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probablysimpledreams · 1 year

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Brat, You Belong to Me

(Crocodile x reader: NSFW)

a/n: Hello hello One Piece nation!! I am here with some nsfw Crocodile for yall<3 This is set when he's still a Warlord and in Alabasta just for some context!

cw: Very possessive Croco here. A little usage of his hook, uses the term "pet" (the relationship the reader and him have is more of a toy/item than relationship bro is not nice just hot and possessive), hints of overstimulation, begging, masturbation being watched, umm that should be all. The reader is written gender neutral but with female parts. OH and a Doflamingo appearance!

word count: a tad over 1.4k

The ride to the World Government headquarters felt longer than ever this time. You often accompanied Crocodile to his Warlord meetings, finding joy knowing it was another place he could show you off. You loved being his accessory, having such a powerful man's attention turned you on like crazy.

However, lately too many things have been stealing that attention away from you. He never disclosed his work to you, and honestly that's not what you cared about. What was bothering was that he was too focused on his work. This past month he has been in meeting after meeting, phone after phone call locked away in his office. The only time he has spent with you was so he could get off, needing to release stress in between meetings, calls, reports, you name it. You knew he wasn't a kind man, but this was the first time he did not take your pleasure into consideration. It was pissing you off to no end. What was so much more appealing than you these days?

You sigh loudly as you lay your head on the large man. You flutter your eyelashes as you look up at him, a frown forming as he does not even bat an eye. He continues reading the newspaper as you move closer to him, ignoring any personal space in the car. You abruptly pull away, laying down on the seats on the limousine as you throw your legs across his. You always made sure to wear something revealing to these meetings, per Crocodile's request. You extend your right leg in the air, skin brushing against the newspaper Crocodile is buried into you.

"Control yourself _______," he mumbled while turning the page of the paper. He still not even glance up to look at you. His response invoked even more rage within you. As you sit up and turn away from him, a plan to get his attention forms in your head.

------

You smile as you enter the meeting room, looking around at the familiar faces. It had been a while since the last Warlord meeting, but you knew exactly who to target to get under Crocodile's skin.

"So nice of you to join us, Gator boy," a tall man smirks as he approaches the two of you. "And your little Birdy joined us as well." He winked as he took your hand into his. "How are you beautiful?"

"Oh you know," you smile up at the man. "Can't complain." You glance at Crocodile as Doflamingo presses a kiss on your hand. Despite Crocodile showing no reaction, you knew how he felt about Doflamingo, especially when it came to him flirting with you. You always obey his rule of not interacting with Doflamingo's moves, but it was time to play dirty.

"Darling, I saved you a seat," Doflamingo escorts you over to the table where the rest of the Warlords sat. You thanked him as you sat in the chair between him and Crocodile. A small smirk formed on your face as you noticed Crocodile's attention was finally on you, even if it was just from the corner of his eye. Keeping up with your plan, you turn to ask Doflamingo a question. As the two of you talked you could feel a strong, piercing set of eyes watching you.

"Fufufufu, finally giving up on the old man huh Birdy?" Doflamingo leans closer into you. "You know my offer never expires," his hand starts trailing down to your exposed thighs.

"I might have to take you up on that Doffy," you giggle. "Ya know, Crocodile has been so busy lately, it's made me-" you were cut off by a hook creating a barrier between you and Doflamingo.

"That's enough," Crocodile huffs. "Both of you." Though he keeps a calm composure, you can sense the anger from his tone. The energy of the entire room shifts. His gold hook graces your skin as he pulls it back to himself, giving you a final glare before turning around.

"Oh? Protective, are we now?" Doflamingo chuckles amusingly. Before he's able to push Crocodile's buttons any further, the individuals who called for the meeting enter the room and begin speaking.

----------

Similar to the ride there, the ride back was silent. However, a winning smirk graced your face as he kept a hand latched on your thigh. His composure was slowly breaking as the ride continued. You impatiently rub your thighs together, causing Crocodile to tighten his grip on you. The car finally pulled into the Rain Dinners casino, and Crocodile dragged you all the way inside into his office. Using his hook, he quickly pushes everything off his desk and throws you onto the desk.

"Is this what you wanted so badly?" he asks, sliding the back of his hook against your clothed sex. You whine, yet he's not amused. "Answer me damn it."

"I-I want you!" you whine, unable to hide any desire. You've been so horny all month and can not take any teasing. His free hand slides your underwear off, then he presses the back of his hook against you again. You cry as the cold gold meets your skin. He gives a disgusted look as he pulls away, wiping the sticky wetness off the hook.

"Show me," he takes a seat down at the desk. "You put on a great show for Domflamingo earlier. Where's mine?"

You whine, but decide not to resist his demands. You quickly move your hand down your body, fingers swirling circles on your clit. Crocodile watches intensely as you get to work on yourself, moans leaving your lips. You could tell he was not going to give you what you needed yet though.

"C-Crocodile," you cry as you slide two fingers inside yourself. A smirk appears on his face as he continues to watch you intensely. You pick up the pace, pumping your fingers in and out of yourself at a quick pace. You continue to squirm on the table, moans crying for Crocodile to touch you and how you need him. Just as you're about to reach your climax, a hand reaches out and forces you to stop. You whine and fight to get out of his grip, but are unsuccessful as your hand is now pinned above your head.

"Such a good pet," he praises as he hovers over you. You swallow as he releases your hand, wrist throbbing from the tight grip. "Well, are you going to get what you've been begging for?" he motions to his harden cock trying to burst from his slacks. "Or should I make you wait even longer?" You eyes widen as you shake your head, causing him to chuckle as you quickly undo his belt and slide his pants off. "That's what I thought." Your legs wrap around his waist as he positions himself, tip barely inside you.

"Please Crocodile!" your impatience past its limit. "Fuck me already!"

"You don't make the demands here," he slams his cock roughly into you. "You got that?"

"Y-yes sir," you choke, tears forming in your eyes from the pleasurable pain.

"That's more like it," he smirks. He moves his hips to fuck you at a steady pace, starting slowly to make sure you feel every second of it. You cry as he pulls himself all the way out, seconds later sliding himself all the way back into you. Crocodile was clearly no small man, and neither was his dick. You still remember the first time he had fucked you, leaving you breathless and bleeding. You were sure you were bleeding again as it felt like he was ripping your inside apart with every thrust. This is exactly what you wanted. After a full month of being deprived your mind and body were ecstatic from finally receiving pleasure. It was all so overwhelmingly pleasuring, pushing you to your climax quicker than usual. Crocodile began thrusting faster and faster as you claw at his back. You know he will be mad if you ruin the silk button down he's still wearing, but you don't care. In this moment all you can focus on is your own pleasure.

"C-Crocodile," you moan as you tighten around him, causing him to let out a low growl. "I-I....Crocodile!!" you scream his name as the pleasure takes over you, vision going fuzzy as you reach your climax. You continues fucking you through it which causes you to squirm and cry out more.

You pant as you come down from the high of it all, sweat sliding down your face. You wince as Crocodile does not stop nor slow down. You reach out to put a hand on his chest, sweaty hands gripping his shirt.

"You're a fool if you think that's all," an evil smirk spreads across his face, eyes deeply looking into yours. "I'm going to make sure you never question who you belong to again."

#crocodile #crocodile one piece #crocodile x reader #crocodile op #crocodile smut #crocodile x y/n #cross guild #donquixote doflamingo #one piece x y/n #one piece x reader #one piece fanfiction #one piece x you #one piece #one piece smut

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xoxoamyas · 10 months

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`` A Little Promise ,,

rating : more neutral zone than anything, potentially fluff leaning? petnames [ darling and dear ] are used on reader. there are mild hints to reader being a vampire.

fae!wilbur x vampire!gn!reader [ use of you/yours, no use of y/n ]

☆ . after some walking through the forest you come across a little ring. an odd little man pops from it and wants your name. <3

note : this is another potential series that I really liked, might continue it and go more in depth with it since that's what this is mostly set up for but i'm kinda uncertain about it right now.

masterlist [ ☆ ]

⋆˙⟡

You hadn't meant for this to happen.

You had been walking through the forest, clutching the light jacket you wore close to you. Pretending you were cold, wanting to feel just a bit more alive than you were. The moonlight shines through nicely through the tree's overhead, providing a soft light to walk with.

You hadn't realized it right away, but the ringing in your ears was enough to identify what you had nearly walked into.

You looked down at the ring of mushrooms, furrowing your brows. You were about a foot or so away from it, moving to back off since you were not in the mood to deal with some potential over their head prick of a fae.

Past experiences say to run, that you don't need a deal. Knowing better than that as you backed off, hoping you hadn't alarmed the fae that the ring belonged to.

Yet, of course, as you choose a new direction to go in, fate just loves you.

“Why hello there. Where are you headed at this time of night?” The Fae's accent throws you off, not used to such put together accents. Pausing in your steps, silently complaining as you begrudgingly turn a bit. Eyes flickering over the brunette within the ring.

He was definitely along the lines of being considered wealthy. He looked healthy, hair tended to and cared for, looking so soft and curly. A flower crown that was slightly tilted along his head, it was a wonder it hadn't fallen off. Ears pointed at the tips, visibly attentive. Brown eyed gaze flickering curiously over your form.

He definitely seemed deal deprived.

You can feel a slight twinge of annoyance, pushing it down just slightly. Never be rude to the fae. The words echo in your mind. There were too many rules to them, in your opinion.

“I'm just travelling by.” You hum, trying to humour him without seeming on edge. Briefly moving to hold your jacket closer to yourself, wanting nothing more than to disappear.

“So late? And alone at that?” His question made something uneasy roll through you.

“It's nothing to worry about, I'm fine travelling by myself.” The words fall off your tongue with ease, like honey made from a bee. Words you've said countless times before.

“Well, stay, have a chat. I'd love to make your acquaintance, assuming you're not in a hurry?” He's trying to smile, give a friendly appearance in contrast to looks given to you before.

You were already regretting humouring the man.

“Sure, I don't see why not.” You offer no more than a strained smile, trailing closer but staying out of arm's reach. Finding a conveniently placed rock to sit on, crossing your legs. “Where did you come from? You weren't there before I turned around.” You want to seem human, even if you knew there was an energy that differed between the alive and un-dead. Hoping that he wouldn't recognize the difference at all.

He just raises a brow, hiding any disappointment he had about you not stepping closer. Tilting his head as he just slightly leaned back and crossed his arms behind his back. He's looking for traces of something other than confusion.

“Certainly, you've heard of the fae before? As well as their realm?” Of course you had, but you don't answer right away. Purposely thinking a bit longer than necessary. “Tell me you're not oblivious.” He suddenly speaks with a more neutral tone, clearly unamused as he slightly squints his eyes at you.

“It's the twenty-first century, man, I dunno what to tell you. Fae aren't exactly discussed often.” You frown, shrugging a bit. It wasn't entirely true, but it wasn't a lie, either. You had spoken to theorists before, but never anybody on the younger side outside of those who wrote certain stories.

That.. clearly wasn't something that he liked to hear. You sit there and watch as he basically tensed up before forcing himself to smile and relax. He's visibly annoyed, and you're ready to skedaddle. You wish it was as easy as that.

“Well that's.. certainly something.” He moves to instead clasp his hands together in front of him.

There's an awful pause as you just let the fae collect his thoughts. Before you know it, he takes a steadying and more confident breath, smiling in a more natural and relaxed manner now.

“Darling, I have to ask,” He starts, voice smooth as the words fall out of his mouth with ease. You can feel the hair on the back of your neck stick up a bit. “What do I call you? If we're to be friends, I'd like to know what I can call my acquaintance.”

It's an odd feeling that suddenly goes through the air, the forest essentially growing silent around you both. He's giving a patient look, likely an illusion to hide any annoyance. You're just giving a fairly blank yet thoughtful look in return, to many years under your belt to know better than to give the fae your name.

“Well, there's plenty you could call me.” You hum just slightly, tilting your head the tiniest bit as your eyes flickered over him. Practically feeling the energy surrounding the small area's vicinity waver.

You weren't entirely lying, anyway. Especially since you've been called name after name by various people over the centuries.

Never give the fae your name, the words linger in your mind. A reminder not to trust the man with your name lest he gives his first.

“Your name, dear.” He's more to the point with it, trying not to seem dejected or frustrated that you hadn't just said your name.

“Well, what can I call you?” You ask, moving to rest your chin in the palm of your hand. Seeing the slight twitch to one of his hands, a moment of silent satisfaction flowing through her.

“Wil, you can call me Wil, darling.” He's trying to be charming, thinking he may get your name.

The name he gave you was nothing more than an incomplete name, a nickname. You just give him a nickname of your own in return, making you even. He recognized it instantly, a nickname you held close to you yet you hardly used or identified with.

“You don't trust me?” Wil asks, placing a hand over his heart as he frowns, feigning hurt.

“It's not that I don't trust you,” You frown a bit, standing from the rock after a second of glancing at the sky. “I just don't know you, and you don't know me.” When you look at him again, you almost regret speaking. A slight spark passed through his gaze.

“Then get to know me. Promise to come back again tomorrow night or the night after, talk with me. I'll be here, and I promise to be open with you in return.” There it is, the deal that he likely wants. A chance for him to get every piece of what he wanted from you. It makes you want to turn and run, but something about the idea is enticing.

You're severely going to regret this. “I promise to come back in a couple nights.” and just like that, the air settles as the deal is made. Feeling the magic snap and basically bond to your soul. Another burden to carry.

Wil is happy, though, practically unable to hold back a grin. “Oh, how lovely! I'll think of some things for us to talk about, then, darling. Just you wait.” There's something beneath his tone, worse than mischief.

“Alright.. I'll see you around, then.” You offer an awkward smile. Waving in return when he waves you off with his own big smile.

What did you just sign yourself up for?

You really needed a snack after that.

#amyas writes #x reader #fae wilbur #fae!wilbur #fae!wilbur au #fae!wilbur x reader #wilbur x reader #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot x you #wilbur x you

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allmoshnobrain · 9 months

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𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐥 𝐦𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

dave mustaine x spoiled!reader | word count: 997

✦ summary: You always loved your boyfriend's beautiful hair, so he finally lets you braid it for the first time.

✦ on this fic: dave mustaine x reader, +18, romance, fluff, smut mentioned/implied, age gap (r is in their middle twenties, dave is around his 40s)

✦ a/n: This idea just popped randomly in my head and I just had to write about it. It's shorter than the fics I usually post here, but I intend to make this a series where you can read all of the fics together or read them as one shots as well, so prompts and suggestions for future parts are more than welcome! Hope you guys like it 🖤

You had always been crazy about your boyfriend's hair. Those long, silky, ginger locks of his were the first thing that caught your eye when you first met, and they'd been driving you wild ever since. No surprises how you loved playing with it in the morning, him hugging you with his face buried in your chest. Or how you loved giving his scalp a gentle rub while zoning out to TV together, his head chilling on your lap until he crashed (being a rockstar takes it out of you, right?). And, let's not forget about running your fingers through his hair, pulling him in for a slow, sweet kiss as he took his sweet time fucking you before bed. He would even let you wash it for him sometimes when you were both soaking in the tub, you sitting on his lap with your legs around his waist — and yeah, that also sometimes ended up with you two fucking, but who's complaining?

"Come on, babe? Just this once!" you pleaded, cozied up in your boyfriend's lap, perched on one of his legs. His sturdy hand gripped your waist, keeping you grounded. He arched an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips, and you threw in a pout for good measure. "I swear you'll look so damn good. Pretty please?"

You'd been on a mission to get Dave to let you braid his hair for the past couple of days. Ever since you both watched a movie about Vikings, you got hooked on those rugged, long-haired warriors and couldn't shake the idea of trying one of their styles on him. You even hit up the bookstore for a couple of hair styling mags to up your game, but Dave wasn't exactly jumping on the excitement train.

"Why don't you rock the braids on your own hair? It'd look pretty damn awesome," he suggested, genuine affection lacing his words, even though you could tell he was just trying to throw you off your mission.

"Not the same thing! My hair's not as cool as yours," you pouted, giving him those puppy eyes. "Plus, I'm curious how you'd rock it. Pretty, pretty please?"

Dave chuckled, catching your chin in his hand and planting a sweet kiss on your lips. In his eyes, you were downright adorable, even if you got a bit bratty when things didn't go your way. He figured he was to blame for spoiling you rotten. He looked into your eyes, seeing frustration and maybe a hint of tears welling up, and sighed. He knew he needed to have that chat with you again – the one about how you couldn’t always get everything you wanted from him. Yet, he also knew you'd forget about it sooner than later. Well, that could wait for another time. He didn't mind bending over backward to make you happy. It was what made him happiest, giving you whatever you wanted, however you wanted it, as far as he could swing it.

"Alright, dove. I'll give it a shot, but just this once. Deal?" he planted a soft kiss on your cheek, and you lit up like a Christmas tree. He grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes, then leaned in closer to your ear and whispered, "But you owe me a reward later, with that pretty mouth of yours."

"Okay, okay, thank you!" you squealed, wrapping your arms around his neck and almost toppling over from his lap. You knew exactly what he meant by a reward, but you didn’t care — you, too, actually loved giving him whatever he wanted, however he wanted it.

You dashed off to your room, grabbing the magazines, combs, and hair products in a hurry. Dave patiently waited on the couch, and his eyes softened with the most tender smile when you returned, hands full of your tools and the biggest, happiest grin on your face.

You dumped the stuff on the couch, standing in front of him, humming with joy as you grabbed a strand of his hair, doing your best to follow the instructions in the magazine you'd left open on the seat. Dave rested his hands on your hips, his thumbs making soothing circles on your soft skin while a small smile played on his lips.

Braiding his hair turned out to be a breeze; it was really soft, and you had a blast doing it. You went for a simple braid, starting from above his left ear and trailing a bit towards the back of his head before cascading down to the ends of his hair.

"So? How's the new look?" he asked, a playful twinkle in his eyes. Excitedly, you snatched your small, round pink face mirror and handed it over. He studied himself, raising an eyebrow. You held your breath, waiting for his verdict. Was he into it? Did he think it suited him?

"Does it look that awful?" you inquired, a small, nervous chuckle slipping out when he stayed silent for a good minute. He lifted his eyes to you, a surprised expression on his face.

"Oh, no, babe, it looks awesome!" he reassured you, and you let out a sigh of relief.

"Really?"

"Absolutely. It's killer!" He checked himself out in the mirror again. "I look cooler than I thought, actually. Wanna do this again for my next gig?"

"Are you for real?" you giggled. He nodded, pulling you into a hug.

"Totally. I reckon I'd look pretty damn cool, don't you think?"

"Oh, you'd look so, so handsome!" you exclaimed, planting a kiss on his lips while genuine laughter bubbled up. "Thank you, babe, thank you, thank you, thank you!"

"You're welcome, my sweetest," he whispered, giving your mouth another peck before moving to your cheek and then to your neck. You sighed happily, feeling your skin warm when his smile brushed against it. He kissed you once more, drawing you even closer in his embrace before whispering, "Now… How about that reward we talked about?"

#ada writes fanfiction #megadeth #dave mustaine #megadeth fanfiction #megadeth x reader #dave mustaine fanfiction #dave mustaine reader #dave mustaine x you #megadeth x you

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golbrocklovely · 1 year

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I think Sam has mentioned in the past that he hates editing. So, if it’s not his thing, why not get someone in to do something you’re not good at/don’t really like? Colby maybe really likes it and maybe likes the control of it. We don’t really know the actual dynamic of their partnership.

Maybe Colby was the one who replaced Sam on editing. And just because Sam isn’t doing editing doesn’t mean he’s doing nothing and making Colby do all the work. There’s more behind the scenes stuff that we don’t see. He could be doing more of the “business” side of it.

actually the opposite is true. sam loves editing. he literally said, i forget when, that if youtube ever went belly up, he would edit for other ppl. is it possible that that has changed? sure. but i know for a fact he said this at one point.

and i'm not arguing that he shouldn't have gotten an editor. they both should have one ! my whole argument is that if colby likes editing, and sam doesn't, that's fine - but DO NOT take credit for something you didn't participate in. sam all the fucking time says "we're editing" when there is no WE. sam has not edited in a long time, he has had an editor since some point last year. colby has been editing since the beginning of their careers. and all any fan does is give credit to sam, who also takes credit for it.

and no, colby did not replace sam in the editing process. there was literally a whole stint of sam posting about finding an editor, writing 20 page guidelines for them to follow, complaining he couldn't find someone, and stuff like that. he decided to leave the editing process. he was not pushed out.

i do think sam is doing other work, but so is colby. on top of the editing. colby is editing for 12 hours a day while sam is off getting hair cuts, training for marathons, and going on his third vacation of the year. and all while that's happening, colby is stuck editing and giving hints that his mental health is in the shitter. and we know all of this bc snc are saying it/showing it themselves.

this then raises the issue to me that sam SHOULD be helping. cut the other videos while colby works on the other. he can't hate editing that much to just not do it at all. and it's insane to me bc if colby is telling us as fans he's not doing the best, god knows what he's telling sam. so you would think that sam, the one that literally helped colby get thru his cancer treatment, would HELP OUT so colby has less shit on his plate.

respectfully, you are not gonna change my mind about this. this whole situation is very indicative of a larger issue in the fandom to me, and that's that this fandom can't handle giving criticism to sam. fans love to throw shade at colby, shit on him, call him names (but in a "joking" way ofc) since the millisecond i stepped into this fandom back in 2018. but when someone points out that maybe sam isn't acting the best in this ONE scenario, all of sudden there are ppl coming out the woodwork to defend him.

and i'm not blaming you in particular, anon. this is something that i've noticed for quite sometime now. i mean, prime example, any time i bring up dumb and wise and complain that sam's thinking is way out there and not relatable at all - i get tons of asks defending him. hell, i had someone send me an ask on here replying to me, and then they brought my other ask to twitter where they said i should go "kindly" throw myself in a ditch and "kindly" fuck off, all while not knowing i follow them on twitter lol

like i get it. i love sam just as much as yall. but you guys (in general, not you specifically) love pointing out when colby fucks up, but can't do the same to sam. it's weird and very dumb. sam is in the wrong this time. sorry.

#ask #personal #sam and colby

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rosedmuse · 1 year

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true love's kiss; for harusoie 750 days

Haruto Asuka of the present, is nothing like the empty shell of who he used to be in the past. An evil witch of poison apples and eternal slumber, he is no more. A changed being is what he is. It was a tough ride, but he managed; and that, is worth celebrating grandly.

Mirrors. Dwarves. Poison apples. Eternal slumber. And true love's kiss.

Such is the story of Snow White.

Haruto has always had high praise for that classic fairytale.

It's timely, fabulous, and very relatable, as he so claims. I remember listening to him ramble on and on about how he used to imagine himself portraying the role of Snow White since he first saw it on TV. He would prance around his room, pretending to dance along with his little, imaginary friends all afternoon long, and even take one bite of an apple he picked from the neighbor's tree to fully relish his fairest of daydreams.

He talked so thoroughly and so fondly of his memories; his every word tugged at my heart that I almost had to pinch myself in the rear to fight the urge of suddenly contacting GOD-za's General Director to request a play centered around it. I'll be suggesting that soon though, sure enough. Just, not now yet. Maybe tomorrow.

"Is it safe to call it your dream role?" It's a question I've been dying to ask for so long.

A brief pause. Haruto tilts his head to one side, as he hums quietly in contemplation. "You can say it is."

I could vividly see him acing the role. Heck, that person can practically ace any role given to him. He may have struggled a bit with Cain (a role very similar to him and his life outside of theater), but he'll just be serving and delivering in the end, as he always does.

Although, if I'm allowed the luxury to admit a hot take for only this one time, Haruto was actually once the evil witch.

He spent long, long hours before the mirror, staring at his own reflection and wondering where in the world had he gone wrong. His face flawless, his capabilities superb. Everything he wanted was within reach; and yet, his heart desperately craved for something much, much more.

Evil thoughts he entertained, poisonous apples he created. Offering his whole life to be a tool for destruction, the 'God' he so admired laid out plans to carry out his divine redemption.

Thus, a loyal accomplice had he became; spreading forth lies and using those who have none to inflict harm upon the innocent. Power, fame, and wealth followed his footsteps, clouding the vision of his blinded heart. The cost of all of whichーhis freedom. Locked behind the confines of his own mind, he believed that he needed more, that he wasn't enough.

"All I wanted was to be beautiful," there is a hint of bitterness to the sweetness in his tone, "but I have rotted away long before I could even notice myself already dying."

And he's gone far.

"I have ya to thank, Seonne."

"Me? Why me?"

"I mean," Haruto starts, shifting in his seat and faces me with a whimsical smirk, "ya found me in the right time."

As flattered as I am, how dare he throw such cheesy lines like that when I have nothing up my sleeve to get back at him for reviving the butterflies in my stomach. He does this all the time. Catching me off with my guard down and then reasoning becomes inexistent. (I promise, I'm not complaining.)

"I was a mess, but ya found me. And I really couldn't be happier."

"Oh, please." I roll my eyes at him and shake my head. "You're pretty generous with your compliments today, I'm impressed."

"Oh, ya better be." As on-brand as he'll ever get. I let out a small chuckle, and so does he.

Reaching out towards my hand, he wastes not a moment to lace his fingers between mine. His lips lightly press upon the back of my palm.

"Seriously though, speaking of Snow White," Haruto says, "I think of ya as my true love's kiss that woke me up to reality."

I defiantly raise my free arm (I tried retrieving the other one, but he wouldn't budge) in surprise. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, I'm sorry but I think I'll have to object on that, your honor."

"Haaah?"

"Haruto, you did it because of you!" I bring his hand close to my chest and give it a tight squeeze. "I was merely a helping hand and a shoulder for you to rest on. Everything else was your own growth and I cannot tell you just how proud I am."

He doesn't seem too convinced but it's the truth. In all honesty, I do admire and take great inspiration from his self-discovery and self-acceptance. I too wish to become as strong and successful in life as he. So for him to make sure I'm aware that I'm part of his journey to being the best version of himself so far, I'm beyond elated.

"I... love you, Gen-chan."

"That's my line, Soie. I love ya more, though."

And what better way to end with, indeed, true love's sweetest kiss.

#harusoie #a3! yume #a3 yume #self-shipping #self-insert #first pov #snow white reference

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yandere-sins · 2 years

Note

Yandere diavolo taking care of their s/o after getting them pregnant kekkekkske, I've seen 2 types of people write this, 1.how they got their s/o pregnant 2.after the baby was born ;-; , bruh, what the heck happened in between? What if the s/o tried running away while pregnant, what did diavolo do?? I need answers

Let me indulge you then! ^^

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

♡ The pregnancy is a bit of a double-edged sword. Diavolo is ecstatic! He loves the idea of becoming a dad and all the family stuff you three get to do once the little one is born. He’s already planning trips and public appearances, and tells you about the fantastic birthdays you’ll celebrate with the kid and how he’s going to teach his child swimming and magic and all the royal shebang (spoiler: he won’t). Everything is fantastic and awesome in his world now that he’s expecting a royal heir, announcements are being made, and he celebrates every inch of belly you’re gaining with his child growing inside you. Every day, new presents arrive at your suit, both from other royals and influential figures, as well as Diavolo. And if he thinks it isn’t enough, he’ll order a few dozens more once he comes back after work so you two can spend some more time together and unwrap. The amount of pacifiers you own in the first week of your pregnancy is nightmarish. He’s much more attentive and careful, treating you like a fragile doll, whether you hate it or love it. And damn, when a prince kneels before you to massage your feet, how can you ever complain about all the ways he wronged you in the past?

♡ But... well. That is the extent of it. The palace has enough bathrooms, so he doesn’t need to stick around for your morning sickness. He has to work, surely you understand that he leaves you feeling like shit, right? His offer to massage your feet is not only a painful experience as it is a singularity. You can hire the best masseurs in Devildom, but once was enough for Diavolo, and he’ll childishly overhear and ignore it if you ever complain and ask for one in the future. In the evening, he comes over, lounging, forcing you to relax with him and let him feel your belly. He’s totally in awe when he gets to experience the first kicks, and you tell him the child can hear him now. Only to kiss you goodnight right after and leave you all alone at night to deal with your various feelings about the situation. It’s strange because he’s involved, but then... isn’t. He’s there for the good moments but never the rough patches, always leaving you in the care of servants instead of dealing with whatever is bothering you. He swears up and down he loves you, but somehow, now that you could actually need a partner, he’s giving you the cold shoulder.

♡ Even though you aren’t allowed to attend them, Diavolo throws lavish parties in your and his child’s honor, drinking, smoking, and celebrating. All the things devils do to honor and bless the child of the future king, while you have to deal with the music echoing through the desolated halls, guards complaining about having to work while everyone gets to play and have fun. You are alone and left to your own devices, hormonal, and without being granted any fun like parties or even taking longer walks ever since you became pregnant to prevent anything from happening. If things go downhill, a very tipsy Diavolo comes to visit you for some kisses and touches. Maybe more. That’s when things become weird, however, as he starts getting very emotional. He rarely asks for your opinion on matters. Still, he keeps questioning if you like being pregnant and if you’re happy to have his baby. How happy are you? Do you love the child more than him? Do you want to get rid of it? Diavolo hints (not so subtle) at being jealous that you spend so much time with your child compared to him. He reveals how unhappy it makes him that you two don’t get to do the things anymore you did before and how he misses those times. It’s bizarre since he’s usually so happy about his child and dismissive of you at the same time that his change of heart seems very misplaced. That rings some very new alarm bells in your head, doesn’t it?

♡ Your escape chances were slim already before getting pregnant. You don’t think he didn’t up the guards just in case you decide now was the perfect time after it went so well between you two for a while? Admittedly, that idea to keep you under stricter watch was whispered to him by many like-minded individuals with a little bit more experience. Even if he didn’t like having you guarded by eyes that don’t deserve to watch you all day long, he still makes sure to put more guards in front of your windows and doors. Diavolo can be a bit lenient with you at times, always having a soft spot and wanting to respect you as long as it suits him. But you can be sure as hell you’ll lose that privilege of his trust once you escape from him. He can’t even punish you, but his anger drives him to turn over every stone, uproot every tree, and rebuild entire houses in all of Devildom to find you. An added difficulty for you is that your freedom is short-lived. There are more people who are interested in your child (more than you, and some even more than the reward promised for returning you). It is Diavolo’s child, after all. That little bundle of nightmares joy has the royal magic, the access to everything the royal family hides, and if everything breaks, will make an excellent bargain. Life’s becoming dangerous. Just like Diavolo always feared, there are so many people after you that he can’t even count who to get rid of first. And with every second you’re gone, his anxiety spikes, and his thoughts muddle until he’s one raging demon you wished you had never crossed paths with. At least he swears to burn anyone to crisps, eradicate their souls and existences from the universe if they touch you. Even if you end up losing the baby to someone, Diavolo’s priority is getting you back, safe and healthy, to be locked into your room for all eternity with no moment of privacy even when he’s with you. Guarded 24/7. And maybe, once he unleashed all the anger he’s been harboring, he’ll think of getting the child back. The world will burn for anyone who meddled with his happy little family. That’s something you can be sure of.

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zeeroweenies · 3 years

Text

top at the red light

ft. baji

cw ✿ car sex ; oral (f → m) ; biting ; giving baji that gawk gawk double hand twist 3000 whilst driving ; arguing ; reader’s a jealous brat ; use of cock, cunt etc ; daddy kink but not in that way ; minors dnr/dni or i’ll block your ass.

wc ✿ 3.6K+

“Hurry up and take me the fuck home.” The stretch of your arms fold underneath the silk of your dress in pure brat fashion, pushing your tits up in turn as you scowl forward to the slow ongoing traffic, the plush of your bottom lip tucked outwards in a frown.

“Fix your fuckin’ attitude.”

Kei’s stern, voice warning and promising you trouble if you keep it up with your little temper tantrum, eyes shining with danger through the glare of towering, busy street lights that beam through the windshield of his car. The look he gave you alone should’ve gotten you to take the hint— got you to behave. But you’re still popping off at the mouth, manicured fingers balled up into fists and made-up face twisted up into an irate expression, grilling him about the same girl that’s apparently been trying to get in his pants for the past two months.

“Take me home right now Kei, I’m not playing with you.” The entire car ride to his apartment’s been literal hell on wheels. Insisting that you come back home with him so you can at least calm down, talk this out until he eventually gets you to come around like always. But instead you insist on pressing him, and all for some girl whose name he can’t even remember. “Jesus Christ... are you still tripping about this shit? I told you I don’t even know that girl, keep telling you she’s trying to break us up. I don’t even want her, she’s ugly anyway.”

“Yeah whatever, both of you can go to hell.”

Your jealousy always got the best of you. It often clouded your judgement, caused you to act irrationally and like a bitch, especially when it came to Baji. He had you on a tight rope, never trailing off too far without you on his arm like a love-struck puppy and throwing daggers at any girl that dared even breathe in his direction. And many times your envious nature led to routine arguments when he’d let some skank talk to him for one second too many, each one ending with him having to fuck a lesson into you about why you’re the only one he wants.

But Keisuke still loved you all the same, even if your envy was rooted in the most asinine reasons. Taking your pouty face between his fingers and kissing that green-eyed monster named jealousy away until you caved, reminding you that he had eyes for no one else but you. He thought it was cute; he adored how obsessed you were with him. But over time it became taxing, constantly having to defend his fidelity and commitment in your relationship all because you couldn’t keep your baseless insecurity at bay.

“Wanna put that mouth to good use? Since you seem to wanna run it so much.” The crunch of gravel and the sound of hot wheels whining against tar slowly and gently brings the car to a stop at a red light with one foot pressing on the brake, the air suddenly even more tension-thick with unease as Baji uses a thumb and forefinger, dragging them down the lower half of his face to hold himself back from blowing a fuse. Brows upticked in irritancy as he slouches back into the driver’s seat with a strong hand tightly gripping the wheel. You would’ve thought he looked handsome if you weren’t so pissed off.

“Oh, fuck off. Stop acting dense, Kei. You saw the way she was looking at you, she practically tried to fuck you right in front of me. And you let her do it, you know I don’t like that bitch.” You shoot him a look out of the corner of your eye, peripherally watching him as he mentally shrugs off your empty complaining with a head shake and simple protrusion of his bottom lip.

“I didn’t see shit.”

Maybe I should chill, I know how she gets when she’s like this.

He’s tried to keep his cool, but you’re not making it easy for him. You just keep talking and talking, nagging and nagging. At this rate, there was only one thing you wanted if you kept running your mouth like this, and he knew how to shut you up. You didn’t see the way his jaw tightened, the way his strong veined hands gripped the vinyl of the steering wheel in indignation, how his icy gray irises had completely frozen over at the gall of your brash commentary. Perhaps you should have, though.

“Maybe you would’ve saw it if your stupid ass—”

And he was there before you even could see it, feel his hand dart out underneath the hem of your dress that went to cruelly tug the delicate lace panties that clung to your sex to the side. Eliciting a startled gasp from you when he starts rubbing slow, intentional circles into your swollen clit that reduce your bitching and moaning to strictly just moaning. The kind of moaning he loves to hear when he finally gets you to shut your goddamn mouth. Glossy lips slacked and head slowly tilting back into the leather headrest with fluttering lashes before you felt the stretch of his middle and ring finger pressing past your dripping wet entrance, once petty griping dissolved into helpless whimpers under the explicit rap playing from the vehicle’s radio.

“Who’re you talkin’ to?” If your focus was on him you’d see the way his eyebrows pinched through the middle, but it was hard when his thick fingers were burying themselves inside you and massaging that soft spot between your most sensitive parts that had your freshly arched brows furrowing too, lightly gasping when they curl upwards against your front wall and deaf to every noise except the sticky sounds your pussy fills the car with. “Huh?”

You could barely form a single coherent sentence, let alone a thought— your boyfriend’s fingers just felt that good. Your limbs felt useless and your head became foggy, mouth dry with the swell of your breasts rising and falling from taking countless breaths as if it was hard to retain oxygen. Managing to choke out a single broken word, lips pulled into a flustered pout and words daring despite being so powerless. “Y… You,”

“You’re not talkin’ to me.” you melt with each push and pull of his digits, creaming so delightfully around them. Now wanting to take back every petty remark you spewed and just be a good girl for him, not a jealous slut. Feeling stupid for getting mad at him for something that wasn’t even his fault, for not being able to keep your unfounded insecureness under control. “Your little pussy gets wet from mouthing off to me, huh? You got my fingers all soaked.” The only thing you can do is sit there, reluctantly nodding. And mindlessly enough that you forget how long you’ve sat at the red light, not even caring if you hold up oncoming traffic or if raging drivers angrily beat their horns at the idle vehicle, shamelessly spreading your legs wider to give your riled boyfriend more access to plunge his fingers deeper inside your sopping cunt. “F-fuck, baby,”

The light is seconds away from clicking from red to green, Baji knows it just based on the duration of how long you’ve been camping out there— but he isn’t finished with you in the least just because he’s behind the wheel, you’d be a dummy to think he was. And soon enough your boyfriend’s digits are abandoned from you with a sticky pop, hole clenching tightly from the abrupt feeling of emptiness with a soft whine, almost puppy-like. Glazed doe-eyes flickering to his smoky gray ones through false lashes.

“Suck my dick.” You miss his fingers the second they leave you, all hot and bothered from him leaving you the way you were, chest swarming with butterflies and core aching without the sweet gratification of an orgasm. But Kei’s assertiveness has the tips of your fresh acrylics rushing to fish out his semi-hard cock from his black dress pants. Mouth watering with saliva and delicate fingers wrapping around the thickness of his length before stroking him with fervor just to get him fully hard, girth gradually expanding between the cracks of your fingers when you give his flushed head the first lick, a cursed fuck biting past his sharp teeth as your tongue and lips close around the size of his cock.

Click.

“Fuckin’ finally,” Baji’s shoe nearly punches the gas as fast as the traffic signal that blinks from red to green, practically dashing through busy avenues and evading passing vehicles well over the speed limit. He needs to find somewhere to park now, and fast. Intention of getting you back to his place long abandoned out of his mind with your tight, wet throat devouring his entire length like a pro.

Sending him into a hot series of breathy sighs and low groans that make it difficult for him to concentrate on driving the fucking he car that carried you to the party in the first place, sloppy noises of your lips hollowing out and whorish moaning around his length clouding up his resolve. Feeling the wetness of your spit drizzling down in wads and coating his balls shinily as your delicate hands glide up and down him smoothly thanks to the slip of your saliva, making him grip the steering wheel with sheer strength in order to bring himself back down or else he’d float away. Your mouth felt like heaven. If you kept sucking him off like this he might choose to forgive you for your little jealous hissy fit. “Gonna make me, fuck,” he grits, hand involuntarily moving to sink your head further onto him earning a choked-up moan, almost a gag. “Gonna make me cum in your mouth,”

It feels like forever before he finds somewhere to put the damn car in park, and thank god he did, because he feels like he’s about to blow his load.

He brings the car to an abrupt stop in an abandoned alleyway, void of any signs of light or life besides yours, the sound of harsh groans and wet noises echoing against his car’s roof. You’re a stubborn thing, prideful too. Too vainglorious to even think of uttering the word sorry so you say it using a different method, greedily swallowing his dick down your throat until your mouth meets his base to get him to melt and he’s bucking his hips above you, sucking his dick like you’re sorry. His irises flicker down to your head that bobs up and down on his dick, calling out to you. “Look at me,” fingers gathering the strands of your hair into a ball to roughly yank you up when you don’t comply. “Fuckin’ look at me when I cum.”

Your face is visibly flustered, brows drawn together and pouty mouth parted wide with shiny drool glistening down your chin and swollen lips that were once perfectly polished with clear cherry lipgloss now about to be glazed with white, sticky semen. Kei’s balls tighten as your now clammy hands jerk him to completion, spilling himself into your awaiting mouth and emptying himself inside you completely with forced back obscenities of fuck and shit. You waste no time eating it all up, lust-drunk gaze never steering from his as your tongue circles his round head before sucking the tip past your soft lips to rid him of every last drop, your signature way of telling him you’re sorry. “That’s what it takes to get you to shut the fuck up?” It's pathetic. You get so caught up in the euphoria of the lingering throbbing in your cunt that you almost forget you’re topping him off in the middle of the road. Well, an alley to be exact. “Kei, I—”

“Clean it up and come sit on it.”

Your heart catches in your throat. “Okay,” you choke on a sob with tears itching the pits of your eyes, doing exactly as your boyfriend tells you, warm tongue licking his balls and shaft clean in urgence while your throat bobs from gulping down the remainder of his sharp cum before shakily straightening your torso. Leather cushion creaking under your knees and leaving behind a clear trail of slick when you finally move.

He aids you no assistance in climbing onto his lap, allowing you to struggle like a little doe with shaky legs as you tremulously slide across the console to mount him; air thick and already feeling breathless with his dick pressing heavily against your slit. Quaking hands coming to wrap around his neck clingingly in search of forgiveness to quickly be denied. Not having enough time to whine or complain or even beg for him to give you his cock before he’s ordering you to “Put it in,” instructions firm but so mean, it instantly has your arm reaching behind you to the space where your hand meets his cock with a subtle whine and quickly lining his flushed tip with your tiny hole, immediately beginning to sink down.

“Hurry up, stop fuckin’ around. You can suck dick like a little whore but you can’t ride one? Do better.” No other thoughts cross your mind as your hips lift on their own, lazy pace corrected by your boyfriend’s harsh reprimanding tone that makes you rectify your weak movements, disbanding your former impudent and brattish disposition completely from the feeling of his cock stretching your walls nicely and his tip constantly brushing against your cervix. “S-Sorry, m’sorry Kei,” your mouth gapes with a lingering cry that chokes the base of your throat, or maybe it was from the fact that Keisuke had his hand wrapped around your diamond-studded throat, vein littered fingers spreading across and tightly gripping the sides preventing sounds that were reduced to no more than slurred sentences and pitiful begging that has the skin between Baji’s thick brows pinching.

“This what you wanted? All mad over some bitch I don’t even know.” The fingers cast around your neck slide over the top of your blackened silk dress to yank it down roughly, cute tits spilling from the fabric in one tug due to the missing support of a bra. The pupils of his eyes shine over in lust as much as they do in anger as they deadlock onto your pert nipples that bead up from the chilly air of his car’s AC when his tongue darts to greedily take one into his hot mouth, pulling a long-held sigh from you when he sucks on and swirls his wet appendage around your hardened bud with ardence, only to make you cry out into dead air when he bites down on it; hands kneading and squeezing the swell of your breasts. “Shouldn’t be giving you anything, act too goddamn jealous.”

“S...S’not my fault, she’s… she was trying to take you away from me,” A struggled whine falls past your drooly lips, face fucked out with your pussy coating his dick in clear slippery lubricant and high churning at the bottom of your tummy as you cling closer to your boyfriend, your lover. You hated the way you allowed your jealousy to consume you and rot you from the inside out— make you harbor deep disdain and malignance for every woman you caught laying eyes on your boyfriend, your Keisuke. All to say it was for good reason. He was truly handsome, a sight for sore eyes. Stormy gray irises, a killer smile that never failed to turn your limbs into jelly, and long wavy jet-black hair that hung far past his broad and muscular shoulders which was now pulled into a messy knot from your constant pulling on it, two locks parted through the middle to frame the sides of his face. When he looked like that... you couldn’t help but somehow twist it in your mind that any woman who engaged in a conversation that went over the length of two words was trying to get with him.

And okay, maybe you were being a teensy bit dramatic, lashing out at him and being jeal considering he never returned the feelings that were projected onto him by anyone else that wasn’t you. But it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter how many times he reminded you, reassured you, or had to fuck it into your pretty little head you just didn’t seem to get it.

“This,” He points out the way your pussy clings to his cock as your ass slams down into the seat of his lap by directing his gaze downward before slowly returning to yours, intentionally putting emphasis on the squishy and messy sounds your cunt makes from your arousal spilling onto his pelvis. “It’s yours, only yours. Why the fuck are you getting so worked up over nothing for?”

“I don’t know,” your voice cracks, unable to give him any reasoning, not even sure if you have the answer for yourself, only able to shut your eyes and let your head hang back freely as you bounce in his lap at an even faster and frenzied pace, nonsense spilling from your lips. “Cum~ gonna cum, baby—” your senseless bouncing is brought to a slow rut of your hips with solid and strong palms biting into your flesh at the part where the skirt of your dress rides up the curve of your ass, lids breaking open in pouty dissatisfaction at Baji’s interruptance. “Uh-uh, not until you say sorry and call me daddy.”

“Kei, m’not calling you that shit.” your words grit through the enamel of your teeth, embarrassingly biting at the tip of your tongue.

“Ah? You’re not cumming then.” The statement has you tightening around him in an instant, scrambling to eat your previous words. “No! Wait,” you trail off, hips still trying to gain some friction as you shyly avoid the way the corners of Baji’s mouth curve at the ends into a sadistic smirk by looking down. He always got you to do this, denying you after acting out until you were a writhing mess of limbs in his lap and he got you to cry uncle. And somehow you always took the bait.

“Please, I... I’m... I’m sorry daddy, m’so sorry. Fuck, c-can I cum? Please Kei, so close,” your words earn a harsh slap to your ass as the whites of your sclera disappear into your skull, your boyfriend’s gaze darkening when you return to him. “That’s not my name.”

“Please let me cum daddy, I’m sorry,” your orgasm teeters on the edge as you bury your face into his neck, words pleading and desperate, the cold metal of his thin cross chains kissing your lips before he pulls you back. “Sorry for what?” his thumb flies to your puffy clit, applying pressure to the bud through quick and rough circles, making your breath stutter.

“S-Sorry for being jealous, fuck, fuck— sorry for talking back to you, so so sorry... love you, I won't do it again, promise.”

“You love me, baby?” the gray of his eyes shine up at you, voice smooth in your ears like silk as you return his affection with just as much love, pupils fueled with arduous passion and placing lightheaded pecks to his soft lips. “I do, I love you, love you so much Kei,” the confessions tumbling past your lips makes him just as dizzy, feeling your tight walls swallowing and milking him into his own culmination before he takes two big hands to possessively squeeze your ass, spreading it apart to reveal the way your pussy takes him and guide your movements up and down to help fuck you on his cock.

“I love you too. God, fuck. Pussy’s so fucking tight, creamin’ all over me, shit— fuck, ride that shit,” his chest heaves, teeth gritting involuntarily at the sting of your nails scrape harshly at the skin of his exposed pecs where his black dress shirt is unbuttoned three notches. “Ride it like it’s yours.” you feel his tip hit your cervix with each pull and drop, head thrown back as he urges you on with dirty praises and a finger pressed to your aching clit, still continuing to let you use his dick as you please although he came already. The nerves in your legs begin to spasm, your pussy tightens around his thick length, and your nails bury themselves into the nape of his neck as you mindlessly cream all over him without a thought in your fucked out little mind. Hips still moving on top of him and crying out his name within the four doors of his car that was stationed in the deserted and dark alley so loud that at least one lost soul was bound to hear you.

“Kei, Kei, Kei!—” he allows you to tug on his illustrious black locks while you come down, not minding that you pull it a tad bit too rough as you plant your face in his neck with little keens and whines escaping you. Sweet kisses are littered to the skin of your collarbone and jaw as you puff out breaths of air into the sex-aroma atmosphere of the car while Kei massages calm circles into the small of your back, his cum trickling from your sore cunt before he makes you pull back to meet his icy stare, eyes shimmering with authority.

“You gonna act right now?” his question earns a pliant nod of your head, his cock throbbing inside you and your face hot with heat. “I will, promise.” you swear, face assuring innocence and good behavior as your lips connect with his in short kisses, but the arm slung around his neck with your fingers crossed would suggest otherwise. It was a promise you could afford to break.

📂 : @nyxiie @kloesklarity

#baji smut #keisuke baji smut #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo rev smut #tokyorev smut #tokyo revengers x reader #baji x reader #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo revengers x y/n #baji keisuke x reader #baji x you #tokyorev x reader #tokyorev x reader smut #tw daddy kink

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holylulusworld · 2 years

Text

Devil in the sheets

Square filled for @samwinchesterbingo: Angst

Title: Devil in the sheets

Summary: You and Sam share a past…

Pairing: Sam Winchester x fem!Reader, former Soulless!Sam Winchester x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, language, mentions of sex, mentions of character’s death, sexual harassment, almost violence, possessive Sam, a hint of fluff, implied smut

Sam Winchester Bingo masterlist

“Sammy, why don’t you talk to her? Y/N looks like she’s about to cry all the time. Christ, it’s been almost a year since you are back to normal. You’ve got your soul back, act like it,” Dean complains about his brother’s behavior toward you once again.

“Dean, I just can’t,” Sam sighs deeply. “Y/N and I, this is a closed book. I found her while being soulless. All we did was fuck and now, it feels like I must take care of her. This is no foundation for a relationship.”

“I didn’t tell you to marry that girl,” Dean gets louder, he angrily points at the room he offered to you when they found the bunker. “I want you to talk to her. Sammy, since when, are you a coward? If you want to be only friends with her, fine by me.”

“She’s a liability, is all,” the younger Winchester pinches the bridge of his nose as he tries to find the right words. “If not for our past, I’d gladly let her go.”

“Sonofabitch, Sammy!” the elder hunter grunts. “She was your girlfriend for over a year. I don’t fucking care if your relationship was strictly physical. You should feel responsible.” Dean throws his hands up, grunting as his brother doesn’t give in. “I need a drink…”

Dean storms off, muttering under his breath as you sink to your knees, sniffling silently.

You were about to leave the room to look into the latest case Sam found. It was a stupid coincidence that you heard their conversation and now, you doubt you’ve got a place in Sam’s heart and home.

A liability, that’s all you are to Sam Winchester.

Not a year ago he promised you to never let you go and to protect you at all costs.

He found you in times of need. Your father and you got kidnapped by a nest of vamps. Yeah, vampires. Who would’ve thought there are still bloodsuckers out there? Not you and your father. That’s a matter of fact.

Sam found you hours after you had to watch the vamps suck your father dry. His screams still haunt your dreams, and you’ll never forget his last words.

“I love you, butterfly,” your father whispered, eyes trained on you while the monsters ripped him apart. Somehow your father had faith and knew you’ll going to survive this night.

He wasn’t wrong, though. Sam Winchester and his grandfather stormed into the abandoned house, killed the vamps, and got you out before they could even touch you.

That night you cried yourself to sleep until Sam stormed into your room, barking at you. It sounds odd, but his rough treatment helped you feel better.

The hunter decided you will stay by his side. He never asked you to stay, though. Sam said he wants you to stick around, so you stayed by his side until his brother came back into the picture.

Dean was the one telling you that the Sam you got to know, and love isn’t himself. Your Sam was only a shadow of the man he used to be before he jumped into the pit.

“Dean, wait,” you sit on the floor and lean your back against the door as Sam calls for his brother. “You’re right. I should talk to Y/N and tell her how I feel about our past.”

Sam hurriedly follows his brother to talk to Dean again while you try to not make too much noise. You start to cry, feeling lost for the first time since you lost your father.

“Y/N?” Dean strolls into the kitchen, sleepily rubbing his face. He wanted to grab a midnight snack and now, he runs into you sneaking around the kitchen to stuff snacks into one of your duffle bags. “Hungry too, huh?”

“I—” you bite your tongue. Dean is a nice guy and you don’t want him to feel bad. His life is tough enough. He doesn’t need a whiny girl telling him about her feelings. “I will take my life back into my hands.”

“What’s that suppose to mean?” the hunter cocks his head. He glances at your packed bags, knowing exactly what this means. “You want to leave.” He says, eyes saddening as you nod.

“I lived here for far too long, Dean. I’m thankful you took me in and let me stay until I was ready to leave,” you nervously chew on your lower lip. “It’s time to say goodbye now. Don’t worry, I won’t hunt on my own. I’m not a hunter like my father.”

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to move out,” Dean takes a step toward you. He approaches you like a wounded animal, hands raised and voice soft. “If you want to go only as Sammy changed…” he trails off.

“I heard what he said this morning,” you admit, shrugging as a gasp leaves Dean’s lips. “He’s right. The Sam saving me is long gone. Our relationship was far from perfect, but it was real to me. I had hoped your brother and I will find a way to—” sighing deeply you shake your head. “This all doesn’t matter anymore. I’m ready to move on.”

“Y/N,” Dean tries to stop you from leaving, “maybe you should talk to Sammy. He’s not going to let you go. My brother is stubborn, but a good man.”

“He’s a very good man; one of the best I ever met,” you give Dean a sad smile, “but he’s not the man I fell in love with. Believe it or not, the other Sam made me feel loved and wanted…”

Dean carries your bags toward the garage. It’s all he can do. You made up your mind and there is no stopping you from leaving. “If you need help, give me a call. Don’t be shy.”

“I got an aunt in New Orleans,” you say. “I think I’ll move there and try to live a normal life. I was my dad’s research expert all my life. Now it’s time to find something new…”

You didn’t make it far. The car you borrowed from Dean broke down in the middle of the road and you were stranded in Lebanon once again.

Luckily Donnie, the bartender of the local bar, was driving home late at night. He offered a ride and the spare room above the bar to you. In return, you work as a bartender and waitress at the bar to help him out.

“Another one,” one of the regulars flashes you a toothy grin. He’s a harmless guy but boy, that man can drink. “Did I tell you lately that Donnie is not half as pretty as you are?”

“Yeah, like five times,” you chuckle at his flirty mood. “And did I tell you lately that you are a damn attractive man for your age?”

“Sweetie, I’m seventy-four,” wiping the counter you listen to Morty’s rant, “but my wife treats me like a child. I come here every Saturday night to drink her away.”

“Aw, that’s not nice to say, Morty,” he nods, still, he downs another drink. He groans as the burning liquid runs down his throat.

“We’ve been married for fifty years, sweetie. When I lost her four years ago I believed that my life ended too,” you frown deeply at his words. If his wife died four years ago this can only mean… “I know you believe I’m crazy. Everyone does.” He shrugs.

“Do you still see your wife, Morty?” Morty lifts his gaze from the empty glass in his hands to look at you.

“Yeah. She tells me to eat healthily and call our son. Sometimes I feel her stroke my cheek. Last week she was lying next to me in bed, wearing her favorite dress. It felt so nice…”

“Looks like she still cares about you, Morty,” you pat his hand. “How about you go home and tell her you love her, and that you miss her. Eat healthy and call your son. It will help her move on.”

“Move on…” Morty nods. He’s unsure if he wants his wife to move on. It feels like she’s still around and he doesn’t want to lose her for a second time. “Maybe you’re right, sweetie.” He groans when getting off the bar stool. “Have a good night, pretty girl.”

“You too—” you give him a soft smile. “Be careful out there…”

A few hours later the bar is almost empty. You are busy cleaning the counter when the door opens again only for Sam Winchester to step inside the bar.

“Damn, no—” you move to the other side of the counter to pour another drink. “Stay away from this side of the bar and leave, Sam.”

“What did you say?” the guy slurs. “How about you give me another whiskey and stop talking.” Sheesh, some guys should learn some manners and stop drinking. “Hurry.”

“Sure, Sir,” you grit your teeth but turn around to get the bottle of whiskey. You stretch your body to reach the shelf only to feel a hand slap your ass harshly. You shriek, startled you drop the bottle, making a mess on the floor. “What the fuck!”

Donnie stumbles toward your side of the bar counter at the same time as you turn around to backhand the guy slapping your ass. “What? If I see a nice ass, I want to feel it up!”

“Hands off,” the guy ends up pressed against the nearby wall. A wall of flannel holds him there, grunting as the man struggles against his strength. “Who gave you the right to touch my girl? She’s mine!”

“Sam?” you’re a little confused at Sam’s reaction. No, to be honest, you are completely taken aback. The Sam you knew would’ve been even rougher with someone putting their hands on you. He was a man possessed. But this Sam, he doesn’t even like you…

“You will never touch a woman against her will again, got it?” Sam barks at the man, making the poor guy flinch. “Get out of here and do not forget to pay for the bottle she dropped because of you!”

“Yes—Sir,” the man throws his wallet at Donnie. “Take what I owe you, Donnie…and a huge tip for the lady.” Damn, Sam Winchester surely can make a grown man sweat.

“Y/N,” Sam drops his hands to his sides as you run out of the bar to hide in your room. “Fuck…”

“You should talk to her, Sam,” Donnie offers a stern look. “If you mess with my best employee, you are not welcome here anymore, just like your brother.”

“What do you want here, Sam?” you watch Sam sneak into your room with the spare key Donnie gave to him. “I’m out of your hair, just like you wanted…”

You refuse to look at Sam when he sits on the small table in your room. “I-“ he shakes his head. “I messed up big time, Y/N.”

“You are telling me, Sam,” huffing you glance at his long legs, biting your lower lip, chewing on it. “Maybe I’ll lose my new home and job because of you now.”

“That’s not what I meant, but you got a point there,” he gets up to walk over to where you are standing. His large hands wrap around your arms, making you whimper as you remember the way Sam held you down to fuck you senseless.

You drop your eyes to look at his hand around your left arm. “What do you mean?”

“I pushed you away because I remember everything I did to you,” he clears his throat, wanting your attention. You immediately whip your head towards Sam’s, looking at him. “I was scared and confused.”

“You feared what, Sam? I…I don’t understand. You didn’t do anything wrong back then,” you shake your head. “All you did to me was consensual. I,” you giggle, eyes dropping to his large hand still holding your arm in a tight grip, “I like it rough.”

“Damn, can you just not?” he drops his hands to move his fingers through his shaggy hair. “I was…I mean. All my life I believed that I’m all vanilla and now I got this urge to bend you over the table and take you like a slut, Y/N.”

"So, you are surprised you are a devil in the sheets?" smirking you watch Sam swallow thickly. “That’s the reason to push me away and hurt me? Well, I can tell the other you wasn’t a kind or sensitive man, but he never hurt me only to hide who he really is...”

"I want to fuck you like he did," he purrs, eyes dropping to your heaving chest. “But I don’t want to hurt you or go too far...”

“Please do—Sam,” his nostrils flare and he can feel his cock swell in his pants when you look up at him, lips parted and eyes wide. “Please…”

“I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to hold back if you let me have my way with you. Shit, kitten…I want to fuck you into obedience and wrap my hand around your throat,” Sam pants heavily when you slowly go down on your knees to move your hands over his long legs up to his fly. “Y/N…”

“I’m still mad at you for ignoring me but—” licking your lips you look up at Sam, “if you fuck me like promised I’ll consider forgiving you…”

Tags in reblog.

#Devil in the sheets #samwinchesterbingo #Sam Winchester #sam winchester fanfiction #sam x reader #sam x you #sam winchester fanfic #sam x y/n #former soulless!sam x reader #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x you #sam winchester x y/n

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dilucsrevenge · 2 years

Text

master of puppets;

fandom: stranger things characters: eddie munson, gender neutral reader pairing: switch!eddie (sub!eddie) x dom!reader (switch!reader) warnings: 18+, minors do NOT interact. mentions of dom/sub relationships, light bdsm, light name-calling/degradation, calling a dom "master", praise kink, orgasm control/denial, reader is gender neutral with no use of specific pronouns wc: 1264 buy me a ko-fi

Eddie Munson was not the one to be ordered around in the bedroom, and this was well known to those who were in tune with the subtle hints he always dropped. So what was it about you that had him eager to be handcuffed to his bedposts, legs spread wide for you to slot yourself between them?

“C’mon, baby, you gotta give me somethin’ here…” Eddie nearly whined as he spoke, the desperation dripping off his words and becoming music to your ears.

Your only response was a shake of your head and a devious smile turning the corners of your lips up. It was true there was nothing you wanted more than to actually give Eddie what he wanted, but sometimes someone's ego just needed to be checked. Your hands ghosted up the insides of his bare thighs, shifting to his hips when you approached his groin to hold him down against the mattress below him.

“Why do you think you deserve anything, pretty boy?” Your tone was cruel, laced with desire for the brunette underneath you. His reactions were the main thing that spurred you on; eyes blown wide at your question, stuttering under his breath to come up with something – anything – to satisfy you.

It was a strange position for Eddie to be one, but it wasn’t one that surprised him anymore. You had quite literally turned his world upside down (this time the phrase doing more good than harm like it normally meant for him) since you had stepped into his life. You weren’t entirely a more dominant person than him, switching things up once in a while was a good balance for the two of you. He just wouldn’t fully admit how much he enjoyed being on the receiving end.

“You can’t just… shit… call me that! When you’ve…” Eddie exhaled a heavy groan, back arching off the bed as soon as your fingertips surprised him and trailed along the underside of his cock.

Another thing he wasn’t used to was how much you loved to touch him. HIs past experiences, he was the one always touching. Eddie was the one with the magic fingers that made men and women shiver, made them weak in the knees and quite literally get down on them for him.

“What were you saying, Eddie?” You quickly stopped him before he had the chance to even talk back or try and keep any control he thought he had.

There was a dumbstruck look on his face already. He wasn’t good at being caught off guard and being forced to think too much. It took him a few seconds to gather his thoughts, to properly assess exactly what he needed to do to finally get you to touch him more than you were right now.

“Fuck – okay.” He exhaled a heavy breath, his gaze lifting from your hands that were on him to make eye contact with you, “please… please… touch me and make me cum.”

The smirk that was on your lips quickly turned to a devious smirk. Hearing Eddie begging and pleading for you would never get old. You could listen to his sweet voice for the rest of your life and be the happiest person in the world. Eddie Munson never begged for anyone, but here he was, tied down to the bed with his eyes glazed over pleading for you to make him cum.

And that’s exactly what you planned on doing for him. Sure, this all had started out with intentions to edge him for hours until he was crying but plans could change! Your fingers wrapped around his shaft with a slightly tight grip, the amount of pressure that you knew he enjoyed from the times you had gotten him to get himself off while you were watching. Maybe you added a little more pressure than usual, but Eddie did not argue or complain at all. In fact, with the way he was struggling against the handcuffs and throwing his head back with every pump of your hand around his cock you were certain he was enjoying it.

“You’re such a good boy, you know that?” You whispered against his skin as you leaned down to press a soft kiss to his forehead, eventually resting your own forehead against the spot you had just kissed to close the distance between the two of you.

He responded with a nod of his head. You could see the appreciation of the complement in the way his looks softened for a split second while he looked at you. Of course, the tender moment didn’t last long as he soon started moaning out your name. The obscene sound of his desperate pants and pleas of “more” filled the room.

“...and such a filthy little whore, hm?” A laugh passed by your lips as you dipped down towards his collarbone, trailing the hickeys you left earlier that were already blooming a shade of purple that looked stunning against his skin.

With every twist of your wrist you added to the movement of your hand up and down his shaft, Eddie was nearly on the verge of tears. Sure, he had gotten plenty of handjobs in his lifetime but he had never felt them as intensely as he did when he was with you. Hell, your hands had even ruined his own since you were together. It’s not like he needed to get himself off most of the time anyways, you had made it clear that you would punish him if he got off without either letting you do it for him or without asking.

“Gonna - ah! - gonna cum… soon…” His voice was about as shaky as his legs were, desperately trying to inhale enough oxygen to steady his rapid breathing as his sweat-glistened chest rapidly raised and fell with every breath of his.

“What’s the magic word, sweetheart?” You punctuated your words with another bite just below his jawline, bathing in the loud whimper that spilled from his lips after.

“Pl – please… oh fuck… please, master… please let me cum…” Eddie could barely muster up the energy to form a sentence, every little bit of energy was going into tricking his mind into not letting himself cum just yet.

Pressing a soft kiss to his lips, which quickly turned into him desperately kissing you, was all he needed as a sign of permission. Within seconds he was moaning into your mouth, curses mixed with whines of your name was all that could be heard as his cum spilt over your fingers and dripped onto his skin. You kept pumping your hand through his orgasm, only stopping when he was whining and his thighs were twitching with every little movement.

“That’s my good boy… so good and so obedient…” All of your touches now were filled with affection, pressing gentle kisses to every mark that you left on your neck as an apology for making the next week miserable with teasing. It only took a walk to the bathroom to grab a towel for Eddie to fall asleep, smiling to yourself as you cleaned off your hand and his stomach. A sickly sweet feeling filled your stomach as you watched the sweetest person you had ever met peacefully sleeping in your shared bed. It was moments like this where you took the time to realize that you were more than lucky to be the one person that could get Eddie Munson to let go of his control like this, even if it meant that the next time he’d be just as cruel to you.

#stranger things #stranger things writing #stranger things smut #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson writing #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #sub!eddie x dom!reader #gn!reader #gender neutral reader #my writing #.txt

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seijorhi · 3 years

Text

Fracture

i apologise in advance.

Miya Osamu x female reader

TW non-con, dub-con, psuedo-infidelity, referenced character death, angst, drunk reader, gaslighting, age gap, the slightest hint of nsfw

‘Yer still coming home for summer, right?’

How many weeks had your sister spent lovingly bullying you into coming down? How many hours had you spent listening to her gush over the phone about how excited she was?

And until about three months ago, you’d been excited too.

Despite the ten or so years between the two of you, there was nobody on earth you loved more than your sister. When you were sixteen years old and your parents passed away in a car accident, she was the one who stepped up to take care of you, putting a roof over your head, making sure you ate, slept and kept up your grades, balancing two jobs to do it.

And she grumbled and you fought, but she’s the only reason you managed to keep it all together enough to graduate high school, and when it came time for you to leave home for university, she was the one blinking back tears and loudly complaining about you ‘abandoning your poor older sister in her time of need’.

As if she hadn’t sat with you for hours, pouring over your options and gently nudging you in the direction of Tokyo.

“It’s just a few hours away,” you’d told her. “I’ll come back and visit you all the time.”

There was truth to that. The first six months of uni, you came home every other weekend arms full of expensive textbooks and mountains of assignments to write, but then she met Osamu.

You’ve never seen anybody fall so hopelessly in love as quickly as she had. Miya Osamu may as well have hung the damn moon in the sky for how your sister looked at him. And you suppose you can’t really blame her; he was stupidly tall, broad shouldered and handsome. Even back then his restaurant was a wild success, the man was talented and clearly knew how to cook. Nice was the wrong word to describe him, but Miya Osamu was good, and so long as he made your sister happy, that was enough for you.

And it wasn’t like he was the one to drive you away.

Osamu liked you – he let you camp out in his restaurant and work on your assignments when you desperately needed a change of scenery, stopping to humour you with conversation if it was quiet. He made you laugh, he was interesting, and the more your sister brought him around, the more you realised that you actually kinda liked the guy.

Things were just easy between the two of you, you never had to pretend to be anything but what you were.

You were the one who started putting space between you and her. It wasn’t intentional, at least not on their part, but somewhere along the way you’d started to realise that Osamu wasn’t the odd one out anymore; you were. She was building a life with him, and fortnightly visits turned into monthly ones, and then eventually it became once every few months and after that only on holidays and special occasions – their wedding being one of them.

At Christmas, cheeks flushed with alcohol, she’d pulled you into a one armed hug, pouting into your sweater. “You never come visit us anymore,” she’d sniffled dramatically, “I miss you.”

But it was Osamu – fingers laced with your sister’s, a hint of a smile curling at his lips – who’d voiced it. “Come spend yer summer break with us.”

Three months later you’d awoken to a call telling you that there’d been an accident. Your sister was dead.

Weeks pass by in a blur. Your classes are a haze of droning voices and mindless typing, you submit papers you don’t remember writing and you get good marks anyway. Your friends don’t know how to act around you, everything feels surreal, like you’re moving around in a dream, nothing touches you anymore. It hurts, but you’ve wrapped up that pain and put it someplace safe, seeking it out only when you’re alone and you just can’t bear the numbness a second longer.

The trip you’d promised to take back home to Osaka is the furthest thing from your mind, at least until Osamu calls you in the early hours of the morning, a week or so before the semester ends.

“Yer still coming home for summer, right?”

The word ‘no’ lingers on the tip of your tongue. The last time you’d seen each other was at the funeral, his face blank and hollow, eyes rimmed in red. He’d barely spoken more than a few sentences to you, but he’d stayed by your side the entire time, calmly thanking those who came up to express their condolences.

You’d lost your sister, but he’d lost his wife.

“Do you still want me to?” you ask him quietly instead. If you were in his shoes, you’re not so sure that you would.

Yet Osamu sighs heavily, and you catch a faint clinking sound on the other end of the line, like a bottle being set back against the marble countertop. “I just–” but he breaks off and something inside of your chest tugs. “I want ya here. The house is empty… she’s gone and I… I want ya here. Please.”

How could you possibly say no after that? Maybe you’ve been selfish, so wrapped up in your own grief and misery. You’d assumed that because Osamu had Atsumu he’d be okay. Not right away, of course, but he’d have that support around him – a support system that you were without.

It didn’t enter your mind that perhaps he was struggling too. That he was spending night after night alone in a house etched with memories of her. And just as you’d thought that Tsumu was the one keeping his head above water, maybe he was offering a hand to do the same for you.

—

He’s waiting for you on the porch when your taxi pulls up on the kerb. The driver’s nice enough to help you with your bags, but Osamu is quick to intercept, waving off the help with an impatient huff that almost makes you laugh.

“Yer here,” he says once he sets them down on the porch, grinning as he tugs you into a warm embrace.

It’s then that you get a good look at him, a proper look – and for a moment, you’re taken aback. You haven’t seen him since the funeral a few months back, granted, but Osamu doesn’t look the way you imagined him to – especially after your call the other night. There’s no hint of pallid skin, no bloodshot eyes with heavy bags underneath or a 5 o’clock shadow on his face. No, even with his dark hair still a mess, dressed in jeans and his Onigiri Miya tee, Osamu looks good. Healthy even, if the way the sleeves of his shirt cling to his biceps is any indication.

It takes you a second to realise that you’re staring, because Samu chuckles, brushing past you to bring your stuff inside.

“Y’know, most people start with a hello,” he calls over his shoulder.

Your cheeks heat, a hint of shame curling inside of you. Were you expecting him to be an inconsolable wreck? You know better than most that grief messes with people differently, and it’s not fair of you to judge him, however unintentionally, for not fitting that image of the grieving husband.

It’s a good sign.

“Hi, Samu,” you reply somewhat sheepishly, following him inside.

He’s already walking towards your old bedroom, the ‘guest room’ now (though you and he both know it’s always been yours), leaving you to trail behind the older man. Your intention is to stop him from going to too much effort, but as you walk past the living room, something catches your eye.

Or rather, the absence of something. Faltering in your step, it takes you a second to realise what’s missing, but as you glance around, brows furrowing in confusion, it hits you.

The pictures of you and your sister, the cute ones with her and Samu, the old family snaps that used to line the walls and sit on the TV unit, they’re gone. And it’s not just the pictures. The artwork your sister had painted that used to hang by the wall next to the kitchen, the little pot plants she’d doted on like children, hell, the throw that she’d knitted one winter that was always lying on the couch; they’re all gone.

The room feels almost alien without them, unfamiliar and cold. He’d hung up some cool photography stuff to fill in some of the spaces, but instead of homey it just felt… modern. Like the pictures you see in magazines of staged houses that nobody actually lives in.

And you must have been standing there for a while, because you don’t notice it when Samu comes back to find you still holding your purse, gazing around like a lost child.

“I didn’t get rid of ‘em, if that’s what yer thinking.”

You turn to face him, except Osamu isn’t looking at you. He’s gazing at the walls around you both, his face strangely impassive – except for his eyes. It’s impossible for you to miss the hurt that swims there, the faint sheen they didn’t hold only moments ago. “I packed them away – they’re in yer room if ya want to look through any of it, it’s just…” he trails off, finally glancing back to look at you. And once again, you feel that flicker of guilt slowly eating away at you. “It was painful, seeing her face everywhere.”

Before you left your apartment that morning, you swore to yourself that you wouldn’t cry today – but the tears come unbidden, and one moment you’re standing there staring at him and the next you’re choking on a sob, hand coming to your lips to try and stifle it.

Osamu’s there in a second, solid arms wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest. He doesn’t say a word (what’s there to say anymore?) he just hums softly, stroking your back with a gentle hand as you fall apart once more.

—

It’s surprisingly easy for the two of you to fall into a rhythm. There’d been some part of you that was hesitant about this whole thing – despite having a relatively good relationship with your brother in law, you knew that the only real connection between the two of you was your sister.

Without her, living in the same space and trying to navigate around the holes that she’d left, you’d expected it to be at least a little awkward between the two of you. But with Osamu working full time, it was kind of a non-issue. Aside from the first day when he’d taken the morning off to help you get settled, he was usually gone before you woke up, and most nights he wasn’t home until nine or ten. How he worked such long hours six days a week without collapsing out of sheer exhaustion was beyond you, but you tried to make things easier for him, cooking dinner for the two of you.

“Y’know ya don’t have to do this every night, right?” he asks you one night, sticking the leftover chicken into the microwave. “I have a restaurant, I can sort out my own dinner.”

You don’t tell him that despite being a rather terrible cook, it was one of the things your sister made sure to do every night in the weeks following your parents’ death. You’d spend most of your day holed up in your room if you weren’t at school, but dinner was the one time you’d sit and talk with her. It became a ritual; something sacred and special between the two of you.

You’re a better cook than she was by far, no comparison for Osamu, of course, but it’s the only way you really know how to help with… whatever this is.

Instead, you just offer him a wry look from your position on the couch, “And yet, you never do.”

He scoffs at that, a hint of a smirk curling at his lips, “Why would I eat there when I know yer cookin’ for me?”

—

Of course, as easy as it is to slip into living with Osamu, you can’t escape what happened there forever.

It doesn’t slip your notice the first night you spend there; the spare toothbrush in your bathroom, the decidedly masculine body wash in the shower, or how one of the shelves in the vanity was stocked with shaving cream and cologne and a few odd skin care products. You’d assumed that they were Atsumu’s, spares stashed away for the odd nights he crashed here. There’s another bathroom off the master bedroom, so you know it can’t be Samu’s stuff.

Except you find yourself proven wrong one night, when fresh from your shower and clad only in a fluffy white towel, you open the door to find a shirtless Osamu filling the space, one arm propped up on the doorframe.

“Anyone ever tell ya yer a bit of a bathroom hog?” he asks, smirking down at you.

And you’re so taken aback, utterly confused as to why he’s standing there half dressed, why it matters how long you take in the bathroom – never mind that the only thing covering you from complete nakedness is your towel – that you can only stand there, gaping like a fish as he laughs, takes you by the shoulders and physically shifts you out of the way as he slides on past.

It takes you until the following morning – Osamu’s sole day off – to ask him about it, clutching nervously at your cup of coffee while he busies himself making breakfast for the two of you.

“Samu, um, about last night…” you timidly begin.

He glances up at you from the stove, a single eyebrow raised. “What about it?”

Your cheeks are already burning, eyes darting between his face and the mug in your hands as you struggle to find the right words to bring it up without making things weird. “Well, I-I was just wondering… um, why you were using my bathroom?”

You’re not sure what kind of reaction that you’re expecting, but the dark look that flashes across his face isn’t it. For a split second, your insides clench, terrified that you’ve said the wrong thing–

But as quickly as it appeared, Osamu’s expression smooths over. He exhales heavily, setting down the spoon in his hand as he turns to face you properly, and when your eyes flicker up once more, you realise with a start that it’s pity that’s taken its place.

And a second too late, the pieces inside your head fall into place.

“Oh.”

Osamu nods only once. “I can’t go in without seeing her lyin’ there… I thought ya knew.”

And it’s like all the air’s been sucked out of the room. She’d died in their bathroom – slipped on the wet tiles and cracked her head open on the edge of their bath, and Samu had been the one to find her.

Weakly your eyes flutter shut, bitter nausea churning in your gut. How could he stay here, sleep in the next room when–

“Hey, hey, calm down, I gotcha,” Samu’s voice is at your ear, and your head’s spinning, pounding, and you can’t breathe. The mug in your hand tumbles to the floor, your coffee spilling across the wooden floorboards as weak fingers clutch at empty air, and then those arms are around you once more and Osamu’s trying to soothe you.

Breakfast is forgotten as he tugs you towards the couch to sit. And as he holds you, speaks to you in that calm, unwavering voice you try to focus on the scent of him (masculine and earthy, a hint of spice and cedar), the fabric of his shirt under your cheek and the gentle, almost lazy circles he rubs into your side and not the mental image of your sister, lying broken and bleeding on the bathroom floor.

—

It doesn’t take much effort to find the stash of your sister’s things that Samu set aside in your room. You lose hours flicking through pictures of her, smiling through your tears as they dredge up old, happy memories of the two of you.

Even the ones of her and Samu, his arms looped around her waist, resting his chin on the top of her head; she’s always wearing that bright grin that makes your heart ache.

There are a few of the three of you – one from the last time they’d come to visit you in Tokyo and you’d dragged them off to Disneyland. You’re standing between the two of them, beaming at the camera while Samu’s arm hangs off your shoulder and your sister, grinning widely and wearing the minnie mouse ears she’d bought at the first opportunity, tosses up a peace sign.

Softly wiping away your tears, you set it aside. You’ll have to ask Samu if you can take that one home with you.

—

“What’re ya doin’ tomorrow?”

It’s late, and the two of you are sprawled out on the couch, watching TV with a bowl of snacks between you like the old days when he asks.

“Not much,” you reply. “I was going to go to the markets at some point in the morning and maybe head to the beach after that, why?”

Grey-ish brown eyes flicker across to you, “A few of my old teammates are in town, we’re meetin’ up for some drinks. I want ya to come with me.”

“Oh,” the word slips out before you can stop yourself. “Um, yeah… if you want?”

It ends up sounding more like a question, a fact that doesn’t slip past Osamu if the amused little snort he gives in response is any indication. And it’s not that you don’t want to give up your plans in favour of going with him; you get along pretty well with Atsumu and you’ve met most of his old teammates at least once or twice, it’s just that you’re a little confused as to why he’d want you there to begin with.

They’re all at least twelve years older than you, and while it occurs to you that maybe he’s just inviting you along to be polite (not that that’s ever been his style before) the last thing you want is to be stuck feeling like an afterthought, all but ignored as he and his friends catch up.

“I said I wanted ya there, didn’t I?” He doesn’t wait for a response, “‘sides, Tsumu already asked if you were comin’.”

Which is how you find yourself dressed up for the first time in months, fingers smoothing out the hem of your dress as Samu tosses you a lazy grin from the driver’s seat. “Relax, wouldja? They ain’t gonna bite.”

You know that. They’re good guys, but no matter how much rationalising you try to do, you can’t seem to quell the anxiety eating you up, and the frustrating thing is that you don’t know why you’re feeling it.

He’d neglected to tell you that they weren’t meeting at some bar or restaurant, but at Atsumu’s condo in the city (‘Showy fuckin’ bastard’ Samu’d huffed as he’d pulled up in front of the building), but you suppose it really doesn’t make much of a difference.

“Ya look good,” he compliments, eyeing you for a moment while the two of you wait for the elevator.

Cheeks warming, you drop your gaze and stutter out a quiet thank you. Apparently unsatisfied, he leans closer, reaching one large hand up to gently ruffle your hair – grinning in satisfaction when you shriek and try to pry it away. “Relax,” he whispers again, the warmth of his breath tickling the bare skin of your neck. “Yer too wound up.”

Distracted by the arrival of the elevator, you fail to notice that instead of returning back to his side, his hand drops to your shoulder.

And it should be easier to do just that once you have a drink in hand. Atsumu greets you with a one armed hug, the only hint of anything out of the ordinary being the way his gaze lingers a beat too long as he studies your face, his eyes sharp and missing nothing. But whatever he sees (or doesn’t see) his expression softens into a smile, “Glad ya came.”

But even as you’re greeted by the others, falling into an easy conversation with Kita and Aran you can’t seem to shift the uneasiness in your stomach. There’s something in the air, a tension nobody really wants to admit to.

And you can’t quite tell if the others are surprised that Samu brought you at all, or if it’s just because you’re a living reminder of a tragedy that’s still fresh and raw, and everyone’s trying to pretend that it’s not. You don’t blame them for it, of course, they only mean the best. But you can see it in the way Suna side eyes you every now and then, how skilfully Akagi skirts anything that could touch a nerve when he comes up to chat.

It’s like they’re all walking on eggshells – though whether it’s for your benefit or Osamu’s, you’re not entirely sure. For his part, Samu sticks close, keeping your drink topped up, an arm slung over your shoulders as the afternoon wears into the evening.

Yet despite that, the alcohol you’re drinking far too quickly starts to work its magic, filling your body with a warm, pleasant little buzz, and you actually start to enjoy yourself. You laugh easier, giggling when the twins start to bicker, gasping in wicked delight when Suna offers to show you certain embarrassing photos of both of them on his phone (he has quite the collection), even letting Gin and Tsumu drag you into taking shots with them.

And all the while, Samu watches you, a soft smirk playing at his lips.

—

By the time he unlocks the front door and you stumble back inside, you’re absolutely plastered, giggling at nothing and tripping over your own feet.

As always, Samu’s there to catch you, strong, muscular arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you flush against him. “Careful there, princess,” he laughs.

You grin up at him, carefree and heartbreakingly beautiful. For the first time in months you feel light, you feel amazing and you don’t want this to end. Kicking your heels off, you skip inside, leading him by the hand. “Samu,” you call back over your shoulder. “I wanna dance.”

“Nobody’s stopping ya.”

“But there’s no music,” you pout, and once again he chuckles, letting you go to settle back into the leather couch as he pulls out his phone. A moment later a familiar, lively melody floods the living room, and you let yourself become lost to it. It doesn’t matter that you’re drunk and dancing alone, Samu’s dark eyes following your every move, you’ve never felt so free.

Arms raised in the air, hips swaying hypnotically to the beat, you lose track of time. It could’ve been minutes or seconds or a whole hour, but suddenly you’re not alone anymore – Samu’s there with you. His cologne invades your senses, why does he always smell so good? His body’s warm, almost hot as he slots himself behind you, caging you against him.

“Fuck, baby,” he growls, his voice sending shivers running down your spine. “Yer a little tease, ya know that?”

And there’s something wrong with that, you know there is, but you can’t seem to think of what it is – not when the weight of his hold’s impeding your movement. A pout adorns your face, a soft, almost petulant whine escaping your lips as you try in vain to untangle yourself, “Samu, lemme go. I wanna dance.”

He huffs out a laugh, but that doesn’t sound right either. “Don’t wanna dance with you, pretty girl.”

There’s something hard pressing against your lower back, and his hot breath ghosts over your neck a moment before lips descend to suck on the sensitive flesh.

In a split second, all that blissful, warm, drunken happiness evaporates. Samu groans lowly, his chest rumbling at your back, but there’s a pit of something cold and urgent that’s seeping through your veins, distant, foggy alarm bells tolling inside of your head and you don’t understand what’s happening, but you know that you don’t like it.

You want it to stop.

“S-Samu,” you whine, shifting uncomfortably against his hold.

This time he listens, drawing back just enough that he can turn you around to face him. And those familiar eyes are hooded and dark, burning with an intensity that makes you want to recoil even as he stares down at you, taking your cheek in hand.

You don’t even realise that you’re crying until his thumb’s brushing away your tears. There’s nothing comforting or pleasant (nothing of the Samu you know) on his face as he studies your fearful expression, but eventually he lets out a heavy sigh.

“She was positive I was cheatin’ on her,” he admits. “Did she ever tell ya that?” He pauses for a beat waiting for a reply, but when it’s clear that you don’t have one for him, he just scoffs, “No, ‘course not. That’d be admitting that not everything about our life was picture perfect, and heaven fuckin’ forbid we do that. Y’know, that's why she wanted ya back here so bad. She needed a buffer.”

Bitterness clings to every word like poison and you flinch, renewing your struggles to get away. Not that he lets you – the moment you start to squirm the arm around your waist tugs you closer, anchoring you against him. The tears come faster, followed by soft, hiccuping sobs, but Samu seems beyond caring at that point.

“Stupid bitch never could see what was right in front of her face. That’s what we were fightin’ about that night; she said she was gonna leave me.”

Your heart clenches, fear pooling in your gut, but Samu just smiles at you, a mockery of sweet tenderness, reaching back to tuck a stray lock of your hair behind your ear. “But you know I’d never hurt my pretty girl, don’t ya, baby?” he asks. “Just want a taste tonight.”

You don’t even have time to suck in a breath before he’s kissing you, cradling the back of your head as his mouth moves hungrily against yours.

And all you can taste is the whiskey on his tongue.

—

You can’t tear your eyes away from your reflection in the mirror, the faint, reddish blemish colouring your neck.

A hickey.

Tentatively, as if trying to prove that it’s real and not a figment of your imagination, you prod at the mark, only to wince at the tenderness. Definitely real.

You’d woken up to an empty house – unsurprising considering it was well past ten and you knew Osamu had work today – with your head pounding and your mouth uncomfortably dry. Wracking your brain, you can’t seem to conjure up a rational explanation for the bruise. Granted, you can’t really remember much of last night, only fragments of being at Atsumu’s place, and certainly nothing after you’d started taking those shots.

Which doesn’t make the uneasiness sitting heavy in your stomach any easier to take, because you know that you hadn’t been cosying up to anybody before you’d lost track of the night, and if it had happened after, then surely Samu or one of the others would have stepped in and put a stop to it.

And that should’ve been more of a comforting thought than it was, because if it didn’t happen at Atsumu’s then that meant it happened afterwards, when you were here with Samu.

Your heart thumps unevenly against your ribs.

Osamu. Your dead sister’s husband, your brother in law.

A hickey on your neck isn’t just a kiss. It’s not a simple, drunken peck against your lips, it meant that somebody had sucked on the skin, bitten at it, kissed until blood vessels broke – it’s not the kind of thing that happens accidentally.

A wave of nausea threatens to overtake you, and you barely manage to make it to the bathroom before you’re violently emptying the contents of your stomach into the porcelain bowl. And you know as you collapse onto the cool tiled floor, shaking just a little, that this time at least, the alcohol isn’t to blame.

You know Samu; you trust him implicitly. Whatever happened, it must have been a mistake or something. You’d both been drinking, and he’s still grieving and–

There’s no point jumping to conclusions or working yourself up any more than you already have. You’ll just bring it up with him when he gets home, you decide.

Yet anxiety and guilt gnaw at you as the hours crawl by, you’re half tempted to pick up your phone and just call him to ask point blank. The clock feels like it’s mocking you every time you glance up, and while you try your best to distract yourself with household chores and then busying yourself with dinner, none of it works for long.

By the time he does stride through the door, a little before ten, you’re an anxious wreck, all but wringing your fingers as you sit rigid and tense at the table. Most nights you eat before he gets home, hunger getting the better of you, but tonight you don’t seem to have much of an appetite.

“Smells good,” he comments with an easy grin, toeing off his shoes and dropping his wallet and keys by the door.

You open your mouth, but the words seem to get stuck in your throat as he drops a kiss down on the top of your head and walks on past to grab a bowl from the kitchen.

“I’m starving.”

Instead, you just swallow nervously as he pulls out the seat next to you and sits, not wasting another second before digging in. Your eyes quickly dart over to study him, but you don’t see any hint of guilt or unease on his face. He just looks like the same old Samu, a little tired maybe, but otherwise totally normal, and so you force yourself to pick up your spoon and follow suit.

And he’s never been one to fill silences with meaningless chatter, but tonight the quiet between the two of you feels oppressive, every clink of metal against ceramic echoing too loudly, every chew, every swallow setting you on edge. You can’t even taste the food, your stomach too twisted in knots for you to feel anything but nauseous after a few bites.

“… Is everything okay?” he asks after a few minutes, and it’s so sudden amongst the tense silence that you visibly jerk, almost dropping the spoon you’d been toying with.

You glance up to find him staring, brows furrowed in concern, and once again your stomach flips. It’s now or never.

“Um… did anything happen last night?” you ask, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Osamu’s frown deepens fractionally, and he tilts his head as your fingers twist in your lap, “What d’ya mean?”

Did we kiss? The words dangle on the tip of your tongue, but as you nervously meet his eyes, you find nothing but confusion and concern there. And for a moment, you almost speak them, but then Samu’s reaching across the table to take your hand in his, and as his warm palm swallows up yours, you lose your nerve.

“You sure yer okay?”

Whatever happened, he doesn’t remember it and neither do you.

Smiling tightly, you nod. “Yeah, it’s nothing. Nevermind.”

There’s no reason for you to drag him through the mud for this, you’re already feeling enough guilt and shame for the both of you.

—

You try to put it out of your mind, but it’s not that easy.

Lying awake in bed at night, your brain unwittingly turns over possibilities of what else could’ve caused the mark if not Osamu. Guilt gnaws at you every second that you’re around him and all the while he’s painfully oblivious to it all.

He’s always been affectionate with you, but all those stray, unthinking touches now carry a different weight with them. You find yourself ducking away from them more often than not, pretending that you don’t see the almost wounded look in those greyish-brown eyes when you do. You start to avoid him, finding other places to be whenever he’s home.

And you hate yourself for it, because Osamu’s been nothing but faithful to your sister for as long as you’ve known him. You’re the one acting like there’s something wrong between the two of you, like he’s treating you any differently than he always has when you know that’s not the case.

You know that, but when you catch sight of the fading bruise in the mirror, your stomach twists into knots all the same.

There are excuses and justifications aplenty, but none of them make you feel any better. You still find yourself sniffling into your pillow, swallowed up by your guilt when you imagine how devastated your sister would be if she knew.

You’d let her husband kiss you. Being drunk and miserable and grieving didn’t change that. Whether he knew it was you or mistook you for her; it doesn’t matter. Maybe it was a mistake, letting him talk you into coming.

Things were still too raw, too fresh. You’d thought that coming here would help, but so far it’s only made everything worse, and unintentionally or not, you can’t kid yourself that your presence is doing anything to help Osamu anymore.

You need to go back to Tokyo.

Somewhat selfishly, you’re tempted to put it off until the weekend, because you know that Onigiri Miya has a stall for the beginning of the summer festival and he’ll be too preoccupied with that to think about anything else – but you just can’t bring yourself to do that to him.

No, it’s better to rip it off like a bandaid; nice and quick.

You’d planned on breaking the news over dinner, but as you pick your way through your noodles, you notice that Samu’s quieter than he usually is. Every time you risk a glance up he’s staring at the table, looking entirely lost in thought, and it just doesn’t feel like the right time to bring it up.

Tomorrow, you decide, you’ll cook his favourite for dinner and tell him then.

—

The knocking startles you from your sleep with a jolt. It’s quiet, hesitant almost, but you’ve always been a light sleeper.

“Samu?” you croak out, fumbling blindly for the phone at your bedside to see what time it is.

The door opens, a crack of light from the hallway spilling into your room as Osamu looks in. “Sorry,” he murmurs, “I know it’s late, but I need to talk to ya ‘bout somethin’.”

He’s shirtless, clad only in a pair of cotton pyjama pants, but he doesn’t look to be in any immediate kind of trouble. Still, he wouldn’t have disturbed you in the middle of the night if it wasn’t something important, so you blearily wipe the sleep from your eyes and force yourself to sit up as he slips into your room and shuts the door behind him.

“What’s wrong?”

He hasn’t bothered to turn on the light, and even with the moonlight streaming in through your window, his face is cast in shadow as he takes a seat on the edge of your bed. And it’s silly, especially considering he’s the one who’s shirtless right now but it’s hard not to flush at the realisation that you’re only wearing a thin, satiny slip. You feel almost naked – he’s seen you in bikinis before, but it feels different here, when he’s the one in your bedroom.

“You asked me the other day about what happened the night we went to Tsumu’s,” he begins, his voice quiet and soft in the early hours of the morning, and suddenly your state of dress is the last thing on your mind.

Swallowing tightly, your pulse quickens and you still, waiting for him to continue.

And you feel, rather than see, the way he stares at you, inching a fraction closer when you don’t immediately answer. “And I lied. Or I didn’t exactly tell ya the full truth.”

“Which is?” you force out.

Samu’s shoulders rise and fall as he takes a deep, slow breath in and exhales heavily. “You were drunk and ya came onto me, tried to kiss me.” You flinch, a choked sound escaping your throat at the blunt admission, but he’s quick to reach for you, his hand coming to rest on your knee, squeezing it reassuringly. “And in the heat of the moment, I let ya.”

Hot tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but the moment you try to turn away from him, biting your lip and trying to blink back the tears, he stops you.

“Osamu–”

“‘Cause I’ve spent years waiting to kiss those lips, an’ I’m tired of pretending we both don’t want this.”

And he’s kissing you; soft and sweet and gentle, his lips molding to yours as he cups the back of your neck. You wonder if he can feel your pulse racing under his fingertips as he draws himself closer, groaning into your mouth.

It doesn’t matter that your hands are on his bare chest, pushing at him, hitting him – those muscles aren’t just for show; he’s immovable. The more you squirm, trying to extricate yourself so that you can plead with him to stop–

This is a mistake. A horrible, awful misunderstanding. He’s upset and grieving and not thinking clearly and you have to stop this.

He doesn’t know what he’s saying.

– the more his grip tightens until it starts to hurt and you’re whimpering into the kiss. Your tears are wetting his cheeks, but he doesn’t care, won’t stop and there’s a panic that rises within you every second that you’re entangled with him.

“Don’t do this,” he mutters, breaking the kiss as a sob rips its way free from your throat, “Don’t pretend ya don’t want this, baby. I know ya do. Stop being a little fuckin’ tease.”

He leans back in, intent on capturing your lips again, and in an act of desperation you reach for his face, cradling his cheek in your hand. “Samu, please,” you beg, wide, imploring eyes searching his face for any hint of a reprieve. “You’re scaring me. Stop, please, j-just for a second.”

Just a second, that’s all you need to try and snap him out of whatever the hell this is. One second.

Osamu stills, his face mere inches from your own, his body hovering atop yours. His breath, ragged and uneven, ghosts over your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake, but you don’t dare move as he leans into the touch, grey eyes fluttering shut.

He sighs, the sound almost like a shiver. “Ya don’t need to be scared, ‘m gonna take good care of my girl.”

He doesn’t give you the chance to say anything else, not as he forces himself onto you once more. You used to marvel a little at Osamu. Tall, handsome and strong, even in his mid thirties; Samu was fit. Now, straddling your waist, pinning your wrists to the wall with one hand, the other palming at your tits, he dwarfs you entirely. He isn’t impatient, not as he kisses you languidly, not as he slides the soft, satin up your thigh, revealing your underwear.

Your hiccuping sniffles aren’t enough to move him, you’re not strong enough to physically fight him off. He doesn’t pay the tearful, breathless pleas sobbed out between kisses any mind.

Osamu grabs you by the waist and flips you onto your front, lips brushing at the nape of your neck as he smooths your hair back, and you’re utterly helpless to stop him.

And as his hand runs down your side and he coaxes your hips up into the air, you almost wish that he was rough. Because this pretense of gentleness, glinting steel masquerading as silk – it’s too intimate, and you feel complicit.

Like you’re willing.

Like you want this with him.

An act of love as he tugs your panties down to your knees and hums in quiet satisfaction at the sight of your bare cunt, glistening just for him.

There’s a voice in your head telling you you should be screaming and kicking and snarling like a wild, feral thing, but Osamu’s grabbing at your ass, spreading it to get a better look, his thumb gliding along your slit and all you can think about is the picture he’d packed away, the one of the three of you at Disneyland.

Samu’s arm slung over your shoulder, and your sister’s bright smile.

He spits; a warm, fat glob of saliva hitting your pussy, and as it slowly dribbles down the only sound that leaves your lips is a soft, broken whine. You don’t fight him when he takes his cock in hand and guides the flushed head, pre-cum already oozing at the tip, along your cunt, you just lie there, a toy for him to move and manipulate however he wants.

“You’ll forgive me for this, I know ya will,” he murmurs, softly squeezing your hip just once as something thick and blunt presses at your entrance.

But it doesn’t matter, not as his cock sheaths itself inside of you with one hard, brutal thrust, because you’re not sure you’ll ever be able to forgive yourself.

#yandere haikyuu #yandere osamu miya #yandere osamu x reader #yandere osamu #yandere osamu miya x reader #tw: noncon #tw: dubcon #tw: infidelity #angst #drunk reader #manipulation and gaslighting ahead y'all #dilf osamu

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belphies-cuhm-sluht · 3 years

Note

Hello! I saw your asks open and i wanted to request some angst headcanons with dad!Asmo. I just read Luci's and oh man that sure hurt my heart, you write angst so well!

Unwanted (Dad!Asmo x F!Reader) ANGST

A/N : Mammon plays a really big part in this, just as Beel played a big role in the dad!Lucifer fic. It's never hinted whether they're together or not, it's kind of up to the imagination... but if you'd like, I can write a part two to this??? (I will also, to anyone who might want it, write a part two to the dad!Lucifer fic)

Word Count : 2.3K Warnings : pregnancy ; children ; maternity ; babies ; hinted abortion ; angst ;

He never wanted children, he didn’t want anything that would actually tie him down to anything or anyone. It wasn’t his “thing”, and you both had done everything to prevent it from happening. Up until now, everything had worked, there had never been one mistake, but the both of you got sloppy. There was a party, and… well, you loved him, and he had said that he loved you, and precautions weren’t a “thing” at that moment. One slip up, one mistake, and now everything was falling apart.

“I didn’t want this. I don’t want that.” He spat the words at you, pointing towards your stomach. He had only stopped pacing long enough to say it before starting again, walking the length of his room as he gnawed at his perfectly manicured fingers. You hadn’t expected anything different from him, but it still hurt that he was blaming the whole thing on you, as if it didn’t take 50/50 participation to make something like this happen. “It’ll completely ruin my image. A child with a human! It’ll be all over the tabloids, in every magazine… I can’t have that.” His behavior shouldn’t have been that shocking to you, but to hear just how selfish he really was, to know that he thought so little of you, it hurt way worse than you ever thought it would. One moment he was professing his love to you, and now he’s disgusted with you. It could have been that your emotions were running high from the situation, or maybe the hormones had just taken over completely, but you wanted to scream, you wanted to cry, and you wanted to fight him. “Your image?! This thing could kill me and all you care about is your stupid public persona… Screw you! I wish I never fell in love with you.” His eyes went soft, and for a moment you thought that maybe he’d apologize, maybe he was rethinking his own words, his actions, that maybe you’d be able to be a team to work through this mess. You were wrong, you were so wrong. “Wish all you want, we both know you’d have never been able to resist me.” Narcissistic, selfish, he was just awful. You closed your eyes tightly, trying to fight back the tears as you walked past him. He didn’t deserve your last words, he didn’t deserve anything. He didn’t deserve you.

The twelfth week was supposed to be the most exciting. It was when most couples would finally make their announcements, happily tell family and friends that they were expecting. Your twelfth week was a nightmare. You were trapped in the Devildom, human doctors wouldn’t know what the hell was going on if they delivered a child with horns, a child so angelically demonic that they’d probably call the hospital priest to your room as soon as they saw it. The only place where you’d be able to safely deliver a child like this and live through it would be in the Devildom. It’s not like you hadn’t tried to relieve yourself of the problem. You had gone to Lucifer, Satan, Barbatos, even Lord Diavolo, asking them if there was any way that they could just… get rid of it. Sadly, Asmodeus wasn’t just a narcissistic, selfish prick, he was also sadistic. None of them could do anything without Asmodeus’ approval since it was his child too. Every time one of them asked him, he would refuse. He didn’t even give a reason, he just wanted to see you suffer. Strangely, you had found comfort and solace in Mammon. You were pretty sure he was only helping because he still had a crush on you, but he became your emotional, mental, and physical support throughout everything. You had told him many times that he didn’t have to basically “fill in” for Asmo, but he insisted that it was the least he could do considering his little brother was being a dick. He wasn’t just your support at the house, he was… invested in the child that Asmo hadn’t wanted. He took you to doctors appointments, sometimes even getting in the way of the doctor as he pointed to the ultrasound screen. He was so excited that most people just assumed it was his kid, and he never denied it either. It was just easier that way, to go along with whatever the other demons said because he knew that any mention of Asmo would upset you and that was the last thing he wanted to do. Some days the both of you would sit on the couch in the living room, flipping through the pages of maternity books. He’d really try to understand the diagrams on the pages, but you could tell that he was confused and sometimes he’d even look up at you from the pages, and then down at your stomach, and then up at you, before looking back down at the pages. It was cute, and you’d giggle lightly, resting your head on his shoulder as you continued flipping through the pages. He had become the only person in the house that you felt like you could fully trust and rely on. Everyone else wanted to stay out of the drama, nobody wanted to get involved, but Mammon wasn’t there for the drama, he was only there for you, he was there when you needed him.

“Can you believe him? Can you believe both of them? We haven’t even broken up and they’re sleeping together, she’s even wearing his clothes. It’s ridiculous, and Mammon is out there playing dad with my kid.” Asmo sat on the edge of the counter, voicing his complaints to anyone who would listen. Sadly it was Beel’s turn since he was the only one in the kitchen right now. Most of the time the other brothers would just hide themselves away, not wanting to deal with Asmo right now, but Beel had gotten hungry and he really thought he’d be lucky enough to avoid his brother. “I don’t know what the big deal is… You didn’t want the kid anyway.” He wasn’t going to walk on eggshells around Asmo, he wasn’t going to lie to make anyone feel better. In Beel’s eyes, Asmo was completely in the wrong. “If Y/N is finding some sort of happiness in spending time with Mammon, who are you to complain? It stopped being your place when you said you didn’t want it.” He shrugged before grabbing his plate and going straight back to his room. He wasn’t going to continue listening to it, but he hoped that he had left Asmo with something to really think about. He walked up the stairs, going straight to the bedroom door, knocking loudly. He wasn’t going to stop until someone opened the door either. Mammon got up from the bed that you both had been propped up on, rolling his eyes as he walked over to his door, groaning loudly when he saw Asmo standing there. “Whaddaya want? We don’t need ya here… yer just gonna stress ‘er out.” He was trying to talk quietly, not wanting you to hear him or even know who was there. He was so protective of you, he wouldn’t let anyone else serve your food during meals, he’d even stand outside the bathroom door whenever you were in there just to make sure you didn’t fall or hurt yourself. Asmo pushed his way into the room much to Mammon’s annoyance. “I don’t care, Mammon. Y/N isn’t yours, and neither is the child. They’re both mine, and I’d like to have a word with her.” He said snidely, but Mammon wasn’t going to have it. Brother or not, he cared too much about you, he had worked so hard to help you get over what Asmo had done, and he wasn’t going to let him waltz back in and ruin everything. Mammon wasn’t weak, he was way stronger than he looked, and right now he was showing his strength, grabbing Asmo’s arm and practically throwing him out of the room. His teeth were barred and the growl that was coming from him sounded feral, animalistic, it was terrifying. “Neither of them are yers! I’ve been there fer everything, every doctor visit, I even bought a damn room fer the kid and she’s sleepin’ in my room, next ta me, and a next ta Y/N. Ya know why?! ‘Cause ya don’t jus’ get ta come back when ya fine’ly realize that ya fucked up! Now… leave us alone. We don’t need ya here.” He left Asmo out in the hallway, crumpled against the wall as he walked back into the room. “She…” Asmo kept repeating the word as he pushed himself up off the floor. He was having a daughter, and he hadn’t even known about it, he wouldn’t have known about it if Mammon hadn’t screamed at him. It was strange how knowing made things more real, it made him care more, and the worst part was that he knew it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair to you. He didn’t know how to fix what he had done, but he knew that he had to try at least. “Lucifer…” “I don’t want things to be like this when she gets here. It’s not going to be long either.” You sighed, finally relaxing once more in the bed once Mammon got in next to you. “Why was he here anyway?” Mammon shrugged, focusing all of his attention on your stomach trying to calm himself. He liked watching it move, he thought it was neat.

The delivery was smoother than you thought it would be, and Mammon only fainted twice during the whole thing, so he did pretty good. Delivering a child in the Devildom had its perks, the main one being that you didn’t have to stay more than one day in the hospital to recover. They did some spell and you were completely fine. It was strange, but you appreciated it greatly. The only issue with the perk was that it meant you were going back home and that meant you’d have to face Asmo. She looked so much like him, and you could tell that Mammon was upset by it. Even though he knew she wasn’t actually his, he wished that she didn’t look so much like her father. Her eyes were his exact color, and it left you speechless when she first opened them, gazing up at you with wonder and curiosity. She was precious, and she was yours. As you walked through the door you were met with balloons and streamers, and Asmo. You heard Mammon growl quietly, and you quickly held your hand out to him, silently begging him to stop. He was holding the carseat and you didn’t need him to lose his temper right now. “I just wanted to welcome her home, welcome you home. I bought some things for her, they’re outside of Mammon’s door.” Asmo said nervously, and for once he was terrified of being rejected. “We don’t need noth-” Mammon had started, but you quickly shook your head, pleading to him with your eyes to just stay calm. He groaned loudly, eyeing Asmo angrily before walking past him to the stairs. “Fine. She’s prob’ly hungry… I’m gonna feed ‘er. Ya comin’ up?” You nodded quickly, making sure he got up the stairs alright before turning back to Asmo. “What are you doing, Asmo?”

He moved into the living room, waiting for you to sit down before he did, and he looked scared, he looked sad. Of course you didn’t like seeing him like this, but it was his fault, he had caused all of this. “I don’t want to be alone. I know that sounds selfish, that I’m making this about myself again, but I’m not trying to. When Mammon told me… he said she… It's a girl?” You nodded slowly and you saw his face light up for only a second before it left once more. “I was scared, I am scared… I didn’t know if I’d be a good… father. I never saw myself as one, but seeing Mammon, and he’s doing so well… I never saw him as a father either… I thought that maybe, since he could… that maybe I could too.” He sighed, bringing his hand back up to his lips to chew at his fingers again, his orange eyes glistening with the tears that hadn’t fallen yet. “I know that what I said was wrong… I was rude. I didn’t think I’d have a problem finding someone to take my mind off of everything, but I was wrong. I love you, and nobody else is going to take your place, nobody else can take your place.” You both sat on the couch in silence, his tears finally falling as he waited for you to say something, and yours building up as you tried to think of something to say. “This isn’t fair… You know this isn’t fair. You can’t… you can’t pick and choose when you want to be a dad. You weren’t there… and you made it very clear that you didn’t want her. I… I can’t do this Asmo… I’m sorry… They’re waiting for me… I-I have to go.” You took a deep breath as you stood from the couch, wiping your tears with the back of your hands as you started walking to the stairs. “Y/N…” He walked up behind you, grabbing your hand to stop you. You didn’t turn around to face him, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it, but he didn’t mind. He was actually thankful that you didn’t look at him, because what he was about to say was the hardest thing he’d ever have to say in his life. “I know that I’m unwanted… But… If I may… Can I meet her? Just once? Please?”

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heyhihellowhatsup0 · 3 years

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Hooked On Your Feelings - Chapter One (FWB! Tom Holland x Reader)

Prologue

Warnings: Some angst, language, eventual smut in future chapters, fluff

Word Count: 4155

Summary: After a bad breakup, making an agreement with your womanizing neighbor, Tom to be friends with added benefits and no strings attached seemed like the perfect idea. Until things become messy, emotions caused your agreement to crumble.

A/N: I have been dying to post more so the day is finally here! I am so happy everyone has given my such amazing and sweet feedback! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter. Needless to say, this chapter does have smut! DM me to be tagged and I cannot wait to hear everyone’s thoughts! (Also .gif is not mine. DM me for credit please, I found on google!) Thank you xx -N

You woke up the next morning with your head pounding while the sun hit your eyes as you opened them. Turning on your back you let out a sigh once you realized where you were. The same bed you figured you would be in even though you were hoping it was all a dream and what had happened didn’t actually take place.

Remaining underneath Tom’s dark and satin sheets since you knew you had nothing on, you pivoted your head upward and saw his eyes opened and staring up at the ceiling. Clearly, neither one of you had any idea how to address what the hell happened between the two of you last night and you certainly weren’t going to be the one to initiate.

Tom licked his lips as he adjusted himself from under the covers. Did he really just sleep with you? Sure, he thought about having that moment with you. Countless times, actually. It was no secret you were breathtakingly beautiful and he always had that fantasy about you. But you were always dating that idiot for whatever reason and Tom always thought you were never into him in that way.

None of it was planned, of course. It just happened. One minute, you were both drinking and just simply there next to each other. The next, Tom and you were stumbling into his bedroom. Laughing in between kisses as you removed one another’s clothes and experiencing what was probably some of the best sex he’d ever had. His entire body was vibrating still from how he had felt and he never in a million years would have even thought you were the least bit interested in him like that. Then again, you were both clearly going through some really weird stuff last night.

You were both vulnerable and feeling things you didn’t want to admit to other people but for some reason, Tom was alright with admitting it to you and you both found a way to get rid of the feeling, even if it was temporary. He didn’t want you to regret it, because he sure as hell didn’t. He certainly wasn’t expecting any of that with you but it was a hell of a night and he was far from complaining about it. He was just worried you regretted it.

A lot could be said in your silence with Tom as you lay there, the both of you now staring up at the ceiling and neither of you were speaking. You couldn’t help but feel a little awkward while you tried to figure out what to say. Do you just thank him for the night and leave? Should you just say you had work and grab your clothes or just maybe not say anything at all? The silence was killing you for a variety of reasons and you were still trying to rack your brain trying to figure out why you initiated the first kiss to begin with. You weren’t drunk at all but for some reason you just wanted it. You wanted him. And in that moment last night, you were glad he wanted you too.

Tom cleared his throat, the stillness between you both was causing a rise in his anxiousness, “Well...we had sex last night,” he stated the obvious as plainly as possible. Maybe he should have just kept his mouth shut.

“Yeah,” you answered in an obvious tone. You held back from your laughter as you pushed your hair out of your face, “I should probably go,” you told him as you tried to cover yourself up with the sheets even though you already knew Tom saw you naked last night. There were no more secrets between you both. Clearly.

Tom sat up from the bed and began looking for his sweatpants to throw on before he started to help you find your clothes across the bedroom floor. He handed you your t-shirt as he politely turned away while you changed, “Do you want coffee or something?” he offered, something he would never offer another girl who stayed the night.

Offering any girl any type of breakfast or anything of the sort automatically made them believe Tom wanted them to stay longer. To go out on a date or to get a phone call from him later. Commitment. So he always avoided it and usually had you kick them out if they couldn’t get the hint. But obviously you were different being that you were a friend who he just so happened to sleep with. He was grateful you were there with him and he’d never dismiss you as quickly. He cared about you in the same ways you cared about him. Neighborly love. Who he happened to be attracted to and vice versa.

“Nah, I’m okay. I have some back at my place,” you answered casually as you grabbed your leggings as Tom handed you one of your shoes, “Thanks,” you said to him with a small smile as you tried not to act like you were rushing out of there.

You tried to make yourself presentable as Tom began to walk you out of the bedroom, unsure if he should thank you for the night or not. You turned to him with a sarcastic smile and pointed towards your messy waves, “Wow, I guess this officially makes me a notch on your belt, huh?” you tried to joke to make it less weird between you two.

“For the record, you are not a notch or anything like that, Y/N,” Tom said sternly to make sure you knew that last night was actually a night he didn’t regret at all, “I uh...actually had a pretty good time,” he felt his cheeks tinge a hint of pink as he admitted that to you. Another thing he knew to never say to a girl he brought home. Ever.

Making a face at him, you breathed out a small laugh while you nodded your head in agreement, “Yeah, I did too,” you told him honestly.

The two of you just stood in the kitchen by Tom’s door for a minute. Waiting for the other person to say something but neither of you did. You rocked back and forth on your heels as Tom slid his hands into his pockets, “This isn't weird, is it?” you questioned in a light tone.

“What? No!?” Tom chuckled nervously. He crossed his arms in front of his chest in an attempt to be nonchalant while the elephant of the deed you two had done remained between you both, “Wh-why-why would it be weird?” he stammered.

Leaning in a bit closer towards him, you narrowed your eyes in on Tom, “We had sex,” you whispered as if somebody else was in the room and could overhear your entire conversation.

Tom copied your motion and leaned in in the exact same way, “I don’t think it’s a secret now,” he teased you with a playful smirk, making you laugh as he pulled away. He gave you a nudge against your shoulder, “It’s only weird if we make it weird, right?” he reminded himself.

Lots of friends sleep together and continue to be friends. This was nothing out of the ordinary. Besides, you were more neighborly than friends. So it was a completely different situation than what typical friends had dealt with in the past. Tom was right, you reminded yourself.

“No weirdness on my end,” you told him with a smile as you held out your palm as if you were swearing in a courtroom, “Promise,” you added with a playful wink.

Tom smiled back, leaning forward to get the door for you but you accidentally mistook his gesture for a hug and wrapped your arm around his neck. You cussed under your breath at your embarrassingly stupid moment while you apologized profusely to Tom as he tried to save the awkwardness by giving you a half-assed hug in return. You tried to hide the wincing your eyes were making from the hug but you knew he noticed. Of course he noticed.

Looking down at the floor because you were now too embarrassed to look in his direction, you said your goodbyes as Tom promised to swing by this week with his usual pizza while you began walking faster towards your apartment. But you didn’t want Tom to think you were that flustered by your interactions that you quite literally ran away to hide out.

You finally got inside your door and realized everything remained untouched since you had kicked Justin out last night. The bottle of wine was still open and sitting on the counter, the television was still on in the living room and there were still a bunch of clothes he had left behind that you needed to desperately get rid of.

Everything in your apartment remained frozen in time while you felt like you jumped lightyears ahead of it from your one night spent with Tom. It was a strange feeling as you walked over to turn the television off but you didn’t feel angry like you had felt last night. You weren’t exactly over the events that took place with Justin but you were on the path to accepting it and you weren’t sure if Tom had something to do with it or not.

There was no denying that you were still hurting from everything. It was still a fresh wound and you had felt so betrayed from it all, you weren’t sure how you would bounce back from it or if you even would. You never dealt with a breakup as ugly as this one so it was a new feeling for you that you were still trying to wrap your head around.

And even though when you were with Tom for the brief time that you were, it felt like it was almost exactly what you needed last night. You didn’t hold back from him and you were comfortable enough around Tom telling him exactly what you needed. Letting your frustrations and anger out on him and Tom letting his feelings out on you led to an explosion between the two of you that surprisingly left you possibly wanting more.

Wanting more from Tom.

Changing into a fresh outfit from last night, you continued to replay the night over and over again in your mind. It was unexpected to say the least, but not in a bad way. Not by any means. If you thought it was bad or awkward, you probably wouldn’t be standing in front of your closet still thinking about the things Tom made you feel.

He made you forget about the drama, if even for one night. But he still managed to make you think that you didn’t need Justin anymore. Maybe you didn’t need anyone right now other than a simple fix here and there to make you feel good. Maybe something without any strings attached was what you needed right now in order to move on and numb your pain for a bit.

You knew Tom was dealing with his own commitment issues and neither one of you were looking for anything complicated. It may not be the best idea in the world to be thinking about something like this but clearly neither one of you knew how to be alone at the moment. You didn’t really want to be fully alone anyway, and you were both comfortable enough with each other where you could be honest about this stuff. Maybe Tom was right, there shouldn’t be any weirdness between you.

Maybe some great sex and not an ounce of attachment was the elixir to the chaos Justin caused for you. No formalities. No planned out, stuffy dates. No mingling with friends and their significant others. No justin. And certainly no types of feelings that would get you in a mess you clearly weren’t looking for right now.

Just good fucking sex. And...it didn’t hurt that your neighbor might be looking for the same type of thing that you were. At least you had hoped.

And when the thoughts and memories and god, downright blissful remembrances of his touch kept invading your mind, just standing there in your apartment thinking about it wasn’t enough. The anxiousness vibrated through your body and you knew what you might be needing from down the hall.

You pulled on a new t-shirt before grabbing your keys. You had never done anything like this before, what if Tom said no? Maybe it should just remain a one time thing between the two of you. Your nerves were attacking you relentlessly as you locked your door, slipping your key ring around your finger and securing it tightly.

But if Tom could do things like this, what was stopping you? The pure rush of anxiety and adrenaline...but it was stupidly guiding you right back to his door. This was insane. Completely stupid. He’d never agree to this.

Your mind was telling you to turn around and go back home. But that side of you that you never let come out was saying ‘fuck it. Have some fun for once. You’ve been through enough heartbreak and this is something for you.

The safe way got you hurt. More than once. And as you lifted your hand to tap your knuckles against the door, you knew you were done playing it smart.

Barely getting through the first knock, the door swung open. You let out a yelp as you practically hit Tom in the face while he almost walked right into you. The two of you running into each other as your bodies slightly crashed into one another.

“Oh shit!” Tom exclaimed as he pulled back with an awkward laugh. He ran a hand through his still messy curls, “I was actually on my way to see you,” he admitted, pressing his lips together as he looked at you in the doorframe.

You reached up and crashed your lips against Tom’s without warning, “Let’s make a deal,” you told him through your hungry kiss as you began to feel Tom start to kiss you back. He moaned into you as he captured your top lip in between his.

“W-what?” Tom mumbled against your lips once again, bringing you inside of his place as he kicked the door shut. He was surprised this was happening so suddenly. Especially since he was just about to be on his way over to your place to ask you for just about the same thing. He knew it didn’t feel right when you left this morning and it was because he wanted to feel this way again. With you.

“I can still help with your horrible conquests but...in the meantime, we make up for our shit love lives with damn good sex,” you explained while catching your breath from your last kiss. You stood in the living room with Tom’s hands resting on your hips with lust for you in his eyes.

He pulled back from his embrace with a quirked brow, “You’re serious,” he noted as he smirked at you. He was honestly surprised considering he never saw this side to you. You were always with the same guy for as long as you lived here. It was strange and new to him to see you wanting something that he did.

“No strings attached, of course,” you added. The words sounded ridiculous but you ignored that thought.

“I...christ, Y/N. I can’t say I haven’t thought about having endless mindblowing sex with you,” he said as his eyes rolled over you.

“Mindblowing?” you chuckled, “Someone’s cocky,” you teased.

“Rude. But back to the point...are you sure about this?” Tom got serious. His focus on you as he stepped back to give you some space. He didn’t want to be overbearing or act like he was trying to just get you back in bed. Even though that was basically what he was doing regardless of the situation.

The bottom line was, he had an amazing time with you. And unlike the random girls he brought home, you knew him. There was an understanding between you and him that he knew you got. And he could be open with you by saying he didn’t want anything serious. He wouldn’t need to find a way to get rid of you in the morning. He could distract himself from the nonsense he would think about while ravishing you in the process. It was the perfect idea.

You took a moment. Wondering again if you were just crazy to suggest this. But the way his brown eyes were studying you, it just felt right.

“I’m sure if you are,” you finally answered.

Tom was silent but it didn’t take him long to make his mind up. Taking a few steps forward, he picked you up in one swift motion and brought you over towards the couch where you straddled his hips before going in for another kiss. His hand was already slipping underneath your shirt and up your back as he helped you remove it along with his, tossing it towards the empty side of the couch you weren’t using.

Helping you out of your leggings, you found your way back towards Tom’s lap and grinded your hips against him in between your kisses. The cravings you both shared for one another grew wilder as you continued, “We’re really doing this?” you muttered against his lips with another gasp as you helped release him out of his already bulging boxers.

“Think so,” Tom laughed against your skin, trailing his lips down to your neck as he pushed your hair to one side, “Unless you want to stop?” he pulled back for a minute, not wanting to overstep if you were having second thoughts.

Biting your bottom lip, your hand went down to Tom’s hardened length and ran along it. Rubbing the pre-cum seeping from his tip as you watched Tom throw his head back against the couch with a low moan, “Does it look like I want to stop?” you asked him with a playful grin.

“Fuck, Y/N…” Tom hissed as his hands gripped your sides to release some of his frustration. He breathed out a laugh as his fingers went to your clit, beginning to circle you slowly, “Let me give you what you came here for. Hm, darling?” his voice grew raspy as he looked you in the eye, his pupils black the longer he waited.

Your eyes went down towards Tom’s waist, gasping as you watched him begin to tease your entrance with his tip. Cussing under your breath, you grabbed onto his shoulders tightly as you braced yourself for his impact. Tom pressed his hand against the small of your back as he waited for you to let him know it was okay. You nodded your head silently as you gave him an amorous look, “I want you, Tom,” you whispered lowly.

That was all it took before Tom guided himself into you. Going slow as he took his time to let you get used to him while you clenched around him. You lowered yourself deeper as he filled your core up entirely while you began to roll your hips against his slowly, letting out a moan as Tom hissed against your ear while twitching inside of you.

“Mmm, Y/N,” Tom breathed out a moan as he matched his thrusts with yours. His lips parted, moaning against your neck while he pressed open, sloppy kisses against your skin as he continued to rub your clit with his opposite hand, “You feel so fucking wet,” he praised you breathlessly.

“Keep touching me, Tom,” you cried out to him while you started to ride him faster. Even though you and Tom had just started these escapades, you certainly felt comfortable enough to tell him exactly what you wanted to make you feel good. Pressing the pad of his thumb against your swollen bud, your eyes clenched shut while you pushed yourself deeper into him, “Shit! Yes, right there,” you reassured him with another moan.

Guiding you down on his cock, Tom felt his entire body tense as soon as his lips met yours once again. His breaths getting heavy like yours as your name fell from his lips while he watched you bounce up and down on him, making him feel absolutely incredible as you continued to moan in his ear.

You felt your body beginning to tense as you kept going. Everything inside of you was aching for a release and Tom was giving it to you without a doubt. Rocking your hips into him more, you knew you were getting closer to your edge and you could feel Tom about to release as well.

Opening your eyes, you cupped Tom’s face with your palms and gave him one last fiery kiss. Your tongues finding each other wildly and tangled up before you both finally reached your highs together as you whimpered Tom’s name while you finally let go for him.

Tom cussed as he unraveled from beneath you. His body writhing while he watched you bury your face into the crook of his neck, muffling the sound of your moans against him. The vibrations from your sounds set him off further while he continued to reach his bliss, still thrusting into you while you rode out your tremor together.

“Holy….” Tom trailed off with a heavy breath, finally slowing down while his back hit the couch as he tried to pull himself together. He saw you pull your face away from his body, giving him the same exact look that he knew he had on his face, “Umm...yeah, holy fuck?” he laughed.

“That just about covers it,” you agreed as you kissed his cheek with a smile. You pushed Tom’s now damp and sweaty curls out of his face to capture his lips while you brought him closer to you, “So we have a deal?” you confirmed as Tom kissed you back.

Tom chuckled as his hands fell to your sides, his thumb creating small circles against you while he pursed his lips, “You’re really serious about this? No strings? No titles? Just like...just sex?” he clarified, still trying to wrap his head around you asking for this. It felt like a godsend and that it was too good to be true. Why couldn’t more girls be like you?

Tucking a loose strand of your hair behind your ear, Tom’s eyes went from your eyes, to your lips, and back as he sat there admiring you looking this way. You looked so effortlessly beautiful to him and even just as a friend, he was lucky to have you in his life. But now that he had you in other ways, you felt almost intoxicating to him. He couldn’t understand why that piece of garbage cheated on you. Tom had done some shady things to girls in the past and he didn’t see himself in ways others might but he knew he would have never done what that guy did.

You nodded as you turned your head to the side, “Do we have a deal, Tom?” you asked again, raising your eyebrow at him.

“Justin really did a number on you, huh?” Tom teased with a chuckle.

“We’re not talking about him,” you shushed Tom. Pressing your palm against his chest, you gave him a stern expression, “No talk about exes or...your conquests. We do this,” you gestured towards you straddling his legs before looking back at him, “Whenever we...feel like it. I guess,” even you weren’t sure of the rules but you figured you could make them your own anyway.

There was a pause as you quickly felt like you should add more, “We’re friends. Nothing more, nothing less,” you told him, wanting to be clear of at least one title throughout this whole pact the two of you were about to agree to, “Friends who...happen to jump each other’s bones?” you stated despite it sounding like a question.

Tom chuckled at your timid expression. His hands still at your sides as he leaned up and captured your lips again. “Deal.”

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#tom holland #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader #tom holland smut #tom holland x y/n #heyhihellowhatsup0 #HOYF

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fairyoftbz · 3 years

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it's never too late... | b. jacob

🏀 pairing: crush! basketball player! jacob x fem!reader 🏀 genre: high school!au, fluff, (sort of) strangers/acquaintances-to-lovers 🏀 word count: 5.2k 🏀 tw: very cliché 😳 and it goes kinda fast lmaoo 🏀 a/n: lisa I'm sorry I took this long to do your request, but I hope you'll like it nonetheless!! ALSO: to my fellow Americans, here football = soccer!! 🏀 requested: yes! thank you lisa!! @skrtbabe

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You had waited for this time since the beginning of your academic journey there. Graduating from high school was two months away, and it felt just as exciting as weird.

It felt like you had started your first year last week, but the amount of work and time spent in those dull buildings makes you feel like you’ve been there for at least five years.

It was exhausting to attend classes and see the same people every single day of the year, with repetitive subjects, annoying or cool teachers depending on your luck and everything that followed. The homework, the assignments, the small -or not so small- fights between classes or groups of people, you were praying that university wouldn’t sound like that.

However, at the same time, you were almost starting to feel nostalgic for this time. The last years where you could remain a bit silly before entering the adult world, being in your last teen years with people that you appreciated and met there. You chose to do this before letting them go and live your own lives, memories that will disappear if you don’t cherish them enough.

So, with Soyeon, your best friend, you decided to enjoy the time that you had left to do things together while still studying and revising for the exams, which was sometimes not easy to do. Yes, you shared classes, but personal and private activities sometimes came in the way and prevented you from hanging out.

“It’s life after all,” she said one night over the phone as you shared your opinion on this topic, “it’s good that we can be together almost 24/7, but sometimes, things don’t allow us to be together. It might be for the best, we never know,” she said, trying to be positive no matter the situation she was in, but you knew her well. As much as she wants to appear strong, you had found her many times crying on her own. But it was her personality, and no matter how hard you tried to change her, what's bred in the bone comes out in the flesh.

Soyeon wasn’t your only friend, you were getting along well with most of your girl classmates, as well as the boys that weren’t suffocating under the number of pick-me-girls that were populating your school and your class.

Sadly for you, you’ve been eyeing the most popular (and prettiest) boy in your whole school since you crossed gaze with him at the very beginning of your first year there. Jacob, your crush, was also the star basketball player of your school, and constantly surrounded and attracting cheerleaders or rich, random, good-looking girls, which had a knack for getting on your nerves. He was always spending time together with his pals and teammates, but other people as well. Everyone wanted to be his friend because you know, he had a promising career ahead of him, so it was always nice to be friends with a potential future celebrity.

As defeated as you were, there was still a small voice in your head telling you to do something before he left to go back to his home country, South Korea, where he had a career already planned and traced out.

You were confused as it was almost impossible for you to get a chance with him since you were not one of those girls and you simply couldn’t compete against them, but Soyeon and her boyfriend Sunwoo were always there to praise you and reassure you about your potential chances of dating him. Never convinced by your friends’ words, you had tried many times to get him out of your head and focus on someone else, but it never worked. Everything came back to him. He was unique and oh so nice, everything reminded you of him, and it was sickening at this point.

“He won't get out of my head, it’s getting on my nerves,” you shared your thoughts to your best friend as you braced your head in your hands, slapping your cheeks as if it were going to change anything and help you throw Jacob out of your brain.

“Why do I keep this stupid boy in my head when I know I don’t stand a single chance against those girls,” you slapped your cheeks harder and whined as Soyeon’s hand landed on your wrist.

“Y/N, stop your nonsense. You are perfect, you don’t need to change anything for him!”

“It’s easier said than done, you pulled the football star player!” you exclaimed, and she rolled her eyes, shifting closer to whisper.

“He pulled me because he knew that I am pretty, and that wouldn’t change a single thing for him. If he’s not happy with who I am, he can leave,” she shrugs, signalling you to do the same if you dated Jacob.

Sunwoo was also among the popular boys, but your friend remained the same, not even trying to fit in with the popular girls. She claimed that Sunwoo fell in love with her for her true self, so she didn’t see the point of changing to please other people. And you wished you had her confidence and her strength, admiring her for not changing anything about herself to please others.

Back to the present.

You felt stuck, desperately in love with an unapproachable boy who was too popular and way out of your league to be lucky to have his eyes sparing you any sort of attention. Even if he was a sweet young man, he was always surrounded by popular people, who were trying to hook up or use him for his school fame and sharp features.

One day, while studying with your best friend at the library, Sunwoo and one of his friends, Hyunjae, the football captain, burst into the library and come not so quietly to your table.

“For the love of God, can you both be quiet for once?” Soyeon whispered-yelled but her voice got toned down by Sunwoo vividly pressing his lips on hers, an arm wrapping around her shoulders. Hyunjae laughed but quickly gagged as they didn’t stop the kiss as quickly as the captain wished.

“Gosh, please, get a room,” he mumbled before hugging you, your knee resting against his as his arms pressed you against his chest.

Your friendship with Hyunjae felt more like siblings, he was genuinely nice and caring with you, making sure that you were okay and that you had enough of everything before allowing you to go home. Despite all the teasing and a few rumours going around school, you were not dating and didn’t have any romantic feelings for each other. He simply checked that you had an older brother figure since you were the first-born child, and it felt relieving.

The thing you did not know was that Jacob and a few of his basketball teammates, Juyeon, Eric and Younghoon, were a few tables away from yours, your back facing them, the future star looking at you and Hyunjae from the corner of his eyes. He nodded at his friend at your table, who gave him a wink as an answer, Jacob’s eyes burning holes into your back as Hyunjae was close to you. Too close to you for the basketball player not to feel something churn in his stomach.

Two long, manicured fingers snapped in front of his eyes to get him out of his reverie, lazily looking at the girl that sat across from him, who he was supposed to get help from.

“Jacob please, pay attention to meeeeee,” she whined and pouted, giving him puppy eyes that he couldn’t give a single fuck about, too busy in his mind to hear what she had to say.

She had volunteered to help him study History, but she wasn’t any better, probably worse than he was. It was already the third time Juyeon corrected her basic knowledge without being an expert himself, not even caring about the death glares she kept sending him. It only made him smirk as he knew it irked her dearly yet amused the rest of the table a lot.

They all sighed as she finally took the hint and left their table, Jacob bitterly chuckling as Hyunjae rolled his eyes when she walked past your table, his demeanour making you laugh.

╰☆╮

“Bro, do you think I should ask Y/N for help? Isn’t that a bit… lame?” Jacob sat on one of the soccer balls, hands joined and panting as Sunwoo practised his dribbling skills before shooting the ball in the cages, aiming for the up-right corner. He trotted to his friend and collapsed on the grass next to him, the last rays of sunshine offering his skin a wonderful, honey glow. He ruffled his hair after plopping down, checking his phone for any message before answering.

“If you need help, you shouldn’t be afraid to ask her. I mean, she’s super smart in every subject, but she’s just the boss in History. Her presentations are always golden, and she explains things a lot better than some of the teachers.”

“I got Smith as a teacher,” the basketball player grimaced, his left hand holding his right wrist as his gaze wandered in the grass.

“We’ve got Antal, and I can tell you that she’s always mad when Y/N does a presentation because they honestly just sound better than her lessons,” Sunwoo chuckled as Jacob pondered his friend’s words, the gears of his mind working at full speed.

How is he going to be able to approach you and get to talk to you?

╰☆╮

“Bestie, no. I swear I saw that in the other book,” you said as you found yourself back in the library the following week, bending over the table to grab the book your best friend was resting hers on. You started flipping some pages when a loud, masculine chortle followed by some whispers of annoyance drawing your attention.

“Hi, babe! Hi Hyunj- Oh hi Jacob!” your neck almost snapped as you abruptly lifted your head up at the mention of your crush’s name, a small, embarrassed smile making its way on your mouth. You were a bit sad that your brother best friend was not here with Sunwoo, but you weren’t going to complain to have your crush instead.

“Can I sit here?” the basketball player asked in a soft voice while pointing at the empty spot next to you, making you quickly nod and gather your stuff to make him some space.

You resumed searching for the precious paragraph you were searching for your project as if it were nothing, trying to ignore your stammering heart in your chest and the couple eating each other's mouths. The only thing you hoped was that Jacob couldn’t hear the loud, irregular beats in your ribcage because it would give in your attraction to him.

“Hum, Y/N?” the voice next to you made you flinch, surprised that he knew your name and that he said it aloud.

“Y-Yes?” you said, cursing in your head as you stuttered.

“I heard that you were the Ace when it came to History,” Jacob started, and you couldn’t look at him in the eyes, fire spreading in your chest up to your face.

“I can’t really say that I’m the Ace, but I really love that subject, so yeah I have some… knowledge,” words tripped over your tongue, and your best friend pulled away from Sunwoo and scoffed.

“Some knowledge? Are you kidding?” she said, Sunwoo placing a hand on her mouth as she was louder than intended. She removed his palm and furrowed her brows at him, before turning her head back at you with the same angry expression.

“She knows so fucking much that Antal hates her because she feels humiliated compared to Y/N. So let me tell you one thing, Cobbie, if you need help, you’ve come to the right person. Y/N is just a living encyclopaedia,” your best friend proudly smirked as you glowered at her, Sunwoo chuckling at his girlfriend’s behaviour before immediately stopping.

“Wait, did you call him Cobbie? How come you call him like that when I get nothing other than babe or baby?” Sunwoo argued while pouting, and your best friend sighed, ruffling his hair before pressing her lips against his one more time, making you slightly grimace as envy flooded your veins.

You sighed and dared to look at Jacob, who was reading the beginning of your essay written on your computer, leaving Sunwoo and your best friend bicker like the cute couple they were.

“Do you have this project too?” you asked, and he shook his head, eyes remaining glued on the computer screen.

“It’s so interesting what you wrote, I like your way of writing and explaining stuff,” he offered a small smile as he looked at you, clearing his throat. For someone that was super popular and constantly surrounded by friends or people at parties, he behaved and sounded quite like an introvert.

“W-Well, thank you,” you said with a smile and turned your head to the side for a second, taking a deep breath before looking back at him, opening a new tab on your computer after he gestured to you that he was done reading.

“What do you need help with?”

╰☆╮

You were astonished at how quick-minded Jacob was. Behind his fit, muscular appearance and obsession with basketball, he had the soul of a thinker and grasped the knowledge of historical concepts quite easily and rapidly. He just wasn’t good with the way Smith was teaching, the method not suiting him.

“You retain things well for someone who hates History,” you joked, and he shyly smiled, scratching his neck. His smile looked gorgeous, and you were pleasantly surprised at how much of a genuine person he was.

“Well, History is not my cup of tea, but it might be a bit more thanks to you,” he said, and you tried to stifle a smile, thankful that your best friend was no longer sitting across from you because she wouldn’t have let you two live.

“It’s nothing. You can come back to me if you need help, I really don’t mind. I actually like explaining things,” you said, and he nodded, clicking your pen close before placing it in your pouch.

“Thank you, really. Sunwoo was actually the one that told me about you, so I have to thank him as well,” you stood up and slowly started to pack your stuff, shutting down your computer with a smile.

“I’m glad he did so, I just hope it was positive,” you giggled, and he quickly joined you, twirling his pen in between his fingers as he cleared his throat.

“You know, it’s Sunwoo. It can only be nice and positive,” you genuinely smiled at him and fall in silence, throwing glances at each other from time to time as the conversation was slowly starting to die down.

“And... How’s basketball going by the way? Is everything going well?” you asked, and his heart skipped a beat at your question as it took him off guard.

“I-It’s going pretty well, I’m excited to finish high school to be able to focus on basketball. I’m gonna have to take some of my last finals in South Korea because the season and the training start pretty early in Summer so…” his voice trailed as his eyes widened, a hand slapping his mouth as you both stood up.

“What?” you quizzed, confused by his sudden change of behaviour.

“I… was meant to keep this a secret,” his voice trailed, the end of his sentence falling in a whisper as he started panicking. “Can we pretend you didn’t hear what I said?” he asked as you placed your bag strap on your shoulder, taking your sweater before pushing the chair against the table.

“Said what?” you replied with a smile, and Jacob sighed in relief, somehow feeling like his secret was safe with you, even if you’ve talked to him for the first time at the beginning of the afternoon.

╰☆╮

The rest of the month rolled off smoothly, yet the stress and the revisions became more intense as the days went by. You didn’t hear anything back from Jacob, but you’ve caught him staring at you a few times, offering him an awkward wave and a smile as not to get noticed by some of his “fan girls”, as they called themselves.

You still had a whole month left before finals, and you felt blessed as summer decided to start a bit earlier this year. It was only the beginning of May, but you were already able to wear shorts and dresses. It felt good to see the blue sky and being surrounded by the warmth of the sun hitting your exposed skin after the cold, lonely winter and spring you’ve just got out of. Everything looked prettier and warmer, and it did nothing but make you happier and brighter, despite the stress of the finals piling up on your shoulders.

So, to get rid of this pressure, you decided to leave town with Hyunjae and let him drive to one of the lakes that surrounded your town, knowing that the beach and parks would get crowded in no time. It was a place that you used to go to with your parents when you were still a child, memories that you shared with your friend coming back flooding in your mind.

Hyunjae and his family tagged along to give you some company and take care of you as your parents were busy looking after your newborn twin sisters, Hyunjae and his younger brother acting like elder siblings to you.

After driving for a few dozens of minutes, you settled your stuff in the shade, right under a weeping willow that offered you freshness throughout the entire day. Your best friend napped almost the entire time you were there, hand lingering on his abs while the other plucked out some grass until he dozed off, trying to store as many hours of rest as possible before finals. By his side was you, reading a book and enjoying the chilly water to cool down from the hot temperatures of early Summer, playfully nudging the young man next to you each time he was starting to snore.

It’s near the middle of the afternoon that you heard another car pulling up near the lake, a bunch of excited teenagers coming out of a van. You didn’t pay much attention to them, only sighing as your peace was about to get ruined, their screams when they jumped in the water woke your best friend up.

He abruptly sat up next to you and rubbed his eyes, some sleeping marks lingering on his face, making you giggle. Being the short-sighted idiot that he was, he squinted to try and recognise some people, but he didn’t have to.

A young woman screamed and started jumping up and down, waving her arms above her head in your direction, hearing her scream something towards you.

You looked at each other with Hyunjae, confusion painted on your faces, hearing your phone buzz in your small bag hidden by your folded clothes.

“Hello?” you said as Hyunjae’s phone started vibrating too, picking up the call as well.

“Y/N, it’s us! We’re on the opposite side of the lake! Come and join us!” you heard your best friend yell in your ear, hearing her as well through Hyunjae’s phone, who picked up a call from her boyfriend.

“Okay, we’re coming!” you excitingly said as you hung up, waving at your best friend from your spot as you started packing your stuff to get back in the car and meet up with your friends.

Your best friend excitingly jumped in your arms as soon as you got out of the car,

“Tt’s crazy how we’re so connected! Did you also think that the beach would be crowded?” she asked, and you nodded with a smile, happy to see her this joyful to see you.

The inseparable duo was here, as well as Younghoon, Jacob, Eric, Juyeon and Sangyeon, the striker of the football team. They all engulfed you in a tight hug, Jacob staying in the background the entire time.

“Hi Jacob!” you brightly said and wrapped your arms around his neck, hugging him close. “Hi Y/N,” his answer vibrated in his chest and had repercussions in yours, sending your heart flying in your ribcage.

You looked so good being this carefree, it was thankfully a sight that he managed to imprint in his mind despite the shortness of the moment. Being surrounded by all your friends felt so good that you forgot to be awkward and worry about the stupidest things, and Jacob adored seeing you this natural and smiling in the company of your friends. He was a bit sad that he wasn’t fully the reason for your smile though, but he still managed to enjoy the rest of the day with you and your mutual friends, whether you were on the ground or in the water.

Sangyeon, Younghoon and Juyeon copied Hyunjae and joined him in a restoring nap, while Eric, Sunwoo, Jacob, Soyeon and you played different games in the water, improvising a volleyball match with an imaginary net and the ball Sunwoo took with him as the volleyball, but it did the job. It was just a bit hurtful for the liberos since it wasn’t as soft and bouncy as a volleyball, but the joy of the moment allowed any type of pain to become bearable.

The evening eventually started to settle in, and you all got out of the water, drying yourselves before deciding to spend a part of the night here. You helped Sangyeon build a bonfire in the safe area by bringing some different branches, the eldest placing them correctly before lighting them with his pocket lighter.

“Hyung! I didn’t know you were a boy-scout,” Sunwoo exclaimed and made everyone laughed as you all were sliding some marshmallows on a stick, Sangyeon smiling with modesty at everyone.

“Ya, don’t say this,” Sangyeon mumbled, and you smile, rubbing his upper back as he sat down next to you, thanking him when you handed him over his marshmallow stick.

“Oh no! Mine burnt,” Soyeon pouted when she retrieved her snack from the flames, and her boyfriend was quick to give her his sweets, Eric cooing at the gesture of affection.

“Give it to me, I like them burnt,” he mumbled as he bit in the fluffy texture, immediately regretting it as it was boiling. His girlfriend handed him water as he stood up, bouncing up and down to try and reduce what felt like flames in his mouth.

“Oh my, thanks babe,” he muttered with his mouth stuffed when he gulped down everything with a pained expression on his face. Eric’s eyes filled with boredom locked into yours and you both chuckled, your friend shaking his head.

“When is it gonna be my turn,” he huffed and Sunwoo hit him playfully in the back as you all laughed around the bonfire, relating to your friend.

“When you’ll stop being obsessed with football and mango juice,” Eric grunted and folded his arms over his chest as Sangyeon called him out, making you coo and playfully run to him, holding him against you as he fake-cried on your chest while everyone was laughing at him.

Except for Jacob, who only offered a weak smile, but you didn’t catch it, too busy having fun and being light-hearted with your friends.

After your stomachs were filled with sweets and soda, Sunwoo pulled out his guitar and strummed a soft melody until some became heavy-eyed or fell asleep against the other, his girlfriend succumbing to his musical talents first. Jacob looked exhausted as well but forced his eyes open, finding him even hotter with hooded eyelids and his hair slightly curling with the humidity of the air and the lake water.

When it was time to go home, Hyunjae, as well as Younghoon, Sunwoo, Soyeon and Eric decided to jump into Hyunjae’s car to go to the beach, feeling the urge and the thrill of going skinny-dipping. On the other hand, you and the rest of the boys were too exhausted and modest to do this, only wanting to go home and get some good rest.

Just like they had arrived, Sangyeon was behind the wheel while the rest was either next to him or in the back seat. And you didn’t know how it happened, but you got stuck between the window and Jacob, who was struggling to keep his eyes open.

“You good?” you asked, and he turned his head towards you before offering you a tired yet sweet smile, moving his head up and down.

“I'm just exhausted, tonight was simply amazing,” he mumbled, and you expressed your agreement by a happy hum and a nod, bringing your attention to your eldest friend.

“Are you sure you’re awake enough to drive?” you enquired on the current situation and Sangyeon looks at you through the inner rear-view mirror, eyes forming two crescent moons as he smiled.

“I just jumped in the water, I’m nothing but awake,” he clapped in his hands to motivate himself and started the engine, your best friend’s car already gone.

Jacob rested his head against the headrest and closed his eyes, his head rolling to the side each time Sangyeon took a turn. You settled yourself on the window and let the vibrations of the car lull you to sleep, the small talk that Sangyeon and Juyeon were having in the front seats acted like a background noise, which helped you dozing off.

However, when the car pulled up in front of your house, they didn’t expect you to have your head resting against Jacob’s shoulder, his hand on your knee. The two men smiled at each other before Sangyeon got out of the vehicle, drawing the door open. As he was about to carry you to your doorstep, Jacob’s arm was quick to wrap itself around your waist, keeping you close to him.

You woke up confused, blinking a few times as you saw the striker standing next to you with a wide smile on his face. He removed a limb around your body, and you felt someone groan under your right shoulder, noticing in dread that you snuggled up to Jacob for some warmth in your sleep.

“You gotta go before the beast wakes up,” Sangyeon joked and winked as he helped you get out of the car, closing the door behind you. It opened again a few seconds later, Jacob looking just as confused as you were.

“Come on, lovebirds, we don’t have the night.”

“Lovebirds?” Jacob and you asked in unison, the basketball player rubbing his eye with the back of his hand. He jumped out of the van and gestured to Sangyeon to get back in.

“You can go, I live just around the corner,” he drowsily said as he vaguely gestured behind him.

“You sure? Your house is on my way back home, I can drop you off,” Sangyeon suggested but he refused, offering a handshake to the striker before letting him go.

Being more awake now, you waved at your friends driving away before turning to your crush, who looked even more adorable as he was super sleepy and just woke up.

“Are you sure you’re gonna be okay? You look really tired,” you asked, voice still laced with sleep yet sounding caring, which made Jacob’s heartbeat fasten. He nodded and weakly smiled, taking a step closer to you. His attitude was a bolt from the blue as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you to him, nuzzling his face in your neck.

“You felt so warm during the ride, it’s almost like I could get used to this,” he tiredly said with a smile, gently pulling away to stare at you, his fingers leaving your back to come and slide a wild piece of hair behind your ear. Your whole body stiffened at his words as he stared at you in the eyes, noticing a small, washed-out smirk plastered on his face.

“Don’t you think it’s a bit... late to start something with someone? I mean, we have finals and then y-you’re le-leaving for South Korea and-” you started stammering as his thumb gently stroked your cheek, loving watching you lose your composure at his display of affection.

“It’s never too late when you love someone,” he whispered, feeling his warm breath tickling your lips in such a delicious manner that you have to resist the urge to move forward and press your lips against his.

His words punched the air out of your lungs, leaving you breathless as he kissed your cheek, mouth slowly moving to the side until it reached your lips. The kiss was soft yet a bit on the rougher side as if he wanted you to understand every feeling he had for you. Instinctively, your arms wrapped around his shoulders, and you kissed him harder, deeper, his hands on your lower back pulling you flush against him.

You had dreamt, wondered about what it was like kissing Jacob, but it never felt as good as you were experiencing it now. Fireworks and butterflies were erupting in your stomach, leaving you dizzy with love and passion as one of his hands came and cupped your cheek, the pad of his thumb gently caressing the skin.

Once you pulled away for oxygen, you held onto his shoulders for your dear life and he chuckled, his mouth slowly travelling down to your neck.

“I-I think my… my- oh my god, my parents will worry,” you gently pushed him away and he stared at you with a smile before diving in to capture your lips in another soft kiss.

“I'm only letting you go if you're free tomorrow. Let's put that off to tomorrow, shall we?” he asked, and your eyes widened at his suggestion.

“We can go back to the lake if you want, but only if we’re alone,” he said, his hand caressing your cheek while the other was busy stroking your upper back up and down.

“I want to enjoy this with you and you only,” he added, mumbling against your mouth and this time, you’re the one pulling him for a kiss.

“Come and pick me up at 10, then,” you said as you pulled away.

“I’ll be there, I promise,” he answered and started walking towards your house, closing the front gate behind you, waving at him with a smile.

He sent you a flying kiss with a smile and you waved at him one last time before closing the main door of your house behind you, both sighing with a huge smile and warmth painted on your faces.

You peeled the clothes off your skin and went straight to the bathroom to take a shower, shaking your head left to right while chuckling as you recalled what just happened in your last month of high school.

Nothing was making sense, you didn’t know how you got there, but you were happy.

And that’s what mattered the most.

150 notes · View notes

heshoes · 3 years

Text

She was his best friend and they shared everything together already anyway. What difference would it make if it were a hat, shampoo, or the same bed sometimes? So what? That's what the Uni Daze were about, having fun, traditions, getting serious, new relationships, friendships, heart ache, break-ups, make ups, secrets, the occasional/casual bajingo here and there, and possibly, just maybe, finding the love of your life and hoping that it all works out.

Warnings: smut, slow burn, angst, mentions of abortion, mentions of verbal abuse

Harry Styles x OC (Face claim Zendaya)

Uni Daze Masterlist

Chapter 1 (Word Count 4k)

Harry

Water droplets cascaded down my neck before I grabbed a towel to throw over my head. That shower was definitely needed. My muscles would be sore from my workout this morning, but I enjoy the ache. As I headed towards my room to put on clothes I noticed that my roommates door was still closed and for Michelle this can only mean one thing.

I pulled up my trousers and pulled my t-shirt over my head before layering it with a plaid button up. If she doesn't wake up soon, I'll be forced to take measures into my own hands. I walked halfway down the hall and then stopped to pick up the beanie that I let Michelle borrow last night. The hat was carelessly tossed on the floor along with a t-shirt of hers and a pink-ish orange lace bra. This was just one of the many downsides of living with a woman. Even if she is your best mate, finding the occasional bras and panties mixed into your clothes on laundry day can put a damper on your chances of trying and talk to a girl if you don’t have a washer and drier in house, and lets not even mention those four to five days out of the month when a tampon box is left on the bathroom sink and you have to explain that to a date. Not thinking, I picked all of the items up before I dropped the shirt and bra on the ground, feeling somewhat awkward touching something that was so close in contact with Michelle's...intimate bits.

"Michelle?!" No answer…

"Mitchell?! Wake up you're gonna be late for our first class!”

I laughed to myself at her lack of response before I sauntered back down the hall to my room grabbing the Ultimate Alarm; a fog horn that Michelle, the lads, and I nabbed from a school footie game. We each have one and have all have organized to use it with each other when the drink has made us more sluggish than functional.

Not much has changed since the first day I met Michelle. She's the only one here that I've met who seems to have stayed the same throughout all the three years of university that I've known her....That can be looked at as both a good and a bad thing.

Shaking the foghorn with devilish delight and biting my cheeks so that I wouldn't blow my cover, my feet stopped in front of her door once again. I cracked the entrance slightly sticking my arm in the room and turning my head away to shield my ears as much as possible from the noise. As soon as I pressed the button to sound it off, I heard a loud thudding sound followed by cursing. If she wasn't up before, she's up now.

"WHAT THE FUCK, HAZLAND?!”

I ran back to my room to put the horn down and grab my bag. This is the first year that I haven't strained my back to pick it up. Fouth year with a lighter load but more studying than I did in all the other three years combined seems pretty backwards to me, but I won't complain.

"What time is it?”

"Half- Oh-“

Michelle emerged from her room looking worse for wear. Her hair was in a nest atop her head and she only wore a long sleeved burgundy t-shirt and a black pair of boy short knickers on her lithe, lanky frame. I swallowed deeply and turned my head away not expecting her to be so scantily clad. The colors contrasted with her warm honey/caramel skin tone and it was only then that I took in how much of her skin was actually showing. I've seen her naked before but it was an accident and brief. Very brief. I only saw her outlines really, nothing of real importance... not that I was trying to look or anything.

"Half past eight. Go put on trousers! I don't want to see your bajingo!”

Michelle primped her dry lips at me prior to moistening them with a swipe of her tongue, making sure to flip her middle finger up in my direction before she disappeared back into her room.

"Everyone wants to see my bajingo Harry and that's plenty of time for me to get ready. You didn't have to use the Ultimate Alarm. It's not like I was in a drug induced coma!”

"I called you twice but you didn't answer. I thought that-“

I trailed off my words as a gorgeous blonde walked out of Michelle's room. Her hair was tussled and she was scrambling to adjust her skirt as Michelle looked at me with a tightlipped grin, feeling out the room.Michelle walked her secret house guest to the door and gave her a lingering kiss that caused the girl to stand on tip toe before awkwardly waving a goodbye to her and shutting the door. I was left stunned.

"Pick your jaw up off the floor Styles!”

"That- that was a girl.”

“Yes."

"She was your friend?”

“No."

Michelle walked into the kitchen grabbing an orange juice carton out of the refrigerator. She took a sip straight from the jug causing me to grimace before she rolled her eyes at me and grabbed a red solo cup. I was only momentarily distracted before I continued on my previous trail of thought.

"But, you were...and she…"

"Yes Harry, spit it out come on. You're almost there. I know it. I can feel it”

"She was putting her clothes back on.”

Michelle nodded her head in agreement as she continued to guzzle the rest of our citrusy, pulp free juice. After she finished it, she tossed the empty plastic to me and then walked out of the kitchen. I was right by the bin but set the cup on the countertop as my brain continued to navigate through what I think I want to ask.

"You didn't have on many clothes…"

"No, Harry. Neither of us did last night.”

Michelle folded her arms while squinting at me. The hint she's dropped allows what comes out of my mouth next to be uninhibited and honestly sound a bit too over zealous about the idea.

"You had sex with her?”

Michelle nodded her head up and down grinning slightly. Almost a smug look on her face I would say. She hadn't been in a relationship in a while. The last one I remember was when she was with my best mate Louis. It's how I met her as a matter of fact. Michelle and Louis are virtually the same person. It's freaky sometimes. She could be a reincarnate of him as a girl. They were inseparable, but when it ended it ended badly. I'm still not clear on the reason why. Neither of them will talk about it, but I managed to stay neutral in the whole situation and still be able to carry on a friendship with both of them. I'm still good friends with Lou, but he doesn't come around as much since I moved in with Michelle. Me and her got on so well while her and Louis dated it was hard not to become friends with her as well. Louis moved on and moved in with his bird earlier this year and I haven't really seen Michelle with anyone...Until now.

"So-so, you're a lesbian then?”

"Yes Harry. I've 'switched teams' as they say.”

"Since when?” I was just so shocked.

"Since over the summer...Does it bother you?” Michelle looked down at the ground and scratched the back of her neck as if she were bracing herself if I said it did and to be honest I was slightly offended that she’d think that way of me.

“No… No, I just never saw you with anyone over the summer.”

I could hear a sigh of relief escape Michelle’s lips as she turned to leave the front door.

I could have sworn she only hung out with me and the lads when Louis wasn't around. She hung out with us so much and we'd gotten so comfortable around her that we actually started counting her as one of the guys and calling her 'Mitch' or 'Mitchell' instead of Michelle. She always pretends to get cross with us when we called her that, but she can never keep a straight face long enough for us to believe that she doesn't like it.

"That doesn't mean I wasn't with anyone Harrow." Michelle winked at me and went back into her room coming out ten minutes later in joggers, a t-shirt, and Nike trainers with no backpack, one pencil, and a pen. Very prepared.

"Told you thirty minutes was more than enough time. Come now, Hazland.”

"...That's what she said." I smiled proudly at my own joke while Michelle gave me an unwavering a stale face.

"If I can say anything about growth in these last 4 years of our friendship it would be that you have made the least of it. You are the worst.”

“The pot shouldn’t call the kettle names. I thought it was funny." I grinned at her irritation grabbing all of my things in preparation to start the final year.

"Of course you did. Usually when you think it's funny that means it's not.”

Michelle exited out leaving me to lock the door to our new off campus apartment but I wanted to know more.

I followed behind her and asked her all types of questions. You can't just spring on people that you've switched sides and not expect them to want to know all of the details. In all honesty it wasn't a big deal as long as she was happy. Perhaps I was just being nosy, but after usually seeing her with mainly men my underlying question to her was probably, "Why?"

"I wasn't having that much luck with guys, Haz. One night I went out for a drink and a girl approached me so I figured, why the hell not? What could it hurt, really? Nothing. I went for it, and I enjoyed myself.”

She didn't have a great track record with guys after her split with Lou. She was so unhappy at one point, but then again when you bring home assholes and expect them to turn into stand up gents tears are to be expected. They always looked like gutter grunge to me but at the moment that seemed to be her type, so I didn't say anything. I've actually spent a lot of nights with Michelle rubbing her back as she cried against my shoulder and handing her the odd Kleenex to substitute for my shirt. Now that I think about it, last summer I really didn't see her with any guys. I guess when I saw her with girls I always assumed they were just her friends.

"So...What's it like?”

"What's what like?”

"You know the, um, the switch...What's it like?" Michelle threw her head back and laughed as we reached the main building for our senior seminar class.

"You mean what's it like going from cock to fanny? Is that what you're asking me?" I raised my eyebrows at her bluntness and I could feel heat rise in my cheeks. There's no beating about the bush with Michelle, not anymore anyway.

"Pretty much, yeah. That's what I'm asking. I’m just being nosy. If it’s too much you don’t have to-“

"Honestly," Michelle shifted her eyes back and forth as if she was going to tell me the secret to life in her next sentence, "It's so much better. Guys have no clue what they're doing down there. It's so refreshing to have someone know exactly what it is that I want, when I want it, and how I want it without explaining myself like I'm a bloody rubix cube. Did you know that there are three holes down there?” She asked me sarcastically as if we weren’t both on track for Med school.

"I resent that! And no…no I didn't know that.” I replied to sarcasm with sarcasm, grinning to myself much like the purple devil emoji. I surely did know all the holes.

"Why is that, Hazland? The resentment issue?”

We took our seats in the half full lecture room at the back of the class as we normally do. Michelle, myself and the rest of the gang have started many an early weekend by sitting in the back of the class, signing the attendance sheet and then leaving when the professors back was turned. I don't think I'll do that this year though. I have too many important tests to take if I want to be a doctor. I mean to pass the UKCAT exam the first time.

"Because I'm not half bad at it. At least I don't think I am... Never got a complaint before and I don't intend to.”

Michelle laughed loudly as the professor walked in, drawing attention our way. I smiled and waved at the onlookers before Michelle chuckled again grabbing my hand to stop me as the professor started to speak.

"Just because you never got a complaint doesn't mean that it wasn't said, Harrow. Nine times out of ten, if you don’t hear a complaint it’s because she cares more about your ego than her orgasm...It’s a shame really.”

I primped my lips at her and we continued to whisper to each other back and forth while we took notes on what the professor wrote on the whiteboard during the lecture. There would be two major papers in this class. Thankfully for the twenty page essay that we'll be assigned to do later on in the quarter we can have a partner. Michelle quickly leaned her head on my shoulder choosing me to work with when the paper isn't even due until the last week of class. I of course accepted her. Not only is she my friend but she's one of those annoyingly clever people. I've honestly never seen Michelle open or purchase one required textbook in all of our three years knowing each other in our university careers, but every time marks are posted her marks are always first class honors.

By the end of class, I ended up giving Michelle a hefty amount of paper for notes in seminar and for the other classes she had throughout the rest of the day. It baffles me as to how she's this born genius, but the most unorganized person that I know at the same time. Her only response to my annoyance was, "At least I have writing utensils.”

"Was that girl this morning your girlfriend?”

"No. I'm an admitting fuckgirl. What’s the saying? If you can’t beat them join them. I refuse to be part of the played group any more. It's our last year after all. I figure it's time to up the ante. Let monogamy go.”

I laughed and shook my head before another question came up. It was always something I wanted to know about lesbians but was too embarrassed to ask. It's not like I have many lesbian friends who I could turn to and get the information that most want to know. I'm never that embarrassed around Michelle though.

"So, erm, um...who's more dominant, when you're...You know?”

Michelle rolled her eyes at the question and I began to feel like an ass.

"When we're scissoring?" She spoke loudly making my thought about embarrassment wrong.

“Chelle!"

Michelle snickered knowing that she's put a vivid image in my head of her and the mystery blonde. I shake the thought before I get too carried away. I'm not supposed to get aroused with the thought of my best friend and another girl.

"Whoever feels like it whenever they feel like it? It was always a competition with men isn't it?”

“I don’t think it’s so much a competition as it is that some women don't like being on top?” I spoke presenting the idea causing her to pop her lips in disagreement.

“It’s never asked though is it? Sounds like male assumption to me. When I'm with a girl it's just flat out pleasurable for the pair of us. It's not about dominance, Harry. It's about getting off. Scissoring isn't a thing though, by the by.”

I nodded my head up and down still in awe that she of all people had taken a liking to someone who has the same bits as she does. It didnt' bother me like she thought it did earlier and I hope I didn't give her that impression by my line of questioning. Honestly these were just things I always wanted to know. I'm actually more hurt that scissoring apparently isn't a thing...They make it look so pleasurable in porn...I've been bamboozled.

"That's enough questions about me for now. What's happened to you?”

"What do you mean?"

"Harry full offense, but you were a slut when I first met you. You've since depleted in your numbers dramatically, except I'm sure the use of your hand. There were tissues in your bin the other night when I was cleaning the apartment and you don't have a cold…"

"I have h-hay fever Michelle! Allergies kick up at random times... Don't clean my room, I'll do it! It's personal in there. I knew I couldn't find any of my shit for a reason. And hang on-" I knotted my eyebrows playfully at her earlier slut comment.

I admit that I got around, but I moved very slowly. I've only ever had sex with seven or maybe nine girls in my twenty-one years give or take. I don't really keep count. It's not like they were souvenirs or notches on my belt for me to keep track of. All of them were an experience and I'm pretty sure I could name them all if I had to.

The first time happened my last year in 6th form or high school you could say and I didn't even know Michelle then. I got teased for that a bit, but I wasn't in a rush. The maybe other seven or eight happened here at uni but it wasn't as frequent as Michelle makes it out to be. The first two were in my first year when I met Michelle, one of them ended up being my girlfriend over a span of Five months. After that, I only was only ever active with a few more spaced out over the course of two and a half years, and they were regulars. That's not that bad when you think about it, especially for a guy my age at university.

"You were Haz! You had a new girl every weekend.”

"I did not! They were the same few people. They just kind of, alternated? You just never paid them any attention so you thought they were different every time. You're giving me more credit than I deserve."

Michelle rolled her eyes and continued to tease me.

"Whatever. What's happened then?”

"I don't know what you mean. I got invested in my studies. I have to take the UKCAT this year.”

"When is the last time you fun bit wrestled, willy waggled, played 'hide the helmet', rolled in the hay as they say?" I scrunched my nose and then thought about it and then got frustrated that I had to actually think about it.

“Yet I’m the worst? Who’s this they you speak of?" I asked her, squinting my eyes and tilting my head to the side.

"Everyone says those things when talking about sex. The more mature ones do anyway. Stop dilly dallying and answer the question. When is the last time you put your 'p' in a ‘v'?"

"S-spring? Early spring? Early Spring terms I guess…"

I could feel my cheeks turn red as I answered her question and Michelle bit her cheeks as an odd snorting noise left her nose while she tried to hold in her laughter. It's not that funny.

"You haven't fucked since the spring?" I laughed more at myself than at the shocked look on her face and shook my head no.

"No, not actual Spring. Early spring terms, so February...My birthday.”

"Harry, we're at the end of August here! You might as well count yourself as celibate. Not that I can blame the girls for dodging you. You still call a vagina a bajingo.”

I chuckled before I spoke, "The word vagina is honestly just as bad as bajingo. And this is coming from someone who has over a hundred words and phrases for sex.”

"A hundred and counting, Harrow.”

I shrugged my shoulders and tried to make the red in my cheeks less noticeable by rubbing my hand over my face. Spring term is when I decided to get more focused. I threw myself into clubs and my books to try to get more into school and buckle down. I'm even president of our graduating class now, prepared to serve on the Alumni council after graduation and I for one am proud of myself for getting this far. The greater half of my first three years here at university was spent at frat parties and in my bed sleeping class time away. I barely know how I made it through this far with decent grades, but I'm grateful that I did. Failure isn't an option.

Michelle stood on tip toe, leaning her head on my shoulder all the while soothingly rubbing my back. When I turned my head to face her, she batted her long lashes at me and made her big brown eyes look like one of those odd cartoon characters whose eyes cover more than half of their face.

"It's okay, Harry.”

"What is?”

"That you haven't gotten any pussy in over six months." Michelle has officially taken a back seat and let Mitchell take the wheel. This is how she got the nickname in the first place.

"Sod off Mitch! It's not like it's a bad thing-“

"Like shit it isn’t."

"I'm busy anyway.”

"With your hand and those bin tissues." I nudged Michelle off my shoulder feigning to be fed up with her masturbation jokes.

"Well if you weren't in my room you wouldn't have seen them! Gosh, you do something one time and then that's what people automatically associate you with!”

Michelle lets out another awkward snort that causes both of us to laugh out loud as we walk through the halls preparing to go our separate ways for the rest of the day.

"That was actually kind of funny Harry. Your jokes are getting a bit better.”

"Yeah, I know. They're funny when they're at my expense.”

"Aw, Hazland. You poor, poor serial masturbator. I'll see you later, yeah?”

"Yeah," I grinned at her before I turned to leave.

"Wait, how much later?” Michelle walked back towards me with one eyebrow raised to the sky as I tried to quickly map out my schedule for the day in my head before spitting it out to her.

"Uh, I get done with classes at half five, then I have a class meeting at six, and then I work at the first year halls front desk from seven to eleven thirty tonight. So I'll probably get home around midnight."

I contently sighed and grinned at Michelle as a look of pure horror took place of her once relaxed features. Her eyes seemed to widen larger after every additional activity that I listed, but I truly enjoyed remaining busy. Michelle's face remained contorted with displeasure before she spoke.

"So you're still coming to the pub later with the lads right?”

"Uh-oh. Chelle I don't know. I kind of forgot all about that. I don't think I will though, it's Monday and-“

"Ah, ah, ah, I'm not taking no as an answer. You promised and it's welcome week anyway. The pub is gonna be live! Just swing by and have one drink.”

“Nahhh I think I’m gonna-”

"One drink.”

“Sit this one out.”

"One drink, Harrow. One. Come on its tradition. You can't just bum out on tradition. This is our last year." She held up her tiny pointer finger to emphasize her point before she spoke again, this time in a small whisper, “One."

“No."

“Please?"

“No."

“Please?” Her lips pouted and her eyes turned sad trying her hand at manipulation.

"No, Chelle. No. Stop looking at me that way...Oh! Gah! Fine. I'll head to the pub when I get off work. One drink. One.”

Michelle bounced on her feet and clapped her hands in excitement making me shake my head before I turned to leave. Before I could make a real step Michelle called my name again.

"Hey, do you think I could borrow a pen? I seemed to have dropped mine."

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