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tobifuyu · 1 year

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Die For You • Chapter 01

RAN HAITANI x f!reader

You’re losing me: And I wouldn’t marry me either, a pathological people pleaser, who only wanted you to see her.

cw: nsfw, mdni, slow burn, enemies to friends to lovers, eventual smut, smut, fluff, angst, references to depression, drugs, panic attacks, blood and violence, prostitution, basically anything that has to do with bonten, protective haitani ran, sanzu haruchiyo is his own warning.

Masterlist. | Previous Chapter.

Pah's wedding had finally come to an end. Straight out of a fucking movie, Chizu had whispered to Chifuyu when Hina had caught the bouquet.

They are now walking back home, just the two of them, Kazutora had chosen to stay behind and have a drink with Inupi. The odd pair had become unusually close through the years despite how she thought their past would clash. After all, Kazutora was the one who had killed Inupi's mentor.

Chizu guesses people could say the same about his relationship with the pet shop's owner and herself. They had picked up Kazutora when he got out of juvie and offered him a place to stay, a job, and comfort as he navigated back into the world after 10 years of being locked away. But most of all, forgiveness.

It took Chifuyu a couple of years to come to terms with it, not the fact that Baji was gone itself, but how it wasn't Kazutora's fault entirely. For Chizu, that had never even gone into question.

She grow up alongside her brother and Kazutora and knew how much the former loved him. So much he was willing to die for him. So who was she to question it?

She had always thought of how unfair it was, that Keisuke chose to die for Kazutora and Mikey, instead of living for her and Chifuyu.

"Hold onto each other." He had told them. Maybe that was why when the two had to be dragged away from his cold body, they had grabbed ahold of one another, with blood still staining their clothes and held on for days on end, until no more salty tears were coming out of puffy eyes and the sobs stopped shaking their smaller bodies.

Baji Keisuke had died to protect Kazutora and Mikey, to protect Toman.

So when the first stages of grief stopped clouding the mind of a then-younger Chizu, she decided her life purpose was to make sure her brother had not died in vain.

She would hold onto Chifuyu, forgive Kazutora, and save Mikey for her brother.

Not too long after it, Chifuyu and her had come to their first agreement of many.

"So he's back, huh."

"Fucking finally, that moron."

"Y'know it's only been something like 2-3 seconds for him, right Fuyu?"

"Yeah, but he made us wait 12 freaking years, I get to be mad." But he isn't and she knows, 'cause a smile is stretching his pretty lips so hard that his pearly whites are showing. Chizu likes it when he gets like this, he hasn't been this happy in a while.

She'd hate to ruin the mood but she feels like if she doesn't ask she might just choke on it, the question that is rising up her throat so fast she feels like vomiting.

"Is he happy?"

"Seems like it, yeah."

"Does he know, babe?" She adds the pet name to sweeten the pill.

At a very young age, surrounded by mostly boys, she quickly realized that her womanhood was a double-edged sword, so she learned how to use her voice, her manners, and her body to get what she wanted. It's not like she ever enjoyed flaunting herself, far from it, but even now she doesn't know any better. Most men are simple, and she is not a woman of many talents, but a smart one at that, always trying to make do with what she is given.

"Draken-kun and I stuck to the plan, he doesn't need to know as of now..."

"That's the dumbest thing I've heard this week!" But with Chifuyu, Chizu never learned to hide her rough edges. "You and Draken both, are dumb pieces of shit. Withholding something like that from the man that saved your asses!" She shakes her head disapprovingly, freeing herself from the grip he had on her hand. "Just know that if it comes to it, I won't lie to Takemichi. He deserves to know the truth. I don't care if you both selfishly wanna keep your perfect little future. Mikey is lost, and after all Michi has gone through to save him, he deserves to know."

Hearing her words, it's like a switch flips off inside Chifuyu's head, and all the pent-up anger comes rushing out of his mouth like an avalanche carrying away sweet little old Chifuyu.

"You're joking, right? Me and Draken, selfish? Perfect little future? Emma-chan is dead, and Draken-kun’s plan after having to sit through that fucking wedding is to visit her grave. Baji-san died in my arms twelve fucking years ago and I dream about it every single shitty night you don't come back home because you're out doing god knows what-" He grips her shoulders to steady her body and looks into her wide eyes.

He realizes her lower lip is trembling, and he knows he's gone too far. He also knows she can take it, Chizu's a big girl, but whenever her brother is mentioned it's like her mind goes back to that junkyard. He can sense she's far away now.

"I just- he just came back, give him some time to adjust. Some time to be with Hina-chan, that's what he deserves." At this point, his thumbs are rubbing circles on the skin left bare by the sleeves of her pale lilac dress, a color he'd always found pretty on her, and always made sure to tell her so. "And what if... even if he came to know, doesn't mean he'll want to go back again. I hope he doesn't, Chizu. I- call me selfish, I don't care. I don't wanna lose you too."

She's rotating the ring on her finger as he speaks, feeling the weight of it and the friction against her skin. She doesn't know if it feels comforting or foreign, but when she raises to meet his stare, Chifuyu's eyes are so green that all she wants to do is kiss him, now.

She understands. Chifuyu, just like Takemichi, has spent years of his life sacrificing himself to make others happy, her included. For Chizu to be calling him selfish just because he wants to hold onto her a little longer is very ironic.

Isn't she doing the same thing by not telling him?

So when they reach their home in silence, she's the one who kisses him once the door closes behind his back. The pillowy feeling of his lips against hers is so welcomed after such a long day of pretending, just like the heat he brings to her body when he grabs her waist and presses against her. The slip dress is thin, she can feel the rough fabric of his suit and she drops her head back while he descends his kisses down the column of her neck, holding the back of it with one of his hands tangled in the root of her hair.

She wants him to pull, she likes when he's rough. They've only ever been with one another, and the other's body is no secret to either one of them. When she begs “Fuyu, please” with that whiny voice of hers, she doesn't have to ask twice. He would give her anything and everything.

So he makes his hands run down the side of her body, ‘cause he likes to touch her just as much as he likes to taste her, and grasps a handful of her tighs, lifting her with her arms around his neck while he walks the way to their room, mouths never parting from each other if not for the occasional moan that leaves her pretty, now kissed raw, lips.

—

The morning after, Chizu decides to bring Chifuyu lunch at work (which she used to do all the time when he first opened up the shop, mostly to have an excuse to see him throughout their busy and different work schedules). Her off day is not an eventful one so far. She still has to pick up her crappy car from Draken and Inupi’s, but she has no rush to do so.

As she walks to the building her mind is somewhere else. She can still hear Naoto’s words ringing inside her ears from previously this week. She had been feeling guilty for a long time, but ever since his reprimand she kept picking herself apart for not being truthful with Chifuyu about her job, and her clouded mind ends up being her demise. This time, Chizu cannot stop herself from noticing them, as she has done in the past.

She has a hand on the handle while the other is holding onto the bento box that she has happily prepared, still giddy from the night before, and the cloth tied with a ribbon over it is as red as the apple of his cheeks when the noise of the bell startles him, making him take a rushed step away from the brunette who’s back is to her.

He doesn’t have to turn around, she’d recognize him anywhere, and she mentally chastises herself for realizing too late how their similarity is most likely what makes it so enjoyable for her to drive around on his bike.

Kazutora looks just like Keisuke with his back turned, damned be his dyed hair. That’s the same view he must’ve had of my brother right before stabbing him, she thinks.

Chizu also realizes it must be the reason why Chifuyu never opens his eyes when he kisses them both, any long dark hair he can grab onto will do, right?

Standing still and lost in thoughts, she flinches the moment the box of food reaches the ground filling the silent space between them with a resounding thump. Her grip had wavered, and now with wide eyes and anger pumping through her veins as if it were laced with her own blood, she fully takes a step inside and lets the door of the shop close behind her figure.

She doesn’t know exactly why she’s mad. Didn’t she know about it already? She had always known about Chifuyu’s little crush on her older brother, ever since the day the latter brought him home to eat that cheap yakisoba of his. Keisuke had approached her after the blond had left to enthusiastically tell her how he had “Found a nice guy for you to get over stupid Mikey”. But in actuality, he hadn’t, and she hadn’t.

Is she mad because the last 12 years were nothing but a lie she had gladly believed? The bruises of last night are still fresh on her skin and now stinging like an open wound, reminding her of how she had given herself to him willingly and had selfishly believed his “I love you”. Or is it because she suspects Kazutora is just as much of a victim in all of this?

Kazutora, whom all his life had never been able to tell apart who cared about him from who didn’t.

But Chifuyu isn’t cruel like that. Then is she mad because he finally found what she had failed to give him for over a decade in someone else?

Maybe… just maybe, she’s mad because she feels like she has to be. She has to keep pretending, holding onto her façade so that everything can go as smoothly as planned. The timing is excellent, this is her way out.

This is the only way she can do this without ending up as the bad guy. She has unfortunately always cared about appearances. She could come out of it clean, without ever having to tell him about that and then inevitably alarming every single one of their friends.

The problem is, she has also always been incredibly proud, and nothing but a sore loser. And when you mix these two, you get a cold-ass bitch who doesn’t know when to hold her tongue, ready to pierce through people’s hearts with it.

She craves to hit where it hurts the most and takes pleasure in knowing that she can knock people down a couple of pegs by simply not giving a fuck. When she gets like this, no remark can even phase her.

Until she comes down from the high and ends up crying about it alone in her room. She doesn’t enjoy being mean, it just happens. And there’s no stopping it now, not when Chifuyu pretends like nothing has happened. Yeah, she might’ve been willing to close a blind eye in the past, but she was done being played with like she was stupid.

A slow clapping is what accompanied her bittersweet laugh, “Oh, I see how it is.”

Both of them stay uncharacteristically quiet, but they know nothing could be said to save the situation anymore. Kazutora finally turns to face her, and the sight of his apologetic face sends her over the edge. He pities her, she doesn’t like it.

“I hope you know Kazutora, that he’s just using you because you’re the next best thing to my brother. You definitely have something that I don’t.”

His eyes are big like saucers, but he doesn’t dare to say anything back. Chifuyu, on the other hand, looks offended, as if he wasn't shoving his tongue down their friend’s throat just now.

“Chizu, I understand you're mad but don't take it too far.”

“I don’t even know what to say to you,” she scoffs, and he moves closer to her, extending his arms to grab at her frame and rub over her skin like he usually does when she gets distraught, “Don’t touch me.”

Chifuyu drops his hold, and Chizu moves as if to leave but he calls out to her, “Please, we need to talk about this, just hear me out.”

She can see Kazutora in her peripheral, rubbing his neck out of embarrassment.

“You need to move on.”

“Rich coming from you out of all people.”

He’s right , I’m a hypocrite. I’m doing all of this so that I can finally run off and look for him , and he doesn’t even know.

“Well, at least Mikey is not dead.”

The moment those words leave her lips she knows there is no going back. Chifuyu looks at her as if she’s the one who had stabbed Baji in the first place. The sadness in his emerald eyes reflects the feeling of betrayal that she, herself, is feeling on the inside

Serves him well.

“Don’t come looking for me.” she warns both of them as she leaves the shop, heart-wrenching as those words resound in her head.

She will never forget the faces they made as she walked away. Chizu wishes that in another life – another timeline – all four of them could have been happy together.

—

Chizu doesn’t cry as she walks to the bike shop, nor when Draken takes her upstairs to his shared apartment and sits her down on the couch.

“What happened?” He knows her, so he can tell something is wrong.

“I found Chifuyu kissing someone else.”

She doesn’t have to say whom, Draken already knows, but he is taken aback all the same. He had never thought Chifuyu would do such a thing to her.

“I’m gonna kill him,” He whispers as he gets up from his crouched position in front of the couch, but she grasps his forearm before he can make his exit.

“No, I don’t care. I just needed to leave, can I crash here for a couple of days? Just until we move forward with the plan and I can get my shit together.”

“Knock yourself out,” he holds the hand that was grabbing at him and rubs over her knuckles with his thumb, “you know where everything is. You can wear some of my clothes.”

“Thank you, Ken, I appreciate it.”

When Drakes comes back to the apartment later that day, Chizu is trying to whip up something for dinner. She has never been much of a cook, so instant Ramen will do. She wanted to repay Ken’s kindness with a hot meal, so she plates it to make it look more presentable.

Inupi is trailing behind him, their faces look tired and their slumped shoulders are covered by overalls stained with dark greases.

When Inupi sees her he asks how she’s doing. He doesn’t know and she appreciates Draken for not airing out her dirty laundry, but she tells him all the same.

“I’m gonna kill him.” Same reaction.

God, these two spend too much time together.

Chizu calms him down, puts on her display of indifference, and doesn’t stop to think over what she’s feeling as she asks them to get cleaned to eat together.

Over dinner, they talk about what will happen this week. They go over their plan of staking out The Chano Club one more time. Chizu is excited until she isn’t, exhaustion catching up to her and making her fall asleep with her hands crossed over the table pillowing her heavy head.

The day after she wakes up in a bed. Draken must’ve carried her there, and she finds him asleep on the couch when she leaves the room for breakfast. Today the shop doesn’t open until the afternoon, so she lets him rest.

She thinks it’s sad how uncomfortable he looks with his big body resting on such a tiny piece of furniture, and swears to take the couch tonight.

The boredom makes itself known as she lazes around the apartment while the two are working till the evening, avoiding visiting them at the shop downstairs in fear of Chifuyu or Kazutora showing up looking for her.

Inupi comes up to check on Chizu and finds her cleaning the apartment. “You don’t have to,” he tells her, but she’s trying to do everything in order not to think.

He realizes and suggests she orders takeout for the night, he’s gonna pick up some beers so the three of them can have a small party to clear their heads.

Chizu can hold her alcohol, but she figures out pretty soon that Draken and Inupi out-drink her, most likely because she is not one to do so often.

Her problem, whenever she gets drunk, is that her filter completely shuts off and lets her air her thoughts without a single care in the world.

Mid-dinner she starts to feel the beers get to her and is suddenly reminded of the ring she has yet to take off. It’s like its metal is burning around her finger, shiny emerald stone – the color of his eyes – staring back at her, judging Chizu for her lack of sadness.

Her face is now wet with tears, and sobs shake her body like an unexpected earthquake.

The rest of the evening is spent on the couch, Inupi and Draken trying to sober up and comfort a tipsy Chizu.

“I don’t even know who’s truly at fault,” she whispers with her head resting on Seishu’s shoulder, he’s rubbing her side as she finally talks about what’s been bothering her for the past two days, “He never looked at me like that, right?”

Ken and Inupi look at each other, confused as to whether she wants them to reply or just sit and listen.

“‘s not his fault anyway… I have a picture of Mikey on my nightstand,” Chizu laughs at that, playfully shoving Draken before adding “He thought we were sleeping together some time ago. Crazy, right??”

Inupi decides that’s his clue to head to bed, and leaves the poor men to deal with a now sleepy Chizu, who falls asleep on the other’s shoulder soon after she was pushed against it by the former.

Chizu comes to a couple of hours later, Draken is still sitting near, on the couch, phone in hand as he scrolls through it. When he notices the girl is awake, he grabs the glass of water sitting on the small table in front of them before she can complain about getting a headache.

“You were saying all kinds of stuff, you know?”

“I’m sorry Ken,” she says as she swallows the pill he passes to her, “I think it didn’t hit me until now.”

“It’s normal, your life is changing. It’s more about losing that comfort. But I’m here for you,” he brings up a hand to stroke one of her scrunched brows, “I want you to know that.”

She raises her gaze to stare up at his big frame, dark eyes fixed on her reddening face. Draken truly is a sight to see, his black hair is now out of his usual ponytail and framing his pale skin, making the rosy of his lips stand out even more. She reaches out to brush a strand away from his face, “Thank you, Ken. I’m sorry for giving you this much trouble.”

“Don’t even say that, I love it when you’re here,” her breath catches in her throat, but she doesn’t stop stroking his cheek with the pad of her thumb, “Inupi does too, of course.”

He coughs to cover up his embarrassment, but as she leans her head over his hand, his heart rate picks up. She’s so pretty, he thinks.

He’s too scared to move and curses himself for his selfish thoughts. She was crying about her broken engagement not even two hours ago, he reasons, and she’s still wearing the ring. He realizes he’s never seen her wear it before, if not when she was out with Chifuyu himself.

“What are you thinking about?” Chizu asks because she doesn’t like being kept in the dark, but also because she recognizes that glint in his eyes.

“It’s nothing-“

“Ken, it’s okay.”

“I want to kiss you.”

She doesn’t know if it’s because she’s so used to having someone by her side and she’s withdrawing, or because his dark eyes remind her of someone else.

Or it might be simply because Draken is Draken: he’s loyal, caring, and – honestly – so fucking hot. Her mind is fucked up, she’s aware of it.

No matter the reason why, she’s the one who gets closer to him, chest pushing against his side as her hand cups his strong jawline, redirecting his face towards hers, a couple of inches below.

He stares at her while she presses her soft lips against his and doesn’t dare close his eyes while she simply pecks at them.

“Are you sure you wanna kiss me? You seem quite unresponsive,” she giggles against his mouth, making him let out a groan as he finally gives in.

He wraps Chizu in strong arms, making her sit on his thighs to get her as close as possible, mouth parting to slot their lips together, kissing her back with fierceness.

Chizu shivers in his grip when he tangles one hand in her hair, pulling as he exposes her neck. Needy wet kisses are pressed against the skin as she pants for air, “Fuck, Ken.”

“Don’t say a word,” he hushes her, covering her mouth with his once again. This time he runs the tip of his tongue over her bottom lip, asking for entrance, she gladly accepts and moans at his taste, not even bothering to fight for dominance as he’s overpowering her in all aspects.

She feels herself getting wet and knows they’re pushing their boundaries. She has never hooked up with anyone, but Draken feels so good under her.

Unconsciously, she starts moving her hips against his, chasing the friction that so deliciously comes from rubbing against the cock hardening underneath his sweatpants.

He grunts at that, grabbing her hips with two big hands and angling her so that his tip can slide against her covered clit.

“Fuck, I can feel how wet you are-“

“Ken, please.”

“Tell me to stop, tell me to stop now or I’ll fuck you right here on this couch.”

That line is tempting, the feeling of his cock, and how big it is, even more so. But when she meets his eyes once again, she’s reminded of who’s the man underneath her.

Her best friend, for fuck’s sake, they’ve known each other for years.

Chizu still remembers when Emma died. They shouldn’t be doing this.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers as she pulls away from him. Draken is not mad, just slightly flustered. He makes sure to reassure her by leaving a caste kiss on her forehead.

“Let’s get you to bed, shall we?” He says after they’ve spent some minutes trying to catch their breath and calm themselves. He’s silently rubbing her hips with both of his thumbs as they look everywhere but at one another.

“Do you mind if I sleep on the bed with you, tonight? I won’t touch you, I swear.”

“I was thinking about taking the couch, you looked uncomfortable this morning.”

“It’s fine if you don’t wanna, but I won’t let you sleep out here.” He says while standing up, holding Chizu to him as they head to his bedroom.

“I guess we can cuddle then.” She accepts while giggling. Draken is a gentleman, and he’s too good to her. He doesn’t deserve to be used. She wants to make sure there’ll never be any awkwardness or hard feelings between them.

—

When Chizu wakes up her head is pounding, a headache due to the big crying session she couldn't escape from the night before. Light is peering from the white curtains shading the small window and as she reaches around the bed, she realizes she was left alone in the room.

She can hear the sounds of cooking and hushed arguing behind the door, so she makes her way to the kitchen without even checking her appearance in the mirror, knowing the two of them had seen her in worse conditions already.

Draken and Inupi are moving around the small area, bodies too big to not be knocking against one another every now and then, but their dexterity comes from living under the same roof for such a long time.

Inupi is not surprised to see her, nor particularly happy, probably having been made aware of the situation. She has stepped out of Draken’s room wearing one of his white shirts.

The thing is that Inupi cares about both of them deeply, and doesn’t want either to suffer over something so stupid, a kiss that could’ve been avoided easily if only they had not given in to the heat of the moment. Even more so, the crazy plan they’ve been devising for tonight.

He moves out of her way then, sending her a glare as he brings his plate of food along to his room, planning on eating alone.

When she meets Draken’s eyes she shies away from his gaze. And that’s exactly what she has been dreading since the night before. Even her sleep got messed up from the idea of fucking up their lifelong friendship.

“Here, eat something. Gotta be in top form for tonight.”

Yeah, tonight. She has been staying at their apartment for a couple of days now, and her and Draken’s plan – mostly hers, but he will only come to find out about that later on – has been refined up to the littlest detail.

“Don’t mind Inupi,” he adds, “he’s just being protective, as always.”

She knows that. Chizu had met Inupi when he joined Toman years ago and was taken aback by his brashness at first. They hadn’t gotten around to talking to each other for a couple of years, as she was intimidated by his aura, and figured he didn’t care about getting to know her. On the other hand, Inupi just didn’t feel like making an effort whenever he got a glimpse of her ever-present angry face, considering she was known in the delinquent world for having the same short temper as her brother and a knack for picking up fights with any men.

When the time had come for Inupi and Draken to open up the bike shop together, they got used to each other's presence and eventually became close friends. Draken had been elated, Chifuyu a little less, considering he felt disrespected by the men for whatever reason (she figured both their obsessing over Takemichi had something to do with it).

Inupi had shared with Chizu, on a drunken night at first, but then again with a clearer head, the story of his scar. He had told her about Kokonoi Hajime, one of the very men she is after.

She knew about Seishu’s sister and what it did to their relationship, and she had watched him cry as he, still, silently grieved both his older sister and his missing friend – or lover, she had reasoned.

Seishu and Chizu had boned over the grief of losing their loved ones: siblings to death, and lovers to Bonten.

So she had come to know him eventually and could read his mood even from his apparent apathetic face.

“He’s right, the kiss was a mistake-“

“He’s just anxious about tonight-“

They speak in unison, and it takes her a second to understand that he’s not concerned about that at all, unlike her. He looks distraught for a second but composes himself before gesturing at her to sit down and have her breakfast. He leaves the room without another word.

Chizu knows he’s mad, and wonders if they both hadn’t fallen for the Sano siblings back then, maybe they could’ve worked out.

As night falls, Inupi had to shake off his fears and concerns to help Chizu get ready, as promised.

The dress he had bought for her was a simple black one, on the shorter side, with arms covered and a low neckline. They had tried going for the classy look, knowing they would have to look the part to get inside the expensive club in Roppongi.

“Wish I could borrow your Louboutines, ‘nupi…” she sighs, acting sad as to strategically make him feel bad enough to give in.

“My feet are like twice your size. And you can barely walk in heels as it is.”

That’s not true… she pouts. Inupi thinks sometimes she reminds him of Akane. They’re nothing alike, really, so maybe he’s lying to himself because he can’t help but like the idea of the two of them being somewhat of a sibling figure to one another.

He hopes tonight will go smoothly, he can’t bear the thought of losing another person.

Draken makes his way inside the room and shoots them a smile, “Ready? You look lovely, by the way.”

Chizu genuinely smiles at that, Draken has always been nothing but a gentleman to her, and after feeling like an ugly and crying mess for the past week, she deserves to get a compliment.

He’s dressed in a simple black shirt and dress pants, it reminds her of his early complaints about feeling like a clown when they had first started their search for Bonten from club to club, months ago. He must’ve gotten used to this by now, she thinks. He looks good.

Seishu does something so uncharacteristically sweet that would have nearly made her cry right there and there if she hadn’t spent the past forty minutes or so carefully applying makeup. He hugs her to his side, patting the top of her crown before releasing her.

“Don’t do anything reckless, Chizu.”

—

The inside of the club is dark, they have yet to approach the dance floor but they can already feel their skin starting to dampen with sweat beneath their clothes at the sight of the crowd swaying amongst each other. The air is anything but breathable, smoke swirling up from the elegant red booths circling the perimeter of the lower level of the club.

Above their heads is a balcony-like area that allows the VIP patrons to stare down at the sweaty mass with a lustful gaze from the privacy of their lounges, each of them looking for the innocent victim of the night, ready to max out their cards in exchange of pleasurable favors.

Chizu and Draken have already been to this specific club, in one of their past scouting they even managed to get a glimpse up the stairs at the closed doors of the rooms inhabiting the upper floor. The private spaces have been known to accommodate a particular kind of crowd. The kind of crowd that would engage in prostitution and exchange of illegal substances.

Unfortunately, without a mandate, this kind of underground work is the only thing that could help her confirm that.

Draken walks a few steps behind her frame, taking seriously his role of personal bodyguard, under Inupi’s vehement advice. In reality, he knows she can take care of herself, but having someone to watch your back in a situation as dangerous as this one, makes both of them feel better about it all.

What if we find Mikey tonight? he wonders. They have been trying to bait him out of the shadows for a long time. They are the only appropriate people who can complete the job.

The three of them had always been together.

Mikey, Draken, Chizu. Toman’s strongest.

Ten years have passed since their time together, how would any of them react to seeing each other after such a long time? Would Mikey even care enough to spare them? Chizu’s a detective, snooping around Bonten’s business. Draken thinks it over, and feels scared for the first time in a while, watching her walk in front of him with the confidence of someone who has nothing to lose, and finally realizes his mistake.

She has nothing to lose, her ten years long relationship has just ended on an ugly note, the promise of living a peaceful and happy life gone just like her brother; her job is the one thing pushing her towards this madness in the first place.

“Chizu, I think we should-” he tries to talk over the bass shaking the ground, but as they keep merging amongst the partygoers, they reach the center of the oval dance floor.

The DJ booth is in front of them, a raised platform extends behind it, a railing protecting the people in its confinement from falling over as they lean forward.

Chizu stares ahead, right at that area, the LED lights of the screen behind it making it hard to focus on what or who resides in it. She can make out the silhouettes of those peering down at them. Strobe flashes blinding her as she tries to meet their eyes. She squints, nothing still.

“I liked you when we were kids.” Draken has gotten closer, his voice more clear over the tune of a catchy pop song.

“What?” she’s taken aback, but acts like she didn’t hear him properly, and keeps facing the direction of the spot hidden in the shadows.

“I liked you, back when we were in Toman, for a little bit. The kiss yesterday meant something, to me.”

She thinks Draken is rarely this straightforward. He is blunt, but not very honest when it comes to feelings. That’s what made him lose Emma years back. She feels sorry for him but doesn’t turn around.

What Draken doesn’t know is that she never had anything to lose to begin with. She doesn’t think she has felt that sense of happiness and belonging that she used to feel in Toman ever again, since her brother died. After that, she only ever felt buried. Under an ever-growing pile of responsibilities she took on to make sure she could go back to those times.

“Take care of each other,” Keisuke had told her and Chifuyu as he was dying. And they had done that for the longest time until it was unbearable. “Forgive Kazutora,” Check.

“Save Mikey.”

Had her brother known back then that Mikey’s mental illness would deteriorate to such an extent? She doesn’t know, but she was never one to back out from a fight. That’s what most people liked about her. Some more than others.

—

Leaning on the railing and staring down at the crowd are the lazy eyes of Haitani Ran.

He looks pensive, two long fingers balancing a cigarette he’s barely smoking as he thinks of a reason why they’re all standing in one of his best clubs. Bonten executives rarely hit nightclubs together, especially not any of his, for safety reasons and also because, except for him and his brother, most of them are not really the partying type.

He wonders what he must’ve done to piss off Mikey so much he’s being put through this hell. He hates being left without a clue of what is going on.

Haitani Ran is one of the most perceptive people there is out there.

At first glance, people would think of him as the less intelligent brother. His downturned eyes never fixated on anything, and the blank stare giving the impression of someone who’s spaced out. Not a single thought inside that pretty head of his. But, as much as he doesn’t like when people underestimate him, he also truly doesn’t give a shit.

Being underestimated has brought him so far as being one of the top executives of Bonten, his skills unrivaled even amongst them.

The truth is that Ran knows how to read people and how to manipulate them, a little too well. Some would say it must be a mix of luck and pretty privilege, but in reality, he’s just too smart for anyone’s good.

That’s why, whenever he fails to foresee what goes on behind Mikey’s blank stare and firm orders, he gets unreasonably annoyed. Especially if it has something to do with his own business, his and his brother’s very first club, which had cashed them a pretty penny back in their starting days.

“What are you looking at,” Rindou, who’s as always standing right beside him, asks with his usual brash tone, “You’ve been staring intensely at the dance floor like it has all the answers you need in this world.”

“Nothing,” he flicks his cig before taking a puff, “Thought I recognized someone in the crowd.”

Is that what they’re all here for? Mikey has never really given a fuck about the police. The thought of being caught not even on his mind as they have always been able to buy their way out of anything, thanks to Kokonoi’s funds and Akashi’s experience and connections in the underworld. But lately, he seems to have been stressing over something, or rather someone.

It was Ran himself who had caught her at first. He could recognize her face even after all these years, especially as she kept reappearing in most of his clubs, wandering around with none other than Ryuguji Ken, whose tattoo was hard to miss or mismatch.

He quickly put two and two together, understanding that the detective was trying to get dirt on them by starting in the easiest place, a place where she could see all of it go down at once.

Drugs, prostitution, money laundering. Their clubs were the starting point of it all. But he had let her do so, making sure to tell his bouncers to always let her in when he was around.

Honestly, he had always been intrigued by Baji Chizu. Ever since their first meeting 17 years ago. He knows she doesn’t back down from a fight, so he’d like to see how far along she can go before Mikey himself decides to kill her. He guesses the time has finally come.

As he tries to look for her in the crowd, Mikey calls them over. Rindou sits beside him on the leather seat, Kakucho on the other side, the one closer to Mikey.

Behind their boss, with his hands clasped behind his back and a straight, military-like, posture, stands Sanzu. Ran thinks Sanzu looks different tonight, vigilant, lucid. The drugs must have yet to hit.

When Mikey starts to talk they all lean closer to hear him over the music. He’s not one to yell, but he doesn’t expect them to miss a single word.

“A detective that has been insistently looking into our affairs is present tonight. I had a fake leak go around about the Haitani selling the place to specifically loom them here.”

Right on the money. Ran is rarely wrong, after all.

Mikey is slouched back in his chair, careless demeanor as usual. Black eyes fixed on his executives as he calls their attention, “Rindou, Ran. I need the two of you to drag the detective’s chaperone out of the club. Hold him down, knock him out for all I care. But he has to leave. Alive.”

Ran knows why he’s asking the two of them, Draken has quite a big frame and is known to be undeniably strong, their underlings would have to put up a fight and cause a scene to drag him out of the place. Rindou can easily block his joints as Ran dirties his hands after what feels like such a long time.

He’s gotten so used to guns he barely has any time to whip out his trusty baton, as of lately. So this will do. Where’s the fun in letting others do his job, after all?

“Sanzu, take care of the detective. You can choose how, but I need her alive.” Once again, he doesn’t seem to be willing to let his annoying friends die, yet.

Mikey never has to repeat himself, the executives stand up as they make their way down to the lower level of the club.

“Are you sure sending those three is a good idea?” asks Takeomi, who knows by now how hot-tempered and messy they can be. “We’re talking about your friends, after all. Someone is gonna end up dead.”

“Old acquaintances, and they’re gonna do what Mikey asked them to.” The one replying is Kakucho, whose calmness is ever-present as he sits back with his torso exposed. He doesn’t defend Mikey to Sanzu’s extent, but especially in front of other people, he likes to keep up with appearances.

Kokonoi is smirking while sipping on a martini, the classy drink looks fitting in his elegant hand. Kokonoi gets entertained with very little, relaxing comes easy to him when money is not on the table. However, if it were, you would see him fidget and panic by now.

“I’m gonna get our drivers know to go out back, I figured we’re gonna make a quick exit,” announces Mochi.

Mikey mumbles something in accordance while trying to peer down at the crowd for his spot, cross-legged.

He can’t see much, he’s gonna have to wait.

—

Chizu wants to rip the strobe lights from the hinges with her bare hands. It’s so annoying, how she’s getting momentarily blinded every time she stares up.

She turns around to tell Draken that she wants to get closer. She wants to try and get upstairs this time. But Draken is not there anymore.

“Ken?” Chizu calls his name loudly, but she knows it’s unlikely for him to hear her, mentally cursing herself because she should’ve stayed closer.

Chizu guesses she must act on the second part of the plan now, the one Draken was not even aware of. The one she needs to carry on by herself. She just wishes Inupi and Draken will forgive her for it.

But as she takes some steps towards the stairs, she catches Ken’s big frame getting carried away by two others.

It’s a blur of purples, so she runs to follow them, getting closer to the exit that by now she knows opens up in a back alley.

One moment she is pushing against people to make way, the next her body is being held back by two long arms.

“Eh eh,” she hears the man snicker, his sinister and familiar voice making dread fill her throat like bitter bile.

Something is so terribly wrong in his embrace, but because of the adrenaline cursing through her veins, she can’t feel the sting of the blade piercing the skin of her belly until she looks down and sees his blood-stained hand, Bonten tattoo branded on the inside of his forearm.

“I’ve been wanting to do this for a long time, Chizu-chan,” strands of pink colored hair slip past her shoulder as he leans forward, but she can barely see anymore, her eyes foggy, the crimson of the blood fresh in her mind like the day her brother had died.

She doesn’t feel herself falling, Sanzu holds her tight as she passes out. He thinks she’s weaker than she used to be, he could slice her neck open right there and get this over with, but he can feel the wrath of his King looming over him.

What a stupid girl you are, Sanzu thinks as he lifts her body into his arms.

—🎴—

Next Chapter.

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elflock-magician · 11 months

Note

If you’re still doing canon characters x OC’s, can I request a David one with my OC?

Her name is Alexis, the ultimate probate lawyer. She’s mature and motherly who puts others before herself. She’s usually very kind and optimistic, but hides a lot of insecurities and her depressive mental health from others. Basically a David and Hu love child

Thank you!

A/N - Sorry that this took so long! And thanks for the request!! Alexis is a really unique character who definitely makes for a good story. Hope you like this!! <33

Summary - David got what he deemed ‘was coming to him’ and was attacked by a group of men who had some kind of grudge against him. Alexis put herself in the line of fire to protect him. Now the two of them are sitting in the infirmary, late at night, together.

Written to be post-killing game AU where the world is decent outside, but it can be read as non-despair AU.

TW for mild blood and violence.

David cried out in pain as he was punched across the face, blood splattering out of his mouth as such thing happened. David hit the ground, a ‘thud’ following soon after. He groaned as he curled up into a fetal position on the ground, the crimson blood seeping from his mouth and onto the ground, as well as his white shirt.

How had David gotten into this situation? Well, whenever David’s true nature showed, it was almost guaranteed that he’d make an enemy or two. And unfortunately, that came back to bite David that day. As he had gotten jumped by a group of two men while he was walking to his apartment building.

“Tch, motherfucker. So you’re all talk and no fight, huh Davey?” One of the men taunted before roughly kicking David in the stomach. “Ghg!” David called out through gritted teeth in terrible pain.

“Can’t even take three punches? What a shithead.” The other man chimed in. “Actually, it was four. But who's counting?” David said and smirked, despite the overwhelming pain, “Not you, apparently.” He added. “Tch– Smart ass!” One of the men shouted before kicking David yet again.

“Ghah! S—Shit…” David grumbled out in pain. “The only redeeming quality on this guy is a pretty face,” One of the men began before taking a box cutter out of their pocket, “What do you say we… cut that off?” He stated before grabbing the bloodied collar of David’s shirt, lifting him off the ground, and putting the box cutter to his throat

David tried to say something, but it went unheard. Completely unheard, save for a low murmur. “What’d you say?!” The man demanded.

“F– Fuck you!” David shouted out, just barely getting out the words. “You..!” One of the men began to shout. But instead of responding with words they pressed the box cutter against the skin of his neck. And it began to draw blood. But before the box cutter could reach dangerous levels of deepness past his skin–

SMACK!

The man who had been holding the box cutter dropped it, and had been hit hard enough that he recoiled. The other man stood behind him in shock. The man who had been holding the box cutter and was about to supposedly kill David had been hit. And smacked so hard that he let go of David and fell back.

The person who had hit the man stepped in front of David, as if protecting him from them.

“Picking on someone who can’t even defend themselves… you really should be ashamed.” They said. David could barely lift his head up to see who had come to his rescue as pain flooded his senses. It was dark in the area he had been attacked, and it made it hard to see. But suddenly, his savior turned away from the two men and looked back to David. “Are you alright?” They asked.

David recognized that voice. That sweet voice. The voice he didn’t deserve to hear. David wouldn’t mind if it was the last voice he ever heard. Society was so cruel and venomous but she… Alexis, made David feel like perhaps there was a light at the end of the tunnel.

“Ale…Xis?” David murmured before the bloodlost and the wounds he had sustained went to his head, causing for his vision to go black, and his mind to go blank not far after.

David awoke with a startle. The moment he knew he was awake, he immediately snapped up. David found he was in a hospital bed in an empty room. There was a window in the corner of the room, which was dark. Suggesting it was night time.

“Shit…” David murmured. His eyes darted around the room and his head pounded with pain. “Where… What…” He desperately tried to call the memories back to his mind. What had happened? David seemed to be in some kind of infirmary. That made sense. Hadn’t he gotten attacked? That sort of thing was hard to forget. He soon found that there was another bed next to his in this infirmary, though the room was completely empty. David then noticed the stabbing pain around his throat. His hands quickly went to the origin of the pain, and found the wounds were tightly bandaged. Right. He had gotten attacked by people who had a grudge or vendetta against him, and he was about to get killed when… Someone had stepped in to save him. The door to the infirmary opened, and from it, stepped in the familiar person who had saved him.

“Alexis?” David questioned as he stared at her. “Oh! David… You’re awake.” Alexis said in response. Alexis herself seemed a little roughed up. She had several bandages as well, some of which were slightly red with crimson blood that must have been continuing to escape the wounds. David himself also found there were bandages around his head. In Alexis’ hands were two glasses of water.

“Why did you do that?” David asked abruptly, his eyes narrowing. Alexis shut the door to the infirmary behind her and approached David.

“What do you mean? I do a lot of things, you know.” She said jokingly before giggling lightly. Though David didn’t share her humor.

“You know what I’m talking about.” David spat. “I’m guessing that you didn’t make it out of the fight unscathed. Or you just happened to fall down a flight of stairs right after?” He said sarcastically. Alexis laughed weakly at that.

“You’re right. I didn’t do too well fighting those men, but the authorities arrived before things go to violent.” She explained. “I got this for you. You must be a little disoriented.” Alexis added, evading the questions talking about her own health state, as she put one of the glasses of water onto the tray table next to the bed David was laying in.

“This is stupid.” David grumbled before trying to yank out the IVs in his arm. Alexis seemed startled by that. “Leave those in! You need them to recover.” Alexis insisted. David failed to properly get the IV out and ended up just giving up with a frustrated sigh. “How did you even know I needed help?” David questioned.

“I was in the area.” Alexis replied before sitting on the hospital bed next to Davids. “I got off better than you did in terms of injury. They didn’t know if you were dead or alive when I got the police there.” She added. David rolled his eyes. “No one can ever tell.” He murmured, referring to how he constantly looked like a zombie 24/7. “What happened after I was out cold?” He questioned.

“Well, I got the box cutter away from the first guy, but they weren’t above trying to fight me either.” She began. “Tch… Did the police get their names? I’ll give them a good beating. You didn’t deserve that.” David grumbled and crossed his arms. “I didn’t?” Alexis murmured and tilted her head in confusion at David’s statement. “Tch– Just…- You shouldn’t have thrown yourself into the crosshairs of a loaded gun like that.” David emphasized his point by using a gun as he looked back at Alexis. “And what? Let you die?” Alexis replied swiftly. “Yes!” David shouted. “You should have let me die.” He repeated. “I just got what was coming to me. I don’t understand why you would ever put my health ahead of yours.” He continued, “Because I care about you, David. I can’t say you’re the most morally sound of people, but what I do know is that you don’t deserve to be tortured and killed in some dirty back alleyway.” She insisted. “It’s what I do. I help people.” She stated finally.

David just stared at her. He didn’t even say anything. He just stared at her for a moment.

“Tch… Doesn’t mean you should put yourself into a fight with two people who looked double your height and weight like an idiot! That’s like asking to get hurt.” David repeated. Alexis sighed.

“You were unconscious for a while. You just drink your water.” She stated, changing the subject before gesturing to the glass of water she had brought David. David looked down at it, seeing his blurry reflection in the liquid. He sighed in frustration and grit his teeth, looking away.

“You want to know something, Alexis? You’re an idiot.” He hissed. “You shouldn’t insult people like that, you know.” Alexis chastised.

“You’re an idiot! Because only idiots care about others in a world like this. If you stick your neck out to help people, all that you’ll get in return is a knife or a noose at your throat. And you should have learned that from trying to help me today.” He explained. “Getting hurt is worth it to me if it means you get to live another day.” Alexis stated.

There was an unbreakable silence between the two. David silently sat up in the hospital bed and took the glass of water Alexis had brought him, and brought the water to his cracked lips.

“Are you feeling any better?” Alexis asked in a motherly manner, putting her hands in her lap to be sitting almost formally, despite how her body was beaten and battered at that point.

“Feeling like less of a duffel bag of shit compared to before, I guess.” David murmured. Alexis chuckled.

“I’ll excuse the crude language and just be happy that you’re recovering.” She said.

“Tch- it took you only, what, five minutes before you bounced back at full throttle.” David commented at how Alexis had woken up way before him and seemed to recover fine. It’s a shame she hadn’t recovered all that well, but was simply pretending that she had.

“Of course. I need to be strong. Especially for people who can’t be. People who are hurt. Like you.” She stated and looked over at David with a soft expression.

“I’ll never understand why you’re so affectionate towards me. Towards people who don’t deserve it in general. I’ll tell you again it’ll only get you hurt… but at this point, I don’t think that will stop you, will it?” David murmured.

“You know me so well.” She replied and smiled brightly. David, for the first time in a while, smiled a genuine smile as he chuckled. Getting a real chuckle out of David was something like changing a tire. It was easy to do if you just knew how to do it right.

He sighed soon after the laugh. “Thanks, I guess…” David murmured. “For helping me, I mean. As stupid as it is, I appreciate you not letting me die, no matter how much you should have.” He said and shared a gaze with Alexis. Alexis smiled in a bittersweet manner. It was the kind David felt like he didn’t even deserve to be in the presence of. The human race was a sick sick kind. But… Not Alexis. Never Alexis.

“I promise I’ll never let you hurt if I can help it.” She said. “I promise.” She repeated.

#danganronpa despair time #drdt #oc x canon #david chiem

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what-if-nct · 1 year

Note

hiiii today's reminder is all three of the nct units coming back within the next two months, and the new unit might be debuting soon, and I'm having a hard time being excited for any of it

127, i just want them to take a nap. esp with the J line being injured enough to cancel smtown recordings, i would feel super weird enjoying a new song knowing that it was prepared in between nonstop concerts while three members were hurt. plus i REALLY don't want a 2 baddies part 2, i still don't understand why that song happened

wayv, they seem straight-up cursed at this point. I'm not gonna believe there's an album until the album is actually out. plus part of me is braced for the possibility of a rehashing of the incident from last year that we don't speak about, or at the very least knowing a lot of the discussion about this comeback will be centred around that, which I'm really not looking forward to

dream… i feel like every time i hear about them outside of teasers, it's just another case of them "playfully" making fun of Haechan, especially Jeno and Jisung, to the point where i just… dislike them, as people. i get that they were raised with the expectation that they'll be famous in a society that places a lot of weight on this shit, and I'm sure that's fucked with their heads a lot, but that's no excuse for grown ass adults not to have basic decency yk? it's turning me off the group, even though i love the rest of them. well, most of them, Jaemin and Chenle also give me those vibes, though i don't remember if they've ever explicitly said anything like that on camera

so… idk it's weird. I've spent more than two years with nct being my main hobby (idk if that word applies but it's the only one i could think of), and now it all feels a bit icky. I'm just holding on because i think new wayv content will bring me back to them

Hiii! And first of all I feel exactly the same way about everything that you've said. Every single word of it. Like 127 has been touring nonstop and are about to go out again plus a repackaged album after three members being injured. Like it's the kpop industry Skz is also extremely overworked. But like imagine the overall well being of them if they just released one album a year with multiple music videos, promote for like a month and one full and complete tour then, then they rest for at least 5 to 6 months. Or do their own obligations to brands and stuff. I know it's nothing like western pop music cause they run off of high engagement but it's just such a ridiculous system that is doing nothing but harm. They need rest. Sleep, and FOOD!! They're overworking on extreme diets. Like something has to give before it breaks

Then we have the complete opposite with Wayv where it's been two years since an album and despite there being a rightful reason for the delay right now. it's just so unfortunate that they're not getting to do anything. And I think we all know why wayv's comeback has been put on the back burner till now. I'm happy they had a break and they've been just having fun. But you see it in them they want to work, they're so excited for this album. Which I'm buying the moment it's released. But I just want everyone to focus on the boys for their comeback and not the situation around them. I'm sure it's been harder on every single member of Wayv then it is for us and we just gotta keep it a joyous occasion when it finally happens.

And yeahhh, like before I get to how I feel I just want to say before anyone says its part of their culture. Being Fatphobic and Colorist are bad things!!! It's a toxic part of most cultures! Colorism runs rampant in every single non white culture. And it's fucking bad! As a black person I can acknowledge the colorism in my culture is bullshit. And I have never thought that shit was funny. Im always disgusted seeing how dark skin women are treated. And don't get me started on fatphobia. I just want to know why we don't expect grown ass men who have access to the internet and global knowledge to go against societal norms like most of the Younger generations all over. Like why can't we expect better from them. Like Jeno saying why does Haechan have so much flesh after Haechan complimented his muscles like thats a strike. But when he said Haechan fits black panther..........my eye is twitching. And Jisung also always saying something. Sure we don't know they're dynamic. But Jisung was saying do you think Haechan will ever get paler alone out with Chenle. Like that's just not a joke like that shit effects Haechan who is gorgeous and perfect and beautiful. And I remember Haechan wanting a regular coke and Renjun insisting he get diet coke that rubbed me the wrong way for awhile. If my friends joked with me like that uh we're not friends anymore. Like it's toxic behavior like. It's bad no excuses. It's just bad. It's not okay to joke about esp in public spaces do they not understand their words effect Haechan and fans bigger and darker than Haechan. I think I have the most hope in Jaemin cause I just get that from him. Luckily I am a grown ass woman and it doesn't effect me the way it did when I was 16 and 17. It's why I took a break around 19, like kpop really fucked up my self esteem that I had just acquired. I totally feel you. Sidenote the skz thing with Changbin isn't apart of this. Felix and Chan were obviously talking about Changbin's muscles, he's a little beef cake they've both expressed envy of his physique. So Chan and Felix are cool.

I really don't want a 2 baddies part 2 either. Love 127 but thats one 127 song I can't defend. But when Wayv blesses us with their talent and beauty it'll be the best day.

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kkusuka · 3 years

Text

(i had to repost lol- it wasn’t showing up on my page)

this the request: part 3 of thiccy gf hcs ??? with kuroo, terushima, sakusa, and daichi and/or atsumu 🥺👉🏽👈🏽 i must be fed

i understand your need for them

and as a member of the thunder-thigh committee, i am happy to write about my fellow sexy women! (another 4:56 am ramble i refuse to delete)

part one

part 2 <3

i mixed this with this ask ; Pt. 3 of the thicc af gf with Aone, Osamu, Kyotani, Daichi, Kuguri, and Terushima plz? 🥺

this got wayyyyyyyyy long

4, 685 words. my finger slipped?

Kuroo tetsuro

this guy has been trying to get you since first year

he’s that dedicated

and you didn’t even notice, he was just a flirty friend who helped you with science

(even when he would practically put you in his lap while he went over things)

lo and behold, he finally got his chance during the third year culture festival

yeah as in he waited a whole three years for this

Eh, once again, had a whole pan to make you see him as your great future husband, aka the haunted house (a good excuse to have you hold onto him)

He has to give it to class 2-4, the did a damn good job, it was scary

Long story short you fell on top of him, boobs in face hands-on ass

~heaven~

Mans actually asked you to be his girlfriend right there, groping you and murmuring between your boobs. (he wouldn't have gotten up if the next group wasn’t approaching.)

From then on he’d literally do anything for the ass

He’s a big simp and we all know it.

Like When you wear shorts he has to ‘pull them down’ aka feel you up while pulling the hem of your shorts down ever so slightly.

Or when he gets on a knee right behind you to ‘tie his shoe’, but the school shoes have no laces.

He could be a bit more creative and he wanted to look under your skirt.

When he wants to cut the bull shit he’ll just lift the back of your skirt and rub around for a but, to hell with all the other kids in the hallway.

(did I mention that he puts things on the highest shelves so he can walk up behind you and practically dry hump you.)

Speaking of simp nation

You can't really wear anything without setting him off

Shorts drive him absolutely nuts, it's insane. But it isn't his fault that most of your shorts are spandex that cut off right at the beginning of your thighs, it's like a homemade booty lifter. He just can’t help but wanting to cop a feel.

Or the color red in general. It is ridiculous, the guy rips everything when he tries to take it off too. So that stunning red cocktail dress with the lace-up sides was not unwearable, and you only had it on for like 2 hours. And that was only because it was a friend's 18th birthday party you were both invited to.

(thanks to kuroo not letting you out of his arms you both were late and left early.)

((in his defense you looked like a full course meal and it was giving him severe blue balls, and he’s only seen you for a few minutes))

Halloween, you know. the one night you could dress up as anything. any you decide to go as a cat-girl in a maid costume. And you expected him to just take that sitting down? Hell no. the red thigh highs AND the corset middle? You're lucky it lasted as long as it did.

That my dear was bravery. His color. A cat. And a short skirt. With thigh highs!

And so, he did what he did all those other times, dragged you to sit on his lap, and opening your thighs, and like a good girl you’ll let him

If you could already tell, he gives no shits to whos watching, let ‘em see (they really never do but you get the point)

He’s also a prime thigh groper, especially when he wants to keep your legs open, he also loves thigh hic

Terushima Yuji

Another shower-offer

You were already he's so why can't he let everyone know?

Speaking of you being his, he doesn't tell people how you guys don’t together, with good reason considering you practically beat him up

Not really but that’s what he calls it, basically he tried to get with one of your friends at a party.

She just happens to not be interested in men and has a wonderful girlfriend, so she was uncomfortable but couldn't tell him to leave her alone

So you took fate into your own hands, literally, you stole Fate from class 3-2’s drink and poured it on him before slapping him and telling him about how he was a pig.

And he fell in love, you looked like an angel, a really hot angel, it didn't help you were in a white dress either

And from then on he literally once or twice, got on his knees for you, asking to give him a chance.

Honestly, it got annoying, so you just agreed to make it go away. It did, but you also gained a perv of a boyfriend who has an insatiable love for your lower half

He’s a simple creature, do take caution of his fragile being

So that means all those times you bend over in front of him he was slowly cracking and trying to figure out where the nearest storage closet is.

He thought he was having heart palpitations when he saw you in the damn dress again, apparently, he didn't see all of it. Specifically the v-neck top, and the fact it only went to the end of your ass. Needless to say, he made sure to walk behind you on every staircase that you went on

Another set off is yoga legging, like the lululemon ones, that people wear all the time. They fit you great, really really great. They were supposed to work out in them???? Why were they so skin-tight????? And he also figured out that you wore things because of them. Instant nut.

How you ask, simple.

One time he saw your underwear line through the pants and he pointed them out, they did make it seem like your ass was super soft so he saw his chance and took it.

So the next time you wore them and he didn't see the lines he was like ??????

And thus began the “Yuji hunt for lineless underwear” and he found the thongs

And you received the fucking of your life soon after.

Oh! And there’s any time you go to the beach. Literally every time.

No cap.

The first time was when you wore a red one-piece and he practically went feral. It wasn't really a one-piece if it was see-through and had the lowest neckline on the planet.

Everyone was looking at you.

He practically fucked you on the beach but held off until you got back to the hotel room.

He’s way more forward when he wants to fuck, if you could imagine. He’ll just walk up to you and tell you he wants to get some, like right now.

If you can even ignore him, he’ll throw an arm around your waist and grope around your legs, all the way to the apex.

It is also not below him to try and get you off while still wearing underwear that he will be taking after.

(i didn't say anything about his stash off orgasm ruined underwear? My bad.)

Sakusa Kiyoomi

Going beyond the fact he even has a girlfriend, y’know considering, but the fact that no one knew who you were until you showed up at nationals to cheer him on

(atsumu was even starting to think that you didn't exist and that poor kiyoomi just imagined you up, so can imagine his shock when you ran up to said boy after they won)

The whole dating thing wasn't the shocking part; it was the fact that you looked like you walked off of the Milan runway.

And you were wearing leggings and sakusa's jacket, all of a sudden everyone was interested in how that happened

It was a kind of a boring story, someone had spilled coffee in a shop that you both happen to be in

And he watched you offer the man the same disinfectant wipes that he uses!

And in the most sakusa way possible he followed you out of the shop and tried to talk to you.

An exchange of numbers and many awkward conversations (and boners) later, you were a couple.

Back to that hug, like the many others, he's let you have, it’s all just to feel how soft you were

But poor touch -starved sakusa doesn't know what to do with any of these pent up feelings.

And he has a loooooooot of them.

Multiple occasions have shaped the poor germ-boy into the horny-tornado he has become

so he’s not really into what you’re wearing, it’s more about what you’re doing

like when you wore the mask he bought you to one of his games, and you wore one of his alternate uniforms, but the kicker was how you stayed away from everyone and didn’t let a single person near you (or his shirt)

or when you helped him clean his dorm when he was doing his weekly deep clean

or when the two of you washed the dishes while trying to do one of those “try not to sing” challenges

(is it normal to get a boner when your girlfriend helps you clean? no?)

but, as much as he tries to remain emotionless on the subject, there are multiple exceptions to the “it’s not what she wears” whole thing

Like that violet puffy skirt, you wore to a study fate, the one with the white sweater? That one, the same one that he could see your panties, from anywhere he sat. and Every time you got up you would have to smooth it down to make the creases go down, but it was only ever really giving him a good idea about the shape of your ass.

(if he sees you in that skirt again he’s just going to fuck you in it)

The lesser-known horny-inducer, since he made you take it off within the first five minutes, was a dress! What kind of dress? A neon yellow see-through mesh dress. The bottom wasn’t what got him though, it was the fact that your white bra was clearly seen under the mesh top. Or maybe it was the way the skirt made your waist look super small, and how your hips looked so round and squeezable.

Yeah, no one else could experience you in that.

Not to sound like this, but sakusa is still averse to touch

BUT BUT BUT

That goes out the window when he wants to dance the devil's tango with you.

Mr. His way or no way shows up, he does it every so slightly different

If it’s just the two of you, he’ll put a hand on your shoulder and he’ll push you to your knees. And he’ll pet your head and tell you what’s about to happen and advise you to listen like a good girl.

But in the instance you are in the presence of others, he’ll stand behind you and bring you super close to him, ass to dick. (maybe he’ll grind into you a bit, just to convince you to follow him) and he’ll throw a few words in about how much of a bitch in heat you are for getting turned on in front of all of these people.

It’s best to just do what he wants before he makes you cum in your underwear.

Daichi Sawamura

oh my

you guys are the power thigh couple

powerful and defined mixed with soft and pillowy

In Fact, that’s literally how the two of you met, thanks to Tanaka and Nishinoya of course.

(let’s just pretend karasuno has a cheer squad, and you just happened to be the captain of said team)

So basically you were doing a favor for the student council, and you were supposed to ask how many third years, managers included, were on each team and each club in the school

Easy! Turns out not so much. You were still in your cheer practice uniform, which was the shortest spandex ever made, and a Karasuno school t-shirt that was ever so slightly too tight.

Anyway, you make it to the gym and open the door, and the little one, Yachi, saw you and literally screamed. (she was right by the door), and that alerted everyone else in the gym, which led to the bald boy and his short companion pushing you further into the gym.

But in the better sense, it did gain the attention of the captain! Just the exact moment he was in front of you someone pushed; your back and within a second, in some miracle like way, you both ended up on the floor and he ended up planked on top of you with a leg between your spread thighs.

Almost kissing nonetheless.

Then, like the gentleman he was, he got off and asked you if you alright and kneeled down and let you use his shoulder to try and stand back up.

You did get up, for a split second, Daichi still kneeling letting you use him as a step stool when a certain red-head was flung right into you and you went toppling forward.

Onto Daichi.

Onto Daichi's face.

Your thighs around his head.

His hands-on your ass.

Hand in his hair.

He could sit there forever, you were frozen, everyone else was frozen.

You eventually climbed off and asked how many third years there were. But he just sat there, his hands hadn’t moved either, luckily Suga answered and you were on your way.

And Daichi still didn’t move, after that incident, you had begun to see him everywhere, and eventually, he just cut the shit and asked you out.

Daddy Daichi likes seeing you in literally anything from sweatshirts to lingerie.

His favorite was the brown buttoned pencil skirt and the white blouse, that you wore to a date. You were kind of overdressed for the ramen shop and after a walk, but he didn't even care. He was so thrown off by how turned on he was he couldn't speak in full sentences.

An example:

“Yeah, the food here is- boob, I-I mean great, not boob, great, yes, great.”

The second.

Was a bathrobe.

Can you see where I'm going with that? Simply you look hot.

His favorite part of the night was ripping it off of you.

And like the first time you met, he had his head in your thighs <3

Atsumu Miya

You met poor atsumu at a party.

He tried to shoot his shot, y’know he sees a cute lady he’s just gotta try and show you what you could be getting

he had it all planned, he was going to walk up behind you and run his hands over your delicious curves and ask you if you were in need of any help

he doesn’t take into account that a having a random guy just start groping you and pressing himself behind a girl was panic-inducing

so when he dropped your waist, you freaked out and may or may not have punched him in the dick

while he was in a. world of pain you age to figure out what the hell had just happened to you

then you noticed him on the floor, and when he noticed you looking at him he put this forced cocky smirk on and gave you a “how you doing”

You took pity on the poor creature and helped him up and got him some ice, then conversed with him for the majority of the rest of the night.

And he just hasn't left you alone since

(and, you learned this far later, that he went so far to tell Sakusa and Kageyama all about you and how amazing you are, and has even sent them- more than one- picture

But in other news, he’s very horny

So really all that means is he always has his hands on you

Like during practice breaks when you're allowed to come down and talk to him for a bit, give him some things, but it normally just consists of him sitting on the bench and you standing in front of him.

While his hands rest on your hips and his face is shoved into the valley between your breasts, and he just sits and listens to you as you brush a hand through his hair.

Or sometimes, if he had been having a rough time, he’ll just have his hands under your skirt and he’ll feel around for a bit while grumbling about how people cant hit his sets

But for being the possessive bastard he is, he sure likes letting you wear all those outfits

Like the booty shorts and tank top, you wore to bring them food during the summer training camp. That same camp that the two of you disappeared at and he came back looking like he had won the lottery.

Or the cute little red dress you wore to your anniversary date? The one that made him have a hard-on the entire time you were at dinner. He knows the waiter remembers, he also bets the waiter remembers seeing him fucking you in the car when his shift was over.

And that time you wore his jersey to bed and sent him a picture of it. It was such a good picture that he made it his lock screen for everyone to see.

He just likes looking at you tbh.

Aone Takanobu

you guys didn’t meet in some weird perverted way, it was actually really cute!

Not to sound creepy but he knew that you were in the garden club because you sat right in front of him in class

And since he didn't talk to anyone else in that class he was just content with listening, and so there he was

Standing outside of the garden club door holding his withering basil plant. Lost.

Lucky for him you were walking down the hallway and greeted him, looking all pretty and cute

You did help him realize that he was overwatering the basil and within a few weeks, it was back to life!

From that first time on, he came to the club room with you twice a week and walked home with you, just listening to all the random plant facts that you had harbored in your mind.

Eventually, with the help of the team, he asked you out, and you hugged him and said yes, and that was the beginning of the “oh god, y/n is way softer than I thought”

So he really just tries to be near you or be touching you at all times

(i am also a firm believer that he likes to slow dance to classical music in your living room)

Like during lunch periods when you sit next to him and the second you finish eating hell push you to lean against him

And he’ll rub small circles on your hips and give you small innocent gropes

Or how he hugs your waist when you're doing literally anything, and he puts his head on top of your head while swaying

I can also tell you that Aone is a good singer

So he hums to you (I'm uwuing over my own headcanon lol)

He also really likes just running his hands along your body, so he likes when you wear the one-piece dresses so he has smooth sailing down your body

As a man of little words, he clearly has a more physical approach to getting you on the horny train

What I am trying to get at is that more often than not he literally just picks you up and carries you away.

Of course, that leaves you to come back to whatever you were doing.

That is after the cuddles and after sex ‘conversations’ about the dumbest things

Basically, he likes to hear you talk and he really likes being near.

Osamu Miya

He knew who you were

With a brother like atsumu, who never shuts up about you, it's hard not to

(Osamu is pretty sure atsumu had a picture of you next to his pillow. ew)

Anyway, the two of you just happened to share the same lunch block, and it also just happens to be the only period block that he was alone

No teammates and no especially close that he could hang out with

That meant he could either study or eat

Had he chose to eat, only to be met with the fact that atsumu had drained both of their lunch accounts for his flavor of the week

Poor baby stood there for a while just processing what was the worst news of his life

When you, a true angel among the evil, said that you would graciously pay for his food so that he didn't outlook so sad anymore

If he wasn’t holding an armful of onigiri he would have fallen on his knees and begged to whatever god was out there to let him keep you

But he settled for thanking you and spending the entire period with you, he even offered to share (for the first time in his life)

You complimented him on his flavor choice and he decided to keep you

He made sure to share his recipes with you and you tried to do the same

And somehow that evolved into you guys going on dates, much to atsumu’s distaste, and you guys were totally hitting it off

Osamu was your official biggest fan, he loved everything you do

But that means he wants to stay your biggest fan, and he knows that you’re pretty well known for boys thinking not so innocent things about you

Again being brothers with atsumu gave him this little sadistic streak

He lets you wear all of the revealing outfits and the bikinis, all for everyone to see

Everyone to see what belongs to him

Like at suna’s party he let you wear a black mini-skirt and a white off the shoulder long sleeved flowy shirt.

You looked good, and all the guys staring at you proved that point tenfold. Three guys had come up to you and tried to get you to go upstairs with them. And it was almost immediately shut down when they noticed the act you were sitting on your boyfriend.

Speaking of, he almost always has you in his lap.

Aww, cute! Not, he like grinding you down on him, that's also why he likes having you wear skirts, easy access to your ass, also a nice way to ensure that he could get more than a few gropes in when he wants

No, it's definitely the way he made you wear thigh highs to school one day and the shortest skirt you owned (like a school skirt) and walked behind you the entire day.

And he just reached behind you and lifted your skirt for the whole hallway to see, but mostly for him

He waists no time when he wants to fuck, he’ll just walk up to and open your legs while making out with either you or your neck.

And yes he has done that in front of atsumu

Who was warned to stay out of their room for a while.

Not to mention all those times he convince you to go to school with no underwear on just for the fun of it

(I didn't tell you this but those off the shoulder mini dresses drive him wild. On graduation day he pulled into a closet and had his way with you. I mean he did say that if you wore that dress he was going to do it, buuuuuut y’know….. yolo)

Kyotani Kentaro

We all know he’s a fighter, which means he gets hurt a lot, which in turn makes him a frequent face in the nurse's office

And who happens to be the nurse's niece? You of course!

And right after school, when your aunt takes her break and leaves you to take care of the office alone

Right after school is also when Kyotani always comes in.

(it’s not like he knew that you would be there alone, and that meant that you had to deal with him and heal him up. And it also is not like he started the fight so he could come here and see you. No not that)

Who am I kidding it was like that.

It was totally like that.

Your hands were just so soft when they put the bandages on and you have to bend down to get the wrapping.

He had a crush, that's what iwaizumi said, and after googling what the symptoms of a crush were he was sure

So with the help of the third years, aka Oikawa just having Iwaizumi repeat what he wanted to say, they had a plan

And the next time he was in the office he asked if you wanted to see a movie with him, it was so cute and he looked so shy

It would have been perfect if after five seconds he tried to take it back, you still went on the date with him though

He was happy.

Angry boy likes hugs

And yes he does, no objections

So when he’s upset he’ll make these grabby hands at you and have you come over and stand with him

He shoves his chin on your shoulder and his hands squeezing your waist and you’ll rock back and forth until he calms down.

He’s also very aware of what you wear

Like how your skirt perfectly frames your legs. How the socks you wear make your legs look 10x longer, and make you look like you’re walking like a model.

Or the dark blue leggings you wore with his alternate jersey and you were cheering for him!

But nothing and I mean NOTHING gets him better than when you wear spandex shorts and one of his shirts. He goes feral every time.

This man is the CEO of picking you up and placing you on his lap, straddle style, and just going ham on you

Not to mention that sometimes when he’s really tired he’ll have you just sitting on his lap while he plays with your thighs

(he also likes playing with your waist and stomach, but he doesn't realize that he’s talking out loud so you can hear all of the “so soft”’s he lets out.

Kuguri

You were one of Mika's close friends so you were always just kind of around

It was a little get together that Daishou threw that really made you two close

It was a weird drinking game of sorts, and it had these teams, and you were out as a pair!

Somehow throughout the game, you guys got side-tracked and just ended up talking to each other the rest of the night

Eventually, you were convinced to go on a double date and the rest was history

He didn't even pay attention to what you wore that much until he heard a few rando kids in the locker room talking about it.

And that’s when he started thinking about just who he was dating

He first realized how round your ass was. Is it normal to look that good in leggings? No one else has ever looked that good to him. With that came his obsession with just touching your butt. He just grabs it or he’ll stop you from walking and palm it. Or he’ll rub circles into it.

(it's cute how intrigued he is by your butt)

Then came his obsession with your thighs. Mostly the way that they spread out when you sit. He didn't even understand why they were just so mesmerizing. They were so squishy too. He likes how they look in his hands-

Lastly was the waist thing. You aren't even sure what it is. He just likes putting his hands on your waist. Like a prom picture. Sometimes he’ll squeeze or run his hands along your sides. But he’s mostly stationary.

He also has this habit of just opening your legs and laying on your stomach.

He is just so into how soft you are.

1K notes · View notes

calaofnoldor · 3 years

Text

What’s Mine

Characters: Sam x F!Reader, Dean

Words: 7,595

Summary: The secret you and Sam are hiding from Dean is threatened by your inability to keep your hands off each other.

Warnings: 18+ no actual smut but plenty of implied smut, pre-smut, and smut adjacency lol, secret dating, enemies to lovers, jealousy and possessiveness (exhibited by both sam and reader), slight obsession with sam’s big ass hands (i blame this largely on @walkerboy290‘s glorious hand porn gif sets), and language

A/N: inspired by and written for @thinkinghardhardlythinking bc she’s been bugging me to write smut and using her birthday as a bargaining chip, so i hope you’re happy sai. happy (belated) birthday babe! i suppose in my subconscious need to truly honor you, this became the longest one shot i’ve ever written... that and this is now also a little birthday gesture for the brilliant and beautiful @sams-sass (damn your close birthdays!) even though she never asked for smut (if you hate it, i’ll write you something else!) happy birthday to you too, darling!

also written for @superbadassnatural‘s 333 badass followers celebration with the prompt “___ and I are together.” “Yeah, right, and I’m Santa.” and @writethelifeyouwant‘s 300 follower fic challenge with the prompt “All the pretty girls like Samuel” (both prompts are bolded in the fic) i’m sorry i’m so late! congratulations to both of you and thanks for letting me enter your challenges!

[basically i have a lot of people to blame for this disaster 😂]

Square Filled: Secret Dating for @spnfluffbingo and Enemies to Lovers for @girl-next-door-writes Make Me Feel Bingo

MASTERLIST

The waffles on your plate are surprisingly good for a sketchy, 50’s-themed diner, but unfortunately your attention is elsewhere. In fact, the two distinctly masculine voices behind you have been obnoxiously impairing your ability to savor the buttery, syrup-doused carbs since their owners sat down in the adjoining booth. It’s the topic of their discussion that disturbs you, and nips at your conscience until you realize you can no longer take off without imparting a few words to your oblivious colleagues.

Turning your head subtly to the side, you try to catch a glimpse of the men you’re about to confront in your peripheral vision. From what you can see, they’re both rather burly, a little rough around the edges, and from what you’ve heard, recklessly cocksure. You know the type all too well. Being a lone hunter of the fairer sex for most of your life means you’ve long since learned that the best way to combat their kind is with a steadfast façade of thick skin and unwavering confidence.

So you sigh and put on your best smile before turning around, crossing your forearms along the top of the booth seat, “Listen fellas, I hate to interrupt, but I really wouldn’t bother with the bamboo dagger and Shinto priest if I were you.”

“And who the hell are you?” the one with shorter hair demands. He’s a bit stockier than his companion and has a face that looks like it was designed by Abercrombie and Fitch - well that explains the arrogance.

“I’m the person who’s about to save your asses evidently,” you respond with a smug grin, trying not to let their absurdly good looks deter your act.

Abercrombie’s partner, the Fabio wannabe, releases a quiet scoff, “And how are you gonna do that?” he questions dubiously.

“By letting you in on a little secret…” Throwing him a tight smile, you lean forward and lower your voice, “That ōkami you’re after? It’s not an ōkami, it’s a ghoul.” Sitting back, you await the outrage.

“What?! But that’s not possible, I checked the lore. And it’s obviously got a type.” Fabio’s glossy chestnut locks fall across his delicate features as he shakes his head in disbelief, and you almost snort out loud. How did this amateur expect to hunt with hair like that?

You look him over, taking in the broad shoulders and muscled arms, as well as the obvious height advantage he’s got over Abercrombie even whilst they’re both seated. To be honest, you’re surprised he’s referencing lore at all. Guys his size always assume they can either outman or outgun whatever obstacles cross their path, and they almost never take women like you seriously, despite your ample years of acquired knowledge and invaluable experience. It’s this experience that surmises a bit of antagonism here is inevitable, so you might as well get a head start.

“Yeah well maybe you should check again, big guy,” you glance down at his hands, your first mistake as their sheer size render you speechless and subsequently agitated at yourself for the momentary lapse of visceral lust, but the show must go on, “Make sure those giant, lumbering hands of yours don’t fumble over anything important or you might miss the connection to Isabelle Harding. You see it’s not ‘a type’; it’s revenge.”

“Wh- Bu- I looked through the files. I wouldn’t have missed that,” Fabio insists.

“Oh yeah? Why don’t you type ‘Isabelle Harding’ and ‘1987 school bombing’ into your search bar and see what comes up?” you gesture towards the laptop on their table with a raised brow. Minutes later, both men are dumbfounded by the revelation on the screen, staring between it and you with their mouths agape.

You chuckle silently at their faces, “Don’t worry, there’s no need to thank me. Although you rookies might wanna go home and let the more experienced hunter finish up here.” As you’re about to bid them farewell, you dip back in to add, “Oh and a word of free advice, maybe don’t discuss supernatural monsters quite so loudly in public spaces next time. It might invite unwanted attention.”

With that, you turn around and slap some cash down next to your unfinished waffles, before grabbing your jacket and strutting out the door.

Sam is left in utter confusion. The sudden animosity you had spouted his way seems completely baseless and unwarranted. Had he somehow offended you? Sam generally considers himself a highly respectful and fairly easy-going guy, not quite as hot-blooded as his brother, and thus not as likely to provoke such antipathy from a complete stranger. To make matters worse, he certainly can’t deny that something about you had registered within his subconscious as inexplicably attractive, despite the way you’d embarrassed him. In his flustered and slightly aroused state, it had been all he could do to remain awestruck in his seat and stare blatantly at your ass as you walked away.

The next time Sam sees you is only twelve hours later and no less humiliating. You’re mid-swing in the killing blow against what you had accurately predicted to be a ghoul as he and Dean tumble in. Despite the low lighting, Sam is once again stupefied by your raging beauty, augmented by the incredible skill you’re displaying in a much more physical sense this time around. Before he can drag his eyes away, there’s a collective shout of “watch out!” and suddenly you’re right in front of him. In a blur of events, you somehow manage to push Sam out of the way and successfully decapitate the unexpected second ghoul that had been sneaking up behind him, with only a slice across the arm to show for it.

“Didn’t I tell you two to go home?” You’re panting from the exertion and Sam’s gaze lands on the neckline of your shirt, skewed from the fight and revealing a good amount of cleavage. He quickly averts his eyes. What is happening? Sam can’t remember the last time anyone had evoked such a staggering reaction from him. He feels as if he’s a mere spectator in his own body.

Across from him, you press your hand against the wound and curse when it comes back covered in blood. At your groan of pain, Sam finally finds his voice again, “Shit. I’m so sorry! I don’t know how I missed that other one. I- that normally doesn’t happen.”

“Yeah, I bet that’s what you say to all the girls, huh?” you reply offhand, still a bit out of breath.

It’s easy for Sam to dismiss your mocking given that he feels terribly guilty for being the cause of your injury. From where he’s standing, the cut looks deep. “Here, at least let me stitch it up for you. It’s too awkward a position for you to do it yourself,” he offers, holding out his ginormous hands to you like he’s waving a white flag.

“I think you’ve done enough damage for one day, haven’t you, big guy? At this point, I’d rather Abercrombie over there be the one behind the needle.”

“Who- what?” are the first words Dean speaks since the action has died down.

You turn to face the shorter guy, “Oh don’t look so surprised. You might as well be the model for a slightly older Ken doll. Are you up for it or not?”

Dean’s mouth hangs open as he tries to determine whether he should feel flattered or insulted.

“Uh- actually, I’m better at stitches than my brother,” Sam butts in.

“With those jumbo, fumbling hands? Yeah, sure you are, big guy,” you decline skeptically.

“It’s Sam,” he states through a clenched jaw.

“OK, Sam. Since I just saved your life, you mind making yourself useful and burning those bodies while your bro puts my arm back together? You know, as a ‘thank you’ perhaps?”

Sam is stunned for the third time that day. No one has ever belittled him (whilst gratuitously attacking his size) insofar without any apparent reason. It seems as though his very existence upsets you and the arbitrariness of your contempt has caused an anger to stir beneath him, but beyond that lies bewilderment and irritation. How had he managed to accomplish two such massive mistakes in front of you in the span of so short a time? Perturbed and bitter, Sam silently sets to work on the bodies.

Meanwhile, you’ve come to a surprising realization as Dean begins to cut the fabric of your flannel away from your damaged arm, the name ‘Sam’ and the words ‘my brother’ resounding in your head, “Wait a second- there’s no way… you’re not… the Winchesters, are you? Sam and… Dean?”

“The one and only, sweetheart.” He sends you a dazzling smile that is as perfect as you’d expect, but within his eyes is an underlying poignancy that you recognize as clear as day: an indication of a traumatic past and a lifetime spent plastering on tough veneers. You notice as well how gentle his touch is and how his stitches are practiced and prudent. Perhaps you had judged him too hastily.

Through an incredulous chuckle, you retort, “Well I can’t say I didn’t expect more from you, but at least this’ll get me a free round of drinks at the hunters’ pub tonight.”

Dean laughs with you before sobering at the thought of how his baby brother must be feeling, “Hey listen, take it easy on Sammy, alright? I don’t know what’s gotten into him today but he’s not usually like this. He’s actually the smart one, believe it or not.”

Scoffing, you can’t help but smile back at Dean and soon find an easy rhythm with the older Winchester, despite your awkward introduction.

From several yards away, however, Sam looks wistfully back to see you smiling lightheartedly at something Dean’s said, the two of you huddled in close proximity as his brother’s hands drift across your bare skin. Something akin to envy bubbles within his chest although he’s aware it makes no sense, so with a frown, Sam does his best to shake it off and get back to work.

But it’s not easy to forget you. And just as Sam is beginning to think he’s rid that awful day from his memory, you pop back into his life three months down the line.

“Well, if it isn’t the overgrown hunter extraordinaire Sammy Winchester.” The sarcasm that oozes from your otherwise beguiling voice has him gritting his teeth in no time.

“It’s Sam.”

“So you here to mess up my hunt again, Sam?”

Although he wishes he could have been the bigger man instead of surrendering to the resentment you roused within him, after a couple repeated hatchet burying attempts fall through, Sam just can’t resist the little game you’ve started.

Over the next few months, you and Dean form a fortuitously close bond and the older Winchester develops a habit of calling you up when faced with a troublesome hunt, and vice versa. Despite Sam’s fabricated displeasure, a show he puts on mostly for Dean (since any other emotion would seem illogical given the way you treat him), Sam is peculiarly and begrudgingly excited to see you every time. But the match never ends. In fact, Sam lets it intensify each time you work together, always astounded by how you manage to get him so worked up.

“I’m telling you, it’s a rugaru!”

“Right, because the last time we listened to you, things worked out so well,” you remark sardonically.

“The lore says-“

“Ooh, quoting the lore again now are we, Mr. Know It All?”

At this point, Sam is about as huffy and puffy as the big bad wolf and if he were a cartoon character, there’d surely be steam erupting from his ears. “Look, Y/N, this isn’t about who knows more or who’s right; this is about saving those people’s lives!”

“You think I don’t know that? Was I not the one who saved your life the first time we met?”

“OK, alright, just shut up you two!” Dean finally shouts above you, “Would it kill you to just get along for two seconds?”

“No,” Sam admits.

“Probably,” you say at the same time, causing Sam to shoot you his overly perfected bitch face.

SIX MONTHS LATER

“What the fuck?!” Dean’s booming voice echoes throughout the bunker and moments later you and Sam come flying into the kitchen to answer his call, guns at the ready.

“What? What is it?” you ask while Sam scans the room.

A whimper is the only the way to describe the sound of Dean’s reply, as he points toward an unseen object on the floor. Edging toward him, you lower your gun in the direction of his finger until you discover the source of Dean’s distress.

With a sigh, you look toward Sam who is also exhaling in relief at the sight of the entity in question. The two of you share a moment of wordless conversation before simultaneously dropping your guns with a conclusive nod.

“Why does this feel like déjà vu?” Dean’s tone is still timid and appalled, and you nearly laugh at the idea of a grown-ass man looking so aghast because of a used condom.

“Because it kinda is…” you supply unhelpfully, earning yourself a small glare from the man beside you.

“Dean,” Sam begins with a deep breath, “There’s something we have to tell you… Y/N and I are together.”

The snort that escapes Dean is full-bodied and borderline psychotic, “Yeah, right, and I’m Santa!”

You wait till his snickering subsides, “No, it- it’s true.” Your voice is hesitant yet hopeful, “We’re not joking. We’ve kinda become… a thing.”

“A thing?”

“Yeah, well you know, I don’t wanna have to put a label on it or-“

“Y/N’s my girlfriend,” Sam declares with conviction as he reaches out to curl his long fingers around your waist and lasso you towards him.

“-Buuuut, that is the one I’d use if anyone asks,” you quickly affirm with a stiff pat to your boyfriend’s abdomen, wincing at the unversed attempt of PDA and missing the dimpled grin that crosses Sam’s amused features.

“Well, I don’t buy it. I don’t believe either of you.” Dean’s sturgeon face comes on strong as he shakes his head and points a challenging finger at you, “Kiss him, right now,” he dares with perked brows.

The eye roll you respond with is so dramatic your entire head moves with it. But then, without a moment of pause, you turn your body into Sam’s, reach up to grab the back of his neck and pull him down for a searing kiss. Now this is something you’re well-versed in. The reunion of your lips starts off relatively slow, but it doesn’t take long to escalate into something more fiery that involves tongue, the eager push and pull movements of your bodies, and Sam’s enormous hands cradling your head.

After a moment of shock, Dean objects, “Alright, alright, I get it! That’s enough of that!”

Unwilling to recede just yet, you linger in the kiss for a little longer, delaying your separation by nibbling down on Sam’s lower lip and tugging gently, only releasing it as you pull away torturously slow. When the two of you finally open your languid eyes, it’s to stare into each other’s dilated pupils and ponder the moment for an indiscernible minute.

“What th- I said, I get it! Now could please stop ogling each other before my lunch comes back out the wrong way?!”

But the way Sam’s smiling at you is addictive and you can’t bring yourself to look away until he forces a break by leaning in to plant a tender kiss upon your forehead before tucking you into his side as he faces his brother again.

Dean’s face is covered by his hand, “I’m gonna need a minute. I just-“ His features leap through a range of expressions as he tries to find the right words, “When the hell did this start anyway? I thought you two couldn’t stand each other?”

“Yeahhh, that was mostly an act. Although we bought it at first too,” you explain with a shrug.

“We weren’t pretending the whole time. It just kind of happened and we didn’t really know how else to act around each other by then,” Sam adds.

“Right, basically it turns out there’s a fine line between love and hate... and that line is hardcore yearning.” Your words bring a chuckle to Sam’s lips but his brother still looks out of sorts.

Shaking his head with closed eyes, Dean sighs, “Alright, can someone just explain to me exactly how this happened, because I’m still not computing here. But spare me the details and try to keep it PG-13,” he emphasizes with adamant hand gestures.

“How do you know it’s not PG-13?” you inquire with a held-back laugh.

“Ha. With the way you two were playing tonsil hockey just now, I can tell you’ve been around the bend way more than I wanna know. My little brother doesn’t kiss like that on the first date.”

It’s impossible to hold back a giggle at the memory of your ‘first date’ and the way Sam had kissed you, “OK well, that would be hard, considering the story involves a lot of sex... You wanna give it a go, big guy?” you pass the ball over to Sam with a quirked brow and lowered voice, to which he responds with narrowed eyes and pursed lips, a little warning glance that you’re well aware means ‘save it for the bedroom’ but you simply smirk up at him.

‘Big guy’ used to be a term you called Sam in contempt, but when the feelings between you evolved and a sexual relationship developed, it became an innuendo, such that calling him ‘big guy’ in front of Dean or in public almost always results in glorious sex. In fact, sometimes you believe the nickname has held a slightly obscene connotation for you since the beginning.

Afterall, your carnal longing for him has been present from day one, although at the time you had believed it to be purely physical. Sure, you had dreams about having him in various positions in your bed, but you figured those were merely betrayals of your subconscious mind. That was until one day, a heated argument in a rare moment alone had ended up in a violent make out session, after which the two of you had just barely gotten the last of your clothes back on before Dean walked in. One look at your worked up and frenetic states alongside the disordered condition of your surroundings, and he immediately assumed you’d been fighting again (which wasn’t terribly far from the truth), chortling as he asked if you would have killed each other had he returned a bit later.

With a clearing of his throat, Sam begins to recount the tale, “Uh, well it started in that motel in South Carolina, while you were out getting food…”

“Look, all I’m saying is there is no way he’s using the hospital as a dump site! It’s just not feasible!”

With complete disregard for the peace and quiet of the other residents within this thin-walled motel, you and Sam once again find yourselves in a shouting match.

“Oh right, I forgot! You’re Sam Winchester! How could you POSSIBLY be wrong?! Mister ‘look at me, my IQ and LSAT score match my fucking height! Oh and I also happen to have the physique of an Adonis without even owning a gym membership!’” you roar bitterly, gesticulating with your hands to help better communicate your pent-up indignation.

“Right and you’re Y/N Y/L/N, so how could YOU possibly be wrong? Miss ‘look at me, I never went to college but I’m a genius AND I can kick ass! Oh and I also happen to look effortlessly stunning through it all!’” Sam suddenly seems bigger than ever as he towers over you, that panty-soaking deep voice emanating from his diaphragm and infusing itself throughout the entire room until all you can see, hear, and breathe is Sam.

The fury takes over and you don’t notice your feet taking you closer to him, “Oh yeah because you don’t make EVERYTHING you do look so unnecessarily hot and make me wanna rip your clothes off all the damn time!”

“Fuck! And you don’t always drive me crazy when we have these stupid arguments and your chest starts heaving and you look so insanely delectable I just wanna pick you up and fuck you against the closest surface!” By now, the distance between you is essentially nonexistent and your brain is no longer run by reason.

“So why don’t you then?” are your famous last words, prompting Sam to grab you wildly by the back of a thigh, lifting slightly and driving you to climb up him like a spider monkey fleeing from a grounded predator, while his other hand pushes your hair aside to gain better access to your face. Your mouths clash in a fierce battle and before you know it, Sam’s huge hands are cupping your ass as your legs wrap around his waist and you rut into him, hands flying from his shoulders to his hair. Those divine chestnut locks that you’ve always dreamed of running your fingers through. They’re somehow even softer than you imagined and the revelation, in conjunction with the way Sam’s tongue is becoming increasingly aggressive causes a fresh surge of libidinous energy to rocket through you. As a result, you give his silky strands an irresistible tug and drink in the moan he makes, the sinful sound reverberating straight down to your core as you clench around nothing.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Sam groans as he grudgingly forces himself to pull back as much as he can, “Are you sure? Is this what you want? Cause I can’t- Y/N I won’t be able to stop myself if we keep going.” His eyes squeeze shut as if the notion of stopping or the act of keeping his lips away from yours is causing him genuine pain, and the entire gesture moves you.

“Fuck, you really are the opposite of everything I thought you would be,” you make a quick mental note to apologize later for your initially presumptuous behavior although you can’t find it within yourself to feel any remorse right now, “Yes, please Sam, fuck me. I want you so bad… I think I have since we met and I saw those gorgeous hands of yours,” you confess, biting your lip lightly.

Sam breathes out a low incredulous laugh, “What, these?” he asks, removing one of the aforementioned hands away from your butt to bring it into your line of vision.

“Yes, fuck they’re so big and beautiful and strong and-“

“Alright, I don’t need to know about your weird hand fetish!” Dean hollers abruptly, rubbing his fingers across his eyes as if he could somehow erase the image of you and his brother together out of his retinas. “OK, but that was like… four months ago. You mean you’ve been sneaking around behind my back this whole time?”

“Well at first we didn’t want to tell you because we weren’t even sure what it was ourselves,” you divulge.

“Yeah, we didn’t want to try to explain something that we didn’t understand yet,” Sam supplements, hoping his brother will understand the motive behind your secrecy.

You nod along, “But then… it got a little harder to hide.”

The apprehension behind Dean’s emerald eyes is unmistakable as he reluctantly inquires, “That’s why this felt like déjà vu?”

It’s with a grimace that you reply, hesitantly, “Remember the time you found those panties in the backseat of the Impala?”

Dean’s eyes grow comically wide and Sam ducks his head in preparation of what’s to come.

“Yeah, there’s a story behind that…”

The click of her heels against the porcelain-tiled foyer irritates you as the three of you stride through her front door. You’re posing as detectives sent to question this overdressed young woman about her late husband, but the moment she lays her eyes on Sam, you reckon she’s forgotten her beloved’s damn name.

“Oh my… lord and savior. Well aren’t you a tall drink of water?” she beholds breathlessly with a seductive bite of her painted ruby lips.

You cough loudly and Dean sniggers, thinking you’re annoyed about Sam getting such commendation and attention during a serious case.

“I know this might be the grief talking, but I would climb you like a tree,” she purrs, sauntering up to Sam with an exaggerated sway of her hips. With her half-lidded doe eyes adorned with dark, fluttery lashes and low, sultry voice, you have to admit she’s quite attractive.

Grinding your teeth as your nails dig into your palms, you glower at the woman unreservedly. She, however, takes no notice, running her hands along Sam’s forearms before gripping at his bicep to lead him toward her living room. “Please, come have a seat, detective. You can ask me whatever you want.” The wink she appends is somehow the final nail in the coffin.

It’s with zero hesitation that you feign the reception of a notification on your phone before declaring, “Oh would you look at that, the uh… Sheriff needs us back at the station, Sam. He says it’s urgent.” You try to keep your tone even, thankful that you all maintained your real first names for these aliases, “Dean, you’re good to conduct this interview on your own, right?” Without waiting for an answer, you trample over to snatch Sam’s other arm and ignoring the horny widow’s gaping mouth, proceed to haul him away.

Dean sends you a strange look but relents, “Uh, yeah I guess, OK.”

As soon as the door closes behind you, your hand shifts down to lace your fingers with Sam’s, marching him towards the Impala with a staunch and mighty purpose. Even Sam’s elongated legs stumble to keep up.

“So uh… when did you give the Sheriff your number?” There’s an edge in his voice that normally disappears when it’s just the two of you.

“Wha- I didn’t. Sam, I just made all that up,” you tell him as you reach the car and open its back door. Pushing Sam inside, you climb in swiftly after him, wasting no time as you straddle his thighs and begin to undress him, only pausing when he looks up at you in adorable, puppy-like confusion.

“Wait, what? Then what are we doing?”

That’s when it finally dawns on you, “Hold on a sec, were you… jealous?” You can’t help but smile, finding it amusing that he’s stewing in his own envy after what you just witnessed.

“No, I just- He was kinda all over you this morning.”

“You mean like the way Mrs. My-Husband-Just-Died-But-I-Wanna-Climb-You-Like-a-Tree was in there?”

“Oh, that’s what this is about?” Sam perks up, the hint of a smug grin ghosting across his lips.

“She was practically holding your hand!”

“That’s what bothered you the most?” He dips his head to catch your eyes and those variegated irises burn into you with an intense, questioning gaze, alight with mischievous curiosity.

“They’re my hands to hold,” you contend with a pout, subconsciously clenching your thighs around his as you seize one of his large hands with two of your much smaller ones, “Just like you’re my tree to climb.”

Sam’s head falls back in bright laughter, “I thought you said they were ‘oversized’ and ‘ungainly’?” he teases, quoting your previous slights.

“You know I only said that cause Dean was there.”

“I’m pretty sure you called them ‘fumbly’ and ‘lumbering’ the first time we met.”

Staring at his fingers as you play with them, you shiver at the memory of how they feel all over you. “That was cause I used to think all hunters with a Y chromosome were cocky, misogynistic assholes who needed to be knocked down a peg or two.”

“But I proved you wrong, right?”

“Fuck yes you did. So, so wrong. And now you’re mine, and I don’t like seeing other people touch what’s mine,” you growl before returning to your earlier task of removing his clothes, pouncing on him when your fingers finally land on bare skin. You kiss him fiercely, swallowing his surprised grunts with glee, and as his hands start travelling from your hips up to your back, holding you tight against him, your lips move down to his pulse point, sucking, licking, and nibbling, “Mine.”

“Fucking Jesus Christ on a cracker! You goddamn rabbits!” Dean squawks in protest as he begins to pace the floor, “Have you no decency?! And in my poor Baby! While I was busy doing all the work, saving lives!”

You roll your eyes at his melodramatics and can feel the tension in Sam’s abdominal muscles as he attempts to restrain his laughter. As if Dean had never taken a break during a case for a stress-relieving quickie before, or hadn’t been at least somewhat grateful to be left alone with a beautiful woman.

His next comment confirms your point, “Although, if I remember correctly that lady was a fox.” After a brief pondering pause and an introspectively appreciative smirk, Dean’s whining resumes, “But seriously! I can’t believe you two! Here I was feeling bad for forcing you to work and live together, hoping you’d eventually learn to get along when this whole time you were shacking up like animals and casually defiling my Baby just because what? Some girl touched Sam’s hand?!”

Feeling emboldened by the catharsis of this long-overdue airing of your dirty laundry, you decide to add to Dean’s exasperation, “Yeah and in the spirit of honesty, that might’ve happened more than once.” Sam tries to hold back his snort as he gives your hip a playful cautionary squeeze while Dean’s feet come to a full stop as he turns to give you a death glare. “Hey, it’s not my fault all the pretty girls like Samuel! And I’m pretty sure we wiped her down after.”

“I don’t even-“ Dean purses his lips and quirks his head with a dynamic expression of unbearable vexation, “You better be getting me pie every day of the week for what you did.“ He takes a deep breath before circling back, “Wait, OK so you’re telling me that a used condom ended up in our kitchen because- what? You two couldn’t keep it in your pants long enough to find a bed? You know what, forget I asked. I don’t wanna know. Did you at least sanitize the place after?? No, of course you didn’t, you left a fucking condom on the floor… I think I’m gonna throw up.”

But you hardly hear Dean’s rambling because you and Sam are far too wrapped up in each other, smiling as you recall the events of that morning.

Your eyes slowly drift open to find the most exalting sight in all the world: Sam Winchester’s sleeping face, blissful and serene. Lifting a hand to gingerly cup his cheek, the corners of your mouth curl up when he leans into your touch. It’s moments like this that make you wish you could wake up next to him every morning.

Only after you’ve traced his every feature and planted a soft kiss where his dimple would be if he were awake and smiling, do you carefully peel yourself from his side, slipping out of his hold as you quietly climb out of bed. Sam rolls over a bit and you freeze with bated breath, watching as his big arm extends out in your direction as if trying to reach for you in his sleep, before stilling again.

Mornings like this are rare and you want him to soak up all the restful sleep he can. Once you’re sure you haven’t woken him, you scan the room for something to cover your naked figure, until your eyes land on the flannel he’d worn the night before. Picking it up, you bring it to your nose and inhale deeply to revel in the residual scent of Sam. Another glimpse at his peaceful, sleeping form has you smiling fondly. God, you are such a goner for that man. It’s becoming hard to reserve your soft looks toward him for private moments alone.

You can barely remember how it happened, but over time, you’d come to learn that Sam is nothing like you originally imagined him to be. He’s kind-hearted and open-minded, the type of soul that can find hope and beauty in even the darkest of places, a far cry from the shallow macho man silhouette you’d expected him to fill. In fact, Sam routinely defies the expectations others have enforced upon him, proving his worth time and time again as he’s persisted through some of what must be the toughest challenges to ever face a single human. Yet through it all, his spirit remains intact, never once yielding to cynicism or resentment or apathy or even the building of walls as you and Dean have resorted to. He is truly the bravest man you know and infinitely more competent than your first fluke of a hunt with him had mistakenly suggested, both in the field and in bed.

Shaking the thoughts from your head, you wrap yourself in plaid and head out the door. Dean never questions your use of Sam’s shirts because ever since Sam firmly insisted on giving you his flannel after your second encounter with them resulted in Dean cutting your own top apart, you’ve grown into a habit of borrowing Sam’s clothes. You always claim they’re more comfortable than your own and Sam’s feigned annoyance over you ‘stealing’ his belongings tides Dean right over.

Half an hour passes before Sam approaches the bunker kitchen to find you with your back towards the entrance, busy prepping breakfast in nothing but his plaid. He pauses in the doorway to stare at you for a minute, licking his lips with an irrepressible smile. For some, this may seem like a stereotypical morning after, but for a couple of hunters, it feels like a dream come true.

After finally returning to the bunker last night following the completion of a series of successful hunts, you’ve got no solid obligations and very little on your to-do lists today, although Sam’s got more than a few ideas about how to pass the time, and a couple more come to mind when you stretch up on your toes to reach for something, causing the hem of his shirt to glide up until its corner reveals just slightest hint of your incredible ass. Sam can’t suppress his little grunt of approval, which catches your attention and makes you turn your head, peering back at him over your shoulder.

You smirk at the blessed view of him standing there in nothing but the pair of thin grey sweatpants you’d bought him a month ago when you discovered the viral online phenomenon, “Hey, big guy. You just gonna stand there and gawk or do you wanna make yourself useful and grab another plate from the top shelf?”

Chuckling at your false animosity, Sam stalks toward you, “Good morning to you too.” One of his vast hands falls upon your hip as he presses the maximum possible length of his body into your back side, while his other hand reaches up over your head to snatch the plate you’d asked for.

“Good morning indeed,” you concur with a silent gasp when you feel the generous bulge in his pants.

“Oh that’s not morning, baby girl,” Sam husks into your ear, “That’s all you.” His powerful arms slink around you and his lips find their way down the side of your neck, lingering in that tender spot just behind your ear whilst you tilt your head and close your eyes, contentedly surrendering yourself to the moment. “I ever tell you how good you look in my shirts?”

Wiggling your butt back to tease him a bit, you’re pleased with the hiss it elicits. “No, but you made it very clear how bad I look in Dean’s,” you counter playfully.

The man behind you scoffs, “I didn’t say you looked bad; you could never look bad. I just… don’t like seeing you wear his clothes.”

“Oh, I know,” you turn around in his arms, “I just don’t understand how Dean doesn’t know yet. I mean, I think you’ve been very obvious.”

“And you haven’t?”

“I’m not the one who leaves hickeys in very visible places all over your body!”

Sam’s eyes glaze over in lust, an idea clearly forming in his head as he glances down at you. “Dean’s a hot-blooded guy; he needs to know you’re off-limits,” he alleges before attacking your throat with his mouth.

“So why don’t we just tell him?”

Without pausing his efforts, Sam reminds you, “Because you said you thought it was kinda hot, all the sneaking around. Mmpf, and because you said you wanted to see how long it would take him to figure it out.”

You nod while running your fingers through his silken strands and leaning back to give him more purchase, “That’s true. But in my defence, we always have this conversation when we’re doing stuff like this and I can’t think straight when your hands and mouth are on me.”

“Kinda like how I can’t think straight when you’re wearing nothing but my shirt?” His kisses travel down from your neck to your collarbone and shoulder as he slides his loosely buttoned flannel off to one side, “Fuck, you’ve got me so hard.”

Without warning, Sam seizes your waist and hoists you into the air as if gravity were an absolute joke, before plopping you down on the edge of the steel counter, his thumbs digging lightly into your ribcage.

“Sam! This is where we eat!” you protest with a laugh.

“Exactly. Which is why I’m gonna devour you here.” He dives back into your neck, continuing his work on a little pink mark that’s already beginning to form.

“Oh fuck… Wait, what if Dean walks in?” It’s through a great struggle that you manage to push him back an inch.

“He’s got a date with the Impala. He’ll be in the garage all day, trust me.” Sam’s gaze sweeps over your body suggestively, “Now are you gonna let me taste what’s mine?”

With an equally lewd survey of his extensive frame, you reply, “As long as you let me impale myself on what’s mine later.”

His eyes darken and the way he’s looking at you like you’re the only person he’s ever wanted ignites a confidence within you, so in a rather swift motion, you grasp him by the shaft through his sweatpants – the delicious groan he emits at your touch is enough to turn your pussy into a slip and slide – and pull him back towards you until the clothed length of him is resting against your folds and your noses brush, while his hands settle naturally on your thighs.

Shivering, your breath stutters and for an instant you can do nothing but bask in the closeness of him. Sam seems to enjoy it too because he closes his eyes as he rests his forehead against yours with an elated sigh. For the second time today, you marvel at his beauty, whispering a string of gasping kisses along his lower eye socket and exquisite cheekbone, simply dying to breathe him in. All of him is so immaculate and sublime. Each time the two of you reconvene, you want to savor every fucking inch of him, but there are a lot of inches, so the task often overwhelms you. Still, you must try. Locking your ankles behind him, you use your legs to pull him even further into you and the friction makes you lose your mind.

“Fuck, baby girl, you keep that up I’ll be making a mess in my pants,” Sam grunts with his lips upon your cheek.

Your breathless laughter fills the air, thinking of the stain you've undoubtedly already left on his charming grey sweatpants. Nimble as he is, Sam takes advantage of your open mouth and plunges his tongue inside. After so much preamble, the kiss is heavy and full of need. When the pressure of his lips pushes your head back, your hands fly to his wrists for the sake of your balance.

From there, they journey upward across his vascular forearms to his bulging triceps, fondling his massive shoulders before sliding along his traps and up the gorgeous length of his perfect neck, until you finally reach the treasure trove of his impeccable locks. You tangle your fingers into the lush mane and yank, gently but zealously, making Sam growl into your mouth. His voice is the hottest thing you’ve ever heard and the sounds he makes always drive you insane.

Never breaking the kiss, Sam’s colossal moose paws roam up to your back as he slowly lays you down on the counter, his member somehow still notched at your entrance and the new angle rousing a quiet moan from you. When he ultimately pulls away, you pitch forward to chase after his lips, but Sam only grants you a devilish grin and a quick peck to the corner of your mouth before moving down to your jaw and neck. While one palm kneads at your breast through his shirt, the other begins pushing and pulling at fabric to uncover more of your skin for his wandering lips.

“Sam! Augh!” you cry out as your head falls back.

“I got you, baby. I’m all yours. Gonna make you feel so good.” As if to attest his words, he rolls his hips into yours and a needy whimper escapes you. With your fingers still twisted in his hair, Sam leaves no part of you untouched as his mouth travels down your body. But upon reaching your navel, he pauses, those vivid, color-changing eyes peeping up at you to check for any signs of discomfort or objection. Finding none, his thick tongue pokes out to lick a deliriously winding path from your belly button to your exposed clit. Then, pushing down tenderly on the insides of your knees to open you up to him, Sam directs you one last look that is both hungry and reverent, “I still can’t believe this is mine.”

Dean had stopped you halfway through your recollection, but it appears that was still too much for him, “What did I do to deserve this?! I feel like I need to go bathe in holy water for a week.”

You and Sam both open your mouths to respond but Dean cuts you off vehemently, “Ba-da-da-da!” His vocalized outcry is complete with animated gestures featuring an accusing index finger. “OK, before you two tell me another traumatizing story, that’s enough of the who, what, when, where, and how… I just need to know why. I mean, is this- are you- …?”

Sensing the protective wheels turning in his head, you decide to put Dean out his misery, “I’m not just with Sam because he’s an incredible lay if that’s what you’re wondering. We can skip the fatherly ‘what are your intentions’ talk. Yes, Dean, I am in love with your little brother… although ‘little’ is not exactly the word I’d use to describe him.”

“Sammy, could you please control your woman?”

“My woman?” Sam sounds mostly amused but you’re almost certain you can hear a hint of pride in his voice.

“Yeah, I admit I’m surprised I didn’t see it until now. You two are kinda oddly perfect for each other, you know, in a weird, kinky way.”

“To be honest, we’re pretty surprised too. I mean, he doesn’t look it but this guy is kind of territorial,” you quip whilst cocking a thumb in Sam’s direction.

“I don’t need to- Wait a minute, so all those bruises you told me were from hunts?” Dean’s eyebrows soar towards his hairline.

Chewing on your lip, you confirm his hypothesis with a miniscule nod.

“Yeah well that time you saw my back,” Sam chimes in vengefully, casting you a handsome grin full of mischief as he reveals, “that wasn’t a werewolf, that was Y/N.”

With eyes as round as dinner plates, Dean frantically shuts you both down, “OK, that’s it. Torture Dean time is over. I don’t wanna hear any more about your depraved sex lives! Look, I guess I’m happy for you guys, although mostly cause I don’t have to play referee anymore, but I’m gonna need you to follow some ground rules around here. Like rule number one! No sex in public places!” he starts counting with his fingers, “Always put a sock on it when you’re busy! And most importantly, no sex in Baby!”

Your laughter follows Dean as he wearily saunters out of the kitchen, an exhausted expression on his face. Turning to your newly outed boyfriend, you petition excitedly, “Does this mean we can have shower sex now?”

“Not while I’m around!” comes Dean’s snappy answer.

In contrast, Sam gives you the same look he did on that dreamy morning, “Oh trust me baby girl, I’m gonna get you wet somehow.”

“Still within hearing distance! I think I liked it better when you guys were at each other’s throats.”

As you’re giggling, Sam leans down to whisper in your ear, “For the record, I’m in love with you too.” And just like that, you’re tempted to re-enact your previous kitchen escapades.

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marybeatriceofmodena · 3 years

Text

You know, I’ve been thinking today about how Alina doesn’t even really work as a Reluctant Hero, compared her to Frodo to see the key differences (since Frodo is pretty much the Poster Child for the Reluctant Hero), and then I realized...

You know, I think L/eigh B/ardugo wrote TGT as a very black-and-white fairytale, where Alina is the princess, Mal’s the knight in the shining armor, and the Darkling is basically the dragon, except it doesn’t really work because the worldbuilding requires an approach that’s... a lot more grey?

The thing is, though, I realized... Alina and Mal are basically meant to be Frodo and Sam. Except that, again... it doesn’t really work.

Frodo works as a Reluctant Hero, because he makes it clear multiple times that he doesn’t want to carry the Ring. He asks Gandalf to do it for him, he asks Galadriel, he asks Aragorn, and they all refuse, because they are (or are called to be) in a position of power, and while them being in a position of power is presented as good, the One Ring essentially represents the fast, easy way to get to it, which will ultimately corrupt them rather than have them fight their way towards their goal.

Frodo, meanwhile, is the right person to carry the Ring, because he comes from a humble place and he doesn’t really have any aspirations to become powerful. And while he’s clearly burdened by having to carry the One Ring, and that he makes it clear that he wishes the Ring had never come to him, he still goes on anyway, despite all the hardships he faces, because his ultimate goal is to save the Shire and his friends, and that desire is stronger than any fear or greed he may have.

Now, J.R.R. Tolkien himself said that he didn’t really see Frodo as THE Hero, and that Sam is the real Hero of the story to him. Which makes sense, given how Sam was based off young men from rural England he met while fighting in World War I. But also, the story makes it very clear that without Sam, who’s arguably the most pure-hearted person in all of Middle-Earth, Frodo would have definitely failed in his task. The reason why he resists the temptation to carry the One Ring is LITERALLY because him protecting and helping Frodo is more important to him. Sam doesn’t give two shits about power. Helping Frodo save the Shire and coming back to everything he’s ever loved is more important to him.

Both Alina and Frodo are pure-hearted orphans who are given tremendous power: Alina is the Sun Summoner, and Frodo carries the One Ring. In both cases, power is represented as a corruptive force, that makes people go mad with greed. It works in the context of The Lord of the Rings, given how the rings were given to leaders of Elves, Dwarves and Men, and that Sauron created the One Ring to rule over and control all of them. The Grisha, on the other hand, unlike the Ring-bearers, are not in a position of power, given they are essentially victims of Fantastic Racism in pretty much every country. While Ravka treats them slightly better than in Fjerda or Shu Han, it’s still not ideal and it’s something that could be taken away from them at any moment. It would be an entirely different matter if the Grisha were the ones rulling over Ravka and viewing otkazat’sya as lesser, and in that context, Alina being the Sun Summoner would be a very obvious road to her becoming corrupted.

Frodo refusing to carry the One Ring and asking other people to take that burden from him comes from a place of genuine fear of what the Ring might do to him. In his place, we’d probably all do the same thing. That’s what makes his acceptance of his task all the more admirable. Alina, on the other hand, refuses to be the Sun Summoner and to help her fellow Grisha because that stands in the way of her ending up with Mal. She never gives any sign that she’s truly empathizing with the Grisha’s plight, she tries to run away not once, but twice, and most importantly, she never sees herself as one of them. They are othered, but it matters little to her, because she doesn’t want to be othered herself, because that stands in the way of her running off with a boy. It’s basically the equivalent of Frodo being overcome by fear after seeing the fate of the Shire in Galadriel’s mirror, and just demanding to be sent to the Grey Havens straight away to save his own ass from it all and just leaving the One Ring to whoever wants to deal with it. At that point, it’s not being a Reluctant Hero: it’s being a coward at best, a selfish bastard at worst.

(And that’s why I don’t really buy her when she tells Aleksander that they could have had it all if he had told her all the truth from the start, because... again, she didn’t seem to care about the Grisha that much and Aleks telling her everything would have actually been a sure way of having her run as fast as possible the other way. I know the story is trying to tell me otherwise and that the plot point I’m supposed to see here is that Alina was willing to do something until she felt betrayed by Aleks, which is... not what was shown here, and it’s especially annoying considering how Alina is a deserter in every sense of the word, and that any army would have court-martialed her for running away.)

So if Alina is meant to be a pure, selfless heroine, who loses her powers because she also refuses to be greedy... that just falls completely flat, because if anything, she’s as selfish as Frodo is selfless, because all of this really just boils down to her wanting to run off with Mal.

Now, onto Sam and Mal. Both of them are basically Everymen who are there to help the Hero and keep their feet on the ground. As mentioned earlier, Sam is the one who helps Frodo finish his mission to Mordor, and the story makes it clear Frodo would have failed without him. TGT meanwhile presents Mal as Alina’s “True North”... which could work on paper as Alina’s reminder to temper Aleksander’s efforts and to remind him that in order for Grisha to be viewed as people, it is important for them to also remember that balance and peace between Grisha and otkazat’sya will be essential, so resentment and hatred can be healed between both groups.

The key difference here is that Sam is completely supportive of Frodo at all times. Even when Frodo sends him away in the film, Sam goes back after him the minute he realizes he’s been tricked by Gollum. He never shames Frodo whenever he falls prey to temptation, he simply reminds him of who he is and what he must fight for, and even when he’s climbing Mount Doom, he still carries Frodo on his back despite being probably completely exhausted, because Frodo’s more exhausted than he is. He completely accepts Frodo as both his friend, the Hobbit from the Shire, and the Ring-bearer he needs to help, even if he might die in the process.

Mal (in the books, that is) makes it very clear that he does not accept Alina as both the girl he knew and the Sun Summoner. He only wants the girl, and whenever Alina makes steps towards being the Sun Summoner, he basically sulks and yells at her for not paying attention to him. Despite Alina becoming othered in the eyes of the world, he refuses to see her as othered, mostly because it is inconvenient to him rather than because he loves her for who she is. That’s why in the end, people feel like Alina lost her powers in order to be with Mal, because Mal would never accept her in her entirety. Sam, on the other hand, accepts Frodo as both Ring-bearer and Hobbit, because if he didn’t, Frodo would have failed.

And while they made Mal in the show a lot nicer than his book counterpart, he still doesn’t work as Alina’s “True North”, because he cossets her in her selfishness. He may say he doesn’t care about how Alina is a Grisha in this one, but he also doesn’t consider the implications of it all - which is especially glaring given he’s a soldier himself. Like, look, if you’re going to slap in a racism plotline to make Mal/ina work, you’d think that being half-Shu would give Mal a little awareness that people are going to treat Alina badly for being half-Shu AND a Grisha, and given Alina is the MOTHERFUCKING SUN SUMMONER AND A SAINT, maybe, just maybe he’d tell her: “Heh, it’s kinda lame we’ll just run off and let everyone else in the dust, you know, especially since we could make our lives as well as everyone else’s better?” Seriously, if you’re going to make Mal Alina’s “True North”, have him face her duties and her calling whether she likes it or not, don’t coddle her when she wants to run the other way because she wants to hide under a rock for the rest of her life.

With all that being said, that leaves us with the Darkling, who... I mean, given his whole schtick is that power corrupts and makes you evil and crazy, I guess that makes him Gollum, but sexy.

Gollum, but sexy.

That single expression has been haunting me ever since I started writing the above novel and I fucking hate it. You’re welcome. No one wanted Sexy Gollum. Absolutely no one. Fuck this shyte. See, this is why I want Darkling Redemption. I do not want to live in a world where Gollum is sexy. I need brain bleach.

Even here it doesn’t even fucking work because Gollum hid in a cave with the Ring with a strategically placed cloth because no one wants to see his crusty ass family jewels anyway, while Aleks worked his ass off to give the Grisha a safe place to live and to at the very least ensure they’re useful enough to not be killed like animals. Like, if you’re going to give the world something that’s gonna definitely not make me sleep tonight like Sexy Gollum, at least do it right.

#now i have thoroughly traumatized myself :)#anti grishaverse #anti leigh bardugo #anti mal #anti malina #darklina #alarkling #rants and reviews

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thetriggeredhappy · 3 years

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recently rediscovered your blog and read the fic from your dad spy au where scout starts out as the "guard" and then becomes scout from there and lemme tell you that shit put me on some s-tier brainrot. like a cranial decay type beat.

i had a concept in my head that instead of being hired as a guard, he could have been hired as a right hand man to the administrator like pauling, because i think hed be awesome in that position. like imagine having a personal merc who can get in fast and out even faster. but maybe he would stay in the base like the rest of them, sort of like a secret on call intel gatherer, who also maybe sometimes has to dig a couple graves. and also like, nobody on the team expects anything from him at first because its this 20 year old newbie kid. hes dressed in his formal clothes and he talks like somebody from relatively around boston but not quite. i can just imagine one day he comes back during a team dinner with his shirt half untucked and stained with blood, hair disheveled as he asks soldier if he can borrow his shovel, or him debriefing them for a mission when miss pauling is busy. same vibe as the fic i mentioned before but scout gets to have a job as cool as miss paulings. honestly id write it myself if i didnt have the attention span of a fly

anyways your scout content gives me life thank you

scout teamfortress but 20% more competent standing next to miss pauling teamfortress while she's doing her job and doing like silly quips and otherwise contributing nothing like it's a buddy cop film is literally my fucking ideal

(warnings for some canon-typical violence)

“Oh, Pauling, it’s good to see you again,” greeted the chairman, smiling in an imitation of a grandfather and clasping her hands perhaps too-kindly considering she barely knew him. “Young as ever, and still so stylish, I see. And who’s the new fellow?”

“He’s just here to help with transport, Mr. Montgomery, nothing unusual,” Miss Pauling replied, returning his smile and adjusting her glasses. “Heavy cases, you know how it is.”

“Of course, I remember you almost toppling clean over last time we made a trade!” Montgomery agreed, frowning at the memory. “You’ll pull a muscle that way, better to be careful. It’s a pleasure to meet you, young man. And your name?”

“Mr. Normandy, sir,” the new kid replied easily enough despite his slight East Coast accent, giving the man a firm handshake, expression neutral and stony, the picture of professionalism. Internally, Pauling breathed a sigh of relief.

“Firm grip there, young man,” Montgomery praised, nodding approvingly. “Tennis player, perhaps? Or golf?”

“Baseball, sir,” he replied, still evenly. “First baseman.”

“Ah! Of course! Were you any good?” Montgomery joked.

“At everything but playing in front of the crowds, otherwise I’d be in the major leagues,” he replied, tilting his head just slightly to imply that he was joking, his sunglasses glinting at the movement, and Montgomery barked a laugh.

“I like this one, Miss Pauling!” Montgomery said, and Pauling just barely caught herself from physically relaxing at it.

“We do too, Mr. Montgomery,” she agreed. “I was under the impression that you’re very busy today, so we won’t keep you for too long, we just wanted to sort out the final details surrounding the manufacturing rights for the—“

“—Pacific Northwest branch, up into British Columbia and Alberta, of course,” Montgomery agreed, nodding faintly. “Of course, of course.” He turned to regard his own man in a dark suit, the one standing to the right, who appeared to be unsuccessfully trying to stare down Normandy, who was completely ignoring him. “My briefcase, please.”

The man handed over the briefcase, and Montgomery put it on his desk, opening it and pulling out a sheaf of papers. “All our requests are submitted and approved, at this point we just had a few dustbins to take care of regarding initial percentages and making sure everything is wired to the correct accounts, which names are undisclosed, things like that,” Pauling explained as he glanced through the papers.

“Right, right, everything looks good here,” the man murmured, nodding to himself, sending his long-white hair just ever-so-slightly out of place. “I’m assuming these more sensitive documents should be sent some way besides through the mail?”

“If you finish them today I can take them with me, otherwise either me or Mr. Normandy can return to pick them up at your convenience,” she replied, to which Normandy gave a singular nod.

“Oh, it would only take me a short while,” Montgomery said, waving a hand. “We have a lovely lounge just down the hall from here if you’d prefer to wait there, it should only take me ten, fifteen minutes at most. In the meantime, I do believe there’s also the manner of payment for services rendered.”

Miss Pauling tilted her head just slightly to one side, confused.

“I arranged with Helen already,” Montgomery explained, not looking up from where he was initialing a few things. “The payment, rather than being wired, she asked to be made in material investment. A venture of mine from years ago that she’s willing to sit on. Rather than gold or bonds, she agreed to take some old currency of mine that my family collected, from early 18th century New Zealand and Australia. Monetarily it’s worth around the same, and I’m quite a bit attached to it to be entirely frank, but it was at her request to buy the whole collection from me, and after years of the work we’ve been doing together, well, I’d never trust it with anyone else.”

He gestured to the other man, the one on his left, who stepped forward to hand him a manila envelope, which he passed to Pauling.

“Inside is both keys, the door alarm codes, and all other security information for the building where the collection is being stored. They’ll ask for a few codes and confirmation of identity, only because several other art collections and artifacts are being stored there by other affluent individuals such as myself.”

“Thank you, Mr. Montgomery,” Pauling said, taking the envelope gratefully.

“Think nothing of it, my dear. Helen talked me into it all her own,” he said easily enough. “Now, gentlemen, if you would let Miss Pauling and Mr. Normandy into our lounge? I should have these wrapped up before any of us can even think about lunch, eh?”

One of the suits showed the two of them through the doors and down the hallway, through two doors bracketed by similar suits who simply nodded politely at Pauling and ticked their chins at Normandy as they passed them.

Normandy posted up beside the door for all of three seconds before they shut and Pauling pulled her glasses up, rubbing at the bridge of her nose and making a vaguely distressed noise. He then promptly relaxed, instead leaning his hip against an armchair probably worth the same amount as a small car. “So, uh, we’re glad that he’s giving us a bunch of commemorative coins from when dinosaurs still walked the earth?” he asked just below normal speaking volume, eyebrows raised.

“Yes. Very glad. Because unlike about six people total on the planet, he hasn’t figured out yet how valuable those are.”

“What, is a picture of a kangaroo on some copper really gonna make up for a couple hundred thousand American dollars?” Normandy asked, sounding doubtful.

“Not copper. Something else,” she replied. “I can’t tell you much more about it other than that, but these coins are made of something priceless to us. And to the Administrator.”

“…Love? Memories? The magic of family?” he joked, cracking a smile, and she rolled her eyes, moving to open the envelope and start reading the papers inside. “Hey, uh, not to question whether my job should exist, but what the hell am I doing here, exactly? Besides carrying a briefcase. Like, chivalry isn’t dead but I really don’t think you need me carrying your bags and holding the door for you.”

“You’re helping with security, basically,” she replied, adjusting her glasses to squint at tiny handwriting about the collection. “Mr. Montgomery is trustworthy, but he mostly hires out to… well, people like us. His security detail is mostly people we’d rather have screened, freelancers, stuff like that. A lot of people we contract out to are like that. Most of them have heard about me and know better than to try and pull something, since I can hold my own pretty well, but if they haven’t, seeing a second person might persuade them to think it over again.”

“Oh, so I’m like, uh, when it says ‘tow zone’ next to the no parking signs even though nobody checks, or when they’ve got a camera in the corner of the store that isn’t even plugged into anything,” he said, and the looked up at him, confused. “Like, uh, what’s the word… I’m a casual deterrent.”

“Sure,” she said, because it sounded like he knew what he was talking about, shuffling the papers back away and closing the envelope again, making a note to ask the Administrator if she should change their current containment procedures to be closer to Mr. Montgomery’s. “Just… if there’s a fight, you deal with it, otherwise you just stand there and look like you’re paying attention.”

“That’s what the sunglasses are for,” he agreed. “I was blinking morse code at the guy across from me literally the whole time.”

“You know morse code?” Pauling asked, surprised.

“Just the alphabet, ‘S.O.S.’, and ‘ass’.”

She rolled her eyes again, and that’s when the door opened.

She expected Mr. Montgomery, not one of the men in suits. “Excuse me, both of you, if you don’t mind,”the man said, accent having the slightest English tilt to it, a Londoner if Pauling had to guess. “You’re Miss Pauling, the Mann Co. affiliate, yes?”

“That’s me,” she agreed, hesitant, and glanced at Normandy.

“I’m afraid there’s been a mistake. Mr. Montgomery have you the wrong envelope on accident,” the man said apologetically, extending a hand forward. “We apologize for this unfortunate mix-up, it’s really quite embarrassing, but those documents are sensitive and we’ll be needing to see them back now.”

Pauling looked at him, and within a moment, shifted her expression. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” she agreed, nodding. “No, right, of course. These aren’t the papers for the currency collection?”

“I’m afraid not,” the Brit agreed, head tilting just slightly, hand still extended, moving a fraction further forward.

“Well, thank goodness we figured out now and not with us halfway back,” she joked, and moved to hold the folder closer to her body. “I’ll take this right back to Mr. Montgomery, then.”

“He’s sent me to correct the error,” the man explained simply.

“Right,” she said, and saw in her periphery that Normandy had already started sneaking a hand in towards his primary, clearly having pieced together something she was only suspecting. “We can bring this to his office, then, right down the hall.”

“You misunderstand,” the man said, taking a step forward again. “I’ll be taking it to his office myself.”

“That’s funny,” Pauling said. “I didn’t realize you had clearance to be in there. Or to be carrying a semi-automatic instead of a standard handgun.”

The Brit reached for the semi-automatic, and before he could even get it out properly, Normandy hit one clean shot to the side of his head and another to his thigh, sending him crumpling to the ground.

Pauling had only as far as pulling her own handgun free, thumb on the safety, and breathed a sigh of relief, glancing over at Normandy, shifting to more comfortably hold her gun. “Quick reflexes,” she noted.

“Just noticed a lot sooner, maybe,” he shrugged, stepping forward to glance over the body, tucking his gun back away.

“What was your hint?”

“He’s here to give us the right folder, yeah? Well, why were his hands empty, then?”

She was just starting to nod and realize that as well when a second man shouldered through the door, holding a gun at the ready. Normandy scrambled to draw his own, but Pauling fired a shot into his knee, shoulder, and neck to send him dropping before he was even close. “There’s quick on the draw, and then there’s prepared,” she said pointedly. “Gotta think of if there’s more than one, new guy.”

He nodded, and drew his gun again, bending to hit the guy on the ground at the temple hard enough to knock him out if he wasn’t unconscious already. He then glanced up at the sound of a shout from the other side of the door, two men shouldering through, guns drawn but lowered. It was only the firm eye contact they made with both her and Normandy that made her pause the millisecond it took to realize these ones weren’t trying to kill them.

“Pauling, what on earth is going on here?!” Montgomery demanded, entering the room and staring with wide eyes at the bodies on the ground. “What could’ve possessed you to—“

“He was trying to run off with these documents,” she explained quickly, gesturing with the envelope. “He knew whatever was in here was valuable.”

“He drew his gun, sir,” Normandy added, tipping his head down towards the body, and Pauling glanced down as well and found herself a little surprised. He’d rearranged the man just slightly, apparently, adjusting the arm to be holding the gun a bit further outward. “Other one was aiming to kill.”

“My, my,” Montgomery tsk’d, shaking his head as he surveyed the scene. “What a mess. My apologies, Miss Pauling, Mr. Normandy.”

“It’s alright, but you need to start doing more thorough checks on your staff, Mr. Montgomery,” Pauling stressed.

“He’s only been here two weeks, sir, he was one of the men we hired in a hurry after the incident last month,” one of the bodyguards said, and Montgomery shook his head.

“Thank goodness nobody was hurt,” he sighed. “Mutiny, and besides that, they’re bleeding on my carpet. Here are those papers, Miss Pauling—what a day, eh?”

“It’s really alright, we handled it,” Pauling assured him, giving her bravest smile, a little exasperated now.

“Right, right, you and the first baseman,” he agreed, and Normandy fought back an actual smile.

“If you’d like, we can take care of those for you,” Pauling said, gesturing at the bodies. “To pay you back for the carpet and the scare.”

“Sounds fair to me,” Montgomery agreed, clearly relieved.

“My dad’s gonna be pissed, by the way,” Normandy was so helpful as to say on the way back up the path to the base. “And you’re fielding that.”

“About the suit, or the fight?” she asked, glancing at his clothes where he was somewhat covered in a fine dusting of mud and grime from the gravedigging, shovel still in his free hand.

“Both. Mostly the fight. Your fault for saying it’d be an easy one to start with,” he said.

“If it was going to be that much of a problem, you wouldn’t have gotten this job. I’d just have made you go do dishes all day or something,” Pauling replied.

“Point taken,” he said, walking ahead to get the door, holding it open for her. “Wait, we’re allowed to mention what we do, right? Just not names?”

“Or locations, even with travel distance. Round up to the hour if it comes up,” she replied.

“Sure, sure,” he agreed, trailing a step behind her as she led the way through the base.

In the common area, there was a bit of a ruckus happening. Soldier, Heavy, and Demo appeared to be having some kind of arm wrestling competition on a rapidly-toppling table, the Engineer was on a stepstool trying to fix the ceiling fan, and Sniper appeared to be half-watching the beginnings of an argument between Pyro and the Spy regarding use of the oven as Medic patched up a burn on his arm.

“Hullo,” Sniper greeted the two of them, sounding a little bored, Medic giving them a brief, polite nod. Normandy’s eyebrows were raised pretty far as he surveyed the room.

“Hi, Sniper,” she greeted in return, then cleared her throat, raised her voice. “Team meeting in five minutes! New mission for next week!”

Groans from the room at large, the eight mercenaries starting to finish up what they were doing and filing out. Spy moved over, glancing over Normandy and starting to talk to him in rapid-fire French, picking smaller bits of gravel off of his suit as they walked.

“Alright,” she addressed the room, Normandy peeling off from getting mother hen’d by Spy to stand next to the blackboard with her. “Monday, you’re all going on a transport mission. Getting the truck from point A to point B with everything in the boxes intact. Already we’ve had to put up with some people trying to get ahold of these things, so bring your guns.”

“Oh, our guns, you said? Lads, this is a serious one, keep your heads on a feckin' swivel, she’s sayin’ we might even need guns, can you believe it?” Demo faux-gasped, and chuckled when Spy bopped him on the arm, rolling his eyes at the Scot's theatrics.

“Yeah, yeah,” she waved off, flipping through the papers a bit. “So Engie, I’ll need the keys to the truck, me and Normandy are going to be loading those tomorrow, all of you need to be at this drop point bright and early.”

“How early?” Heavy rumbled.

“Six. Hour and a half of drive from here.”

Some complaints from the room that she sighed at.

“Hey, hey, calm the hell down,” Normandy cut in, and she glanced over at him where he had his arms crossed and a stern look on his face. “You chuckleheads get to have all eight of you to unload the damn thing, me and Miss P gotta do all the rest of this on our own and probably kill twenty guys on the way there and back. She had to be up at 6 AM, workin’ since 7 AM, lunch break at noon and nothin’ else, and we just got back now at, what, fuckin’, 10, 11 PM? Any of you work her shift and then see if you even got the energy to complain about wakin’ up early, how about that?”

The room went utterly devoid of complaint or backsass. “Thank you, Normandy,” she said politely, and he just nodded once, glancing off to the side. “Anyways, anything new on this end? Spy, how are you adjusting?”

“Very well,” he said simply. “I have nothing pressing to say. Once I’ve been updated from the stock weaponry provided here to my requested preferred weaponry, I believe I should do just fine.”

“I see you already have Herr Normandy digging graves,” Medic chimed in. “Straight into the hard labor, ja?”

“Eh, hey, y’know, it’s why they keep us young people around,” he shrugged, grinning, and there was a brief uproar to drown out Medic’s entirely offended scoffing and Spy’s snort-laughing.

“Get ‘im, lad!” Demo cheered, and Normandy indeed looked fairly proud of himself.

“Monday, transport mission,” Pauling noted over the noise, writing it up on the chalkboard to hide her own smile from the room. “Normandy, you and me are doing the boxes tomorrow. Everyone on the same page? Good. Dismissed. Oh, and Pyro—stop taking the fire alarms down when they beep. They’re beeping because you light things on fire in the base. Do that outside.”

“Oh, hey, uh, helmet guy, All-American Beef,” Normandy called, and Soldier straightened up. “Here’s your shovel back. Gettin’ my own tomorrow.”

 Soldier walked directly over to him, clasping a hand on his shoulder. “That’s a high honor, Cadet,” he said, tone grave. “Do not take this responsibility lightly.”

“I, uh, I won’t?” he said hesitantly, and blinked a few times as the shovel was carefully taken from him before it was promptly marched from the room in double-time. Only then did Normandy look over at her. “So he’s always like that?”

“You’ll get used to it,” she assured, dusting chalk from her hands. “You should get to sleep soon, we have to be up early.”

“Sure thing, Miss P.”

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #my fanfiction #dad!spy #father-son bonding au #shut up me #que?#in this au he picks a fake name like she does. later i think demo starts calling him norman and some of the others do as well as goofs #also apologies for montgomery i couldnt quite get away with not naming random rich guy. just barely scraped by with guards one through four #everybody talks

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wiypt-writes · 3 years

Text

Leave No One Behind

Chapter 16: Endings Beginnings

Co written with @icanfeelastormbrewing

Summary: Ari and Hannah settle into life back home, but it isn’t all as smooth as they’d have hoped…

Warnings: Bad Language words.

Pairings: Ari Levinson x OFC Hannah Horowitz

Word Count- 4.5k

A/N: It was recently brought to our attention that in a few other chapters there have been a couple of things that Ari has said/done that are not technically accurate for someone of Jewish heritage. First up, it was reference to Ari observing a ‘Sunday Roast’ when he visited Mama Navon. We just wanted to remind people that Hannah is of Catholic Christian and Jewish heritage (Spanish Catholic Mother, American Jewish Father) and her and Sammy’s upbringing has always been a combination of the two. So, when Ari visited Mama Navon when he was home from Sudan, clearly this was her tradition he was observing. Secondly, in another chapter Ari was praying to the ‘God and the Saints’. Of course, Judaism does not have saints, so there’s a slip up on our part with that one. As with the third point, when we described Ari rushing Sarah to the alter. He would have rushed her to the hoopa.

Regarding all of the above, we would hasten to add, that Ari grew up in the USA, leaving when he was 18. From what little we learn of him in the film, we know was taken by a British Soldier, who married an American Nurse. From the way he talks about it, we don’t get the impression his ‘adoptive’ parents were Jewish, so that alludes us to suspect he had a largely Christian upbringing, whilst clearly being aware of his heritage. Therefore, we don’t think it is beyond the realms of possibility that he would pick up the odd little thing such as the above three points.

That aside, we hope the above didn’t distract anyone else from the narrative as it did the reader who brought it to our attention.

Now, just a personal plea from myself in general. Myself and Storm do this for free, and not being a person who pays much attention to religion at all (that’s another debate in itself) it is for this reason I was VERY nervous about continuing this storyline beyond the plot of the film. We certainly don’t have the time, nor brain capacity to be researching things into any kind of huge depth. It’s why most of my story lines centre along similar types of things that I have a good background in. This fic was never supposed to focus on the ins and outs of a particular race of people, just the lives of two dumbasses in love. As all writers on here, we do this for free, and the moment it becomes hard work or unenjoyable, we won’t be continuing. So any other little slip ups, please, unless they’re offensive, give us a little leeway and put it down to Ari being exceptionally Westernised as pointed out above.

Sorry if this comes across as being a little harsh, but this has been playing on my mind a lot over the past few days, to the point I was seriously considering if we ended the fic where it currently stood. That said, I think we have a lot left to tell of Hannah and Ari’s story so, I’ll shut up now and let you read it…if you want that is.

Leave No One Behind Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Part 15

“You haven’t forgotten tomorrow?” Hannah heard her mother ask, as the woman stood up from the table while holding the teacup and saucer to place them in the sink. “You do remember you have to pick Sammy up from the airport tomorrow afternoon, right?”

Hannah rolled her eyes at her mother’s back. “No, I haven’t forgotten,” she sighed as she played with the crumbles of the pastry she had been nibbling on, “I mean, it’s not like I’ve got anything else going on, is it? Seeing as Ari is with Maya and according to Sarah’s stupid rules I can’t be there with them…”

At that, Maria Navon turned, giving her daughter a sympathetic look and Hannah snorted in anger.

It had been four months since they arrived back in Tel Aviv, and Hannah had to concede that for the first few weeks it was fine. She and Ari settled nicely in the apartment Mossad rented in Ari’s name once all the paperwork following the end of the mission had been sorted. Ari had asked Isaacs for an upgrade of his living quarters, given he was now having Maya over to stay every other weekend, plus numerous nights of the week. Not to mention the fact Hannah was moving with him. When Isaacs had asked Ari to put a justification forward, he had simply shrugged, “I fucking earned it, Isaacs.”

So he got it. Just like he usually got what he wanted, one way or another.

Hannah was back working at the clinic. Her hands and the experience she had acquired while in Africa were needed more than ever now that it was only her mother and her to run it, although how long it was before her mom decided to retire fully was anyone’s guess. It had been a couple of busy months, what with interviewing for new nurses and locum staff, but Hannah would be lying if she denied having enjoyed every minute of it. She might have Mossad secret agent skills, obviously passed down by her father, but she was a doctor at heart. And that hadn’t changed in the two years she had been away.

The team had split up within a month of arrival back in Tel Aviv. Ari and Max had been working to help the refugees. Many of them had simply melted away post their arrival, still not trusting the mysterious white men who had come to their aid. However, some had stuck round; being housed temporarily in hostels, and was those who Ari and Max were tirelessly working for. They focussed their efforts on obtaining them permanent, legal status along with finding them better places to live and jobs of sorts to help them fit in their new reality.

Jake had headed back overseas to continue work as a diving instructor, this time in Jamaica, whilst Sammy had been in the States with Rachel for almost two and a half months now, and was, as Maria just reminded Hannah, due back the following day. Hannah suspected, however, not for long, fully expecting him to move there permanently to be with Rachel.

“Sammy is lucky, you know? He has none of this shit with Rachel’s ex.” Hannah grumbled, “Sarah is just being a pain in the ass. And I know for a fact it’s because we told her we got engaged. She was fine with me being there when Maya was until that point.” Hannah finished her rant as she placed her teacup and saucer on her mother’s extended hand.

“You can’t be sure about that, sweetheart. Maybe there’s something else."

“No, she’s being a bitch.” Hannah quickly stopped her mother’s attempts at justifying Sarah’s behaviour. “She seems perfectly fine with us having dinner during the week and going out and stuff but won’t let Maya stay when I’m there on a weekend, basically just preventing us from spending those days together, for no reason other than she’s bitter.”

Maria Navon sighed. She knew where her daughter was coming from but, being the gentle and caring woman she was, she couldn’t help but try to put herself in the other woman’s shoes. She saw Hannah bite her lip and twirl her engagement ring round her finger, a rounded blue sapphire as deep as the ocean set against a halo of smaller white diamonds on a white gold band, before she spoke again.

“I wouldn’t mind mama but they’ve been legally separated for years! The terms of their divorce are basically already been agreed. All they need to do is sign the damned papers but recently, well, Ari seems afraid to even raise the issue in case Sarah starts making it all awkward again and stops him seeing Munch.”

“Hey, sweetheart. Listen to me.” Hannah’s mother caught her attention as she pulled out a chair to sit next to her. “Everything is going to be ok, she’ll sign eventually. She knows there isn’t anything she can do about it, she’s just grieving.”

Hannah’s brow creased at her mother’s choice of words. “Grieving for what? She left him, years ago!”

“She left him because she couldn’t cope with his lifestyle anymore, and he wasn’t winning any awards for being husband of the year, Han. That doesn’t mean she didn’t love him,” Maria woman spoke softly as if to appease her daughter’s raging tone.

“So, basically, I’m just stuck here waiting until she gets her head out of her ass?”

“Have a little patience, honey. You two have waited over a decade, one way or another, to be together. You sure can wait a few weeks more.” Maria smiled as she reached out for Hannah’s hands who were fiddling with a teaspoon.

“That’s the thing, Mama.” Hannah sighed as she looked up to meet her mom’s eyes. “I don’t think it’s just going to be weeks.”

“You don’t?” The woman frowned. “Well maybe she’s more stubborn than I thought.”

Hannah shook her head and then noticed her mother’s features had suddenly softened into a smile and she was looking straight over her shoulder. Hannah turned to see Ethan walking into the kitchen in his signature crisp work suit.

“Hi Ethan,” Hannah smiled at him and then looked up at the clock over the fridge before standing up and shrugging. “I should go. Spend the night with my fiancée before I’m banished back to my childhood home for the weekend like a love sick teenager.”

As she left the kitchen dramatically, she heard Ethan ask Maria. “That bad?”

“She’s pissed off,” Hannah heard her mom whisper back, “can’t say I blame her but she needs to make an attempt to see this from the other side, so to speak.”

With an angry growl, Hannah slammed the door and set off walking back to their apartment, in even more of bad mood than she’d been in when she arrived at her mother’s.

Why was anyone treating her like she was the spoiled brat?

****

Ari was getting ready for Hannah’s arrival. He had been cooking, or sort of, making an attempt at dinner for a while and was now setting the table for two. He wanted to make tonight special as he knew this week was going to be the third weekend out of six that he and Hannah would be apart thanks to Sarah and her fucking rules.

He was finding it hard himself. He’d gotten used to sleeping besides his Firefly since they had got together in Sudan, especially at night. But he knew Hannah was finding it harder. He was sacrificing their time together so that he could spend his allotted weekends with his daughter, which lessened the blow a little, but Hannah was basically being banned from living her life as it was for two days every two weeks, and that make his heart ache.

And the worst bit about it all, was that he had seen it coming a mile off, and had been powerless to prevent it.

It was a bright Friday morning when they told Maya about their engagement. The previous evening Ari had proposed to Hannah for a second time after buying her a lavish ring. Thus, they had decided to take Maya for a walk and ice cream to break the news to her. The little girl had been over the moon with the idea of her dad and Hannah getting married, which hadn’t surprised Ari seeing as his daughter had been all over his fiancé ever since they had met at Mossad headquarters the morning they had arrived home.

Now, as he approached Sarah’s apartment to take Maya back, he was about to tell his ex-wife and he was not particularly looking forward to it. But, he was being cautiously optimistic. Sarah had, after all, been amendable since they’d gotten home and seemed okay with Hannah being a part of Maya’s life.

Still, he felt his stomach churn as Maya walked up the apartment they had all shared once upon a time, and rang the doorbell. No sooner had Sarah opened the door, Maya bounced in blurting the news out without hesitation.

“Mom, guess what? Dad and Han are getting married! He asked her yesterday and she said yes!”

Ari groaned internally to himself, “Sarah, I didn’t ask her last night,” he smiled bashfully as he explained himself, “and I certainly didn’t do it in front of Maya.”

Sarah shook her head and brushed it off. “Don’t worry, Ari and … erm, congratulations, I guess.”

“Erm… thanks.” Ari blinked. “I just thought you should hear it from me first… even if you technically did hear it from Munch.”

Despite the civil exchange, Ari could tell that Sarah was hating she didn’t have time nor the privacy to digest the news, and that wasn’t what he’d planned at all. He’d wanted to tell her, quickly, and leave, but Maya had put paid to his plans. Ari could feel coldness of his estranged wife’s stare, along with the tell-tale faint twitch of her nose and upper lip. He knew Sarah well and he, also knew how she deep down felt about him and Hannah.

“She seemed cool about it but I know her, Han. Too cool for Sarah.” Ari told Hannah that night over dinner. “I can’t help feeling this is going to be bad…”

For once, Ari wished to God he’d been proven wrong. But, Sarah ended up doing what he feared, reverting back to being petty and petulant. She called him the next day to announce from that moment on, when Maya stayed with him, be it during the week or on her agreed weekends, Hannah wasn’t to be there overnight because, as Sarah had put it, it wasn’t appropriate for Maya to be around when they were… well, “up to stuff.

Hannah went ballistic, telling Ari his estranged wife was being ridiculous and she could go to hell, but Ari knew Sarah well enough to know she needed to get this out of her system. He tried his best to explain to Hannah that until she did, there was nothing he could do but roll with it, certainly for the time being. Making Sarah angry would not only risk her going back on terms of the divorce they’d set out in their separation degree, but also, he feared, make her get pissy about him seeing Maya. And that simply wasn’t something he was prepared to risk. He’d already missed too much of Maya over the years, admittedly through his own fault, but he didn’t want to miss a single second more than he had to.

Just as Ari was turning down the heat under their dinner, Simon’s ears pricked up and a second later Hannah’s key was heard in the door. Air smiled at the dog, who let out an excited whine, and leaned to give him a scratch behind his ears.

“Mama’s home, buddy.”

The pooch looked up at his master almost like he was pondering his words and Ari scoffed.

Yeah, home. Bar the weekends when she’s banished to her mother's…

Simon trotted off and soon after Ari heard Hannah greeting him. A moment later she walked into the living area and gave him a tired, but genuine smile.

“Hey Lobo.”

Ari beamed at his fiancé as he walked to meet her and without warning, he grabbed her face with both hands and stamped his lips on her plump ones, kissing the hell out of her. Hannah moaned in surprise but melted into his hold, her hands instantly reaching for Ari’s bearded cheeks.

“Hey Firefly.” He whispered when he broke the kiss.

She smiled at him as her hands travelled upwards and tangled in his hair. “Something smells good.”

“Thanks, I just showered.” Ari drawled, a cheeky smile on his face.

“I meant the food, you ass.” Hannah laughed as one of her hands slapped Ari shoulder, but his grin never faded.

“I’m a whole meal, honey.” He continued, playfully. Hannah rolled her eyes and stepped back. “But yeah, I’ve been cooking or rather mixing things in pots and pans.”

“Hmmm should I be worried?” She shrugged off the light jacket she was wearing to shield her from the summer showers.

“Well, Simon tasted everything and he’s still breathing.”

“Simon used to eat jellyfish, Ari. That’s not a bar to measure your cooking with.”

“Hey, I tried, okay? Give me some credit. I’ve never cooked for a woman before.” He grabbed her hips and pressed her to his body, one of his big hands splaying over her back.

At that Hannah smiled at him lovingly. He was right. She suspected he had never cooked for Sarah and he certainly hadn’t cooked for her, not once. Never in the brief amount of time they had been secretly dating, and at the resort it had been Chef Aziz's job to cook for everyone.

“I’m honoured, and I’m sure it’ll be great. Give me five to go wash up okay?”

“Sure, babe. I’ll plate the food and open the wine.” He winked at her and Hannah stood on her toes and gave him another quick peck before she headed into the bedroom, Simon following her.

True to his word Ari had done a pretty good job and thirty minutes later they were both sat at the table after having enjoyed a dammed passable and tasty attempt at a beef stroganoff on Ari’s part that left Hannah pleasantly surprised.

She sighed with satisfaction as she left her fork on her plate and when she looked up she noticed Ari was looking at her intently, his eyes shining under those long eyelashes.

“You trying to seduce me before my carriage turns into a pumpkin tomorrow, Levinson?” Hannah asked before bringing her glass of wine to her lips.

“Hannah...” he sighed.

“What?”

“Please don’t, sweetheart. I don’t want to argue.”

It was her turn to sigh, heavily. Ari’s words were more of a plea than a warning to her, but she couldn’t help the way she was feeling. Granted, she wasn’t quite as pissed as when she had left her mother’s house, but she still had a sour feeling which was nagging at her.

“I don’t want to either, Ari. I just don’t like the prospect of spending my weekend away from you. Again.”

“And you think I do?” He asked, reaching for her hand over the table. “Honey, this won’t be forever. Sarah just needs to get her stupid tantrum out of her system.”

“Yeah, I know and I don’t want you having trouble with Maya because of me, I wouldn’t keep you from Munch, ever. But you’re my fiancé and I just...” she trailed off, shrugging, “I don’t want us to be apart.”

Ari licked his lips and pondered for a moment as he looked at their entwined hands. “Okay, I’ll talk to her when I pick Maya up tomorrow.” He nodded with determination when he looked up at her. “See if I can reason with her and...”

“Don’t Ari. You’ll only set her off.” Hannah rapidly cut him off.

Ari groaned and let go of her hand, his look and voice growing harder. “Well then, what do you want me to do? You literally just said-“

“I know, but I don’t want you to poke the bear! I just want this fucking ridiculous situation to be over.” Hannah shook her head. She knew she was riling Air up, but she was sick of everyone trying to get her to accept the situation they were in without so much as a word of complaint. “I’m not blaming you, it’s just…forget it, can we just pretend we are a normal couple who are having a normal evening dinner?”

“We are a normal couple. Well, as normal as most anyway.” Ari took her hand again, his features softening. “Look, I’m sorry. I really am. I just don’t know what I can do.”

“Love me.” Hannah stated after a while.

Now that puzzled Ari. Was that a request or was she doubting him. She couldn’t be doubting him, right? With concern written all over his face he pushed his chair back to stand up and hurriedly crouched beside Hannah, his hands grabbing her thighs firmly as his eyes searched for something in hers.

“Firefly, I do love you. You know this… I mean, at least, I hope you do.”

“I do.” She nodded as she looked down to him. “Just don’t stop loving me, no matter what crazy ideas Sarah comes up with.”

“Hannah, that’s not gonna happen.” He assured her after swallowing hard. “I promise you. Nothing she says or does is gonna change the way I feel about you.”

****

Ari meant what he said and took it upon himself to make sure his Firefly was left with no doubt as to his feelings for her all through the night. And then again he made sure she hadn’t forgotten the following morning too before she left to pick Sammy up from the airport.

Ari collected Maya, as arranged, from the summer holiday camp run by her school and then, throwing caution to the wind, took her to Maria’s to see not only Hannah, but Sammy and the family. Hannah was surprised, but pleased to see them both and hugged Maya tight as the girl threw herself at her, chatting away about her day. They ate a lovely dinner, courtesy of Maria, and later, retired to the shared garden in the warm, July air.

As Maya sat with Sammy, who was telling her stories about the states and Rachel’s kids, Ari found himself watching Hannah. She was sat with her mom and Ethan, the three of them sipping wine as the dusk drew in. It wasn’t long before the first little twinkles around the tree flashed through the darkness, signalling the fireflies had come out to play.

Ari’s mind quickly travelled back to when he first met Hannah, how those little bugs had been present in the garden, earning her the nickname. His nickname for her, which had stuck and become a term of his love for her, symbolised by the pendant round her neck. It was that pendant, or more specifically how he had given her that pendant, which had fixed the idea on how to present her with the sparkling sapphire and diamond ring on her finger…

It was a Thursday morning, and Hannah walked into the bedroom after her morning shower. Ari looked up from where he was fastening up his short sleeved shirt and smiled as she grinned back at him.

“You really do suit that colour, pretty sure Ethan’s secretary will approve.”

“Ethan’s secretary?” Ari continued, stopping two buttons under the collar.

“Yeah, that’s what I said Lobo.”

“Ethan’s secretary is nearly a hundred years old, Firefly.” Ari rolled his eyes with a chuckle, his hands on his hips as Hannah frowned.

“Well who was the young, blonde girl at her desk the other day when I called in?” She picked up her hairbrush from the top of the chest of drawers that served as her vanity unit.

“Lorraine? She’s an intern, Mrs Goldman is training her.”

“She likes you. I can tell.” Hannah hummed, combing out her locks which had been piled on top of her head to prevent them getting wet.

Ari rolled his eyes as Hannah pulled her hair back into a neat ponytail. “Whatever.”

“You can whatever me all you want,” Hannah sang as she picked up a bottle of lotion and sat on the bed, “I can sense these things.”

Ari snorted, looking down at his girl as she sat on the bed applying lotion to her legs. “You getting all territorial on me?”

“Do I need to?”

“Don’t be an ass!” Ari snorted, leaning down to kiss her.

As they moved around the room, Ari took his time, a lot longer than usual, dragging his morning routine out as long as possible. If Hannah noticed he was making a meal out of tidying his beard up, something he had taken to doing since returning to civilisation, she didn’t notice.

He was stalling for one reason, and one reason only. The surprise that was waiting for her in her underwear drawer.

After what seemed like an age, she crossed the room and pulled it open. Ari held his breath as she reached in for a pair of panties, but instead she gasped, he hand flying to her mouth.

Bingo.

When Hannah spun around, the red, velvet box in her hand, Ari was waiting on one knee, beaming up at her. “Still wanna marry me, Firefly?”

Tears brimmed in her eyes and she nodded, her voice thick with emotion, “yes, you know I do!”

“Had to ask with a ring, sweetheart.”

He watched as she opened it, her mouth dropping open once more as she stared at the ring.

“Lobo, it’s gorgeous… I… I love it!”

As Ari rose to his feet, he sighed with relief, “good, ‘cause I had a hard time finding something worthy of my girl.”

“It reminds me of the ocean,” she smiled up at him, “and your eyes.”

“Kinda why I bought it, the ocean that is.” Ari smiled as he took the ring from the box, slipping it over her knuckle, watching as the sapphire settled at the base of her finger. “Hannah Maria Navon, I love you, baby girl.”

Hannah glanced at the ring before she beamed, her hands cupping his cheeks, “and I love you, Ari David Levinson.”

Ari smirked a little at the memory, they were totally late for work after getting a little ‘distracted’ so to speak celebrating their engagement once more, only this time in a bed and not the back of a shitty jeep in the Sudanese desert.

“Dad?” Maya bounced into his lap, drawing a huff from him as she accidentally elbowed him in the ribs, “Are those fireflies?”

“They are Munch.” He nodded, kissing her head as she watched them zipping around. “Can you see now why I call Hannah my Firefly?”

She grinned, “yip!”

Hannah, who had been watching them, cleared her throat. “Ari, it’s getting late. Shouldn’t you two be heading back to your apartment?”

Ari looked at her pointedly. “Our apartment, sweetheart.”

Hannah was about to shoot a response back but then remembered Maya was there so she merely sighed. “Ari, look, you shouldn’t even be here now anyway. It’s not worth the argument if she finds out.”

“Why can’t we stay here, dad? I wanna stay with Han!” Maya piped up and Hannah groaned a little, shooting Ari a look.

“Because Han needs to stay with Sammy tonight, she’s not seen him for a while. You can stay some other time, okay?”

“I’m not gonna say anything to Mom if that’s what you scared of.”

At that, Ari and Hannah exchanged a look. “Why do you say that? Why would we be scared?” He asked and Maya shrugged.

“I heard Mom say some things.”

“What things, Munchkin?” Ari smoothed her long hair back and waited for her to reply.

“Well, I was upset, because at first I thought Hannah didn’t like me anymore as she always left when I stayed over. But one day last week, I heard Mom tell Grandma on the phone she had made you and Hannah spend the weekends apart because I was with you.” Maya paused and looked at Hannah, “Is that why you don’t stay with us at the apartment?”

Hannah blinked, she was stuck. She didn’t want to lie but also didn’t want to start bad mouthing Sarah in front of Maya, no matter how tempting. “Erm, it’s, well it’s complicated, sweetie. You and your dad need to spend time together. But I promise you it’s absolutely not because I don’t like you. I do, I love you very much.”

At that Maya stood up and launched herself at Hannah. “I love you too, Han.”

Ari and Hannah could do nothing but exchange a look, which Hannah broke as she leaned down to hug Maya, tears visible in her eyes.

And it left Ari feeling even more like shit than he already did.

No, he had to fix this, even if it meant pulling Sarah up on her attitude despite Hannah asking him not to. Whilst he understood Sarah’s anger, and that she had every right to direct it at him, the fact that it was clearly having an impact on Maya was something he couldn’t let slide.

With a sigh, he stood up, instructing Maya to bid everyone good night. Before he left, he pulled Hannah into a kiss, his hands cupping her face.

“I’m gonna fix this,” he whispered against her lips, “trust me, baby.”

“I do.” She sniffed a little, her nose bumping his. “Go, go on. I’ll see you Sunday.”

As they walked the few blocks home, Maya’s hand locked in Ari’s, he was only partially listening to his daughter as she spoke.

“Dad!” Her voice drew him from his thoughts about how exactly he was going to approach the subject with his soon to be ex-wife. He glanced down at her.

“What?”

“We’re you listening to a word I just said?”

“Honestly, no!”

“Daaaaaad!” She whined and Ari chuckled.

“I’m sorry baby, what were you saying?”

“I was saying that I should get Hannah something for luck.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, Mom was talking to Auntie Louisa, and she said that Hannah was going to need plenty of luck being married to you so…”

Ari took a deep breath, anger flashing through his system, rolling his eyes. “Oh, did she?”

“Yup.” Maya nodded.

“And, do you think Hannah’s gonna need luck?”

Maya looked at him, and grinned cheekily. “Well, you are an idiot!”

“Rude!” Ari narrowed his eyes playfully, “mind you, technically, you might look more like your mom but you’re half me. Guess that makes you half an idiot, huh?”

Maya went to dig him in the ribs and with a chuckle, Ari swung her up and onto his shoulders. Her hands tangled in his hair as she giggled, before she leaned down, fingers threading into his beard.

“Han’s right, you do look like a wolf.”

Ari laughed, his hands tightening around his daughter’s ankles as her heels lightly bounced against his chest with each step he took.

#leave no one behind #ari levinson x ofc #ari levinson x original female character #Ari Levinson #ari levinson fanfiction #red sea diving resort #red sea diving resort fan fic #chris evans #chris evans characters

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 4 years

Text

unfair, m | myg, jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader, ft. yoongi

summary: Min Yoongi lived a simple life, alone in his apartment with his dog, Holly. Then he (and his dick) noticed his next-door neighbor. And her boyfriend. But nothing was going to come out of that. They weren’t trying to seduce him... right?

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; established relationship (jk/you); pining/slow burn; overheard smut; smut (fem reader, threesome, m and f-receiving oral); lil fluff; starts off with Yoongi’s POV, then changes to yours when it gets... fun. ;)

Min Yoongi had a problem. A problem most men probably had, but not a problem he was used to. He wasn’t a thirsty kind of guy. For most of his life, he really didn’t care about sexual shit. He had fallen in love, sure, but that was the gradual feeling, the kind that grew slowly but surely, and ultimately burned out when the girls would basically tell him he was boring as fuck. Which he knew he wasn’t. He was just… really garbage at being romantic.

Of course, he was older now, so he had some idea of romance and showing affection, not for his sake but for the sake of loving someone. Even if he was bad at it, the whole point was to try. To be honest, he hadn’t actually put that theory into practice yet, but that was what he had concluded after his last break-up. But now he had a problem.

It was not fucking fair how fucking hot his next-door neighbor was.

It just wasn’t. To whatever higher power was up there, what the actual fuck? Why do this to him, Min Yoongi, of all people? He was a kind boy. A good soul. He didn’t need to step out of his apartment to walk his dog Holly to see his next-door neighbor in a sports bra and leggings wiping her brow with a towel after her morning run. A little sweaty, cheeks flushed, skin glistening. Holy fuck. To top off that banging body, she looked up at him and gave him a confident smile and a polite nod before going into her apartment. Not even embarrassed.

Fuck. Now he had to walk his dog with a hard-on. Great.

To make it even worse, he was pretty sure she was taken. A guy would come around and they would leave together, probably to go on dates. Usually he was in sweats and a bucket hat but this time Yoongi saw him in slacks and a dress shirt.

And, oh, holy hell.

Of course, the guy was fucking handsome as fuck. Nice broad shoulders and muscular arms. Cute face with a mischievous smile and nose scrunch when he laughed. A sweet, tiny mole underneath his lower lip and another on his cheek. Neat black hair swept to one side, begging to have hands running through those strands. Round, brown doe eyes. Thighs could probably crush him and Yoongi would be happy about it. And then she came out of her apartment in her tight black dress and heels, sliding into the guy’s arms so easily and giving him a kiss. The dress showed off her nice round ass and juicy, squeezable thighs.

It was all fucking terrible for Yoongi.

“Ooh, you’re looking pretty for me today, love.”

“Wow, Jungkook, contain yourself for one second so we can at least eat first.”

“I’m ready to eat something, that’s for sure.”

He was not creeping; he was collecting a package outside his door. That was it. He was not the least bit interested in what was going on next to him.

Holly raced out of his apartment, his tiny fluffy brown butt bouncing as he rushed to the people, barking excitedly. Yoongi nearly dropped his package in surprise, shoving it under his arm and rushing over.

“Holly, no! I’m so sorry–”

The guy, Jungkook, laughed as he crouched down, barking back at Holly playfully.

“Aren’t you cute? What’s your name, little one?”

His next-door neighbor smiled at him. Yoongi was ready to crawl into a hole in embarrassment. Not only was he looking frumpy as fuck in a stained white t-shirt and black sweats, but he was also struggling to wrangle Holly with a large box under his arm. To top it off, Jungkook was not making it any easier by chasing Holly around. Yoongi’s black hair was messy and unbrushed, long enough to almost cover his eyes. He was basically a hobo compared to these two.

“I’m sorry for interrupting, he’s a bit–”

“It’s okay.”

He froze up. Oh no, oh no, oh no.

“What’s your dog’s name?”

He swallowed. “H-Holly.” Oh shit. He accidentally looked at her chest. Why did she have such pretty collarbones? She seemed not to notice. Instead she looked over to Jungkook who was wrestling with Holly on the floor and rubbing his belly.

“He’s really cute,” she said with a smile. “You don’t mind if Jungkook plays with him a little, do you?”

“N-no,” Yoongi mumbled, biting his lip. She had plump, shapely lips stained red.

She held her hand out. “I only moved in last month.” He placed her hand in hers. She had a nice, firm handshake. She was telling him her name and he was imagining her hand wrapped around his cock. He needed to get a grip.

“Min Yoongi,” he said robotically. What are social skills? Yoongi didn’t remember any of them at the moment.

“That’s Jeon Jungkook,” she was saying, pointing to the young man on the floor. Holly was licking his hands excitedly. Yoongi noticed a small heart tattooed onto Jungkook’s right hand. Fuck. He had nice hands too. His cock was waking up. Oh fuck.

“Come on, Holly, we have to go now.”

“Aww,” Jungkook whined. Why the fuck was this guy so fucking cute? Please have mercy. Jungkook waved to Holly with a smile. “See you later, Holly!”

Yoongi bowed awkwardly and scurried back into his apartment, Holly bounding in behind him as he shut the door. He barely even squeaked out a goodbye. He didn’t have a chance because – yup, now he had a giant boner.

Holly wagged his tail and barked up at Yoongi, who sighed and shook his head.

His brother asked to take Holly for a while. It was fine with Yoongi; his older brother was going camping with his wife and Holly loved being outdoors. Actually, he invited Yoongi, but Yoongi knew he wasn’t an outdoorsy kind of guy and suggested Holly to go instead. Holly loved Yoongi’s brother – maybe even more than Yoongi himself, the traitor. To be honest, if his brother decided to have kids soon, Yoongi had always said it would be a good idea for Holly to grow up with them. Dogs were an essential part of childhood, after all.

That’s why Yoongi was sitting alone in his apartment, reading, with no dog noises around him to distract him. It was nice, quiet, and serene.

Or it would be, if it wasn’t for his next-door neighbor literally fucking up a storm.

Instead, Yoongi was seething at the shared wall next to him as he was very clearly hearing someone getting banged. Which was fine, because people were allowed to do what they wanted. Yoongi didn’t care. Except he did kind of care, because he was absolutely sure it was Jungkook fucking the daylights out of his hot-as-fuck next door neighbor. It was also upsetting because his dick was suddenly awake and saying hello as if he had been called to attention.

But, nope, it was just Yoongi sitting alone glaring at the wall that separated him and giving the two of them a piece of his mind.

Or his meat.

He frowned and made a face. He didn’t have thoughts like that. No, not him, Min Yoongi. He was pure, he definitely did not have any naughty thoughts, nope, not a single o–

A particularly lustful moan of Jungkook’s name cut though his thoughts.

Was he sitting at the chair closest to the wall? Maybe. Well, he was. Could he just move to his kitchen and not hear anything? Yes. Was he going to move?

No.

What number was this anyway? Did Jungkook have the stamina of a horse or something? Not that Yoongi cared, mind you. He certainly did not. It was interesting to think about, that’s all. And then he heard something he thought he would never, ever hear.

“Oh, fuck, Yoooongi!”

Um, what? Did he hear that correctly? Yoongi sat up, raising an eyebrow at the wall. It must have been his imagination, surely, because the sound of skin on skin was not stopping. There was no way she had said the wrong name by accident, right? And Jungkook wouldn’t just let her blurt some other guy’s name out for no reason, right?

He glared at the wall suspiciously, as if it could answer.

Eventually the sounds died down, which was a relief. Hours went by and all Yoongi could think about was her saying his name. There was no way she accidentally said his name while getting fucked by Jungkook. Making that kind of mistake was unforgivable. He ended up ordering take out because to be honest he couldn’t really concentrate on cooking. Yoongi frowned as his doorbell pinged, walking to the door automatically. He must have manifested his thoughts or something like that. He placed his hand on the knob and opened it. It was his imagination, surely–

“Hey, did you order delivery? The person accidentally dropped it off at our door.”

Yoongi almost fell over.

His next-door neighbor blinked at him as he struggled to find his words. She was wearing a big baggy white t-shirt that clung to her body. No pants. The bag was in front of her chest. He could barely see the light pink of her panties.

“Ah, it wasn’t the other door. Is it his?”

Jungkook bounded over, black hair messy, his doe-like eyes wide with curiosity. Grey t-shirt, gray sweatpants. Tattoos going up his right arm. Yoongi nearly had a heart attack seeing his muscular arms.

“Uh, ah–yes, it’s mine, sorry–”

She smiled and held it out to him.

“Here you go.”

His eyes almost bulged out of his head – she wasn’t wearing a bra, holy shit – and he nearly dropped the bag if it wasn’t for Jungkook’s quick reflexes placing his hand at the bottom of the bag.

“Whoa, careful there.”

Thankfully his arm was now blocking her tits so Yoongi snatched the bag and bowed profusely, mumbling apologies.

“Sorry to trouble you.”

“It’s no problem,” she said brightly. “Enjoy your meal.”

She waved and Yoongi finally looked up, seeing her body turned away from him. Oh, whew. Then he looked up to their faces.

And found both of them smirking at him before they went back into her apartment.

“They’re fucking with me, Hoseok!”

“Calm down, hyung. I think you’re thinking about it too much.”

That’s what his best friend Jung Hoseok told him over dinner. Yoongi was having none of it.

“How can I be over-thinking it when they’re smirking at me at my front door?”

Hoseok winced. “I don’t know, maybe you imagined it. Why would your next-door neighbor and her boyfriend do something like that?”

“I don’t know, it’s not bad, it’s just–”

“Wait, you like it?”

“… I didn’t–”

Hoseok had burst out laughing like a lunatic.

The laughter rang in Yoongi’s ears as he stood at his front door, silently fuming. He shouldn’t have told Hoseok. But who was he supposed to tell? He wasn’t that close with many of his friends, after all. And Hoseok didn’t end up being mean about it in the end. Yoongi rubbed his forehead, shoving his hair under his black cap. Ah, it was probably just an empty hope after all. He was over-thinking it. Only an absolute loon would think that his next-door neighbor and her boyfriend wanted to have a threesome with him.

“Yoongi?”

He jumped, jerking away from his door suddenly. She stared at him, lip quivering, a worried look on her face. Cropped pink sweatshirt and leggings. Whew, at least she was clothed.

“Sorry, sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you. Is this a bad time?”

“I wasn’t scared,” he said automatically. “Only surprised.” He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, what was it?”

“Oh, I just…” She rubbed the back of her head sheepishly, fluffing her hair. Fuck. Stop being cute. “I don’t mean to pry, but I haven’t seen you walk Holly lately. I was wondering if he was okay?”

Oh. Right. His dog. “Ah, Holly is with my brother right now. He’s fine. We sort of have shared custody of him since we all grew up together,” Yoongi added with an awkward smile. Ack. Social skills, what even are they?

“Oh, that’s a relief!” She placed a hand on her chest and smiled. “I’m sorry if I was being too nosy.”

He waved a hand. “It’s okay. I’m surprised you noticed.”

“Who wouldn’t notice? You always looked so happy walking him.” He was pretty sure his heart was going to burst if she kept smiling at him like that. “You’re so cute when you smile.”

“Ah…” Hang on, what? His cheeks began to warm.

“You must love dogs.”

Right. His dog. He chuckled. “I don’t usually, but somehow Holly made his way into my heart.”

She looked rueful. “I’m jealous of him.”

What?

“It must be difficult to win your heart.”

Was she… flirting with him?

She smiled innocently at him but those eyes were giving him a different story. The mischievous sparkle made his response die in his throat. He stared at her for a good minute.

“What… about Jungkook?”

“What about me?”

Yoongi felt his entire body freeze. He was caught. Shit, shit, shit.

Jungkook brushed past him ever-so-slightly, hand lingering on Yoongi’s jacket-covered arm before he hugged her tightly, kissing her forehead. She smiled up at him. Jungkook grinned at her and turned back to Yoongi with a bright bunny-like smile.

“Hey.”

Yoongi looked away quickly, realizing he was observing much too closely. “Er, hello.”

“Hey, Yoongi.”

He swallowed and looked up, raising his eyebrows. “Yes?”

Her lips curved into a sly smile.

“If you’re ever feeling up to it, we would love you to come over sometime.”

Jungkook grinned. “Any time!”

Oh, fuck. Jungkook’s hands were on her waist, sliding down slowly. Tongue in his teeth as she leaned against his chest with that foxy smile. Yoongi opened his mouth, but the only sound he made was an awkward croak. He coughed and looked away.

“I’ll… keep that in mind.”

Yoongi hastily fumbled with the door lock and ran into his apartment, praying that neither of them could see his blushing face and his massive hard-on.

“They said you could come over any time. You are not crazy. You are just being nice.”

Yoongi stood in front of his next door-neighbor’s door like a zombie, clutching one bottle of red wine and a bottle of whiskey for dear life. He had contemplated his outfit three times before deciding that a long-sleeved white shirt, black jeans, and ripped gray denim jacket was not trying too hard. But just to be sure, he wore his nicer black boxer briefs and not the ones with holes in them.

Just…

In case.

“They don’t want to fuck you. They’re being nice.”

The door suddenly opened.

Yoongi’s eyes went wide. He sputtered. “A-ah!”

Oh my god.

Was it even possible for a woman to be this pretty? Decked in a floaty, red dress with a delicate bow around her neck and fluffy white slippers, his next-door neighbor seemed surprised to see him. The fabric floated down and clung to her curves, dipping inward in between her legs. Her eyebrows raised in surprise and her plump lips curved into a small ‘o’.

“Yoongi! I wasn’t expecting you for another ten minutes! Jungkook told me he just arrived.”

“I’m here, darling.”

Jungkook’s deep voice purred behind Yoongi. The older man nearly jumped and turned to see Jungkook right behind him – how long had he been there? Black t-shirt, black jeans, chunky black sneakers. Jungkook’s lips curved into a mischievous smile and he leaned over Yoongi, his chest brushing against Yoongi’s shoulder. Yoongi felt his heartbeat skyrocket at the sudden closeness until he realized Jungkook was kissing his girlfriend on the forehead, patting her head gently.

“Fancy for a just watching a movie,” Jungkook teased. She stuck her tongue out at him.

“I just bought this dress! I can wear whatever I want.”

“Yes, you can, and you look cute in it too.”

Yoongi would have been paying attention except he suddenly felt Jungkook’s hand against his back, sliding slightly downwards. He froze, breath caught in his throat. It wasn’t that he was starved for intimacy or anything. Okay, maybe he was a little bit, but, shit, what was he supposed to do with two very obviously hot as fuck people were seducing him? Ignore it?

No, he most certainly was not.

Yoongi stumbled, nerves rattling him. He felt strong arms hold him straight.

“Oh, sorry, did you trip?” Jungkook asked, worry laced in his voice.

“Ack, where are my manners? Come in, come in.”

He felt Jungkook push him lightly. Yoongi swallowed and stepped inside the apartment, still clutching the two bottles of alcohol for dear life. He was afraid that if he let go, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from… uh. Things. Breathe deep, Min Yoongi. You are not fifteen.

“These… are for you.”

He held out the two bottles to her. She tilted her head as she read the labels, taking them from him. It took all of Yoongi’s power not to grab her tits.

“Oh, thank you! Look, Jungkook, he bought red wine, your favorite!”

Jungkook bounded past him excitedly and took the bottle from her. “Ah, yesss! All for me!”

Yoongi blinked. “You don’t drink?”

She tapped the whiskey bottle. “I do. Just not wine.”

Watching a movie? Yeah, right.

How was Yoongi supposed to watch anything at all? One look at Jungkook in his loose black t-shirt and, fuck, he was reminded the guy’s entire right arm was tattooed. Holy shit. And her? Wrapped so nicely in floaty red fabric with that bow around her neck. It meant the dress had a deep neckline and he could see the curve of her cleavage, the plushness of her breasts.

Fuck this movie. Yoongi literally had no idea what was on the screen at this point.

She leaned against Jungkook as he sipped his wine. Every so often, she poured herself a shot of whiskey and drank it. Like… what? Granted, it wasn’t very much, but he had never seen a woman just… do that. She would smile and settle back onto the couch, into the curve of Jungkook’s arm. His tattooed arm. Jungkook would then drape it around her again, fingertips almost touching her breast. All this, happening within ten inches of Yoongi, who was sitting on her right side.

He didn’t know what number he was on now. Yoongi wasn’t a lightweight but he couldn’t calm his nerves either. Nerves or growing lust?

Both.

Yoongi looked away and stared at the screen. He didn’t know what he was looking at. All he could think about was faceplanting into those tits and Jungkook’s hands all over him. Or her sitting on his face as Jungkook sucked him off. Or, her sitting on Jungkook’s face and him sucking Jungkook off–

“Yoongi.”

He nearly flung his glass in surprise but she reached over and took it from him. Her breasts brushed against his arm and Yoongi stiffened, trying to keep his face neutral.

“I think you need to slow down. Are you okay?” she said worriedly, placing the whiskey glass on the coffee table.

“No.” He shook his head quickly and cleared his throat. “I mean, yes. Yes, I’m fine.”

Jungkook and her stared at him.

Yoongi raised a hand and took a deep breath. “Er… I am getting this feeling,” he said awkwardly.

She tilted her head. “Hm?”

“It’s nothing.”

Jungkook shook his head. “No, no. If you’re not comfortable, then we understand. You should go home if you’re not feeling well.”

No, that’s not really what I want. I want to fuck, damnnit!

“Ah…” Yoongi swallowed at the sudden attention placed on him. “It’s not that.” He was a straightforward person. He didn’t know how to make it sound metaphorical or pretty. “You two have a very strong… presence.”

She frowned slightly. “Is that bad for you?”

“N-no. It’s, er… attractive.”

Oh shit. He said it.

“Ah, I meant–” Yoongi coughed, looking away quickly. “The other day… I thought I heard my name… But it must have been a mistake, right?” He laughed awkwardly. “Sorry, I shouldn’t say such–”

A softness pressed against him. Yoongi wasn’t wearing his jacket, only his long-sleeved white shirt. He froze. The softness slid up his arm. He could feel the weight of her body against him. His brain was turning into mush. Oh god, oh god, oh god…

“You heard me?” The words purred against his neck, hot and heavy.

He couldn’t turn around. He couldn’t. Yoongi tried to collect his words, fumbling through them.

“N-not on purpose…”

“You want me to say your name again? So you can hear it in person?”

The weight lifted. Slowly, Yoongi turned his head. His eyes trailed up her legs, to the floaty red fabric, to her waist, then up her chest to her face. She smiled slyly at him. Strong hands, one tattooed, one not, slid up her sides, grasping the bottom ties that held the bow together. Jungkook’s mischievous face popped up from behind her head. Yoongi just stared at them, eyes wide, mouth slightly open like a surprised kitten.

The bow teased apart, slowly. Jungkook’s hands slid inside the fabric, pushing it away. Yoongi’s breath caught in his throat. Jungkook cupped her breasts gently, rubbing his palms over them. She was wearing heart shaped pasties to cover her nipples. Yoongi was aware that he could run right now. He could have just stood up and walked out and that weirdness would have been over. Except, well…

His hand lifted. Yoongi hesitated for a moment, looking into her eyes.

She smirked and wrapped her fingers around his. His heart thumped loudly in his ribcage as she led him to her chest.

“You can take it off, if you want,” she said gently.

Yoongi swallowed as his fingertips touched her breast. Oh, so soft. He hooked a nail underneath the sticky material and pulled lightly. Nothing. She chuckled and shook her head.

“Little harder, Yoongi.”

His name was a soft purr. Yoongi bit his lower lip and yanked a little harder. It came off in his hand. He blinked rapidly in surprise, hoping he didn’t hurt her. His second thought was…

Holy shit, her nipple.

It was prominent, sticking straight out at him. It would have been visible through the fabric of the dress due to its size. Thinking about that was arousing him. Yoongi felt as if his whole face was heating up. He vaguely registered Jungkook peeling off the second one and dropping it on the coffee table. Now there were two – great math there, Yoongi, he scolded himself – and he sat like a statue, unable to comprehend that this was real.

Jungkook pushed her breasts together, trapping her nipples between his index and middle finger. He rolled them slowly. Yoongi watched in fascination as her eyes slid closed and her head tipped back, a breathy moan dripping from her lips. Jungkook squeezed and kneaded her breasts, nose buried in her neck as he inhaled deeply, murmuring her name. Her eyelids fluttered.

“A-ah… Yoongi…”

There was no wall blocking his view now. It was real.

Yoongi sat up a little straighter, leaning forward. He was still too afraid to touch.

“Y-yes?”

Her hand came up and stroked his cheek softly. He leaned into her touch, hungry. Her thumb pressed against his lips.

“Wanna kiss you.”

He cursed his bad habit of chewing on his lips, but leaned forward delicately. His eyes flickered to Jungkook, who was watching him with amusement. He wanted to ask. Are you sure? Jungkook seemed to understand and he nodded, smile turning gentler at Yoongi’s nervousness.

His eyes found hers again. Her lips parted. She led him to her face, closing her eyes slowly as her lips touched his. So soft, so gentle. It wasn’t the kiss he expected from his daydreams. It was warm and calm, soothing his nerves. His hands came up to cup her cheeks as the kiss deepened, tongue dancing against tongue. Everything just felt so soft. So lovely.

He felt Jungkook take his hands and slide them down. Yoongi gasped into her mouth as his palms touched her nipples. She moaned at his touch, nipping at his lower lip as he squeezed them, rolling her nipples with his thumb. They were just the right measure of hardness and softness. Her hands found his jeans and she pulled him closer by the waist, his body against hers.

“Yoongi-ssi…”

It wasn’t her voice. It was Jungkook’s, leaning forward and pushing up his shirt, running his hands over his skin. Yoongi gasped, suddenly feeling embarrassed. It was so obvious that Jungkook was more muscular and stronger than he was. But she held him close, kissing his jaw and neck. Jungkook’s face came into view, small smile dancing on his lips.

“I can call you that, right? Even though you’re my hyung?”

At this point, Yoongi didn’t even remember what honorifics were. “Whatever you want,” he muttered breathlessly. Jungkook chuckled and leaned forward, placing his lips on his. Oh, yes. More passionate, intense. Yoongi felt himself moan into Jungkook’s mouth and the younger man sucked on his tongue, hands along his back, pressing him into her.

It took a moment to untangle slightly. Breathing hard, Yoongi found himself looking into two pairs of lustful eyes.

“What do you want to do, Yoongi?”

Seducing Min Yoongi hadn’t been easy. There had been moments where you wondered if you had gone too far, or if Jungkook had teased him a little too much. It had been a long, carefully laid out plan. In fact, Jungkook almost gave up in the middle at one point and tried to convince you that he should hump him to get the message across. It had been a little difficult. But it was all worth it.

Because now you two managed to get Yoongi in the bedroom, flat on his back, your pussy in his face and Jungkook’s mouth on his cock. And oh, fuck, his fucking tongue. It had taken some more fondling and kisses to make Yoongi say it.

“Could I… eat you out while Jungkook sucks me off? Is that too much or–”

You grinded your hips into Yoongi’s face, sucking in a breath as Jungkook’s head bobbed up and down on Yoongi’s cock. Jungkook naked was already enough to make you wet. His muscular back, that ass, his tattooed arm, and his forearms flexing as he held Yoongi’s hips down. Could he suck dick as well as you? No, but he had a pretty good idea considering you were excellent at it. Watching Yoongi’s cock slide in and out of his mouth was a delicious sight. Yoongi’s tongue lapping at your clit had you dripping into his mouth. Somehow, he had just the right amount of pressure and roughness as he stroked you to climax, nails digging into your thighs.

You moaned in satisfaction, panting Yoongi’s name. Jungkook’s brown eyes flickered up to you and he made a muffled noise as he witnessed you playing with your nipples, squeezing and pulling on them lightly. You saw his hips jerk, humping the bed. You grinned. Teasing Jungkook was fun.

Yoongi tapped your leg and you got up, concerned. But he was clutching the sheets, gasping, head thrown back as he groaned, shoving his crotch into Jungkook’s face. Jungkook’s eyes widened and he gripped Yoongi’s hips, swallowing nosily as Yoongi’s entire body shuddered.

“F-fuck!”

You smiled as Jungkook sucked him dry, slowly rubbing his tongue around Yoongi’s cock as he cleaned him up. Yoongi did not seem like he was expecting this at all and moaned loudly, probably a little too loud. Jungkook dipping his head slowly, down, down, until the sensitive head hit the back of his throat. Yoongi’s face scrunched up, slipping into a moan as Jungkook slowly pulled back, Yoongi’s cock popping out of his lips.

Jungkook grinned. “Did I do good?”

You smiled. “Of course, my love.”

Yoongi squinted at him. “How the fuck did you learn how to do that?”

Jungkook pointed to you. “From the best.”

You smiled and Yoongi raised an eyebrow.

“Can I try something?” Jungkook asked, tugging on your arm.

You nodded. “What is it?”

Jungkook pulled you to him and kissed you, smiling against your lips. He readjusted you to be on top of Yoongi, your back to his chest. Yoongi made a disgruntled noise, but you rubbed your ass against his still sensitive cock, making him gasp. His hands wrapped around you. Yoongi had pretty hands, the kind of hands that made you pause the first time you saw him, the kind of hands you dreamed about touching you, the kind of hands that made your body melt. You were a bit disappointed that you couldn’t see Yoongi’s handsome face in his position but Jungkook was lifting your legs now, setting them on his shoulders. The condom was already on.

Jungkook smirked.

Was this man really going to expose your favorite position right now?

“Jung–fuuuuuck!”

His cock slid into you, slow and deep and hard. You yelped, feeling Yoongi grab your breasts and knead them. You liked this position for several reasons – one, Jungkook had you basically trapped under his body, and, two, Jungkook had power and gravity on his side. Thus, he could fuck you hard and deep at the same time, absolutely ruining you. And watch your face while he was doing it.

“Jungkook, ah, so deep,” you moaned, leaning against Yoongi’s chest as he pinched your nipples. Your pussy clenched, squeezing Jungkook’s cock inside you.

“That’s how you like it,” he drawled, rolling his hips into you, making his cock throb. You whimpered, looking deep into Jungkook’s eyes. Yoongi pinched your nipples and you whined as Jungkook thrust into your leisurely, burying himself in your folds.

“Whose idea was it to scream Yoongi’s name while we were fucking, hm?” Jungkook teased, fucking with such force that your ass bounced against Yoongi’s dick each time. You could feel him getting hard as your ass rubbed against it.

“M-mine,” you reply, earning you a slightly harder pace.

“So naughty,” Jungkook purred, licking his lips. “You wanted Yoongi so bad, didn’t you, love?”

You could only moan as Jungkook began to fuck you harder. Yoongi’s cock was smearing pre-cum all over you. You tried to desperately rub your ass against his cock, feeling it throb underneath you. It wetly slapped your ass every time Jungkook bounced you up and down.

“Fuck,” Yoongi grunted, kissing your neck. “Fuck, you two are seriously not fair.”

“Yoongi, ah, Jungkook…”

Yoongi rolled your nipples against his fingers and pinched them. You cried out, pussy clenching as your orgasm hit you, so overflowed with stimulation that you could barely think. Jungkook gritted his teeth, maintaining his pace as they worked you up again, Yoongi’s fingers rolling your nipples and Jungkook fucking you deep. It was an absolute mess of your own cum dripping down and Yoongi’s pre-cum mixing with it. The head of Yoongi’s hard cock was rubbing against your ass. You could watch Jungkook thrusting in and out of you, shiny and glistening.

“Ah, fuuuuck!”

You moaned as you came again, thick juices gushing down and coating Yoongi’s cock. Jungkook shuddered at your pussy tightening around him. You felt Yoongi’s hips shudder as he sucked in a breath sharply, groaning at the sensitivity as he came on your ass and up your thigh, splattering onto Jungkook’s legs.

Jungkook grinned triumphantly before fucking you even harder. It didn’t take long before he hissed, cock jerking inside you as he came, your name dragged out in a long moan. His jaw clenched, hips thrusting a little to get the last drops out of his softening cock.

After a moment, he pulled out, leaving you panting and sore in Yoongi’s arms. He got up to clean himself off, looking for a towel. Yoongi buried his face in your neck. You could feel his warm cheeks.

“Sorry about the bed,” he mumbled.

You reached back and petted his hair, breathing his name. You rubbed your ass against him and Yoongi stiffened. It made you grin.

“Stay the night, Yoongi.”

He nuzzled your hair even though he grumbled a bit.

“F-fine.”

part ii

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #jungkook smut #bts smut #min yoongi x you #jeon jungkook x you #min yoongi smut #jeon jungkook smut

676 notes · View notes

sneezefiction · 3 years

Text

attention

Miya Osamu x Reader

desc: you’re spending too much time fawning over a very fictional captain Levi and not enough time doting on your real boyfriend, Osamu.

a/n: @starrysamu dearest remy, this is for you. i only just found out that it’s your birthday and i felt like i needed to show my appreciation for you in a tangible way. this isn’t the best, but i laughed a lot while writing it, so i hope it’ll make you smile. so much love to you and happiest of birthdays!! you’re such a joy to speak with <33

warnings: mentions attack on titan (fictional deaths), language, suggestive towards the end

wc: 1.5k

---

“I bet you haven’t moved in hours.”

“Mm,” you hum absentmindedly.

Osamu stays silent for a moment, squinting judgmentally at you from the corner of the living room. He’s been standing there for ten minutes and you’ve not so much as acknowledged his existence. Granted, you already spent the entire morning with him, but you could at least greet him with your usual, “hey, babe.”

He’d even settle for a “what’s up, ugly” at this point.

However, your eyes are glued to the TV screen. Blue light and flashing colors reflect off of your skin while the blood-curdling screams of various animated characters fill the room. You gasp and a hand flies to your mouth. That’s the fourth time you’ve done that since he’d walked in the room.

Whatever it is you’re watching, your reaction seems reasonable. The show looks and sounds disgusting. Or at least to Osamu it does.

“You really should move around a little.” He coaxes, “You’re gonna cut off all your circulation.”

Osamu approaches the couch, but you continue to ignore him.

“Yeah, and?” you respond, eyes still fixed on the screen, “I’m kinda in the middle of something.”

You reach for the remote and turn up the volume a couple of notches. His brows furrow in contempt. Now, this is just plain rude.

“Well, if you lose a limb, don’t come cryin’ to me.” He says flatly.

“I won’t…” you start, “but-“

You point to the screen, singling out a few characters being hunted by hideous and… very naked titans. Gross, Osamu thinks.

“-they might.”

If you were known to watch shows for the plot, he wouldn’t mind your series marathons all that much. But he knows you too well.

Osamu flickers his gaze to the TV and steps in front of the screen, intentionally blocking your view. It’s an attempt to steal your attention away from all of these fictional characters you claim to keep “falling in love with.”

You whine and tell him to “get his ass out of the way,” while craning around his broad shoulders to see. It’d be a shame to miss out on Levi Ackerman’s hella sculpted jawline, even just for a second.

But your efforts are to no avail. ‘Samu (his ass included) refuses to move away from the screen.

You breathe out a white flag of a sigh, slumping back into the couch in defeat. Though you’d planned on this being a solo watch party, you know that the only way to get what you want out of this situation (Levi screen time) is by appeasing your actual boyfriend.

“Whatever ‘Samu. Just join me already.” You huff out.

Tossing open your blanket for him, you pat the empty space expectantly. If you’re going to give him any attention at all, he’s obligated to at least keep you warm.

And he won’t lie, you look very comfortable.

Seeing you cozied up in his apartment and lazily splayed out on his couch has always made him melt a little. Osamu is just a bit domestic like that.

But if you’re just going to use his Netflix account to fawn over fake (albeit incredibly sexy) men, then he’s less than thrilled to have you sitting there alone. Any good boyfriend would be at least a little agitated… right?

So for the sake of reining you and your wandering mind in, he decides to plop down next to you. The whole couch sinks when he sits and you tilt into him like a planet gravitating toward the sun. A really obnoxious, show-interrupting sun.

Osamu snakes an arm around your back, pulling you into his chest, and turns his head toward the TV. All is calm as you get comfortable and adjust yourself against him... until suddenly the screen splatters red. His arm tenses against your waist and a frown forms on his face. Apparently, something or someone just bit the dust.

“What exactly are ya watchin’?” He asks, tone drenched in disgust.

You whip your head toward him, an eyebrow cocked and lips parted. You’re looking at him as though he’d just gone and grown a third eye or called your mom a hoe. In terms of drama, Osamu is beginning to think you might actually rival Atsumu.

“You seriously don’t know?”

“Do I look like someone who keeps up with anime?”

“Well… no,” you admit slowly, “but that’s got nothing to do with you not knowing about Attack on Titan. I bet even Kita has heard of it.”

You wait for recognition to flicker in his grey eyes at the mention of the anime’s name. Instead, he gives you his signature blank stare. Should you be shocked or disappointed? Which emotion would bother him more?

“Yeah, it doesn’t ring a bell.”

“Have you been living under a rock?” You scoff, mouth still agape.

“No, but I basically live with you and that’s difficult enough.” He jests, poking you in the side.

His warm hands gives you a quick squeeze and you almost jump out of his hold. For someone who runs a restaurant, he’s got some well-toned arms. It’s unlikely you’ll be able to escape his grasp anytime soon.

“No! None of that shit!” You hiss as he tries to tickle you. “You’re just trying to distract me.”

Your back curls like a cat and you bat at his hands to abate any further pokes or prods. He only chuckles, smirking at your feeble attempts to stop him. You were the one provoking him in the first place, but he’ll let it slide just this once.

When Osamu no longer seems like a threat to your ticklish sides, you nestle back into him. Your hand rests lightly on his chest and your head finds a soft-ish spot on his shoulder.

Feigning a pout, you mutter, “Captain Levi wouldn’t treat me like this.”

He’s quick to respond.

“Well, Levi-” the name sounds uncharacteristically bitter as it leaves his lips, “-wouldn’t treat you like anything, sweetheart. Sorry, but he ain’t real.”

You open your mouth to protest, but Osamu beats you to it.

“And judging by the rate these people are dyin’, he probably won’t last long enough for you to even mentally date him.”

“Don’t underestimate me and my mental dating abilities, ‘Samu.” You warn, “Or Levi. He could totally beat your ass.”

With perfect timing, Levi makes an appearance, striking a lethal blow to another one of the babbling giants. Two giants. Now four of them. Okay, he might’ve spoken too soon.

“Mm… maybe. But he probably couldn’t put up with all of your bullshit. This Levi kid seems like a bit of a hardass,” Osamu responds after a few minutes of transfixed silence.

You jut your lip out, sinking further into the couch, “Crush my dreams, why don’t you?”

He rolls his eyes in response.

“But,” you continue, “you’ve gotta admit, he is attractive. I mean, just look at those eyes. That body, too…” you breathe.

You swoon and tease and clutch at your heart, but it’s all an act to get under ‘Samu’s skin. He is your number one, after all. Teasing is just a part of your relationship and you would try to milk it whenever you could.

However, you don’t get a verbal response from him this time. He just tightens his hold around you and buries his nose in your hair. Warm breath tickles your scalp and trails across your skin.

Is he pouting? Or is he finally watching the show without adding commentary to it? You can’t tell the difference.

Osamu stays like that for a moment and you revert your attention back to the screen, intent on catching the last couple minutes of this episode.

Though you hardly have a chance to re-invest yourself before Osamu is speaking again.

“Well, I’m just glad he’s behind a TV screen,” he sighs against your head, “and-”

A smirk works its way onto his lips and Osamu begins circling a thumb on your exposed thigh. Your breath hitches and you turn to face him. His fingers press against your skin and play at the hem of your shorts.

The warmth of his hand sinks deeply into you like poison. In a matter of seconds, you’re at a loss for words, rendered unfit for battle… even if that battle is just teasing the ever-living shit out of him.

Thoughts of the show, of Levi, of other fictional men, are long gone from your mind.

Damn him for still having this effect on you after all this time.

“-judging by the way you can’t keep your hands off of me-“

He glances at your hand, which is resting delicately on his abdomen. You’re pressed up tightly against him, tucked into his side and looking up at his face which seems dangerously close to your own. Then his eyes, heavy-lidded and a shade of grey far prettier than Levi’s, flicker down to your lips.

Your skin flushes hot and you grip the fabric of his shirt.

“-I’d say you’ve gotta be at least half as into me as you’re into general Levi or whatever the hell his name is,” Osamu murmurs, his breath fanning gently on your lips.

He leans in, planting a slow kiss at the corner of your mouth, effectively teasing the delicate skin.

With one calloused hand on your face and the other still stroking your thigh, you feel your mind going fuzzy. This was escalating much faster than you’d expected it to and you haven’t even had the chance to pause your show.

You glance over to the TV... and heaven seems to be shining down upon you. It’s the blessed Netflix “are you still watching” screen; your show is perfectly paused. Now you can focus on what’s right in front of you.

Osamu finally has your full, undivided attention. Just as he should.

“Just for the record, it’s captain Levi.” You whisper to him.

“Oh, shut up.” He says before crashing his lips into yours.

You do, in fact, shut up.

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #osamu x reader #osamu miya #osamu #hq #hq imagines #hq scenarios #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #inarizaki #miya twins #remy <3

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allthingsfuckd · 3 years

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ur endgame fic was SO good and idk if u take requests or if they’re open at the moment but if they are could you possibly write a bucky x fem!reader fic where shes like really hurt and hides it from him until she passes out or something and he like freaks out? and is just SUPER protective and caring during the healing process but like he’s mad at himself for not being able to tell? idk just very very protective concerned caring angsty fluff basically. 🥺❤️

thank you so much!! yes, i do take requests but it might take a while for me to respond (i’m a full time student). YES i love that idea!!!!

pairing: bucky x fem!reader

warning(s): physical fighting, mention of blood, daggers, fainting, angst and fluff.

you walked by the men laying on the ground, brushing off the concrete dust on your jacket. “Bucky, i’m headed your way,” you said through the comms. you looked down at your side by your ribcage when you felt a soft tingle of pain. your white shirt stained red with blood. the adrenaline from fighting wore off and the pain got worse, you didn’t know exactly how you got it probably from when you held a man in a chokehold on his shoulders.

you shook it off since it was just the start of the mission, the real target not captured yet. you zipped up your leather jacket as you approached Bucky. “you okay?” he asked when he saw your scrunched up face. “yeah, i’m good just got kicked hard,” you lied, not wanting to hold the team back since the mission was time sensitive. you tailed behind Bucky as he opened a door. fuck, you thought when you saw it was a stairwell. “which floor did Sam say Dr. Kim was on again?” you asked Bucky. “10th,” he answered, already half-way up the first flight of stairs. you followed behind him, skipping 2 steps as you went.

when you took the last step on the 10th floor, you felt dizzy. you tried to fight it but you felt your vision dissolve into darkness. “Buck,” you said softly, your vision blur trying to reach for the railing, seeing Bucky walk through the door. he couldn’t hear you. and then, it was all black.

“okay, you wait here for my signal,” Bucky said as he looked at the map on his phone. “y/n?” he looked behind to see you were not there. “y/n where are you?” he said over the comms, growing worried when you didn’t respond immediately. he walked back to the stairwell, his heart dropped when he saw you on the ground.

he got down to his knees trying to wake you up but your body was limp. he unzipped your jacket to look for any wounds, seeing your bloodstained t-shirt. “Sam, y/n’s down,” he opened your eyes to check for any signs of a concussion. he took a bandage out of his pocket and wrapped it tightly around your chest. “fuck, y/n, stay with me,” he grunted under his breath as he lifted you up.

“she lost a lot of blood,” the EMT said to him in the ambulance. he held your hand, his mind buzzing with thoughts and he could hear his heart pounding in his ears. being a former assassin and with your skillset, you were undoubtedly independent when it came to missions. Bucky knew he could count on you when it came to missions, seeing as you’ve saved his ass multiple times more than he’s saved yours. this was the first time he’s ever seen you so weak and fragile.

he sat by your bed, staring at your body waiting for even a slight movement from you. his legs jumping as he waited for the anesthesia to wear off. when you did move a little, he would get up immediately to check on you. it did seem odd that you were hissing a lot and went slower than usual going up the stairs, he thought. mad that he didn’t bother to ask you again.

finally, he saw your eyes flutter open. “hey, grumpy,” he relaxed a little, hearing the infamous nickname you gave him, realizing he’d been frowning. “what the hell happened there, y/n?” his voice angry, but a glint of worry in his eyes. “i didn’t realize it was that bad, Buck, sorry i hid it from you,” your voice weak, bringing your hand up to run your fingers through his hair. “no, i’m sorry i didn’t notice,” he moved his head to kiss your palm.

you were discharged from the hospital two days after but that didn’t stop Bucky from being overprotective. “babe, you really don’t have to do everything for me,” you laughed when he got up from his seat to help you stand up from the couch. he always became soft when it came to you. he helped you in the shower, woke up early to make you breakfast in bed so you didn’t have to get out of bed. he would even stay in the same room as you on purpose thinking you wouldn’t notice.

“thank you, Bucky, you’ve been amazing,” you kissed him while he was helping you undress for a shower. he looked into your eyes, smiling after pulling away from the kiss. “i love you,” he said, and your eyes grew wide. his widened too after he realized what he said. you only started dating a few months ago and were too busy to find the right time to share your first i love you. you pulled him in for another kiss, a longer one. his hands went up your sides and you hissed in the kiss. “shit,” Bucky pulled his hands away from your body. “i’m sorry,” both of you laughed. “i love you too, Bucky,” he smiled and kissed your forehead.

p.s. im so sorry if it wasn’t that good. but i hope it was close to what you wanted!

#bucky barnes #bucky x y/n #bucky fluff #bucky fanfic #bucky fic #bucky x reader #bucky #bucky angst #soft!bucky

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fairytsuk1 · 3 years

Text

i was all over her (a)

part of the autumn experiences collection.

pairing: yandere!tomura shigaraki x reader

genre: angst

words: 2.5k

summary: you never learn.

prompt: visitor

warnings: noncon mentions/intentions, stalking, pervertedness, this is a yandere fic

The rain was quickly soaking through his cotton shirt, chilling Tomura to the bone with a grumble threatening to work it’s way up his throat. He hadn’t brought an umbrella in protest of Kurogiri’s suggestion, he was sure it wouldn’t rain as he walked his normal path. But, he was wrong, it was fucking downpouring and his chuck-taylors were hardly holding up.

Your frog umbrella flashed in and out of the streetlights, the rhythmic step of rain boots clicking and splashing in the puddles that littered the sidewalk. Brown, muddy water rushed in the crook of the street so fast he was briefly reminded of the times he and his family used to look at fish in the nearby rivers. That was a long time ago, no need to make room for old broken memories that would soon cease to exist as he aged further in life.

What he wanted, was you. Your cute little feet stuffed into rainboots far too big for you, they were a gift from your father. That man was too flippant of your desires and needs that he didn’t even know his own child’s shoe size, a sorry excuse for a man if he were to be honest. The umbrella was a gift from your sister, adamant on you having something to keep you sheltered in this shitty ass neighborhood. You didn’t deserve to live here, he could imagine you in a perfectly manicured house with polished nails and frilly sundresses. The sun would sparkle on your skin and you’d smell flowery with a twinge of cinnamon, leaving men desperate and eager to flip up your skirt with the intent to breed you. You’d look so good, he mused. Cum filling your cunt as you squealed underneath him, pleading for more from your dearest, Tomura.

“Mmph!”

Your shoe caught onto a crack in the sidewalk, nearly sending you face first into the mess that was the gravelly street. He imagined you’d make such lovely whimpers and moans as he rammed his cock into you, greedily taking you from behind...or maybe the front? He’d like to cum inside you to mark you and maybe, if he was really desperate, your mouth.

He was working himself up, your apartment was near and the excitement was practically eating him alive with the thought that he’d be able to have you if he was just patient. It would be far too easy for you to get away and cause a scene if he grabbed you by the hair and tugged you into his arms, though, would anyone come for you? Your sister was right, this rough place that you called home was no home at all, they didn’t care about your wellbeing. They didn’t even care about basic necessities, like moving the trash bins so it would be easier for you to keep clean. They were selfish and it made him sick to think of them hurting you, taking you, and doing whatever these fucking creeps could think of. They didn’t care about you like he did.

“Hey! You live in this apartment?”

Shigaraki ducks into a nearby alleyway, back crashing against the wall as he shakes water out of his face like a wet dog. Soft pants fall from his chapped lips as water dribbles down his ears and neck. There’s a tightness in his pants and his heart is racing, a usual occurrence when he followed you home.

“Hm? Oh...yes, I do! It’s nice to meet you!” You tell him your name, why would you even think that would be a good idea? “Is there something wrong? I’m new to the area!”

The man chuckles and your stalkers red eyes peer out from behind the wall, noting your neighbors large frame practically swallowing you up. He almost couldn’t see you considering this man was huddling you into the corner and looking down at you like a piece of meat.

“You’re new? No shit, I’ve never seen a pretty thing like you before.”

You can’t even help yourself, cheeks lifting as you pull your keys out of your pocket. Must be the neglect from your parents, you’ll let just anyone in between your legs huh?

No.

He can’t think like that, you’re different. You wouldn’t, you can hardly touch yourself correctly. He’d form you into the perfect girl, perfect housewife who made him meals and let him bend you over any countertop.

“Ah, well thank you sir.”

You’ve got manners too, he likes that. He wants to hear his name-not Shigaraki-but Tomura as it rolls off your tongue, it’d be syrupy and sweet just like you.

Clunky boots step into your apartment and a creaky door is locked closed, bet that makes you feel safe huh? Like no one’s gonna hurt you? Well, under his eye they won’t. But the only thing it won’t stop is Shigaraki; climbing the white rickety stairs to follow and a copy of your key to match.

Waiting takes a long time, but it’s worth it to keep this little habit up. The water drips from his hair to his chin and neck, leaving a trail that would no doubt make him smell as disgusting as he felt. His hand reaches up to insert the key before the bulbous man from before is grunting out words that he couldn’t care to listen to. Though, the dude is utterly unrelenting and questions him, “what the hell are you doing?”

“What?”

“Are you...who the fuck are you? I thought she was single.”

Shigaraki scans him, unimpressed with the way he’d come to confront him when the two of them had the same goal in mind.

“It’s none of your business.”

The man reaches for his wrist, looking small in the meat of his palm as Shigaraki lets him play hero for the time being.

“I’m calling a hero! I have a cousin who works with Endeavor, you know! Stay here!”

“Let go of me.”

The grip is starting to hurt but the man keeps squeezing, even adding a bit more strength when the wiry man expresses resistance. Doesn’t matter, he’ll just get rid of him while he can. Can’t go around harassing women if you’re just a pile of dust, right?

Isn’t that what you do, Tomura? Stalk and harass future fucktoys? Or rather...as you like to call them, potential housewives?

Sometimes, he might blanch when those thoughts resurface, bothering him and making him feel ashamed of who he is. How could someone like him, a successor to fucking All for One feel shame? That frustration or perhaps disturbance due to the intrusive thoughts lets his anger unleash, cracking like whips in the form of crumbling the man to dust. His wife beater, something he was sure he was (though he doubted anyone would want to marry this fuck), crumbled on top of the ashes and grew soaked under the downpour.

“I told you to let go of me. Now look at you.”

What once used to be a living, breathing person, is now kicked to the drain below. Fingers itching the delicate skin near his jaw, he enters the apartment. He feels hungry, but not for food. He just wants to eat you right up. Yeah, that sounds right. Take you all for himself.

You’d discarded the boots in the alcove near your door, the frogs smiling with pink cheeks as Shigaraki’s childish shoes squash them in his path of destruction. You lie drowsily in bed, pink fluffy pajamas comforting your soft skin and a duvet pulled up to your nose. You’d normally be asleep if it weren’t for the constant nagging in your gut. It felt as though something had gone horribly wrong. The anxiety causes you to lay still in your bed as if something was watching your every breath.

It was eerily similar to the way you’d cower from your closet at night with the idea planted in your head that monsters were coming to eat you. This was only different in the way that you didn’t know what monster was coming. Not only that, you had no idea what he would do to you.

You’d call yourself crazy during times like these, but you’d been right when the door to your bedroom opens.

“I know you’re awake. You always sleep on your back, not your side.”

It’s quiet and still. There’s tension thickening in the air like gravy on the stove and you briefly wonder if this was another bout of sleep paralysis. You thought you’d been in this position before, someone or something watching you. It had never felt like this, you’d never felt so terrified in your life.

“Not up for talking, huh? A bit ungrateful considering I helped rid your little ‘home’ of that greasy pig next door.”

The footsteps grow closer and against all instincts to play dead or even just move away, you sit up and face the man. His red eyes stare down at you, face bony and cracked...he looked like something straight out of a nightmare. Most people you knew were delicate and kind; they looked like regular people. Shigaraki though...you thought that Shigaraki might eat you alive and tear you apart limb by limp. A whimper exits your mouth as you sit paralyzed whilst he simply gets closer and closer.

His eyes trace the neckline of your sleeping shirt, a scoop neck that showed the smattering of beauty marks adorning your skin. You were so beautiful, he grinned and planted his bottom at the edge of your bed. You shook, the water logged clothes easily soaking through to you and making your heart sink deeper in your chest. You held a confused look, like a deer in headlights or maybe a puppy with twitching ears.

“I’m...I’m sorry…”

“Why are you apologizing? Aren’t I the one who broke in?”

Cry for me. You’d look so good and I’d commit it to memory, you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

“You’re such a pushover, how’d you let this happen? Hm?”

The tears build at your lash line until finally falling in fat droplets down your cheeks. Your hands turn to fists like a child as you rub your eyes, no defenses in place other than to cry like a submissive brat. Your breaths were uneven as you attempted to wipe away tears until a quick hand caught your wrist, pinky lifted.

“Look at me, when you cry. Gets me off,” he giggles before leaning so close your lips could almost touch, “did you know that? Everytime you sobbed in your pillow, I had a hard time choosing whether or not I should cuddle you or jerk off.”

A broken wail escapes you as your body finally makes the move to get away, your feet kick in the tangled sheets and you attempt to wrangle your wrist away from him, thrashing and beating on his chest desperately. He almost felt a bit sad, sure, he was a bit mean with the teasing. But...you had to have known that someday someone was going to come for you like this, right?

It’s easy to intercept your punches, holding both wrists at your head as he leaned over you. His hair framed the two of you, leaving you completely caged in this man. His lithe body scooched up yours, hips resting at yours for a moment.

“I’m gonna make you mine, well, more like you already are mine. Tomura Shigaraki's little wife. Okay? So you’re gonna come with me to the base without complaints, yeah?”

A brave scream tore through your mouth as you arched your back, trying for a second escape attempt. His left hand detached from your arm to grab your throat, cries quickly dying out as you thrashed wildly.

“If my pinky touches this vein right here, you’ll turn into a pile of dirt. If that happens, I’ll move onto someone else. So come on; do you really want to be the cause of someone’s future suffering? Give up, daddy taught you better than to fight.”

“How…?”

He laughed heartily, your throat clenching under his grip before he loosened to let you get a whoosh of air.

“Seriously? It’s so obvious you’re a daddy’s girl, take the stupid little gifts, listen to his every command, and wait for the day he decides to acknowledge you. It’s practically...practically predictable! You’re predictable and sad.”

His words feel like venom as you cry, the lack of oxygen making fuzzy black spots dot your vision. He might kill you in this moment, your lungs squeezed and he finally let go. You sputtered, body confused with it’s sudden freedom as you looked up at him with glassy eyes and snot dripping down past your lips to your chin.

“You look tired, I’ll take you home okay?”

You’re dazed, you almost don’t recognize the way he peels back the covers and grazes his hands up your thighs, exposing every inch of skin as if you were a present meant to be savoured.

“I’m a virgin! Please don’t…”

A look flashes in his eyes as he peers at you from his lashes.

“Perfect, just makes you even sweeter.”

You hadn’t thought you could cry more, but every word that came out of his predatory lips made a new wave of heartache resurface, was this really who you were? A weak girl who could let herself be lifted into the arms of a man she didn’t know, fingers digging into the plump flesh of her bottom as she weakly clung on?

A memory flashes in your mind as you let yourself be taken care of...well no, be kidnapped from your bedroom. It was the one with the high school boys, the way they’d flipped up your skirt and prodded at your weakest, most sensitive places. You’d cried for them to stop, told your father what the sickening boys had done to you. They’d practically defiled you, maybe would have gone so far to take you in that empty classroom had you not kicked one of them square in the shin.

Your father’s words ring in your ears.

“Well, you must have done something for that to happen. Don’t wear such short skirts next time.”

A hand comes to caress the top of your head. Tomura’s, he had you right where he wanted you. Vulnerable and weak to his advances, you were tired too. This was just going to make things easier.

The rain has slowed to a drizzle, you shivered in his arms and prayed to God for forgiveness as you buried yourself closer to him, the warmth comforting and soothing for your soul. Your bare feet swung limply as he kept you pressed to his front, walking on a seemingly practiced path. He was all over you.

If he could apologize, Tomura didn’t think he would. He had to be all over you. Consume your soul like the evillest of demons.

“Cheer up, maybe if you’d been a bit more vigilant, this would have never happened.”

Your bottom lip trembled, maybe love was not destined for you. After all, you must have been asking for this.

“And by the way...you know I love you right?”

You’d heard it a million times before.

#bnha #bnha x reader #yandere bnha #yandere bnha x reader #tomura imagine #tomura x y/n #tomura x reader #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x y/n #yandere shigaraki #yandere tomura

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somanyerikas · 3 years

Text

Nostalgia sells - or does it? About BBC’s rehiring of a previous showrunner for Doctor Who as a marketing strategy

All, right, this is the one where I deal with my issues about RTD’s rehiring from the standpoint of BBC’s business strategy . Brace for passive agression, swearwords, brief history of british television and numbers. So, so many numbers.

Allright, so I already wrote a post about my problem with RTD’s (re)hire from the creative standpoint (it’s here in case you’re interested), but hey, I can bitch about it all I want, but we all know what caused the BBC to make this decision, right? You’ve heard about it for sure. The Dropping Ratings. You’ve read about it on so many posts, lots of them probably oh-so-gladly conflating this fact with their own opinion about the deteriorating quality of the show. (Don’t worry, we’ll get to that.) So Obviously the execs at the Big BBC Quarters needed to do something about it, and what better way to go than rehire a guy who’s run at Doctor Who is a warm childhood memory for so many in it’s fanbase? After all, it’s what we’re seeing nowadays: from Star Wars return to wave of 80′s nostalgia to every old blockbuster star doing a comeback, there is but a single conclusion - nostalgia sells.

Or does it?

Part One: Moving with the change; or very much refusing to.

Let’s start this off with some facts about the ratings for Doctor Who. (Well, I warned you there’s gonna be numbers, didn’t I. Stick with me, I’m going somewhere with this I promise.) In it’s beginnings, in the sixties and seventies , the series flown high, averaging a viewership from 8 up to 10 million viewers per season. Collin Baker’s series 17 brought in a record of 11.21 milion viewer asses in front of a good ol’ TV screen, real champagne opener here. But, as it happens, things were downhill from here. During the eighties, the rating started dropping steadily, reaching an all-time low of 4.15 milion couch-warming bottoms in 1989, the last season of the classic era.

Years passed, 16 of those years to be exact, and here comes our saviour RTD. Under his wings, the revived series premiered, bringing in over 10 milion viewers to the premiere episode of season 1, Rose. A viewership this high did not last for long, but still, RTD’s seasons averaged between 7 and 8 milion viewers per season, which seemed pretty respectable. But then, as the story likes to repeat itself, not unlike the bbc execs just did, along came the decline again. Ever since 2010, the ratings began steadily dropping again, from 7.95 in 2010 to 5.46 in 2017. Then DW experienced an unexpected peak in 2018 with the premiere of Jodie Whittaker’s first season, which averaged 7.96 viewing asses, but then continued the dropping trend on the next season, averaging 5.40 viewing butts.

So what went wrong?

You see, part of the reason that Doctor Who was bringing in such great viewership numbers in the 60′s and 70′s, was that, to put it simply, BBC did not have much competition. Or, to be exact, only had one competitor. ITV was literally founded in order to break BBC’s monopoly over British television. But in the 80′s, with the launch of Channel 4 and Sky, the british viewers had more and more options to choose from. So logically speaking, they no longer had to watch BBC’s programming just because there was nothing else on. There was more and more new programes to boredom-watch. And here’s something y’all need to know about the tv industry: the boredom-watchers, the casuals? That’s the most important demographic. As hard as it might be to swallow, us hardcore fans, forum dwellers and Ao3 gremlins, we’re not as big of a group as we’d like to think. Loving fans are important to the tv execs as providers of word-of-mouth advertisment, but the real numbers come from the casual, everyday viewer who will just put on the next episode cause the other one was kinda fun I guess. Or more fun than the other options, anyway.

And this is why, by the way, when someone is conflating low viewership with the show Dissapointing The Fans, they’re full of shit. I’m sorry, but we’re really not that much of a force here, definitely not enough to make such a big impact on the numbers. Another factor, that some of you probably noticed already, is that the numbers I’m quoting are from british tv only, while the online fandom is very much international, so our opinions matter even less to the british execs, I’m sorry again, hard pill to swallow I know, but true nonetheless.

But I digress. So, to sum up the previous paragraph, Doctor Who’s viewership decline in the 80′s was the effect of the changing landscape of the TV industry, with which the BBC struggled to come to terms with.

Sound familiar?

Let’s move on to the 2010′s, shall we?

2010 was is actually a good marker of a year to choose, because it marks one important thing that begun a big change in the industry. This was the year in which Netflix expanded their services overseas, from being a DVD rental company to providing VOD services. Over the next decade streaming services grew in importance, from being an add-on to your cable TV that you didn’t really want but they were throwing it in for cheap, to very much self-sustainable media services you might very well buy instead of buying the cable. And if you look at the numbers for Doctor Who viewership declining over the last 10 years, that’s precisely what’s been happening. It’s not that people don’t want to watch Doctor Who on tv, they don’t want to watch tv in general. Do you know what was the most popular channel in Britain this year? Can you guess? Fucking Netflix that’s what. It’s just slowly-yet-steadily ceasing to be the way we use home entertainment anymore. Again, not much to do with the audience approval, because for that matter, let’s see about the specific episodes that saw the spikes in viewership.

Rose, which i mentioned at the start of it, was for the longest time the unquestionable queen when it comes to viewership, at 10.81 milion. The next episode, The End of the World, pulled in 7.97 - almost 3 millions worth of lost viewer-butts in one week? Is it because it was so much worse than it’s predecessor? No, it simply did not have the smell of Newness, the Event You Must See, and as such brought forth less of the casual viewers who were simply curious about The New Thing. The next season followed the similar formula, peaking at the premiere, when the marketing was at it’s strongest, going down during the season, sometimes rising slightly for the finale, sometimes not. The most popular episodes are, of course, the specials - yet again, the vibe of The Event To Be Seen worked here, but one more thing working to their advantage is they often aired in spaces between seasons, serving as both a long-waited Crumbs of Content for the fans, and the basically stand-alones for the casuals. Do you know what the single most watched episode of revived DW is? No, it’s not Tennant’s goodbye with the role (yeah I know, I thought it had to be that as well). It was Voyage of the Damned, between seasons 3 and 4. The perfect standalone for the casual watcher. And last but not least, you know one more special feature that brought, maybe not as much, but definitely more than expected? The 1996 movie Doctor Who, with 9.08 million. Again, a perfect standalone.

But the standalones aren’t the only way to grab the viewership. The currently-highest viewing non-special episode of DW? The Woman Who Fell to Earth, Jodie Whittaker’s introduction. In 2018 no less, in the year when the streaming was the ruler supreme, this episode brought a whooping 10.96 million buts to the good ol’ TV again. Let me reiterate: this episode brought in more viewers than Rose did in 2005, while having WAY more competition and way less favorable circumstances of release that RTD’s debiut did. Not only that, it managed to bring on some numbers for the entire season as well, not as good of course as the premiere (because again, the Event vibes faded), but still brought a better average than the last six seasons did. (Again, let me reiterate: more than the last SIX seasons. More viewership than any series since 2010, since the Streaming Wars.) So clearly, this must be the way, right? Catering to this Weird New Trend, that saw directors notice there do in fact exist other actors than white men, that surely brought in some profit, even Marvel does it now, right? Out with the old, in with the new!

Part 2 The Deceitful Charm of Nostalgia

Well, it turns out the whole Doing New Things deal didn’t work out that well after all, now did it? The second season penned by Chibbnal averaged 5.40 milion, that’s 2.5 million drop from the previous one! It must mean it didn’t work, right? Well, yes and no. As much as the refreshment of the formula as simple as Let’s Put A Woman In It absolutely worked for one season, it very visibly did not hold up for longer. An Event-Episode is something that can still happen on TV, Event-Series? That’s pretty much reserved for streaming now, if you think about it, and it’s honestly kind of a miracle that Series 11 did as well as it had. Two consecutive Event-Series on network tv? Flat out impossible.

So how to make those ratings great again? How to get those butts in seats of the Good Ol’? Well, the execs of the BBC have a plan for that. They brought in a devouring beast, and it’s name is: Nostalgia.

Without a doubt, there is a number of people who feel nostalgic about RTD’s era of Doctor Who. It’s a lot of people’s fond childhood memory, or the series they started with, and judging by the numbers, there should be quite a lot of them. So the new plan, as it appears, is to get to those who maybe lost interest in the show and lure them with the promise of the thing That Is Totally Like The Thing You Used To Love, Remember? (This is why I don’t actually think that RTD will be allowed to do anything new and interesting, that’s not what they hired him for. And that’s why I think this is bad from the creative standpoint.) So there are two questions here: One, will the people be lured? And two, for how long?

Nostalgia as a marketing strategy is something that you’re probably sick of seeing already (I know I am). But it has very much been effective on many levels, especially the eighties-baiting, Stranger Things style, can bring a new IP up to relevance. But what about old IP’s that want to have a comeback?

It’s kind of dificult to find another TV show that I could compare to Doctor Who. Most series that have been running for that long are mostly soap operas, that operate on slightly different rules, and are also targeted to a different audience. So as much as the movie series is still not exactly the best comparison, when I think about a big IP, campy sci-fi, family-oriented (at least in theory) on its path back to relevance, I think about Star Wars, obviously. The Force Awakens gambled on that nostalgic feeling and won big, but the next two movies, while still financially successful, were nowhere near the astounding success of the first one. And that’s because - you guessed it - it created the Event You Must See again, The Great Comeback, but merely two years later, the comeback became old news. So what we can gain from that is that nostalgia can create an Event as well as a new trend, if not better. But the question remains: how long will that last?

That is, after all, the main difference between a movie franchise and a TV series in the traditional, network TV sense of the word: movie franchise must bring in the viewership every year or two, and TV series must bring in viewers every week for at least two months. Is RTD’s Nostalgia Vibes enough to provide for that?

I’ll say this: I’m absolutely certain that the 60th anniversary will be very popular. I still don’t think it will break any records because, as I’ve been trying to explain for this whole post, it is not 2007 anymore no matter how much the tv execs would like it to be. But ironically, the almost-certain success of the special is the very thing that could undermine the effect of bringing their precious Nostagia Boi back onboard. Remember, the first Event Episode is The Big Oof. That’s the one that gets asses to the Good Ol’, if anything ever does. After the first big event one, that’s the point when things start going down. They’re wasting their Special Event Boi for something that already would be an event, dear fucking gods, I hate your plan and I would still execute it better. Either have RTD be the Anniversary Guy and then hire someone new, use that hype and keep it going, OR have RTD come in after the anniversary, then at least you get the Event Effect for the premiere of his first return season. Fukin’ amateurs.

But even if they did that, here’s the thing: do you think that the people who departed from the show years ago actually want to watch another three to five seasons of The RTD Show? I mean, I’m sure the thought warmed some hearts, for sure. A number of people will definitely gladly watch the anniversary, probably the first few episodes of the first return to the basics, but after that? In the world when, due to streaming, they have an easy way to revisit the actual thing they’re nostalgic towards? I honestly don’t think so. And you’re not really gonna get many new people by going back, if that nostalgia factor isn’t there. And then there’s casual viewers, the backbone, as we established. And here’s the thing: lots of those people don’t even know who the current showrunner is, cause they’re not Terminally Online like we are, and the second thing? Lots of those people ARE JUST NOT WATCHING NETWORK TV, IM SORRY GARRY. They’re just. They’re just not. I don’t know how to spell it out better. Even my mum has netflix now. Your biggest base is in another castle mate, gotta get moving and gotta get moving quick, cause here’s another thing: all the nostalgia in the world will not do SHIT for you if your target, people who were kids/teens when the RTD era was airing, PROBABLY DON’T EVEN HAVE A FUCKING TV ANYMORE CAUSE THEY MOVED OUT OF THEIR PARENTS FLAT AND LOTS OF YOUNG PEOPLE JUST DON’T BOTHER. Just. I’m sorry but you’re trying to resuscitate a decade-deceased corpse there buddy. It just won’t work. The times have changed and you gotta swim or drown, and it’s just not gonna be 2005 again, no matter how hard you pretend it is. It’s not your content it’s your business model. Just push more marketing for your iplayer or whatever, focus on streaming as your primary not your secondary cause that’s just what it is now, and maybe don’t rely on the viewer-counting systems of the yesteryear to evaluate your business. Or else you’re gonna get stuck sacrificing the creative growth of your show for a marketing strategy that probably won’t even fucking WORK.

There, I got it of my chest. Feel free to reblog, and also: you somehow got to the end of this, congrats! I’ll make numbers nerds out of y’all yet.

#it's like. my sister and I were #watching a movie lately. the one with multiple will smiths and the de-aging tech #(don't recommend it it's real boring)#but when Youngened Will Smith appeared on the screen my sister got my spiting my tea laughing by innocently saying:#"oh i don't know this actor. it's nice that they're giving opportunities to the young actors. great to see a new face in the biz''#and u know what #this rehire is the same fucking vibe to me #some cunts from marketing plastering make-up to an old man's face and pretending its 2005 still #anyway #doctor who #i guess.

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kpop-dungeon-dark · 3 years

Text

Hell. (Lucifer Kris Wu/Yifan x You)

•TRIGGER WARNING•

Warning(s): Non-Con and fucked up twisted shit. You are legal in this. Read at your own risk.

"Mmm…" She hummed and smiled, nuzzling into the much older man and inhaling his scent while he held her tight to his chest. "Oh… I should get going now~ I have class in an hour~" glancing at the clock on the bedside table, the girl sat up slowly with a pout.

"Get going?" Yifan chuckled at her before grabbing her ass and pulling her into him, clicking his tongue. "Nah… you'll stay here with me like my good toy now~" Y/n looked at him and giggled, taking the covers off to her to get out of bed.

"Chill dude… we just met like last night. Don't expect anything only because we fucked. You have a looooong way to go if you want to impress me…" Before she went to step off the bed but her hand was captured in Yifan's much bigger one.

"Impress you? Tsk. You're branded as my belonging now that I've fucked you, finally. You're mine now. Nobody and nothing can get you out of my world now, you're officially a satanist after you opened your legs for The Devil. You're nothing but my fuck toy now." His lips brushed against her ear as he chuckled to himself. "You don't have a choice."

Turning around to look at him, Y/n started struggling as she got creeped out. "U- Uh… okay… weirdo… I really gotta go now~" trying to back away, she tried to break out of his grip. Her friends were right. Maybe single older men really were fucking nutjobs.

"You're not going anywhere!" Yifan's complexion darkened before horns grew out of his temples whilst his hair turned white and back to its original length which was til his waistline. "I came up here looking for a new toy as the last one…" He sickly grinned. "Anyways. I've found you now and have decided that you'll be my little slut from now on." Y/n was shaking as his pupils disappeared, blank white eyes staring down at her now.

"O- Oh… m- my fucking G- God… n- no way…" She whispered, only causing the man to laugh at her. "H- Holy fucking shit-" she was cut off when everything around them started to disappear, as of they were standing in a tornado, their surroundings starting to spin before getting distorted to the point where Y/n's human mind couldn't decipher it anymore.

"Welcome to your new house, my pet." Yifan mightily spoke when it finally stopped and they were standing in a dark hall now that was illuminated by an unknown source. "There's only one rule for little slaves like you. Behave well, get treated well." The man- fucking Devil's voice was so much deeper and inhuman now, his tall frame growing even more as well as expanding.

"T- This can't be real… th- this can't be real!" Y/n shook as she looked around, her senses numbed whilst she knelt in front of him, the shock too much for her legs to still work.

"Tsk. It is real. Very real. Since the beginning of time. And now you're a part of it." His teeth seemed sharp, almost like fangs.

"They're awaiting you in the court, Father." Y/n jumped when she heard an even more inhuman voice from behind, making her gasp and stagger towards Yifan when she looked back at the abomination of a creature standing behind her, staring at Yifan through its plain black eyes.

It was a literally mutilated half bull and half human looking thing. Her head was spinning.

"I don't condone a pathetic little human like you being disrespectful to my people!" A harsh kick landed in her side, making her groan in pain. "Pathetic fucking slaves like you show respect and please their owners. Tsk. Apologize!" He boomed while glaring down at the shaking human, expecting her to just suck up the fact that her one night stand had turned out to be The fucking Devil and had brought her to Hell. "Apologise, I said!" A whip appeared in his hand before he controlled her mind, making her get on all fours while crawling to the creature that was waiting silently. "I DON'T HAVE ALL DAY!" Before the whip made of lightning whipped her back, making a whole jolt go down her back.

"I am sorry! I am s- sorry, Master! P- Please forgive me!" The girl shook while crying, the mind control forcing her to kiss the creature's animal-like feet. "I didn't m- mean to-! Please!" When Yifan landed another whip, she cried out in agony, holding the creature's feet desperately.

It only nodded in response, silently saying something in a language of whispers and hissed she didn't understand before it left.

"Good slut." Since her ass was in perfect view, Yifan kicked it from behind, making her let out an embarrassing yelp before he grabbed her hair. "Now. Let's go and introduce you in court." Starting to walk swiftly, the Devil basically dragged her against the rough floors by her hair, his own feet in the air, almost.

It wasn't long before they reached two huge doors made of gold which instantly opened for Yifan, a huge courtroom like that of a king inside. Y/n felt her heart beat getting even more erratic when The Devil started to drag her inside, causing her knees to start getting torn now, all the creatures standing on either sides almost impossible to decipher by a human mind.

"This, my people, is my new toy and slave!" Lucifer announced as his people cheered, letting go of Y/n's hair in the middle of the court and ascending up the stairs and onto his throne, sitting like the royalty that he was. "But this pathetic little human here thinks she can deny me and disrespect our kind!" Everyone let out angry hisses and groans, speaking in that one language she didn't understand, making her let out a sob.

"We must teach her a lesson now, shouldn't we?!" Everyone cheered in response, rushing to the screaming girl when their Ruler nodded at them, pulling and pushing at the smaller body from every direction. Y/n wanted to call out for help to no one in particular but her tongue froze upon The Devil's power.

The human was on the verge of knocking out but she couldn't, forced to take all the slaps, pushes, pulls, pokes and abuse. Yifan laughed like a maniac. "Now now, don't touch her little privates. That's mine~" her slits closed up. "Take her elsewhere until I am done with court, we have important business to do here~" and with that, those creatures dragged her out of court.

She couldn't speak, she couldn't run, she couldn't knock out and she couldn't die.

"That's enough!" After what felt like days of turmoil, Lucifer finally stopped those creatures that had destroyed Y/n's body again and again only for it to heal again. "Come here now…" Grabbing at her arm, he pulled her up to her feet as her slits opened up again, gesturing at everyone to leave before he looked down at her. “Have you learned?” The human had no choice but to nod in desperation, ready to do anything to not go through the turmoil those God forbidden creatures put her through.

“Good.” Before her brain could decipher any of it, they were standing in a huge room and a heavy door was shutting behind them, The Devil throwing her naked form on the bed before his own clothes disappeared. “See, I am not a bad Master, my slave” crawling on top of her, he deeply spoke before kissing her cheek and then her soft lips. “Not at all… I take well care of my toys and play with them all the time but…” Dipping his middle finger in her mouth, Yifan picked her up and closer to him by snaking an arm around her waist, plunging his middle finger in her pucker and making her cry out wordlessly as she couldn't use her tongue.

"But for good treatment you must show good behavior, my little toy…" Kissing her lips harshly, he tortured her asshole before his red and hot tail slipped in, replacing his finger as he kissed and bit at her tits now. "Fuck… you're so tight and soft" Yifan grunted and rubbed his balls against her soft folds, healing her hymen back up just so she could bleed when he plunged his huge cock in, moaning even more when he felt it's shape in her stomach.

The human wanted to struggle and scream but instead let out moans under compulsion, her body betraying her mind and making her try to ride him more and more, the shape of his manhood very clear to see. Y/n hated how good her pussy felt because of his compulsion.

"You like this, don't you, my little pet? Tsk. Look at you! Being raped by The fucking Devil and enjoying it!" He smacked her cheek before gripping it and kissing her deeper, pushing his tongue in her mouth and entering it in her throat, gripping her neck and feeling it, moaning loudly in satisfaction while pumping his cock in and out of her pussy whilst his tail toyed with her ass.

"Look at you! Shaking and crying like a needy little slut!" Gripping her hands, he pinned them above her head and licked at her tears with his now long Devil tongue, thrusting harder and harder, her holes expanding more and more when the girth of his cock and tail was increased by him.

"That's right. You're mine! My toy! My little slave! That's all you are and will ever be good for! Fuck!" The human couldn't help but helplessly nod and moan. She was powerless.

And Yifan wasn't done just yet. They had a long way to go before he'd be satisfied for the day.

#non con #exo #kris wu #wu yifan #dark kpop #dark mpop #dark fic #kris wu smut #exo smut #wu yifan smut #kris wu x you #kris x reader #yifan x you #yifan x reader #exo scenarios #exo imagines #kris wu scenarios #kris wu imagines

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