Jungwon has decided to treat you to lunch.

You originally declined, not wanting to come off as greedy, but he insisted.

As you sit in the restaurant booth, facing one another, you take a minute to really look at Jungwon

He’s beautiful, this you already knew, but his features are sharp yet delicate.

His eyes are big, like boba balls and his nose fits his face perfectly. His mouth looks so…kissable.

Is that wrong to say? Knowing you just met.

“You’re staring,” he says, giggling as heat rises to your cheeks.

“I’m sorry, you’re just so nice to look at.” You shrug it off, not knowing what’s come over you.

He laughs, a hearty one this time, “You’re cute.”

Conversation flows from there.

You talk about yourselves, shooting questions back and forth.

Even when your food comes, you’re more focused on him.

You feel like you’re back in high school, like you should be twirling your hair and giggling.

This effect Jungwon has on you is crazy.

After you’ve both finished and he’s paid, you end up back on the back, walking along the shore line with your shoes off.

“I really meant it when I said you look nice. Not just nice, beautiful,” he says, looking at you brightly.

“Stop! Coming from someone like you..I think you’re beautiful too. In a way I’ve never seen.”

It’s his turn to blush and you take the opportunity to poke him teasingly.

“Is it weird we just met yesterday but I already feel a strong connection to you?” You ask, looking down at the small waves making contact with your feet.

Jungwon shakes his head, “No, I feel the same way. It’s like something pushing us together.”

“Do you like it?”

“Yeah, do you?”

You nod, smiling behind your hand.

Jungwon moves your hand, “Don’t hide your smile, it’s beautiful, like you.”

You hug his arm, holding onto it as you continue to walk.

It’s late at night by the time you get back, having wished Jungwon farewell with a kiss to his cheek.

Everyone seems to be asleep, yet as you turn the corner to enter your room, you’re met with a hard chest.

Looking up, you’re met with Heeseung’s frown.

“What were you doing with him?” He spits, tone venomous.

You furrow your eyebrows, “Why does it matter?”

“You just met this guy and suddenly he’s got all your attention?”

“Again, why does that matter to you?”

“Because it should be on me, not some random guy!” He’s whispering harshly, trying his best not to wake anyone.

The gears begin to turn in your head.

“You care because my attention isn’t on you? Is that all you care about? My attention? I didn’t realize your ego was so big.”

His face falters, like he said something he shouldn’t.

You continue, your own tone now vicious, “I can’t believe all these years I’ve been doing nothing but feeding your inflated ego! You don’t give a shit about me in the slightest.”

“That’s not true, I do care about you.”

“Yeah,” you question, “what’s my favorite color?”

“Blue.”

“Wrong, it’s orange. When’s my birthday?”

“Sept-“

“Wrong, again. It’s August. You don’t know shit about me, yet I know so much about you.”

“Like what?” He challenges you.

You clear your throat, “Your birthday is October 15th, your favorite colors are ivory and purple, your favorite past time is basketball, you can sing but you don’t like people knowing, your major is engineering, in 5th grade you got suspended for pranking a teacher which you’ve sworn to keep secret, guess what it’s really not a secret, should I go on?

Heeseung is stunned into silence, he didn’t realize how much you truly knew.

“I… I don’t know what to say,” he stutters.

“Yeah, I’m sure you don’t. The point is Heeseung I’ve been nothing but an ego boost to you, and that’s pretty fucked up.”

You’re about to walk around him, when he catches your wrist.

“Let me get to know you, please.”

“Why now, all of a sudden?”

“Because, you deserve better than what I’ve given you.”

You know you shouldn’t give in, but the pitiful look he gives you makes you sway.

“Fine, but for now, I’m going to bed.”

Morning comes and you recall last night's confrontation.

Are you really giving Heeseung a chance?

Yes, it seems so.

When you make your way to the kitchen, Heeseung is the only one there.

“Where is everyone?” You ask, sitting at the table.

“They went out, so we have time to ourselves.”

He sits down across from you.

“I wanna hear about you, what you’re really like, what I’ve been missing out on.”

As Heeseung asks you questions, you answer them somewhat eagerly, getting more and more open as time passes.

You’re laughing together by the time everyone gets back, and you don’t miss the wink Heeseung gives you before giving his attention elsewhere.

Jake babbles for the rest of the morning about what they did and how cool it was.

Later in the afternoon, Heeseung finds you again.

“I wanna take you somewhere.”

You question him but he says it’s a surprise.

He takes you to a secluded area of the beach, where you sit in the sun, soaking it up.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” He says, gazing at you fondly.

You know you shouldn’t, but you feel yourself curl up in shyness.

This is what you always wanted, to be viewed differently by Heeseung.

Your phone buzzes and you briefly glance at it, pausing when you see Jungwon’s name.

You should answer but Heeseung catches your attention again.

2 days have passed, and you feel like you’re on cloud nine.

Heeseung has been amazing.

He takes you out, showers you with attention and compliments, and it feels like you really have a connection now.

You lay awake in the room you share with Jake.

Happiness can’t even begin to describe your feelings.

You feel parched all of a sudden.

Making your way to the kitchen for a glass of water, you hear two hushed voices outside on the patio.

“I can’t believe she fell for this shit. All it took was a few compliments and some attention and she was like putty in your hands.”

You recognize Saemi’s voice, what you don’t expect is to hear Heeseung respond.

“I know, she’s so easy. It’ll only be another few days of this and then I can be free of her.”

Saemi speaks again, in a mocking tone “Poor Y/N, so naive and stupid.”

Suddenly, it feels like your world is crashing down around you.

This whole time, you’ve been the butt of their joke.

You can’t control the tears as they gush out of your eyes.

You fall to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably.

“Y/N?”

Heeseung’s voice makes you look up.

He and Saemi are standing there.

He looks shocked, while Saemi stands there smiling.

“I guess she must’ve been listening. Shame, I was hoping to embarrass her more when we got home.”

You continue to sob, pulling yourself up, you rush out the door.

You run down the beach, ignoring Heeseung calling your name.

As you run along the beach, your legs give up on you.

Falling to the ground once again, you try to stop yourself from crying, but it’s hopeless.

You grip the sand, watching the way your tears make small dents.

You can’t breathe, you’re trying to inhale and failing.

“Y/N?”

That’s not Heeseung calling your name.

You see Jungwon running towards you, and you will yourself to stand.

He crashes into you, nearly knocking you over as his arms come to wrap around you.

“What’s wrong?” He says, exasperated.

He breaks away to cup your face, looking into your eyes.

“He… he,” you can barely speak as you wail.

“Breathe, breathe, it’s okay.”

Jungwon hugs you tighter this time as you wrap your arms around him, burying your face in his chest.

You find your breath, inhaling and exhaling slowly.

“Tell me what happened,” Jungwon says, rubbing your head affectionately.

You spill everything, from the manifestation of your crush, to the events 10 minutes ago.

You feel Jungwon stiffen in your hold.

“Are you fucking kidding?” His voice is angry, something you’ve never heard.

It makes you shiver.

“I can’t believe someone, some people could be so cruel. To someone so sweet.”

You realize at that moment that Jungwon is here comforting you, when you spent the last few days ignoring him completely.

“How can you say that? I’ve been ignoring your texts for him, I don’t deserve your comfort,” you say, trying to pull away.

Jungwon doesn’t let you, pulling you back into his arms, “Baby, that never even occurred to me. Besides, you were manipulated, that’s not your fault.”

You feel more tears roll down your cheeks, and Jungwon pulls back to wipe them with his thumbs.

“Don’t cry,” he says, “not over someone like him.”

You nod, sniffling slightly.

“Pretty girls don’t deserve to cry over shitty men,” Jungwon says, making you laugh.

As the moon shines down on you, you look into Jungwon’s pure eyes.

It clicks.

“You know that connection we mentioned before?” You ask, hands coming up to rest on Jungwon’s cheeks.

He nods, nuzzling his cheek into your hands, turning his head and leaving a kiss on your palm.

You continue, “I think I know what it’s meant for.”

With that, you pull him in. He must realize what you’re planning because he surges forward, connecting your lips eagerly.

It’s desperate and passionate, like it’s been coming for years.

Yet, it’s only been a few days since you met.

His tongue swipes against your bottom lip and you open up, sucking his tongue into your mouth.

When you pull back, you’re both panting.

“I want you, now,” you say, tugging on his shirt.

“What if someone sees?”

“What if I want them to see?”

Jungwon shuts up, pulling his shirt over his head as you do the same.

He kisses you again, leading you to the soft ground of sand.

As you lay on your back, his kisses move from your lips to your neck, making their way down to your breasts.

He takes one nipple into his mouth, sucking and nipping at it.

You moan, loudly, running your fingers through his hair.

He gives his attention to the other nipple, doing the same and using his hand to play with the other.

He kisses down your stomach, reaching the waistband of your shorts.

You thank god you went without underwear, wanting to be more comfortable.

Your pussy glistens under the moonlight and Jungwon dives in.

Taking your clit into his mouth, he sucks hard, making you arch your back.

He plays with it, circling it with his tongue.

Letting it go with a pop, his tongue makes its way between your folds, actively taking in all your arousal.

The wet, slurping sounds make your ears red, and you whine, gripping his hair tighter.

“Fuck, you’re dripping,” he says before going back in, kissing and licking your folds.

He focuses on your hole, clenching around nothing as he sticks his tongue inside.

You squeal at the pleasure, crying out as he fucks his tongue in and out.

He slowly pushes one finger inside, getting you used to the feeling.

Jungwon thrusts that finger in and out, along with his tongue, until you’re ready for another.

He focuses his tongue back on your clit, while his fingers stretch you out.

Chanting his name like a mantra, you feel yourself about to cum.

He pulls away at the last second, making you whine in protest.

“I need to fuck you now,” he says, leaving a kiss on your lips.

He unzips his shorts, pulling them down with his underwear to let his cock free.

It slaps against his stomach, and you feel more arousal drool out of you.

He takes his cock in hand, running it up and down through your folds.

“Please, please fuck me,” you say sweetly.

Jungwon gently pushes in, looking at you for any pain or discomfort.

When you don’t show any, he begins to thrust, slow but steady.

The way his cock drags through your walls has your eyes rolling back.

Your legs wrap around his waist, pushing him in even further, both of you moaning in pleasure.

“Faster Wonnie.”

He picks up the pace, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling your ears along with your moans and his grunts.

He grabs your legs, pushing them against your chest, changing the angle.

Your wetness has spread everywhere at this point, splashing against your stomach and his.

“Gonna cum in this pussy, yeah?”

You nod enthusiastically, “Want your cum, please.”

His thrusts become frantic, you whimper into your hand as he buries his face in your neck.

You cum at the same time, almost pushing him out but he stays firm in filling you up.

As he comes to a stop, he pulls out, watching his cum dribble out of you onto the sand.

“Fuck,” you say, out of breath.

Jungwon leans down to kiss you once more, hand gripping the base of your neck.

“Good?” He asks, tapping your clit teasingly with his fingers, making you jump, smacking his hand away.

You nod, gazing at the sunrise behind you.

“Shit, I should probably get back inside.”

Jungwon agrees, putting himself back in his pants and pulling your shorts up.

Putting your shirts on, you give him one last kiss, “I’ll see you later?”

He nods, “And if you need me to be there for you, I’m one text away.”

You go back inside, not seeing Heeseung or Saemi anywhere.

You don’t think you can face them after this, still humiliated at the way you were played.

Jake is still asleep when you sneak back in.

Your eyes are heavy as you lay back in bed, drifting to sleep with nothing on your mind but Jungwon.

The next thing you know, you’re being shaken awake.

“Wake the fuck up!” Jake’s voice yells directly in your face.

You shoot up out of bed, knocking your head against Jake’s who wasn’t fast enough to move.

“What the fuck is your problem?” You shout, rubbing the spot where your foreheads met.

“What is this I hear about you having sex with that Jungwon guy on the beach?” Jake emphasizes his words, while your eyes widen.

“How do you know about that?”

“Heeseung told me! Are you fucking crazy?”

Within seconds, everyone is at the bedroom door.

“You had sex with that boy?” Your dad exclaims, and man is he angry.

The way all eyes are on you makes you uncomfortable.

“Why does it matter? I’m an adult, I can make my own choices!”

“Honey, you barely know him,” your mother says.

“The only reason I was with him in the first place is because of what Heeseung did!”

With that, you retell last night’s events again, although it’s painful to recall.

When you’re done, nobody speaks.

Jake, normally calm in most situations, gets up.

Making his way across the room towards Heeseung, he launches his fist into Heeseung’s face.

Heeseung falls back, his butt hitting the floor.

Nobody moves, before Jake is being held back by your father.

“You played my fucking sister?” Jake spits. He’s not yelling yet his tone is menacing, you’ve never seen him so angry.

“It wasn’t….it wasn’t meant to end the way it did,” Heeseung says, still on the floor.

“You two blatantly played with Y/N’s feelings! Have you no shame?” Heeseung’s mother is furious too, ashamed of her son's actions.

“It’s not that big of a deal,” Saemi complains.

Without warning, your mothers hand meets Saemi’s cheek, and she stumbles back from the force.

“You fucked with my daughter, bitch.”

Saemi looks stunned, cowering as your mother raises her fist.

“We’re so sorry for this,” Heeseung’s father says, dragging Heeseung up off the floor and out of the room. His mother does the same with Saemi.

With just your family left in the room, you break the silence, “About Jungwon…I really like him. I know it seems irresponsible but there’s something there I can’t explain. Don’t be mad, please?”

Your mother hugs you, “We understand, I’m sorry this happened in the first place. We promise you’ll never have to see them again.”

The trip is officially cut short, the Lee’s renting a car to take home.

Heeseung tried to talk to Jake, but Jake cut him off.

“Consider us no longer friends.”

As you stand at the shore edge, a familiar presence makes itself known.

“I see you’re packing up. Sad, I was hoping to spend more time with you,” Jungwon says.

“Who said we won’t be spending time together back home? You don’t think I plan to let you go, do you?”

Jungwon laughs, “You’re right, silly me. Text me on the ride okay? We’re here until the end of the week.”

You nod, pulling him in for a hug.

As the water splashes against your heels, you feel at peace.

note: didn’t feel like changing the formatting so sorry if it bothers you. will be posting a no-smut version on my main @aewon

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unhappycylinder · 4 months ago

Note

I have a request!! Feel free to ignore if I missed a rule.

How about a female reader at Welton and a game of spin the bottle? 👀

Love this!! Sorry it took me a bit to respond, but here it is! Enjoy 😙

Spin the Bottle (DPS x fem!Reader)

Charlie Dalton’s plea for girls at Welton had somehow come true. Through unusual circumstances, you had found yourself in a chilly small tow in New England at an all-boys preparatory school, much to the delight of the so called Dead Poets.

The group of boys, seemingly making up a majority of the school’s outcast population, quickly welcomed you upon your arrival. Some of course were more welcoming than others...Charlie Dalton...while others couldn’t maintain eye contact with you if their life depended on it...Gerard Pitts, Steven Meeks, Richard Cameron, and most of all Todd Anerson.

On this particular night, you found this dichotomy playing out more than ever, in the form of a game of spin the bottle. What started as a joke between you and Knox had led to Charlie scouring the corners of his dorm room in search of any of the empty beer bottles he had tucked behind his furniture in secret. Once he found one, he gestured wildly for you and the poets to sit in a circle.

With a sigh, Neil reluctantly spun the bottle, smiling as it landed next to him,

“Alright Todd, truth or dare,” Neil said with a smirk.

“...tru-” Todd began through a quiet stutter.

“No, no, no. You’re playing the game all wrong,” Charlie interjected, hands gesturing to the bottle, “you’re supposed to kiss each other!”

Neil and Todd’s cheeks both turned crimson, a detail which the rest of the group seemingly missed while they collectively sighed, “ohhhh,” as Charlie shook his head.

“No offense guys,” Cameron began with a chuckle, “but I’m not too keen on kissing any of you.”

“Ditto,” Pitts groaned, with quiet hums of approval coming from the other members.

“No,” Charlie began, “but I know there’s someone here who we’re all pretty keen on kissing...” he raised his eyebrows at you.

“Oh, Charlie, come on” Neil squirmed as he whined at his best friend.

“You know what,” you weighed your options, “It’s all in good fun. Besides, whatever happens in this room, stays in this room”

The dead poets laughed, a slight blush gracing your cheeks as you looked to all of them. “To live deep and suck the marrow out of life?” Meeks toasted, to which you all agreed.

Grabbing the bottle to start the game, Charlie hoped in his mind that it would land on you, and once again his hopes came true.

“Well, well,” he smirked, closing his eyes and pursing his lips in your direction.

You giggled, leaning in to him and planting a quick kiss to his cheek.

“Hey-” he began, opening his eyes.

“Sorry Charlie,” you giggled, eyes traveling to the bottle which you were about to spin.

Butterflies filling your stomach, you spun the bottle and closed your eyes, opening them only when the boys all started oooh-ing again.

“Oh god,” Knox groaned, “this is torture,” he said as he crawled towards you.

“Just close your eyes and pretend its Chris,” Pitts joked.

“Knock it off,” Neil, the voice of reason, chimed in.

You and Knox shared an incredibly uncomfortable peck before he rushed back to his seat and your expression turned sour.

Knox spun the bottle, leading to an incredibly entertaining hover-kiss-squirming situation between him and Meeks. During his turn it landed on Cameron, resulting in someone making a ginger-on-ginger comment, making the group erupt in laughter.

Several rounds later you had found yourself in the clear, so far only sharing one real kiss with one of your colleagues, that is, until Pitts ‘s eyes locked with yours.

One of the more quiet and studious members of the group, Pitts and you hadn’t really spoken much, let alone touched. At least with Knox and Charlie that wasn’t your first time being close to either of them, but Pitts was another story.

His eyes told you he was nervous, but also excited, the kind of gaze you’d find in the eyes of a boy who had never kissed a girl.

Oh shit.

You blushed, face falling as you began to speak, “Pitts...you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

He nodded, taking in your words, “no, no I can do it” “Atta boy, Pittsie!” Charlie clapped him on the back.

With a nod, you leaned over to him, capturing his lips in a brief, but thoughtful kiss. The other boys cheered as you kissed him, pulling away to see his eyes glossy with joy and surprise.

“Thank you,” he whispered, although unclear if that was directed to you or to God.

Several rounds later, a rather passionate kiss between Neil and Todd had shrouded the game in a sense of confusion too heavy for it to continue. So, on the last round, you found the bottle in your hands, and you found it pointing to none other than Charlie Dalton.

“How about a little redemption for the first round, huh?” He joked, raising his eyebrows at you.

You sighed, choosing your next actions for three very specific reasons.

1. The importance of a good finale

2. Charlie had a point...and he was cute

3.To distract from rom whatever the hell just happened between Neil and Todd

And with those reasons in mind, you launched yourself forward and grabbed Charlie’s face, kissing him like you meant it as his hands wrapped around your back and the poets cheered. It was the finale the game needed, but it would definitely make for a very interesting school day tomorrow.

#dead poets fandom #dead poets society fluff #dead poets fanfic #dead poets society #dead poets society x reader #dps fandom #dps #dps x reader #charlie dalton #knox overstreet #neil perry #todd anderson #gerard pitts #steven meeks #richard cameron

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a-aexotic · 2 years ago

Note

AAAA I LOVE THE HUNGER GAMES !! could u write either peeta or finnick during catching fire they are going oht of their way to protect you and make sure your okay (if peeta that katniss isn’t there u take her place for the story)

happy new year 😚😚

—cw: unedited, established relationships in both, general thg stuff, mentions of SA & prostitution, death

—a/n: HEY SO ik you requested a fic but i thought i could both (finnick & peeta) in headcanons!!!!!! I HOPE THATS OKAY PLS LMK 😭 also this was sooo much longer than excepted i got carried away with finnick’s! HAPPY NEW YWAR TOO!

FINNICK O’DAIR

we obviously know that finnick would go above and beyond to protect the people he loves and cares about

but there’s only a few people he cares about—you, annie & mags

you were three years younger than him, winning the hunger games at just 14 years old (like him) and you had come from district 4

you had volunteered for your younger sister in the games, like katniss would for prim later

people in the capitol found you just as, if not more, charming than finnick because of what you did for your sweet baby sister

they ate the whole thing up, crying at the beautiful gesture because they knew a little girl like you couldn’t win

but you did! it took everything in you, everything you stood for, and your morals to win

and it broke you as it did with any of the other victors

you thought it would have been all over after that but of course not

because you were so loved at the capitol, snow decided to make some profit out of it

he decided to sell your body in exchange for your family’s safety

and that is how you met finnick and became friends

he was 17 when he met you and he took you under his wing, protecting you from everything and everyone

but he knew he could only protect you from so much

when he had turned 18 he knew he had to leave you to do all those terrible things alone but he had to

you guys bonded over similar traumas and soon, you fell in love

when the quarter quell had been announced, you knew it wasn’t fair

and no matter what, you were going to volunteer for annie or mags because you knew neither could make it

annie was too fragile mentally and mags was too old, you were the only who was still strong physically and somewhat mentally

and finnick knew that was exactly what you were planning on doing but he knew he couldn’t stop you

at this point in time, finnick wasn’t wary of the rebellion so he thought he was going to have to choose between himself and y/n; and for him, it wasn’t much of a choice

he swore he would protect you, and when the time came he would kill himself so you could make it home

now you were thinking the opposite; you would pull exactly what katniss and peeta did, and if that didn’t work they might as well just die like romeo and juliet and that would cause an uproar at the capitol

when annie had been picked, you were the first to raise your hand, grabbing mags’ arm stop her

there were tears in both their eyes, looking at you with admiration, terror and slight relief

you had hugged them both tightly, knowing it was possibly the last time you’d feel their embraces

you looked over at finnick, tears brimming both of your eyes and you walked over at each other and brought your hands together, raising them up in union

when you had made it to the capitol, plutarch and haymitch had told you the plan and you immediately accepted, relief seen in both your expressions

when entering the training room, you wanted to work on your skills because you were a bit rusty, leaving all the violence back at the arena

you knew that this hunger games wasn’t gonna be like your last, it much more difficult like plutarch said

katniss always admired you, doing what you had done for your sister

she had related to you ever since she had came back from her hunger games; you were her idol

but after meeting finnick she realized that it may have been a ploy to win over some sponsors

after talking to haymitch, he told her the truth; that she was simply being shallow because you were the kindest person he had ever met

so when you were working on your bow skills, katniss had walked in

she realized you were struggling and decided to help you

you didn’t exchange much words but katniss realized what haymitch had said was true

and she had picked you for one of her allies

when the quarter quell had begun, you quickly sprinted to find finnick and when you did, you found him with katniss, then peeta

you were a pretty strong person, just as strong as finnick but he still had the urge to protect you

from the moment he laid eyes on you, he wanted to take you out of harms way and he didn’t know why until one day you had mentioned it; you had reminded him of himself when he was younger

before you, he had never felt real comfort after the hunger games because of your similarities and bonds that wouldn’t ever break

so even though you were very capable, he still protected you and made sure you were okay at all times

you and katniss bonded as well and him and peeta did

towards the end of the games, you had injured your lower leg very badly and you couldn’t walk

he couldn’t leave you because he knew that it was almost over

you had begged him to just leave, that you were just deadweight and neither him or katniss would budge

so he carried you on his back, right until the end of the games

also gale dies instead 🙄

PEETA MELLARK

basically you were katniss up until catching fire

you guys started dating after the hunger games, bonding over what had happened

when the quarter quell was announced you were heartbroken

you blamed yourself and only yourself because of it

you knew this time, you and peeta couldn’t get out of this one so easily

and you decided that peeta deserved to live and if it came to it, you would die for him

but peeta was thinking the exact same thing

you had a family to live for, you had friends to live for, you had a life to live for

and what did peeta have? nothing but you

he was prepared to take his own life for your own, in a heartbeat

now with katniss, peeta was definitely not as protective because she was more independent

but with you, he was way more protective

of course you were still a baddie like katniss but peeta felt more of a protective nature over you

he hated seeing you hurt whether it was physical or mental

peeta thought of ways to possibly stop the quarter quell, so he pulled the pregnancy stunt on caesar’s show

he couldn’t imagine his life without you, his life wouldn’t be his without you

that didn’t work as we know

in the quarter quell, he refused to leave your side

he also preferred to be in front of you even after you tried to argue that you would be better up front

when you guys slept, he would always lay his head on top of your so he could feel if you got up

he would be ready to kill anyone and everyone for you, in any moment

he hated the idea that the one of you had to die and he tried. it to think about it

the whole time during the games he just thought about ways to get you guys both out but he realized he couldn’t

when you ended up shooting the force field with your arrow and the whole thing went down, he was there

and he was saved with you because mocking jay peeta was scary & he didn’t deserve it 😭

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