#Rich Boys Go Hard I Guess | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

txt-trash · 1 year ago

Text

clever girl | choi soobin

summary: you’ve only ever viewed choi soobin as your rival in school. he was cute and sweet at times but for the most part he usually acted cold toward you—or at least tried to. out of nowhere you hear about his grades dropping and in an effort to save your only motivation to push yourself harder, you accept his persistent offer to tutor him. you quickly learn he had an ulterior motive to always get you to spend time with him and despite how mean you think you might be, Soobin loved it.

➣ college au, smüt, fluff, enemies to lovers [but it’s one-sided]

➣ academic rival!soobin x f!reader [she/her, afab]

➣ 13.8k words

warnings: smut. oc is kinda mean to soobin. soft jealousy scenes. soobin asks oc to tutor him. really clingy. super cute. the smut is… nashty lowkey. heavy on foreplay. oral [both receiving]. handjöb. oc sits on his face. virgin soobin/experienced oc. oc gets jealous at times too. oc is kinda possessive. sub/dom themes but I swear soobin is a switch. breastplay. missionary. no condom. a lot of plot. multiple orgasm. soobin got that cream im sorry. soobin is a known perv. oc got big boobs. soobin is very obviously a boob guy. oc is lowkey dom, aftercare bc soobin cries. oc calls him a perv, dirty talk. soobin is best boy but also brattiest boy.

You never considered yourself a particularly smart person. You weren’t gifted — as teachers would say — but you weren’t dumb either. You rode the fine line of somewhere in between but you also studied your ass off to get good grades so you could get a scholarship to the college of your dreams. It’s for that reason specifically that Choi Soobin drives you absolutely insane.

You’ve known him for two years but not close enough to consider him a friend. If anything you consider him the opposite of a friend. For the past two years he’s been your number one contender in class. He’s really smart, like book smart but lately he’s been plummeting his grades and that only seems to piss you off more. He’s the reason why you would push yourself so hard to be number one but now that he’s barely trying it’s not as fun. You’re a competitive person.

So, when he approached you today asking you if you could please tutor him you seriously stopped to think about it. If you tutored him then you could possibly have your competition back but tutoring him would also mean having to help him and he did not need your help. You knew he was smart enough to learn things on his own and he’s just in some sort of stump.

“Why don’t you hire one of those expensive tutors I know you can afford?” You asked him after pondering on it for damn near two minutes. You stood just outside the library where he had practically ambushed you before you could make it inside the building.

Soobin was one of those rich guys you weren’t so fond of. He had money, he didn’t have to work hard to get good grades and he could afford to go to any school he wants to while you have to work double as hard to do anything. Or course it’s not his fault but for him to ask you to tutor him when you know for a fact he doesn’t need you to just really bothers you.

He looked a bit lost by what you said, looking a bit bored like you’re the one holding him up instead of the other way around, “I don’t know, I figured you could help me out since we’re in the same major.”

You huffed out in annoyance, “Am I going to get paid?”

His eyes widened just slightly but you couldn’t if he was in surprise or in disbelief, “I guess, however much you want, I need the help.”

A small sigh left your lips as you rolled your eyes, “No you don’t, but whatever, if you pay me, I’ll think about it.”

“Can I get your number then?” Soobin asked, already taking his phone out. You didn’t say anything as you typed in your number and before he could say anything else, you left for the library.

He watched you leave without a smile on his face, keeping up his unamused act until you turned your back to him and his lips couldn’t help but curl up in a smile. Soobin knows it’s a bit weird for him to ask you to tutor him. You’re just one year younger than him but you take most of the same classes so he figured you were his best option.

And also… maybe he dropped his grades on purpose to have an excuse to talk to you but that’s something he’ll never admit to your face.

It all started two years ago. He had already been in school for a year or so and he was just soaring by. You were right when you said he could just hire some expensive tutor to help him but he never really needed it. He was book smart even though sometimes he lacked common sense in the real world. Growing up he had it all, tutors, piano lessons, private schooling, et cetera. He was a smart kid all the way until his third year of University.

Well… he’s still smart but things are different now. He’s spent the last two years practically racing you in classes you shared to do better like that would impress you but it didn’t work. Then, he tried being cold to you like you were to him but he could never do it right. It only seemed to push you away and after a while he realized the only reason why he did it was because he wanted to get a rise out of you. You just won’t notice him no matter how hard he tries to get you to and if this is the only way he’ll get you to talk to him more then he’s going to do it.

“So, did it work?” Kai asked, walking up behind Soobin and scaring the life out of him. Soobin released a loud yell that heads turning in his direction but he barely notice as he whipped around to face his friend, “Did what work?”

“Your little scheme to get Y/n to talk to you,” Kai said as he walked toward the library with Soobin on his tail, “What scheme?”

Kai stopped and gave him that look that told Soobin the gig was up, “You’ve been working on this for weeks now, you think I wouldn’t notice? You used to tutor me and now you’re saying you need to get tutored by the one person who seems to want nothing to do with you?”

Soobin cut in front of him to reach the door first as he swung it open, “No clue what you’re talking about. I’ve been struggling in class lately, probably stress over the internship this summer.”

“Right…” Kai rolled his eyes following his friend into the library, “Or the stress of getting ignored by Y/n no matter how hard you try. It’s been two years, pack it up already.”

“How do you know Y/n ignores me?” He asked getting into the elevator with his friend to get to the next level where more computers and desks were. Kai shrugs, “I mean it’s pretty obvious.”

It took days for you to get back to him and he waited anxiously to see what you would say. He didn’t want to blow up your phone because he had a cold image to uphold but every time his phone dinged he checked if it was you. By the third day he had almost given up hope until the simple text you sent nearly made him burst into a million fireworks.

you: meet me outside the library tomorrow

He got there earlier than intended but he acted like he didn’t. He had done at least two laps around the tall building just waiting for you to arrive and when you did, you said nothing to him. You only walked into the building and headed straight to the elevators like he wasn’t even there.

“It’s raining.”

Jesus Christ.

So stupid, Soobin thought as he turned away from you. This is what happens when he tries to make small talk with someone who sort of hates him. He still doesn’t get why you don’t like him much but he assumes it has something to do with your grades. You’re both art majors and have to take similar prerequisites so you see each other a lot. You’re both also at the top of the department and practically battling for the same summer internship so he thought taking a step back might’ve made you happier but it seemed to have the opposite effect.

You looked at him for a second and when he wondered if you would say something you just looked back down at your phone like he wasn’t even there. This elevator ride felt like it would never end. He knows it’s only been a few seconds but it feels so suffocating.

“Did you change up your hair? It looks good,” he said cautiously and you finally looked at him again. He didn’t expect a thank you or anything but maybe a smile.

All he got was; “Why are you talking to me?”

“It was like this last time we talked,” you finally said and looked forward again.

The elevator dinged and he released a breath he didn’t even know he was holding in until he was off. The two of you walked down the hall with you a couple paces ahead of him in complete silence.

Suddenly you turned around to face him as he stumbled back a step in surprise when you said, “I like the black hair, it’s different from the blonde.”

He absentmindedly touched his hair as a smile grew on his face, “Thank you.”

Your brows furrowed, surprised that he was even smiling at you. Usually he acts just as cold to you as you do to him and that’s why you barely acknowledge him nowadays. You knew he wasn’t a bad guy but he always had a smug face when he came out on top in class and it drove you insane. He would even laugh sometimes when you would stumble over your words during a presentation and make fun of you, not even caring if you heard or not.

Of course you didn’t know he was giggling because he found you so cute even when you made mistakes.

Soobin happily followed you to an empty table, just happy to be there and ignored the hand you had outstretched to motion for him to sit across from you just so he could sit next to you instead.

You just looked at him unamused as his smile dropped, “What? How am I supposed to see what we’re doing if I’m sitting all the way over there?”

You released a sigh, “Alright, did you bring your last exam?”

Soobin nodded his head, reaching into his huge backpack to retrieve his laptop and work. He quickly opened his laptop and got onto the school website app to find his most recent Psychology exam. He knew you were in that class too even if you took it at different times [he only signed up because of you and got the time wrong].

You looked at his laptop where a fat 65/100 score was typed in red that made you gasp, “Soobin?! How?”

“I don’t know,” he whispered, “I’ve been stressed, can’t pay attention well.”

Soobin was looking at you with soft eyes, unable to help himself from looking over what you wore today. He hasn’t seen you all day aJust as you opened your mouth to scold him, a high pitched feminine voice cut you off, “Binnie?”

You both turned in your seats, a cute brunette with hair just above her shoulders dressed in a cute coquette style smiled at him sweetly, “I thought I recognized you.”

You knew her well too, you used to call her Soobin’s little sidekick in a class you shared last semester. She always followed him around complimenting him over every little thing he did and laughing at all his jokes, even the ones that weren’t funny.

“Hi Jia,” Soobin said as he looked back down at his laptop. Jia smiled before sliding her gaze over to you, “Hi Y/n.”

“Hey.”

She cleared her throat, “So, Soobin, good thing I found you, I’ve been meaning to ask you if you’re free any time soon.”

“Um,” Soobin look at you, “For what?”

“Oh!” Jia blushed, “Um, I’ve been having software problems and I know you’re a game wizard so I figured you might know how to fix it.”

She already had her laptop out and you watched as she pulled up a chair from a different table to sit on his other side and he looked just as taken back to be sandwiched between the two of you now. Soobin didn’t say anything as he took her laptop once she showed him what’s wrong and he hurried to fix it. His lips were parted in concentration yet his dimples still showed and you couldn’t help but look at him over. You never once thought Soobin was ugly, he had to be one of the most attractive guys you’ve ever seen but you would never even think about it. If anything it’s a bit too late to imagine you and Soobin being anything more than rivals or even tutor and student. It would just be too much.

She smiled leaning into him, "Thanks, it's like you're the only one who knows how to fix it."

"Then you should probably learn how to do it yourself for when he’s not around," you responded out of the blue, flashing Jia a tight smile, "I could teach you but it's just a troubleshooting problem and it doesn’t take a brainiac to figure that out."

"I'd rather have Soobin teach me," Jia smiled looking back at Soobin who looked down at his own laptop to hide the fact that he was furiously blushing at how snappy you sounded. You smiled watching him ignore her, the jealous immature side happy he's not giving her much attention but you couldn’t understand why.

“You hear that Soobin?" You asked, nudging him with your knee, he released a breath stopping what he was doing and waiting for you to talk. Just like that, he didn't ignore you at this moment. "Jia wants you to teach her how to fix her own laptop, she’s taking advantage of your kindness, y’know."

Jia went to argue but the damage had been done. Soobin wouldn’t disagree with you, maybe you were right. He did always get bothered by all the girls who asked him to help them with something and he always felt bad saying no. In the end, half of the girls would use it to flirt with him and compliment him every chance they had and it made him uncomfortable.

Even if what you had said was a bit of a lie and probably more beneficial to you than him, Soobin was on your side — even if you sounded a bit mean, "Sorry I'm too busy but if you take it to the tech lab I'm sure they'll help you."

"He's too busy," you repeated smugly looking up at her again. You’re telling "Oh, I understand," Jia sighed, "Soobin are you doing anything? Maybe we can meet up and do some work."

You couldn’t help but scoff, Soobin immediately looked at you as you moved just a fraction away from. You looked annoyed and he knew it was once again because of him. He asked you to tutor him and yet here you are having to watch another girl try and take him away.

"Um, I don’t know, I’m kinda doing something with Y/n right now and I don’t know how long it’ll be," Soobin said mindlessly, eyes glancing in your direction like you would reward him for being blunt, he turned to you, "Can we continue?"

You stared at him in surprise. This is not how you expected this moment to go. You were almost certain that was thrilled at the idea of ending this and leaving with someone he appears to be close to. Sure, you watched him tell her he was busy but she kept pushing and you assumed he would just go with it instead. You were also being a little rude and she was his friend right, why else would they have looked so close last semester? You assumed he would’ve been annoyed by the way you responded to her and would want to end this study session before it could even start.

“I don’t know,” you said, sounding a bit more harsh than you expected, “Do you want to?”

Soobin looked genuinely caught off guard that you would even think that. Why would he not want to? He’s been thinking about this for weeks, he’s worked for this — or well stopped putting in the work so you could tutor him. Do you think he’s going to want to leave to hang out with Jia?

“Yes,” Soobin said looking all doe eyed and you’ve never seen him make that face to you. You looked to Jia, “So, can we finish studying or is there anything else you want to tell Soobin?”

She stared down at you with a glare but you didn’t budge, looking at her unimpressed and not intimidated at all. All you wanted to do was finish this study session, get paid, and go home. Why were they making this so complicated? Was it even worth all this trouble when you haven’t even gotten to reviewing his answers yet.

The more you thought about it the more you realized it was actually really annoying. Would you have to go through this every time you study in the library? Would some girl with a fat crush on Soomin come and try and take him away? Did you really want to put up with that?

Soobin practically jumped in his seat when you stood up, “It’s getting late and we haven’t even started, let’s just try this again some other time, I guess.”

“Y/n!” Soobin’s voice was a little too loud for the people in the library and a few felt perfectly fine telling him to shut up as he ran to the stairs completely forgetting Jin was standing there waiting on him.

The elevator came to a stop on the first floor and you swung your backpack onto your shoulders, head down as you caught up on your notifications. You barely made it past the elevator doors when you bumped into a very hard service. A strong arm grabbed you from the waist as you nearly stumbled back, your phone unfortunately did not have the luck of having someone grab it before it fell. Your hands clung to the shirt of the person and you finally got a good look at him, annoyed huff leaving your lips, “Soobin!?”

“What?” Play it cool, Soobin “I was coming to see where you went after ditching me up there.”

“I literally said we could do it some other day,” you released a sigh as you picked your phone up and shook his hands off your waist. Soobin loomed over your shoulder, “Damn, your screens cracked, when did that happen?”

He wasn’t thinking straight when he said that, all common sense completely left his body as he looked at your phone with pity, only snapping out of his thoughts when he felt you turn your head to look at him. It was then that he realized just how close the two of you were with him leaning down to look over your shoulder. He couldn’t help but attempt a smile noticing just how close your lips are to his and you smelled so goo—

“About two seconds ago, Soobin,” your voice was laced with sarcasm that had goosebumps raising on his skin at how annoyed you sounded, “When you bumped into me, remember?”

He blinked once in realization, feeling his cheeks heat up, “I did that?”

A tired sigh left your lips as you decided to ignore him. You weren’t sure if he was playing dumb to get on your nerves or if he actually was clueless but now you were more annoyed than before. You don’t have the money nor the time to get your screen fixed and you definitely can’t afford a new one.

“I’m going home,” you mumbled as you turned away from him, “Go find another tutor, probably Jia will help—“

“I don’t want to,” Soobin’s deep voice cut you off as he followed you out the door into the outside, “I want you to tutor me, Y/n. I’m sorry about your phone, I’ll fix it but don’t take back your word, you already agreed.”

You groaned, “Ugh, Soobin there’s so many girls who’ll tutor you and for free, you don’t need me and besides, we can’t study in the library if someone is going to interrupt.”

“Y/n it’s been one day,” Soobin said harshly, “Did Jia bother you that much?”

Soobin couldn’t help but feel hopeful and he wasn’t sure why. He knows you don’t like him so there’s no way you were jealous but to see you act just a little possessive over him made him blush. He liked it. He liked it a lot and he was determined to make you admit it any way you can. He watched you roll your eyes, expression laced with attitude, “I don’t care about Jia, Soobin, but if I’m trying to help your studies I’m not interested in others tagging along.”

He couldn’t help but bite his lip as he tilted his head to the side curiously, “So you want me to yourself?”

Once again you rolled your eyes, turning your back to him, “I’m leaving.”

“No,” Soobin grabbed at your wrist softly, “I’m kidding, come on, let’s figure something out, yeah?”

“Like?” You asked, still not sure why you’re willing to put yourself through this when you don’t even like him that much. You watched as his shoulder rose and dropped in a shrug, biting his lip in thought and you released a small sigh to let him know you were running out of patience. He looked down, “I don’t know, maybe we could go somewhere that it’s just us two.”

You could barely understand him from the way he mumbled but once you processed what he said, you just nodded, “Alright, I’ll go to your place tomorrow.”

“Really?” He asked, clearly thrilled at the idea but trying to play it off. You just nodded and he finally let you leave.

What were you getting yourself involved with him?

Soobin couldn’t sleep all night. He went to his classes looking like a complete zombie and for once he had an actual reason for not paying much attention. As much as he wanted to see you all day you made him wait till late because you had work after your last class. It only made him more anxious and he cleaned around his apartment twice, just to be sure you didn’t think he was messy even if he kind of was. The entire time this all happened, his friend watched him from the comfort of Soobin’s bed.

“So what makes you think Y/n would even want to hang out in your bedroom?” Taehyun asked as he watched his friend go crazy. Soobin was acting like he was preparing a date, he saw him put on Chanel perfume about three times, each time saying he couldn’t remember if he put any on. He even styled his hair on.y to mess it up and restyle it differently.

Soobin shrugged, “I don’t know, but my desk is here, Y/n might.”

Taehyun just nodded, not seeming fully convinced but went along with it anyway, “Wishful thinking, bin, wishful thinking, and just speak your truth, what’s the real reason why you want to be in your room instead out in the living room?”

He smirked watching the way Soobin’s face flushed red, “Privacy.”

He chuckled, “From who?”

Soobin didn’t answer him and it only made Taehyun smile in amusement, “I love you, but it’s never going to happen.”

“What are you talking about?” Soobin asked as he checked his phone, already smiling at the text you sent a few minutes ago that said you were already on your way.

soobin: ok just lmk

soobin: I’ll come down if u want

You didn’t respond but he didn’t expect you to, he only just sent the message but he still found himself waiting for those three dots to pop up on the message thread.

“I’m talking about how badly you want to hook up with Y/n,” Taehyun said, making Soobin look up at him completely shocked.

“I hate Y/n,” obviously he didn’t but he didn’t like the idea of his friends knowing he liked you without knowing how you felt and he had a reason for this. If they knew he liked you despite how mean you were to him, they would think he’s a masochist… it’s better they think he hates you too but apparently he wasn’t fooling anyone considering Kai caught on pretty quickly too.

Taehyun let out a laugh, one of those really loud and obnoxious laughs that told Soobin he was actually very amused by whatever was happening. He went as far as wiping away his cheek like a tear had fallen and said, “Good one, almost believed you there.

“I’m serious,” Soobin said as he looked at his reflection in the mirror, fixing a wrinkle in his shirt, “Y/n is mean to me, why would I like her?”

“I wanna know why too,” Taehyun said as he rolled onto his stomach only making himself more comfortable on the bed, “I mean, she’s hot, but she’s mean—wait a second, you like that she’s mean, huh?”

Taehyun was just teasing him at this point and when Soobin refused to respond, his eyes only widened, “Oh my god! You like that Y/n’s mean to you, are you a perv, Hyung?”

He was only teasing, he swears it. He doesn’t care what his friend is into, what he likes is totally up to him but it’s just fun to poke fun at him when he gets so flustered about it. He doesn’t blame Soobin for liking you, like he said, he can agree that you’re attractive, but you’ve blown Soobin off for three years. Did he really like you enough to keep up his charades and if so did he really go as far as failing his classes just to get you to talk to him? God, what will you do to Soobin once you find out?

“I’m not a perv!” Soobin yelled, a little louder than expected. He’s really not. He’s not a perv… he’s just… he just likes you. Yes, he likes that you’re a little mean to him, yes he likes when you scold him, yes he likes pushing your buttons and yes he especially liked it when you do it and he can see down your shirt or look at the squishiness of your thighs but… but he’s not a perv!

Okay, maybe he’s imagined what it’s like to feel under your shirt and has struggled to pay attention to anything but the sight of you in a short skirt but that doesn’t make him a perv, he’s just an easily distracted guy…

Before Taehyun could rebut, a loud knock was heard on the front door that had both of their eyes widening in surprise. Soobin was practically sprinting toward the door as his friend gathered his things to leave. He meant to leave before you were here but clearly time passed by way too fast and now he’s getting ready to leave just as Soobin was opening the door to you.

You looked at Taehyun curiously as he ran past you and out the door, yelling, “Hi Y/n! Bye Y/n!”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you let yourself into Soobin’s apartment, “What’s up with him? Why’d he leave in a hurry?”

“Uh,” Soobin gave you a blank expression that sort of reminded you of a confused bunny and you watched him scratch the back of his head in thought, “You said no distractions and… and he would be a distraction, right?”

“I guess,” you took the chance to look around his apartment, it was huge, way bigger than your apartment and it was so painfully obvious that he came from money. He had a grand piano in the corner for fuck’s sake. There was even a chandelier hanging above the dining table and a fireplace by the tv. Too distracted to notice Soobin move behind you, you nearly hit him in self defense when he began to pull on your backpack to take it off your shoulders. Without bothering with a thank you, you headed toward his marble dining table waiting for him to follow but he just stood in place.

“We’re studying in my room,” Soobin said in voice that radiated confidence, completely opposite of the desperate tone he used to prove to Taehyun that he was not a perv. He had an act to play, he assumed you liked mean guys. He’s heard of some of the guys you used to talk to and they all had one thing in common… they were intimidating and Soobin didn’t feel like that at all so he had to play the part.

You didn’t even question it as you followed him into his room, eyes immediately zoning in on the white cage set on its own stand, two different levels to it and a small hedgehog inside. Soobin cleared his throat awkwardly, “That’s Odi, he’s a hood boy.”

Fuck, Soobin thought, why would he say that about a damn hedgehog?

“Cute,”you said coolly as you took the main desk chair, making him have to pull up a smaller chair next to you. You thought Odi was cute after he called him a good boy? Or did him calling Odi a good boy not affect your thoughts on the hedgehog? Oh god, his mind was completely scrambled.

Soobin didn’t have to be asked this time to show you his most recent exam. He knew it was what you were going to ask to see first and he wanted to show you that he could be a very good listener. He looked to you to see how you would react to his quick obedience but you barely even blinked as you pulled it toward you. You pursed your lips in thought and he watched your mouth closely. Your lips looked so soft, so plump and smooth with light lip balm on them.

He wondered how soft they would be in a kiss. Were you a good kisser? Would you think he’s a good kisser? How far would the two of you go or would it just be kissing? He would someday like to get to a point where he can openly adore you because there’s just so much from your pretty hair to your pretty legs and everything in between.

He had a dirty secret that’s not so much of a secret considering his thoughts from earlier but… he can’t help but always notice your breasts—after your cute annoyed face of course—he wasn’t a complete bimbo. He respects you, he can’t just immediately look at your boobs despite the fact that today you were a low cut fitted shirt. He tried paying more attention to your face as it looked like you were about to talk but his eyes couldn’t help but slowly trail down your neck to your collarbone until he saw just the smallest hint of cleavag—

“Are you listening?” He snapped his gaze back to yours looking completely red handed as he nodded his head, clearly not listening.

You released a sigh as you looked at him in thought. Soobin was smart, you knew how smart he was so why did he seem so clueless right now?it’s like he had no thoughts in that cute head of his an—did you just consider him cute?

You blinked in surprise at your own thoughts and just as you were going to ask him to repeat what you said, you saw in real time the way his gaze seem to drop once more and you finally understood what was going on.

Soobin was trying so hard not to stare and failing yet the attempt was cute, especially when he seemed to let his lower jaw go slack and lips part slightly at the sight. Normally you would immediately be disgusted but it’s Soobin… he’s annoying and a know-it-all but just look at that brain empty expression of his, not caring at all now if he gets caught.

Without thinking you dropped a hand to his thigh, squeezing slightly and making his gaze return to yours, “What did I say?”

“What?” Soobin asked, shaking his head like he was snapping out of a trance, the cold and deep voice was back. You rolled your eyes, “You said you were listening so I’m asking you to repeat what I said.”

You’ll admit this was all a bit out of character but you just had to see if you were right… was Soobin really staring at your cleavage openly, and if so, how did you feel about it?

“Um…” Soobin looked down at your hand, “Um…”

“Um?” You repeated sarcastically, “Can you focus? If not, I’m going home.”

“Yah!” Soobin whined with a low groan, “Stop saying that, you already agreed to tutor me, stop trying to back ou—“

“Then pay attention!” You said back and he practically stomped his foot in a tantrum, just wanting to argue now.

“I’m trying but you—you’re,” he groaned in frustration as the words died in his throat and with a defeated sigh, he mumbled, “I’m sorry… I wasn’t listening.”

You smiled proudly, not at all in a rush to figure out what had him so distracted, and instead said, “Good boy, don’t you feel better being honest?”

The words just slipped and you didn’t think much of them as you went back to the laptop, already writing down answers to the questions he got wrong, meanwhile Soobin is trying to calm the painful red blush in his cheeks.

There was a small sphere in the palm of your hand, it was a shade of dark blue with a white swirl on it and it matched the same one Yeonjun held in his hand. You’ve shared one class with him in the last two years and it’s in the one you’re currently in. The two of you have never spoken a single word to each other and the semester started six weeks ago. He looked just as surprised to realize his partner was chosen randomly by a stupid marble.

He released a small nervous chuckle, clearly just caught off guard by this. He’s almost a 100% certain you’re like the only person in class that he hasn’t spoken to. Now, that didn’t mean he didn’t notice you, you were pretty and never talking to you really did make you seem a bit mysterious to him. He cleared his throat, “Alright, when should we get started?”

You checked the time on your phone, you were supposed to be meeting Soobin soon to study at his place but you’ve just been completely blindsided by this sudden partner project in class. You only had about a week to turn in the research paper and you had to work a couple nights this week. You agreed to study with Soobin on days you didn’t work but now with this on the table, you seriously don't know what to do. Well, obviously you have to do the assignment but you don’t know how to tell Soobin. If you just sent him a text about it you’re pretty positive he will just blow up your phone nonstop because for some reason he desperately needs you to continue these study sessions.

“When are you free?” You asked him trying to figure out what time would work best for you to work on this. You were only getting tomorrow to do research in class and after that the two of you are basically on your own as the unit confíes on in class.

Class has just ended so the two of you walked together outside of the room trying to figure out when would work best. It was hard to ignore the looks you received from some of your other classmates and you knew why. Yeonjun was attractive, really attractive and he was popular too.

Yeonjun brought his phone out too, checking his schedule, leaning a little closer to talk to you, “Um, I could do… well I work tomorrow after class… are you free later to get started?”

Soobin had a smile on his face that he knew soon he would need to drop it, he couldn’t let you know how excited he was to see you right now. He was in a good mood, anytime someone said hi to him he was quick to say it back but if a girl tried stopping him to talk he would excuse himself saying he had to go somewhere.

His class ended a little earlier today so instead of waiting in the parking lot for you, he went to your last class.

Just as he turned the corner, his smile seemed to fall without his control anyway. Standing just a few feet away from him he found you and you looked so pretty today in a pair of jeans that hugged your curves just the way he liked it and… and you were standing with Choi Yeonjun.

He watched you smile at whatever Yeonjun said and he debated if he should just wait. He could wait, of course he can and honestly it’s what he should do. You’re just talking to another guy and it’s not like you’re flirting, right? It shouldn’t even matter to him, you’re not dating—you don’t even like him! So why does he feel bothered?

“Hey,” Soobin’s deep voice surprised you as he came up behind you, so close that you felt him press against your backpack, just looming over you with a hardened gaze. You looked back at him, “Hey.”

“Are you ready?” He asked, trying to keep his voice steady and he couldn’t help but shift his gaze toward Yeonjun, who he definitely wasn’t happy to see was just standing there.

You looked at him apologetically, “I don’t know if I can make it tonight. We just got assigned this project and we don’t have time to do it in class so…”

Your words slowly died down as you watched his facial expression change. His lips turned downward and eyes seemed to sadden, “What?”

You looked at Yeonjun, “I’ll see you in the library.”

He took the hint and left you alone with Soobin who loomed over you with his height looking like a kicked puppy. You’re not sure why this expression really bothered you and you’re feeling really guilty now even if it wasn’t completely your fault. You found yourself saying, “I’m sorry.”

“But we agreed to meet up today,” Soobin said.

“I’m sorry but we want to get at least the outline finish—“

“Then what about after?” He rushed to ask. You looked at him apologetically, “It depends on what time we get done.”

You’re not even sure why the look on his face was making you feel bad but it was. The two of you didn’t even start to get along till just a couple weeks ago and sometimes he’s just so different from the cold side you’re used to. Sometimes he gives you snippets of how desperate he might be to see you but you can’t help but always brush it off. You just can’t tell what’s the real side of him and you’re starting to be affected by his cuter clingier side even if you couldn’t understand it.

“I’ll be waiting,” Soobin said, rushing away because he didn��t know what else to do. He was leaving before you could say that you can’t keep any promises. You rolled your eyes at how pushy he was but part of you smiled, shaking your head in disbelief and clearly amused.

Soobin didn’t lie either. He waited at home playing video games and checking his phone every couple minutes. He would occasionally send you a text, just a little reminder that you can’t forget him.

soobin: what time do u think u’ll be done ☺️

you: I don’t know yet soobin

soobin: :(

*five minutes later*

soobin: almost done?

you: not yet

soobin: 🥺 well hurry

you: …

soobin: 😞

*twenty minutes later*

soobin: 😞

you: what’s wrong

soobin: nothing :)

soobin: did you forget?

you: ?

soobin: study time?

you: no, I didn’t forget

Listen, the texts were annoying. They were so annoying because you and Yeonjun were trying to finish up the rough draft for your outline but Soobin just kept sending you text after text. It was annoying but…

It was pretty fucking cute. Ugh, he was just being clingy and though you found it annoying it was also so cute and it had you hurrying up your time with Yeonjun so you could text Soobin.

you: just finished

soobin: ok 🥰hurry

That’s how you found yourself sitting across from Soobin in his overly large living room trying to talk to him but his eyes were just straying away from your eyes. It wasn’t his fault though, like he said earlier, you just looked so pretty. Your shirt was fitted today and like usual he can’t seem to get over your chest. All of you really, your pretty face, pretty voice, pretty laugh and smile… your boobs and your butt and your cold attitude, it all just turned him into mush.

“Hey,” your voice scared him out of his gaze and he looked up at you blankly and clearly caught off guard, “Can you look at me when I’m talking to you?”

“Okay,” he nodded his head obediently, “Sorry.”

“You don’t even have your backpack,” you said as he looked down at his lap, “You were blowing up my phone the entire time I was with Yeonjun and you’re not even ready to study.”

“I know,” he gulped, eyes unable to help themselves from slowly looking down to your cleavage again. “I’m sorry.”

You released an annoyed groan, grabbing his shirt suddenly and shaking him, “Are you?”

“Yes,” Soobin nodded, “I’m sorry, I won’t do it again Y/n, I’ll be good, I promise.”

“So next time I’m doing schoolwork with Yeonjun what are you going to do?” You asked.

He released a sudden huff that made it clear he was less than happy to say this but said it anyway, “I’ll wait patiently for you to finish.”

Nodding your head you turned toward the small coffee table where your laptop was, “Kay, go get your bag so we can start reviewing this.”

Soobin jumped to his feet, running away with a smile, “So you’re not mad at me?”

“No,” you said feeling him practically squeal next to you, making you only the more confused but couldn’t help yourself from saying, “It was annoying in a cute way.”

Soobin bit back the urge to smile and did as told. When he came out he had a white bag in hand that he handed you watching your eyebrows scrunch together cutely as you asked, “What’s this?”

“New phone,” Soobin said casually and your eyes widened in disbelief.

“Soobin, why would you get me—“

“Because I broke yours,” Soobin said helping you open the box, “I already called your service and asked if you would be able to add your line to it and they said yes. I can drive you if you want me to.”

You shook your head no, “This is crazy, you didn’t have to do that! I could still use my phone, it was just the screen.”

“But,” Soobin looked down, “But it’s a gift from me to you, can’t you just take it?”

“Soobin…”

“Soobin is so cute,” your friend Yuna said one night as you got to Beomgyu’s house for a party.

You’ve been filling your friends in on your past two weeks with Soobin and it was all a surprise to them. You seemed to despise Soobin for some time and suddenly you’re all about hanging out with him. Even Soobin seemed to always act cold around you so for you to tell them that he’s been surprisingly clingy is in fact very cute.

“He probably likes you,” Beomgyu said with a shrug of his shoulders that had you spitting out your drink in shock. It’s not like you hadn’t wondered the same thing but for a while you wondered if you had just been reading too much into it and then you felt stupid for even thinking about it. Beomgyu bringing it up so suddenly shocked you, maybe it wasn’t all in your head.

“You think?” You asked genuinely and Beomgyu laughed out loud.

“Are you kidding?” Beomgyu asked, “He’s been staring at you since he got here and I bet you he’s been trying to think up an excuse to talk to you.”

“I’ve known him for like three years now, there’s just no way, I’m not even nice to him,” you said as you looked around for Soobin only to find him already looking at you as he talked a

To some of his own friends. He gave you a big and energetic wave that had you lifting your hand to wave back too. You smiled a little when he did and Yuna sighed, “You like him too, huh? I mean he’s cute—“

“No! No, I don’t,” you cleared your throat awkwardly, “I mean… even if I did, would it even matter? He thinks I’m mean, right? It wouldn’t be fair to him.”

They both gave you a blank stare and just as you were going to respond, an arm came around your shoulders as a low voice said, “What are we talking about?”

You said a quick hello to him as your friends started talking, “Soobin and Y/n got a thing for each other and neither one of them will admit it.”

“That’s not tru—“

“Oh, yeah, it is,” Yeonjun said with a laugh, “You should’ve seen the look he gave me when we were talking the other day and yesterday he ignored me when I tried saying hi. I even told him he can have you back because our project was over and he just ignored me!”

Your brows furrowed in confusion, “That doesn’t mean he likes me, we’ve just been studying…”

Soobin was not a mean person, he swears it. He’s really nice and gentle and he would never dislike anyone without a reason. He’s too shy for confrontation yet right now he would really love to go up to you and just pull Yeonjun’s arm away from your shoulders. You’re done with your project so why is he s next to you and why is he touching you? Soobin hasn’t even had the chance to hold you so why does he get to? He watched closely as you talked to your friends and Beomgyu trying to make sure Yeonjun wouldn’t try anything. He let Yeonjun take your attention away from him pretty much all last week so why is he still around you? It wasn’t fair, Soobin should be the one next to you. He was such a good listener this week, after you got him in trouble and he promised to be good, he did just that. He only sent you two texts throughout your time with Yeonjun and he didn’t even bother you in class!

“Who are you staring at and are they hot?”

Soobin jumped in surprise, drink spilling down the front of his shirt as he whipped around to find Kai standing there laughing.

“What?” Soobin asked as he looked down at his wet shirt. Kai just sighed, “Nevermind, go clean your shirt.”

If Soobin was mean, he would’ve smacked the kid upside the head but he was nice and nice people only attack with pillows and there’s no pillows close enough to use. He’ll get Kai back soon, just not now, now he has to clean his shirt. He looked back to you and Yeonjun as if making sure there wasn’t any funny business and practically ran to go clean himself off.

He skipped past the line to the bathroom and walked down to the end of the hall where he knew Beomgyu’s room was. His friend was throwing the party anyway and though the room was off limits, he would understand. Soobin rummaged through his closet and went straight to his bathroom so he could at least wipe off some of the intense smell of alcohol, hurrying himself along so he can watch Yeonjun.

The music from the party was loud enough for him to hear a muffled version of it even hidden away in Beongyu’s bathroom and that made him feel nervous. While he’s in here cleaning off the stench of liquor, you were probably out there surrounded by guys hitting on yo—“Ow!”

Soobin’s head whipped back with a loud thud and his hands immediately flew to his nose as pain shot right through it. The person who pushed the door open stood there in shock, “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. Bin?”

A pool of red began to fill his cupped hands and he moved over the bathroom sink with a groan. You visibly cringed as he moved around you and reached for the toilet paper as you stood there shocked, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know, I—oh my god.”

He finally looked over at you, heart racing as he pulled the paper towel away, blood beginning to dribble again, “Y/n?”

“Soobin, I’m sorry, I saw you come over here and I wanted to sneak up on you but,” your face cringed, “Soobin please, you’re still bleeding.”

“Oh right,” Soobin held the paper towel to his nose again.

“It’s a lot of blood,” you said apologetically, “I’m sorry, Soobin.”

“It’s fine, this happens all the time,” he waved you off with a bloody hand and you bit down on your bottom lip looking hurt, “No it doesn’t, I’m so sorry.”

You sniffled a bit as you looked at your reflection in the mirror while Soobin carefully wiped off whatever mess was left until it was all clean. You struggled to look at him and his red nose even if he was completely clean but he didn’t even notice. He was more excited that you came to see him instead of staying out there with other guys, “So you wanted to sneak up on me?”

“Well you had been staring at me all night and I was just gonna see if you would say hello. I should’ve just waited outside, this is awkward right?” You were rambling a bit but he just smiled lovingly.

He shook his head no as the two of you left the bathroom, “No, not awkward, right? I wanted to say hi but you were busy.”

“Busy?” Your brows furrowed in confusion, “What do you mean?”

You weren’t busy, you were just talking to your friends. Nothing you talked about was serious or anything you just talked about Soobin, he could’ve said hi at any time. Soobin’s smile dropped, going serious for a moment, “Yes you were, with Yeonjun, I saw.”

You blinked in thought, “We were just talking, you could’ve come over any time.”

He released a deep sigh, looking around the dark bedroom happy that it was just two despite the dozens of people out there getting drunk with loud music. Letting his gaze fall back on you, he made a small pout, “Well, how was I supposed to know that? Last time you got me in trouble for not leaving you alone when you’re with Yeonjun an—“

“Soobin, that was just when we were studying, I didn’t realize you were thinking I meant all the time,” you said apologetically. Soobin stepped closer to you, “I was just trying to be good and listen. If I knew then I would have pulled you away the second I saw Yeonjun even come close to you!”

You looked genuinely taken back by his tone, if you didn’t know any better you would say that he almost sounded jealous. Even the look in his eye made it seem like he wasn’t happy and you weren’t used to this at all. The other day when you talked to Yeonjun for the first time, Soobin stormed up to you and took you by surprise when he appeared behind you, so close that you felt his breath on your shoulder.

Now you’re starting to see that it was possibly all because of jealousy.

“Are you jealous of Yeonjun?” You asked him and he audibly scoffed.

He was not jealous of Yeonjun. He didn’t think Yeonjun was better than him, if anything he thought they were pretty much on the same level of attractiveness. Yeonjun was more extroverted than he was but Soobin wasn’t worried about that. He didn’t feel so insecure over things like that so no, he’s not jealous.

He’s possessive. Soobin knows you aren’t dating and he knows that you probably still don’t like him yet but… but you’re his. He’s already called dibs, he’s already put in so much work to make that happen. Obviously he’s not going to be happy if your attention strays away from him, he wants you looking at him and thinking about him all the time, the way he does about you.

“No,” Soobin finally said, “But… but you’re… yknow, you’re mi—“

“Why are you in my shirt?” Beomgyu asked as his bedroom door opened and he stood in the entrance. He looked between you in surprise, “Wait, am I interrupting something?”

You stood there in shock, you weren’t sure what he was about to say but part of you also felt like you had an idea. It really did seem like you had an idea. After all your friends have basically instilled it in your head that he might like you it wasn’t hard to guess what he was going to say but you just can’t bring yourself to fully believe it yet. He was so nice, you can see it now so you just felt bad to think that he might like you after you were mean to him at times. To make things worse, he seemed to be totally okay with you always snapping on him or just ignoring him and you just felt bad because you were genuinely starting to fall for him and you can admit that now.

Soobin shook his head no. He had been watching you the entire time and he can just tell you’re overwhelmed by something right now. He just smiled cutely, “I had to borrow your shirt because mine got wet, sorry?”

You looked up at him, and he smiled wider, eyes crinkling, “I think I’m gonna head home now but I’ll text you.”

Soobin said goodbye to you and Beomgyu and before you could make your leave, Beomgyu pulled you back in, “What happened? What were you guys doing? Were you making out? Ew, oh my god please don’t tell me if you did anything on my bed.”

“What are you talking about?” You asked, clearly thrown off, “No, we were just talking, if you hadn’t interrupted then I would have known what he was going to say.”

He gasped, “I didn’t interrupt, you’re in my room, remember? And why didn’t you just go with him, you like him too.”

You bit your lip, “How do I tell him? I just missed my chance.”

“I don’t know, you’ll probably just have to show him.”

When Monday came you went over to Soobin’s place for your usual study lessons. After the party the two of you have been texting but it wasn't about anything deep. It’s like you were tip toeing around a possible confession that neither of you wanted to do through text. After your last class he invited you over with the intention to just be straight forward and hope that you would want him but he’s still a little scared.

If you tell him you hate him he thinks he might cry so he’s been trying to seem cool and collected this entire time.

He fidgeted in his desk chair as he watched you take your laptop out. With a clear of his throat he stood up, “Um, do you want water? I can get us some.”

“Sure, where is your textbook? I forgot mine.”

He pointed to his backpack and let you get it as he left for the kitchen. Without a single thought, you reached for his huge backpack in search of a familiar textbook. Once you found the book you pulled it out of his overly stuffed bag accidentally bringing a few papers with it too and as you looked them over, your eyes widened.

CHOI SOOBIN

SCORE: 65

You didn’t think about it for a second, he’s been showing his assignment scores and it has been improving little by little bit as you took a closer look you could clearly see a layer of whiteout and the score 98, crossed off. It made your brows furrow in confusion and you looked at the pages finding answers erased and replaced with wrong ones crossed out in red.

It’s like he was purposely grading himself bad and as you put the papers back away you realized why. He asked you to tutor him and you never understood that. He was always smarter than you so you couldn’t wrap your head around why he asked you of all people to help him. Even when it came down to the actual study sessions, Soobin always got things right away and very rarely struggled to find an answer but then he would come to you and quickly show you his bad score and ask for your help again.

Sometimes, studying was the last thing on his agenda when he was with you and you always found him distracted and not fully listening so now you know he’s been lying to you. He lied to get you to study with him yet all you’ve seen was him stare at your boobs, get clingy, and pretend to get bad grades.

Was all this just a little scheme to get you to hang out with him? If that’s the case then did he really like you and expect you never to find out?

Sure, you’ve come to realize that you like him too but for him to go this far just for you to talk to him… well, you’re not all that happy about it. Did he expect you never to find out and now that you have what was your plan?

Soobin came in with a smile on his face, “I brought snacks.”

“Mhm,” you said, moving to sit on his bed and away from his backpack, “Let’s work on the bed today, I wanna get comfortable.”

He watched you make yourself on his bed and all he could focus on was the way your skirt fluttered around your legs exposing more of your thighs and when he looked up at you, your eyes were already on him, catching him red handed in the act of checking you out. This time around you smirked a bit now knowing that he’s been lying this whole time just to get you to hang out with him. It was cute and he was cute so you can’t be mad but at the same time, he was very bold in getting mad when you had to study with Yeonjun, made you feel guilty too. You gotta let him know you know about his lie but you’re working up a plan.

It’s not no surprise that he likes you, that has become painfully obvious and you like him too but you want to get him in trouble. He lied and he thought you would never find out. How long did he plan on keeping this up? He’s gotta get in trouble, right? Maybe a little teasing, just to see if this really was all just to study or for him to get a good look at you when you’re alone together. It’s not like you never noticed the way his eyes would trace down your body while you’re trying to do homework.

If you’re going to tell him you know about his lie, you’re going to make it fun.

“O—okay,” Soobin stuttered as he sat down with a foot of space between you, “I mean, yeah cool.”

You smiled at his awkwardness, now you can see that he’s not as cold as he wants to to think he is and it only makes him look cuter.

The two of you studied for a bit, you couldn’t come right out and tell him you knew the truth, where was the fun in that? You had to play along a bit and see how he would take it so that’s what you did.

“Soobin, you keep getting the answer wrong and I’m starting to get annoyed,” you said as you watched him hesitate over the right answer before choosing the wrong one, eyes sliding over to look at you every now and then. You were wearing a low cut top again and matched with your miniskirt it was getting hard for him to not get distracted and the two of you are alone in his bed… he just can’t focus.

“Sorry, Y/n,” his eyes lingered on your thighs a little longer than usual and you subconsciously unwrapped them a little, the small gap from where the skirt ended and what covered your underwear, slowly widened. You released a heavy sigh, “Why are you so distracted?”

At that his eyes seemed to fall toward your cleavage, catching himself in the act of staring and looked back down, “I don’t know.”

You had to bite back a smirk and without any hesitation, you moved closer to his side, “Do I need to punish you? Will that get you to pay attention?”

You were half joking but tempted to see what he would say and you could practically see the wheels turning in his head as he seemed to become mush at your words, “H-how?”

You released a deep sigh, “How? That’s the wrong answer, I shouldn’t have to punish you. You should say, ‘Okay, Y/n, I’ll pay attention.’ What are you? A perv?”

Soobin went quiet at that and for a second you thought you might’ve said the wrong thing. His face flushed red and he looked down at his lap sadly but before you could apologize for asking him that, he said, “Maybe.”

“Maybe? So you’re a perv?” Your brows raised in surprise, “You want me to punish you?”

He gave a subtle nod of his head making you grow quiet, well this just got interesting. With a huff, pretending to be annoyed, you shifted even closer taking his hand in yours and pulling it to write on his paper with yours over his, “Start writing.”

“What am I writing?”

“Write: I am a liar and a perv,” you said jokingly and he looked up at you cutely so you helped him write, “I lied to Y/n about needing help, and I can’t stop staring at her boobs.”

His hand froze up mid sentence, “Y/n, how’d you find out?”

You smiled, he didn’t even bother hiding it this time, “Because I found your exam scores, you’ve been lying to me Soobin, after telling me nonstop how good you are,” you said with a stern voice.

“Are you mad?” He asked shyly. You released a sigh, pretending to contemplate, “Maybe? Are you going to listen and pay attention from now on?”

He nodded his head, watching curiously as you moved to sit behind him, turning to stare at you but you snapped your fingers forcing him to look forward again. You scooted close until your legs were spread around his big frame with your breasts pressed against his back that had his breath hitching in surprise. They already felt squishy and your arms moved to hug his waist. Soobin sucked in a breath when your hands rested on his thighs and he immediately looked down, already feeling himself begin to fidget in excitement and nervousness.

“I want you to read the question, and tell me the answer, I know you know it,” you said, making him nod his head, throat too dry to give you a verbal response, “But since you’re a perv, I’m not going to make it easy for you, I’m gonna touch you and if you stop, I stop, got it?”

As if to further explain what you meant, your hand moved toward his groin area making him breath heavier, “Mhm.”

“Yes or no.”

“Yes,” he sighed, “I’ll listen.”

His head tilted to the side when you began to teasingly touch the zipper, slowly pulling it down and undoing the button of his jeans, “Start reading.”

Soobin swallowed dryly, unable to help himself from thinking about the fact that you’re brakes today, he could practically feel your nipples against his back and when your hand ran over the expanse of his growing length, he couldn’t find the right word. You were a little surprised to feel his immediate response to your touch, already feeling him harden before you even did anything and you smiled, “I said, start reading.”

“Mhm,” he hummed with a nod of his head, blinking to try and collect his thoughts, “First question, When a gene is expressed, it means that the protein—ohh.”

His breath hitched in surprise as your hand wrapped around his clothed cock feeling him just continue to get more erecting. You even gave it a little squeeze, “Did I say stop? No, so keep going.”

“Mhm, protein that it codes for is being made by transcription and translation…” his word slowly when your thumb circled around his tip, still not touching him under his briefs, teasing him, “Imagine two genes in a eukaryote. One is gene X. The other is gene A—Y/n, I can’t focus.”

“So did you lie to me again?” You asked, finally sneaking your hand under the waistband or his briefs, “You said you would listen and pay attention.”

Your fingers wrapped around his thick length giving him a soft and teasing stroke, feeling his dick twitch instantly as he nodded his head. The words were bef ninny to get blurry when your palm hugged the head of his cock, twisting your wrist and smearing it in his own precum, surprised that it was already leaking. Soobin licked his dry lips trying to focus again, “In the cells you are studying, gene X is being expressed, and gene A is not being expressed—oh my god.”

He stopped when he felt you lean further against him, soft lips pressing a gentle kiss against his neck, fingers brushing along the underside of his tip and he couldn’t help but buck his hips just a little. You pulled his cock out of his underwear, “You still haven’t even finished reading the first question.”

“I’m trying,” he released a moan, “But it’s so hard, Y/n.”

You glanced down at his dick over his shoulder, nearly joking and asking if he meant his dick or the action. The head was red with need and precum leaked from the tip with a thick vein nearly throbbing everytime your hand stroked him. You gave him a small squeeze hearing him moan freely, “Keep going.”

With an annoyed groan he nodded, still waiting a moment when you began to pump his length using his own excess precum to lubricate him for an easier slide. He attempted to pick up where he left off, “—and gene A is not being expressed—ngh. Which prediction below is most likely true in these cells?”

You kissed his neck again, “Now what’s the answer?”

He released a throaty moan that made you suck harshly against his neck with the vibrations of it, stroking faster, squeezing at his base and flicking your wrist around his tip, unable to ignore the way he raised his hips to fuck into your fist. You put your legs on to of his lap to keep him from bucking, holding him in place, “I’m waiting.”

His head lolled to the side, hissing in pain when you stopped, tightening your fist and looked at him expectantly. He had to use his stupid brain, “Ugh, i—it’s B. There are more activa—oh my god—activators for gene X than for gene A.”

Your tongue licked a long stripe toward his ear, sucking on his ear lobe as you said, “Good boy, Soobin, next one.”

“Mhm,” he whined, feeling his heart leap at the name, “Good boy,” he repeated to himself. Unable to help himself he turned his head to look at you, big sparkly eyes staring into yours and without much thought, you leaned forward, letting your tongue slide into his mouth, never once stopping the jerking of his cock until finally… you felt it.

It was a complete overflow of warmth, thick and creamy cum that wouldn’t stop leaking from his tip as he threw his head back with a loud moan, hips lifting up even with your legs holding him down. It felt never ending, your fist was completely covered in his cum and it drenched his jeans and boxers, you were genuinely surprised. You didn’t know someone could cum this much from a simple handjob.

Soobin released a dry groan as you finally freed yourself from the absolute puddle of cum, looking down at the white cream that coated your fingers, letting him go and watching him fall limp against you. His chest rose and fell with each heavy breath and he looked absolutely fucked out that you allowed him to lie down as you pushed the textbooks off the bed, wiping your hand against his own jeans, tugging them off, “Soobin.”

“Mm,” he hummed, looking completely zoned out but let you undress him. You clicked your tongue, climbing on top of his spent cock watching it twitch with life as you sat down, “Did I tell you to cum, bunny?”

His lip quivered as he looked at you, wordlessly shaking his head no. You released a deep sigh, “So you weren’t listening? Is that good or bad?”

“Bad,” he said sadly, “B—but I couldn’t Y/n, I—“

“You what?” You asked teaching for the end of your shirt, “You just thought to cum soon, like a dumb virgin?”

He stayed quiet, watching and feeling completely hypnotized by the sight of your bare breasts for his eyes only, finally. They were just how he imagined, big and soft with nipples he could see harden under his intense gaze. He was so lost in the sight that he absentmindedly said, “Yes.”

You seemed to stop as you flung your shirt to the floor, only wearing your small miniskirt, “Yes what?”

“Dumb virgin—“

“What?” You asked suddenly watching his face redden and you felt goosebumps raise on your skin, “Are you saying… are you a virgin?”

He nodded blankly, eyes on your boobs and nothing else, his cock coming back to life, “Mhm.”

“Oh my god,” you nearly jumped off his lap but his hands moved so fast to hold you by the waist and stop you. Your eyes widened, “Soobin, I—are you—oh my god, is this your first time getting a handjob?”

He blushed, nodding his head shyly, hands unable to stop themselves from sliding up your sides until they were just under the curves of your tits, thumbs nearly touching, “Yes and my first kiss, bu—“

“I am so sorry,” you tried to move but his hands were suddenly cupping your breasts, a blank expression on his face as he stared at them in awe, catching a feel while you tried apologizing, “Soobin, we shouldn’t. I—I—“

“I want to,” Soobin groaned, thumbs running over your nipples, “Please Y/n, I want you so fucking bad. I think about you all the time, I think about this all the time.”

You couldn’t help but grind against his naked cock at his words, “You do?”

His big hands felt good as they groped you, “All the time.”

It didn’t take you long to realize what he meant, a small smile on your face, “When you touch yourself?”

He nodded, releasing a quiet whisper as your nipples became hard pebbles that he couldn’t help but pinch, you smiled, grinding on his fat spent cock, “When you watch porn?”

Once again he nodded.

“When else?”

“Whenever you leave here,” he confessed, completely hypnotized by the bounce of your tits when you grind on his dick, “I tried using a flesh light but I’m too big, it always rips an—“

Now he was blabbing but it made you so fucking horny. He was big, too big to be a virgin and the territorial side of you was taking over. You’re the only one who’s made this big, stupid cock cum and holy shit, he came so much just from a handjob!

Feeling a bit more confident, he tilted his head cutely, looking up at you, “You’ve got big boobs, Y/n.”

“I kno—“

“Can I kiss em?”

Your eyes widened in surprise and a wicked smirk came to your face, shimmying up his torso, “No.”

His jaw dropped sadly, “Bu—“

“I got something better you can kiss,” you said seductively and he looked up at you with the cutest doe eyes you’ve ever seen. How could you ever dislike him? Just look at him.

“Really?” He looked down at the space between your legs, a thin thong right there between your folds and he could make out a wet spot. Licking his lips his big hands found your thighs, taking the honor to help you move up, “I’ve never, y’know…”

“I know, bunny,” you said even as he moved you closer and closer to your head with anticipation, “I’ll talk you through it bu—Soobin!”

A small squeal left your lips as he nearly knocked you forward, face between your legs, “Wait, I’m heavy, don’t do that unless you want me to suffocate you.”

Soobin wasn’t listening, his face was already against your pussy, nose brushing over the soaked fabric of your underwear, “Is okay, I want you to.”

He licks the wet spot on your underwear, lapping at the puddle with a moan, “Smells so good, Y/n, love it.”

You softly tugged his hair, leaning more and more of your weight onto his face and rocking, “Careful, okay? If it’s too much just tell me to stop.”

Soobin nodded his head against your clit, giving you a thumbs up before he completely yanked at your frail panties making you gasp as he tore into them. You yelled his name once more and he made a pout, “Sorry, they were in my way.”

“Slow down Binnie,” you reminded him, for a guy who’s never done it he seemed so experienced. Maybe it was all the porn he watched. You didn’t have much time to dwell on it as his tongue began lapping between your hole and your clit, sucking on it like it was a fucking lollipop, swirling his tongue around it hungrily. It’s not his fault. If you weren’t so pretty with such big boobies and a big brain and a cute laugh… he wouldn’t be so eager. He felt the moment your strength dissipated, hips no longer hovering and practically suffocated him, and he loved it.

He got sloppy, wanting to stick his tongue into your cunt as far as it could go, bunny eyes staring up as you rode his face now, losing yourself to the feeling, “Oh my god.”

Soobin began a repetitive motion with his tongue against your clit, before fucking you with it, he spread your ass with his big hands but his eyes were on the way your tit juggled with each breath you took and he imagined your clit was a nipple. His cock twitched at the thought, legs moving restless against the bed as he tried finding his own release but he jumped bucked his hips into the air.

You were so close, so so so close, moaning like a bitch in heat and accidentally tugging on his hair too hard, but he didn’t mind one bit. He liked it, it egged him on and he made out with your pussy so good that you couldn’t hold back, cum spilling into his open mouth with your thighs clenching around his head. A low moan fell from his lips and as you tried coming down from your heavy orgasm, his own cock released another stream of cum. You turned to look at it, a puddle of white coating his stomach, culling untouched.

Your jaw dropped as he let you go and before you could offer up a break, he was flipping you onto your back, head immediately going between your breasts.

“Fuck,” you breathed out as his mouth attached itself to your left tit like he wanted to swallow them whole. His mouth was covered in your cum and some drool. His cock lay perfectly between your folds and you just felt how hard he was, bringing your hands to his hair, coddling him, “You love my boobs, don’t you?”

At the feel of your hands in his hair, he groans, teeth gently nipping at the hard buds, “Mhm. Love ‘em.”

“I know, that’s why you always stare at them, naughty bunny,” you teased, feeling his shaky inhale. He kissed your tits and sucked on your nipples as his erecting cock jumped your folds, “Not naughty.”

“Really?” You asked, biting back a moan when he shook his head against your boob just soaking in the softness of them against your cheek, “Just being a perv then?”

“Mm,” Soobin moaned, “Wan’ fuck you, Y/n, baby.”

Your brows raised in surprise as the pet name fell from your lips already feeling his hand sink down toward his cock while tonguing at your sensitive nipple. You couldn’t help yourself at this point, stroking your fingers gently over his nipples, smiling as he shudders at the feel, cock slippery in his hands as you said, “Fuck me then.”

With a quick nod he lined himself up, missing your hole a few times till you offered him help and moaned. His body fell against yours, not sure what to do as the tightness of your pussy completely overwhelmed him, face between your tits, tongue trying to lick you even if he was so far away. He whined, “Y/n, Y-Y/n, help—“

His words died when you grabbed his hips, guiding them back before thrusting them into your own pussy until he got the rhythm. You didn’t even think twice about the fact that you weren’t using a condom. You were on birth control and though it wasn’t fully effective it was safer than not having anything and clearly it was too late. You didn’t expect the virgin to have condoms anyway.

“It’s okay, baby, nice and slow—fuck, Bin,” you moaned softly. Where did this new Soobin come from? He was fucking you now at a steady pace dragging his stupidly fat cock out till only his tip was in and drawing his hips forward till he impaled you. His mouth lazily kissed at your breasts before moving up your neck, humping his cock into your stretched out cunt with moans falling from his lips repeatedly.

Soobin was gasping for air and his grunts became louder and louder, slamming into you like his life depended on it, “So good.”

“Yeah?” You asked, clinging to him, “Love your first pussy?”

He kissed you nastily. Tongue down your throat and you could still taste your cum but it only made you moan. He was fucking you roughly, nails digging into your plump hips making sure you couldn’t escape his brutal thrusts even if you wanted to. It was his turn to lose control and fuck, he was so close.

It was a scene out of a porn video, it reeked of sex and his bed sheets were completely ruined. His stomach was covered in his cum that just soaked yours from the way he rutted himself against you and it was just nasty and horny. You hugged him close, legs wrapping around him, tits pressed against his chest, “I’m close, bunny, you gonna cum for me?”

“Mhm,” he whined fucking you so good you were seeing stars. His dick was just so big and the girth on it was insane, he impaled you over and over again, “Gonna cum.”

You know you should tell him to pull out. It’s the right thing to do but…

But…

Hot ropes of his creamy cum filled your cunt suddenly with a cry as his body shook against yours. Despite cumming twice already it felt never ending and you couldn’t help yourself. The stimulation was just too much, his cock still thrusting into the wet space between your thighs.

Soobin sniffled, face between your breasts, clinging to you so hard you had to practically pull at his hair, “Soobin, bunny, I know it was a lot but you have to move.”

He shook his head, you could hear his sniffles get louder, “Don’t wanna.”

You ran your fingers through his hair, pouting when you found his reddened eyes, “I need to clean up.”

He shook his head cutely but he knew better. He slowly pulled out, watching with starry eyes as globs of cum left your pussy, an urge to finger it back into you strong but he let you sit up in shock at the mess.

“Did you lie to me again?” You asked jokingly but it went right over his head even as you said, “You don’t fuck like a virgin.”

“No! I didn’t! You’re my first, I promise,” he basically followed you out of bed, “Don’t leave.”

“I’m not going to,” you assure him, “But I need to use the bathroom.”

“You’ll come back, right?”

You smiled, “I can’t just stay in there, can I? Lay down, I’ll help you clean up next.”

He nodded his head tiredly, doing just what you asked as he yawned.

Once you were done, hoping you got most of it out you opened the door to his bathroom, nearly screaming when you found him standing just on the other side of it. You gasped, “You scared me.”

“Sorry,” he sniffles and it looks like he’s been crying, “Sorry.”

“What for?” You asked, trying to lead him back to his bed feeling sad. What happened? You’re not used to Soobin like this. You laid him down and joined him, “What’s wrong?”

“Sorry for lying—I—I—I just like you so much and—and,” he struggled with words and you pulled him in for a hug, his head immediately on your chest.

“Don’t worry, it’s okay, I promise,” you said, “I like you too, why don’t you try and get some sleep? It was a lot for your first time, I’m sorry.”

“I liked it,” he said with a content sigh, “Promise you won’t leave?”

“I promise,” you said brushing his hair back but he wouldn’t budge.

“Pinky swear?” He asked hopeful that you smiled.

“I pinky swear,” you said, kissing the tip of his nose, “We’ve gotta talk anyway.”

He pouted once more, “About? Y-you don’t like me?”

“Binnie, I already told you I do,” you said softly, feeling him relax, “But we need to talk about what to do, right?”

“Mhm,” he hummed, finally relaxing against you, “Want you to be my girlfriend.”

“Aren’t I too mean, though?”

“Yes,” he said cutely, “But I like it.”

::.

ok this took me forever 😭😭sorry friends but I hope it was worth it.

taglist: @laylasbunbunny @bangchansbae

#choi soobin #soobin #soobin smut #soobin fluff #soobin fic #soobin oneshot #soobin fanfic #soobin imagines #soobin x y/n #Soobin angst #txt smut #txt soobin #txt imagines #txt oneshots #txt post #choi yeonjun #kang taehyun #hueningkai #choi beomgyu

3K notes · View notes

lemonlover1110 · 2 months ago

Text

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬

Satoru Gojo

[Chapter 30] Graduation

← Previous Chapter - Story Masterlist

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f!Reader

Warnings: MDNI, Smut, Fluff

*THIS IS IT thank you all so much for reading, this truly has been a journey and I couldn't have done it without your support. love you all so much🫂❤️

**Too lazy to put all the smut warnings, it's nothing too extreme just some face sitting and whatnot :p

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

“Are you ready to go?” Satoru asks, walking into your room to find you sitting in front of the vanity. You’re finishing up your makeup, putting the lash touch on your lips. His heart skips a beat, and he could faint right at this moment. He’s the luckiest man alive. He still has to rush you, “You can’t be late to your own graduation.”

“Is Anzu ready?” You question, and Satoru hums in response. He walks over to the bed and takes a seat to watch you.

“What? Do you not think I’m responsible enough? I can handle a baby.” Satoru says, as if you didn’t find your daughter nearly chewing an extension cord yesterday because he took his eyes off her for a second. You’re taking an awfully long time to answer the question which makes Satoru scoff, “She’s ready and with your mom.”

“Good.” You answer, turning your attention back to yourself yet again. Which type of earrings will be best? Satoru got you some beautiful diamond earrings for this occasion but you’re not sure you want to wear them– You don’t want to show off to everybody that your fiancé is filthy rich.

“Why don’t you put on the ones I got you?” Satoru sees that you’re struggling to pick the earrings you’ll wear for the night, so he’ll make a suggestion. You ignore him though, and he can’t help but laugh. He stands up, “I’ll go check on Ren while you finish up then.”

“Yeah, make sure he showered.” You tell him, and Satoru hums in response. He walks out of the room, getting ready to deal with the nine-year-old even though the child only seems to listen to you. The man feels like neither of his kids really listen to him, but he guesses he deserves it.

You smile back at yourself in the mirror, elated with how things go. Accepting Satoru’s breakfast offer as a date made your life change– You’d argue for the better, though some people didn’t want you and Satoru to get back together. It took you a while to officially start dating, since Satoru was married; even though you knew his marriage wasn’t authentic, you didn’t want to interfere with any of the mess that was going on.

Satoru began the divorce process with Sayo not too long after asking you out. It was a mutual decision that they kept hidden for as long as they possibly could. Even after their divorce was finalized, they refused to share the news with Sayo’s parents. You understood completely, knowing that it was a bigger issue than what it seemed. You had Satoru all to yourself either way, you didn’t really care what a random pair of old people thought.

The truth came to light eventually, when you got pregnant with your baby girl. It ended Sayo’s relationship with her parents, but time has passed and she’s much happier without them. It was around two years ago, when Ren kept begging for a baby brother, and Satoru convinced you that it would be a great idea. You wanted another baby so there wasn’t the need for too much convincing either way. Unluckily for Ren, Anzu ended up being a baby girl.

If you were given the chance to go back in time and change something, you’d keep everything the same. Maybe you would’ve kicked Satoru’s groin once or twice, but you’d do it all again. For Ren, for Anzu. For Satoru as well, though you wouldn’t admit it outloud.

“Ren isn’t ready!” Satoru yells, and you can’t help but chuckle as you roll your eyes. Your sweet baby boy is slowly becoming disobedient, and it’s a bit frustrating. You knew it was going to happen eventually, it’s just hard to believe that your baby boy is slowly setting off on his own adventure.

“Ren! Come here!” You yell, and within a matter of seconds your son comes running into your room. He doesn’t listen to Satoru, but you? He’ll listen to almost everything you have to say.

“What’s up?” He asks, and you look him over. You shake your head disappointedly, seeing that he’s still wearing pajamas.

“Do you want to stay home? Mrs. Gojo is more than happy to babysit.” Even when the woman is about to become your mother-in-law, you refuse to call her anything other than Mrs. Gojo. She’s the grandmother of your two kids, but you refuse to acknowledge her in any other way.

You barely have a relationship with her, for many reasons. Main one is that Satoru doesn’t really want to associate himself with her, not after everything that went down with Ren. Frankly, the only reason he even speaks to her is because Ren adores her– Though you believe that his opinion about his grandma is slowly changing because Ren quickly shakes his head.

“We’re going to her home later anyway, you can stand behind.” You assure him, but he shakes his head before darting out of the room. You almost laugh before yelling, “Make sure you don’t stink!”

“There she is!” You hear Satoru yell, and you turn around to find him with your little family. Your one-year-old squeals at the sight of her mother, while Ren glares at the baby for stealing his spotlight. You walk over to them, taking your baby Anzu into your arms before leaning down to kiss Ren’s forehead.

“Did you have fun there, Ren?” You ask him, and he shakes his head. He’s not going to have much fun watching a bunch of people that he doesn’t know walk across a stage. Satoru didn’t even give the child his phone.

“Ignore him, he’s been whining all day long. Where’s my kiss?” Satoru quickly changes the topic and you roll your eyes before pecking his lips. He tries to hug you without squashing the baby, saying, “Congratulations, baby. I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you, Satoru.” You respond, pecking his lips once again. You notice a couple of missing people from your group, and you question, “Where’s my mom? And Sayo and Shoko? Their little guy?”

“Bathroom.” Ren answers, and you raise your brows. All of them? You can’t exactly blame them, the ceremony was a long one.

“How about we–” You begin but you notice that your little guy is pouty. You know the reason immediately, so you hand Satoru your baby girl and crouch down to bring the child into a hug. “Am I not getting congratulations from the person that I care about the most?”

“Anzu can’t talk yet.” He answers, which almost makes you laugh. Almost. He’s so jealous of his baby sister, which is kind of ironic considering he begged you to have a baby. His attitude certainly changed when he realized that the baby requires a lot of time and attention.

“Ren, you’re the apple of my eye.” You tell him, though the child refuses to listen. Cuddles are less frequent lately since you have a crying baby that needs you, and you barely play with him anymore. “Can mommy at least get a congratulations?”

“Congratulations, mom.” Ren responds, and you feel your heart melt. Even when he’s mad at you, he’s your cute little guy. You’re rubbing your cheek with his, being as affectionate as you can be with the little guy. Though he ends up pushing you away, telling you, “You’re doing too much.”

“Jeez, what is it with you? One moment you’re all jealous and the next you’re saying I’m doing too much.” You chuckle, standing up. You take the baby from your fiancé, knowing that she still has a long way before she can tell you that you’re doing too much.

“Can we leave before we bump into any traffic?” Satoru asks, reading the time on his watch. Not that he’s thrilled to go to his mother’s house, but he’d prefer to be there than sitting in traffic for hours on end. He sees your eyes wandering around for the rest of your group but before you get any ideas he reminds you, “You don’t want to sit in a car with a screaming one-year-old, do you?”

“Yeah… I guess we’ll just meet them at your mom’s place.” You answer, knowing that once your baby girl begins to cry, it’s hard to get her to stop. Good thing for you, she’s usually all smiles and giggles.

“She’s drooling.” Ren points at his sister, who’s making a mess on your gown. Ren then turns his attention to his dad, asking, “I wasn’t a messy baby like her, right?”

“I wouldn’t know.” Satoru mutters, and you glare at him.

“Let’s get going.”

The graduation party is for you, a way for Mrs. Gojo to congratulate you on finally finishing your bachelor’s. In reality, it’s a way for her to see her grandchildren. A way for her to spoil Ren and dote on Anzu.

Things between the two of you go back to the way they were: she barely notices you and you don’t acknowledge her. You’re no longer relying on her in any way, and apart from asking about your kids, the woman won’t bother to contact you. She’s fine with the change of you becoming Satoru’s fiancée– And even if she was opposed to it, Satoru won’t listen to her. As a matter of fact, Satoru never calls her first.

You’re in the kitchen, preparing yourself a plate of food, watching as Mrs. Gojo holds your baby. It’s odd to watch her be so… Soft with someone. Sure, she enables Ren and is willing to do anything he wants, but Ren sets the tone. You’ve never watched her with a baby before.

“Who’s my pretty girl?” The woman is putting a baby voice for fuck’s sake, something she never did for her own son. Maybe it’s the fact that she’s just grandma now, she doesn’t have to worry about anything but her grandchildren. Anzu is giggling, so Mrs. Gojo is doing something right.

“I can’t believe that’s my mother.” Satoru approaches you, a little disgusted to watch his mother like this. He should be happy, but it’s a little weird to watch such a cold woman put on a baby voice and entertain a baby. “That is my mother, right? They didn’t change her after her facelift?”

“I’m right here, Satoru. Just because I’m holding a baby doesn’t mean that my ears have disappeared.” She quickly scolds her son, and you can’t help but laugh. “I didn’t get a facelift either.”

“Right, you just spent two months in South Korea touring.” Satoru retorts, grabbing a plate for himself. They begin to bicker, and as entertaining as it is to watch them, you leave them alone to sort out their own issues.

You walk to the living room to find Ren playing with Shoko and Sayo’s baby– Something that he won’t do with his own baby sister. You’re not sure if it’s because she’s not the baby brother that Ren wanted or if it’s because he’s not getting the same amount of attention as before. Sayo keeps a close eye on the child, not because she doesn’t trust him, but because she’s an overprotective mother. You sit beside him, excited to watch him play and be sweet with a baby, even if it isn’t your baby girl.

“He’s so sweet. Is he like this with Anzu?” Sayo asks, ruffling Ren’s hair as he plays peek-a-boo with the ten-month-old baby. You scoff, as if. Your reaction is the best answer that she needs, and she chuckles. She’s not sure if that’s normal behavior between siblings since she’s an only child.

“What do you mean you aren’t the sweetest older brother to Anzu? You were so excited to be a big brother.” Shoko points out, and Ren’s brows come together. He knows he can’t be mean to his auntie Shoko… So he simply glares at her.

“I don’t want to play with your baby anymore.” He responds. It’s his way of punishing Shoko for the question.

“Damn, can’t take any sort of criticism. You really don’t need a DNA test, that’s one hundred percent Satoru’s kid.” Shoko says, which earns a laugh from you.

“Babe…” Sayo says through gritted teeth, which makes Shoko roll her eyes. God forbid she points out one thing.

“He’s just a little jealous, but he loves his baby sister.” You tease him, pinching your baby boy’s cheek, and he puffs out a breath. Maybe he does like her a bit. Ren doesn’t defend himself, deciding that he’s just going to grab some food from your plate as a punishment. Though it isn’t exactly a punishment for you, you’re always happy to watch your baby eat. “Do you want me to make you a plate, honey?”

“I’m not hungry.” He mutters, crossing his arms. He stands up from his seat, and walks to the stairs, planning to go to the room that his grandma has for him. He might not have his parents undivided attention anymore, but at the very least he still has a room that’s full of games that’s just for him (as if he didn’t have one in your home either).

“He really is Satoru’s kid…” Shoko comments when Ren is out of sight, and Sayo scolds her again.

“He is, he looks just like me.” Satoru pops into the living room unannounced, which catches Shoko off guard. He wasn’t supposed to hear that, since it’s a critique of his character but she doesn’t find a care to give. He comes back holding Anzu after nearly having to fight his mother to get her. He sits down next to you, reaching for some of the food on your plate. “But I’m guessing it wasn’t a compliment since it’s coming from you.”

“I can be nice, you know.” Shoko responds, and Satoru laughs as if a joke had just come from her lips. Nice… He’ll believe it when he sees it though. Satoru takes a bite of the food that he’s taken from your plate, and he grimaces.

“Did my mom cook or what? This is disgusting.” Satoru can’t even chew the food. Unluckily for him, he doesn’t have anywhere where he can spit the food so he’s forced to swallow. Anzu is screaming, little hand trying to reach for the food. Satoru covers her eyes, “Don’t even look there, my love. There’s no way I’m letting you eat that.”

“It’s not that bad.” You tell him, tasting the food yourself.

“Well what is it? Am I getting a plate for myself or not?” Shoko asks, reaching over to grab some food from your plate as well. Suddenly your plate has become everyone’s plate; you’re used to it at home with Satoru and Ren, but now Shoko is on the list.

“I wouldn’t trust her with food, she’s always claiming she wants to eat the baby’s cheeks.” Satoru argues, and you click your tongue knowing damn well that he says the same thing.

“Anzu has the cutest, chubbiest cheeks, I understand.” Sayo chimes in before looking at her own baby and kissing his cheeks. Shoko takes a bite, keeping her face neutral as she chews the food.

“It’s not that bad, Satoru. You’re just dramatic.” Shoko responds, and Satoru pouts. He brings some of the food to the baby’s lips– Even though he claimed he wasn’t going to let her taste, he needs someone to prove him right and that someone will be his one-year-old daughter that spits everything back up.

“Taste this, love.” Satoru says as Anzu bites into the food. Within moments it dribbles down her chin, and back into Satoru’s hand. He’s grossed out, but at least his point has been proven. “Anzu doesn’t like it so…”

“Are you trying to prove your point by using a baby that just stopped breastfeeding?” Shoko questions, and Satoru glares at her. She can’t help but chuckle, “Man, your son is just like you.”

“I’m going to talk to him since he appreciates me.” Satoru stands up, and begins to walk to the stairs, but your voice stops him. You call out his name, and he expects some sort of apology from you but instead you ask,

“Have you seen my mom?”

“She popped into the kitchen to talk to my mom.” He answers before leaving. You’re unphased by the response. The women that don’t get along in any other circumstance, sit together to talk about their grandchildren. They can be cordial with each other once every six months.

Though Satoru doesn’t pay much attention to them, his focus right now is on his baby boy that sits alone in the game room. Ren sits down on the floor, reading to himself. Satoru doesn’t want to interrupt the healthy habit, but at the same time he doesn’t want Ren to sit by himself during the party. He takes a moment to wash his hands before joining Ren.

“Why are you here, honey? We’re celebrating your mom downstairs.” Satoru sits down beside Ren on the floor, and he feels ten years older as he hears his bones crack. Ren barely looks up from his book, side-eyeing his sister, which makes Satoru want to roll his eyes. Isn’t he a little too old to be jealous of a baby? Matter of fact, he begged to be a big brother. “What is your issue with her? What has she done to you?”

“Nothin’.” Ren claims, his eyes landing on his book again. Satoru sighs, letting the baby on the floor so she can walk around and do as she pleases. She chooses to stay nearby, walking over to her brother to take the book that he has in his hands. “See.”

“Anzu, go over there. Chew on the power cords.” Satoru redirects her elsewhere, and the baby whines because she wants something else. “So she takes all your stuff, is that why you don’t like her? You have a lot, Ren.”

“Not just my stuff. Everyone likes her better. You, mom, granny, grammy, the nanny. I used to be everyone’s favorite but then the cute baby came along.” Ren confesses, and Satoru fights back the urge of pointing out that he called Anzu cute. It’s not about the baby right now, Satoru reminds himself.

“You’re still everyone’s favorite, Ren.” Satoru tells a little white lie– There are no favorites in the family, he loves both of his kids equally. But the baby can’t understand him, it’s why he told her to chew on a power cord. “Everyone is just excited about the new baby, it’s not that you’re not the favorite anymore.”

“Why does she get away with everything then?” Ren asks as if he didn’t know any better. He’ll act dumb simply because he’s jealous. He doesn’t ask why Sayo and Shoko’s baby gets away with everything, because Ren knows that it’s just a baby… He just doesn’t have the same feelings about Anzu.

“Well for one thing she goes potty in her pants so… She isn’t really conscious about her actions.” Satoru answers, and Ren puffs out a breath. Satoru got him there. “Anzu just needs a lot of attention because she’s–”

“Don’t do that!” Ren cuts off his father when he realizes that Anzu is doing what Satoru told her to do earlier. Ren takes the cord out of her hand, and she lets out a cry. He’s going to complain about her, but he loves her.

“She’ll grow on you.” Satoru says, standing up to grab his walking baby and get out of Ren’s hair. Ren doesn’t like the baby but he certainly loves her. “But come downstairs, Ren. We’re celebrating your mommy’s achievement. She was talking about hanging up her diploma next to your kindergarten diploma.”

“Can you tell them I don’t want to talk about Anzu?” Ren asks, and Satoru hums in response. Satoru extends his hand for Ren to take, and the child takes it without an issue before both head back downstairs to spend time with you.

“What are you doing here?” Satoru approaches you as you sit on the ground outside, in his mother’s garden. You’re hiding from everyone. After hours of talking to people inside, you need a break from the small group.

“Need a minute.” You answer, and Satoru decides to sit down next to you. The kids are fine with their grandmothers, he can take a moment alone with you and properly congratulate you. He throws his arm over your shoulder and brings you close to him. “We should’ve just gone out to eat at a restaurant and called it a day. I don’t have the energy to be so social.”

“I got you a trip to Bora Bora. You just have to power through these last couple of hours… We can get Anzu to throw a fit and make it a few minutes.” He responds and you chuckle. You rest your head on his shoulder and shut your eyes for a moment. Being social shouldn’t be so draining.

“Can we leave the kids with granny?” You ask him, and he hums in response. He had no plans on taking them; he loves them, but they sure know how to ruin a vacation.

Your gaze falls on his face, looking into the blue eyes you fell in love with so long ago. Even though it was an eternity ago, he still makes your heart skip a beat. He doesn’t let you stare for too long before he steals a kiss from you.

“If you stare for too long you might find me ugly.” Satoru tells you and you roll your eyes. If you don’t find him ugly first thing in the morning then you’re definitely not finding him ugly now.

“Are you saying that because–” You begin but the man cuts you off before you can finish your question. He knows you, he knows that you’ll start a petty fight with a dumb question.

“Because I love you so much, and I think I’m not good enough for you– I know I’m not good enough for you, you’re perfect.” Satoru responds, making you grin from ear to ear. He isn’t exactly wrong, he’s lucky that you considered getting back together with him at all.

“I love you too even though you’re…” You bite your tongue before you insult him. He raises a brow and before he can question anything, your lips land on his. His cheeks begin to turn pink when you peck his lips over and over again, feeling like a teenager all over again.

You stare into his eyes when you stop, watching the sparkle in them as he looks back at you. He’s utterly in love with you, and the feeling only gets more intense as time passes. He caresses your face with the back of his hand ever so lovingly. You get lost in his loving eyes until your eyes shift to the flowers behind him.

“Oh my–” You gasp, your eyes widening as you realize. “This is where you used to pick flowers for me?”

“Oh, yeah.” Satoru laughs, turning to pick a lily for you. It’s been years since he’s been in this place. Maybe he should come here more often. “A flower for my flower.”

“Cheesy.” You take it from his hands, wanting to roll your eyes because of his comment– But your face is getting hot. Even when he’s cheesy your heart threatens to beat out of your chest.

“Yeah, cheesy is what got me two kids.” He retorts. “Isn’t that right, Mrs. Gojo?”

“Calling me Mrs. Gojo is going to make you single.” You warn him, and he fights back on laughing. “Don’t make me divorce you before getting married.”

“What? Are you going to Suguru for a rebound again?” Satoru questions, making you glare at him. Maybe he should just listen and agree, not everything needs a response from him. “I’m just joking, baby. He has a girlfriend now and whatnot.”

“You better stick to your day job, you have no future as a comedian.” You say, standing up from the ground to go back inside, and of course, Satoru follows like a lost puppy. He’s simply lost without you.

You love spending time with your kids, you love them more than anything– But you’re not going to pass up on the opportunity of a sleepover. Having them off your hands for the night is a blessing sometimes. You simply want to celebrate with your fiancé in a way that your kids make difficult.

“I’ll run you a bath.” Satoru tells you, running to go upstairs to get to the bathroom before you. Running you a bath that he’ll end up joining, that’s not too bad. It’s a nice way to end the night, that you know for sure.

You give him a moment to set everything up, pulling out your phone to answer a couple of messages of people congratulating you for finishing your degree. What’s next? You’re not too sure. But whatever you decide it’s fine. You have Satoru and your kids by your side no matter what. The money also helps.

Right now, you know you want to relax in a bathtub full of bubbles. Maybe have Satoru right next to you. You’ve been looking into the future for the past ten years, for once you just want to sit back and appreciate the moment.

“Are you coming?!” You hear Satoru as you walk up the stairs. He’s so impatient, he can’t even wait a minute. You won’t hurry up to please him, as a matter of fact, you walk slower. Satoru is tapping his foot on the floor when you finally get to the bedroom.

“Finally.” He says, walking over to you to zip down the zipper that holds your dress together. He’s desperate to get you naked. You’re chuckling, reminding him,

“No need for you to be in a rush, we have all night.” But it goes in one ear and out the other. Before you know it, he turns you around, his lips landing on yours. His kiss is full of desire, needing to feel your every touch on his skin. He’s burning up to feel you.

“Fuck, I want you so fucking bad.” He pulls away from the kiss as the dress drops to the ground. He picks you up from the floor and puts you down on the bed, smirking at the black lingerie that will soon be removed. “So perfect for me, love.”

“Fuck me, Satoru.” You tell him, voice seductive that can get him to drop to his knees in an instant. The bath that’s filled up and with bubbles is long forgotten by both of you. He takes off his shirt and pants, leaving his briefs. Your eyes stare at the tent that makes him ever so uncomfortable. You sit up on the bed, your fingers going directly to the erection.

Your index finger goes underneath the band of his underwear, eyes looking up at him as you pull his briefs down. Your eyes quickly avert to his cock, wrapping around the base of it. You slowly move your hand from base to tip as pre-cum leaks from the tip. Your tongue licks it up, circling around it as the man bites down on his lip.

Your mouth wraps around all it can take, bobbing your head slowly. You take what your mouth can handle. He can’t complain because it’s just perfect. Everything you do in Satoru’s eyes is perfect. The pace is slow, but it gradually gets faster.

You look up at him to find him biting his lip, his eyes shut. You take his cock out of your mouth, and begin to run your hand up and down his shaft, your saliva serving as a lubricant. He finally opens his eyes to look down at you, but his teeth remain on his bottom lip.

“I want to hear you.” You say, a rather demanding tone in your voice. He stops biting down on his lip, and your hand continues to jerk him off for a couple of seconds before your mouth wraps around his cock again.

He’s groaning at your every move, which is like music to your ears. You look up at him to find him looking back down at you. He knows you’re more than satisfied with him, with how he sounds. It’s nice to be as loud as he wants to be, without worrying about someone barging in.

You try to take his whole length in your mouth, making you gag. Tears quickly form in your eyes as you remove your mouth from his cock, and try again. He throws his head back, breathy moans escaping his lips at your every move.

You take your mouth off his cock and begin to jerk him off. Your mouth goes to his balls and you begin to suck on them. Satoru got louder and louder by the second, his release approaching.

Your mouth goes back to his cock while your hands begin to play with his balls. It doesn’t take too long for his cum to hit the back of your throat. Your mouth remains on his cock for a couple of seconds before pulling away. You make sure to swallow all the cum, sticking your tongue out for him to see and proudly admire.

“My good girl.” He praises you. He reaches behind to unhook your bra and slide it off you. Once it’s off, he desperately tries to take off your panties. It’s unexpected when he gets on the bed and lays down. You crawl to where he is, positioning yourself on top of him. You get ready to ride him, but it takes you by surprise when your fiancé says, “Sit on my face.”

“Are you sure?” You ask, though it’s not unusual from Satoru.

“Just come here and sit.” He responds. You do what he wants, but you are hesitant to fully sit down. He’s the one who pushes you down onto him. His tongue is quick to wander around your cunt.

His tongue begins to flick your clit over and over again, making low moans leave your lips. His arms go over your thighs, pushing you down further. You’d be worried about him breathing, if you weren’t too focused on how his tongue moves around your pussy.

“Toru!” You moan. Your moans serve as encouragement, and are a sweet reward for the man, moving his tongue faster. His tongue stops flicking your clit, and moves down to your hole. He teases you, threatening to enter but never really doing it.

“Baby please.” You beg. His tongue finally enters your cunt. You shut your eyes, getting lost in the feeling. But out of the two of you, Satoru is enjoying it more. He finally takes his tongue out and goes back to your clit.

He begins to suck on your clit, and you swear you see stars as your orgasm builds up. Your hips raise a bit, but he pushes you back down. You get louder and louder. “I’m gonna- fuck- gonna cum-”

You moan loudly as you reach your climax, his tongue still working wonders. A minute later he stops, and you get off him, sitting down on his torso. He raises himself a bit, not completely to sit up but enough to wrap his hand around your throat and pull you into a lewd kiss.

“Should we continue in the bath?” Satoru asks when he pulls away and you can’t nod your head more frantically. You get off the bed and practically run to the bath. Satoru gets in the bathtub first, and you follow behind.

“You’re so lucky.” You point out as your back presses against his chest. He’s never doubted it. He peppers your neck with kisses, while you align his cock with your entrance. You lower yourself on his cock.

“How about another baby?” Satoru asks, making you click your tongue while you begin to move.

“Leave me alone” You reply, and he wants to chuckle but he’s biting down his lip as he feels your pussy wrap around him. He loves your mouth but it can’t compare to this.

He’s kissing your back, showing you how much he loves you in every possible way as you move up and down his cock. His hand moves down to play with your clit, making you shut your eyes. Every little touch is enough to make you insane lately and Satoru loves to touch you.

“You’re so perfect around me, baby.” Satoru whispers into your ear before nibbling on your earlobe.

You’re softly moaning his name, your walls tightening around him. You’re so close to finishing. You’ve been so touch deprived lately since your schedules make spending time with each other impossible– Maybe now you’ll have more time to spend with each other.

“Fuck–” You curse as you finish on his cock. You hold to the edge of the bathtub as Satoru continues to move in and out of you.

He’s not going to last long. It’s too hard for him to contain himself when he’s inside of you. He comes to a complete stop when he finally reaches his release, finishing inside of you. He remains buried inside of you as you pant to catch your breaths, but after a minute you lift yourself and take his cock out of you.

“What do you want to do tomorrow?” Satoru asks, hands caressing your arms as your head goes to his chest.

“Just sleep.” You answer as Satoru kisses the top of your head. He squeezes your hand before bringing it up to his lips to press a subtle kiss on it. “I need to get some rest.”

“Sleep sounds nice.” Satoru responds. You’re getting comfortable in the bathtub as your eyes begin to get heavy. You’re tired. Satoru notices and he splashes you, “Don’t fall asleep in the bathtub, love.”

“Just carry me to the bed.” You reply, making him roll his eyes playfully. He can, but if you don’t drag him out he’ll stay in the water and get all pruny. He’s warm by your side, too comfortable to leave. This is the reality he wanted ten years ago, and he finally has it. He’s not leaving this comfort no matter what gets in the way.

You’ll be the one to get up first and drag him out, that’s how it usually is in the morning. But you’re falling asleep. He doesn’t want to disturb you either. So he’ll just stay in the bathtub.

“Don’t let me get all pruny, Satoru. Carry me out.” You warn him, and he hums in response. He’ll have to eventually because you’ll end up killing him if you wake up in ten hours, and you’re still in the bathroom.

“You know Ren is going to call later to say goodnight?” He points out, but you don’t care to talk about it. You’re sleepy. He kisses the top of your head when he’s met with silence. He mutters softly to not disturb your peace,

“I love you. Goodnight, baby.”

548 notes · View notes

uhohdad · 4 months ago

Text

THE GIRL WHO CONQUERED THE MOUNTAIN

KONIG X READER [HUNGER GAMES AU]

You & Konig have been chosen to participate in a twenty-four tribute fight to the death.

18+, NSFW, 183k WORD COUNT, AO3,Virgin!Konig, Outcast!Konig, 18yo!Konig, GentleGiant!Konig, Mentor!JohnPrice, Fem!Reader, Blood & Injury, Graphic Violence, Death, PTSD, Alcohol Use, Slow Burn, Konig Pines Hard, Sexual Content, Porn with Too Much Plot, First Time, Dirty Talk, Size Kink, Smut, Fluff, Angst

CHAPTER ONE | PREV | CHAPTER NAVIGATION

➤ THE AFTERMATH II

At the mention of District Eight, your mouth turns to cotton. Your wide eyes dart around the floor of the glittery stage, heels turning inward.

You don’t want to do this.

You give up and pinch your eyes shut, a slight shake of your head, trying to take yourself somewhere you’re not, even going so far as to redirect your focus to remembering the lyrics to an old tune you sing in your thoughts.

Konig senses something’s up and gently guides you into the crook of his arm and his chest, giving your shoulder a squeeze. He presses a kiss to the top of your head, and you respond by raising your hand to rest in the space between his firm stomach and chest.

You can’t block out their words, the commentary from the people of District Eight. Your heart doesn’t want to hear it but your ears can’t help but listen and your eyes have to peek open.

The recap of the interview clearly cut out a majority of their words, and starts with the conflict between the boy from eight and Willow. The interviewee tries to begin, but she abandons her first few attempts to recount the story.

“Uh-” The interviewee’s eyes dart to the side, “Yeah, they uh- there was-“

She clears her throat, “Willow, uh-“

She trails off, staring off into the distance with a pause before she continues.

“He had this girlfriend, right? And they were - I mean, they were the perfect pair. You could tell, uh, you could tell he really loved her, you know? And the same goes for her.”

The interviewee pauses, and she has to look away.

“I was actually- I remember being jealous of them, wishing I had what they had. Love like that.”

You can hear her scraping gravel under her shoe.

“And I guess, I guess his girl wasn’t crazy about the uhm, The Capitol, and she uh- well, I think she broke a few laws, or something. Real rebellious type.”

She looks to her shoes, nodding slowly.

“And uh,” She clears her throat again before meeting eyes with the person behind the camera, “Willow blabbed about it. And his girlfriend got taken away.”

The interviewee nods slow, her sad, squint eyes staring off at the cameraman.

“They cut out his girl’s tongue, and now she- she serves The Capitol.”

She shakes her head, “He snapped. Just, a different person entirely.”

There’s a pause, and your eyes pinch shut, squeezing Konig as hard as your arms will allow. His hand slides down your back, tracing soothing circles with his fingertips between your shoulder blades.

“Please, no! It was an accident!”

The desperation in her voice is unmistakable. You find the screen, and there she is.

Willow.

As pretty as her name - rich bronze skin and golden brown eyes. Full, curly hair that seems to have a mind of its own and reminds you of the elegant draped tresses of the tree for which she was named.

The boy from eight has her on the ground, towering over her with his blade raised. Her upper half is propped up by her elbows, her feet kicking away from him.

“You knew what you were doing!” He yells, in that same booming, terrifying voice he used on you.

His blade lowers as his fists tense at his sides, “She served us! You hear me? She served us in our suite!”

A hand comes up to his head, and he grabs a fistful of his own hair with white knuckles. There’s tears springing in his eyes, and that daunting shout cracks.

“I couldn’t even talk to her!”

Your brows are pinched as you watch, shallow breaths through parted lips.

The tears crest Eight’s eyeline, and his hands drop limply to his sides.

His voice lowers to a broken whisper, a whiny strain in his words. It makes your brows pinch - you’ve never heard him speak in a way that wasn’t harsh and booming, never seen his eyes swelled with any emotion other than anger.

“I couldn’t even talk to her.”

Willow shakes her head, her words choppy through her stuttered breaths and hiccups.

“I know- I know! I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Please, I didn’t- I never wanted this to happen, I didn’t mean for it to happen! Please-“

His voice shoots back up when he interrupts her, his shouted words ripping his throat to shreds.

“She’s gone, Willow! I lost her!”

He pinches his eyes for a moment, sending more tears down his cheeks, his chin lowering with a tilt of his head.

A snarl creases his face, brows tight when he finds Willow again. He jams his blade at her, his voice just a growl in her direction.

“And there is nothing you can say to change that.”

Willow just stares up at him with wide eyes, her entire body trembling. Her mouth is gaped to speak, but she knows she doesn’t have a defense.

“I am nothing without her.”

He steps closer to her, his boots planted on either side of her ribs. Just as he did with you, he grabs her by the front of her jacket and pulls her from the dirt, inches from his face.

“I am suffering! She is suffering! Everyday!”

He gives her that look, the same gut-churning look he had on reaping day when he threw himself on stage to volunteer.

“Now it’s your turn to suffer.”

The shot lingers on their faces for a few more moments, Willow’s golden brown eyes darting around his gut-churning rage, her breath caught in her throat.

They don’t show it.

You are so thankful they don’t show it.

They cut to you, walking through the forest. You have to close your eyes again, burying your face in Konig’s chest.

Your stomach boils and your heart constricts beyond comfort at each of her moaned wails. You’re clawing at Konig’s suit, a handful of the fabric shaking between your tensed fist.

Konig’s free hand comes up to swallow yours, a gentle reassurance from hardened hands.

Each of her maimed breaths violate you. The stage lights are searing your skin, sweat building up on your scalp and under your dress. The layer forming under your thick makeup is suffocating, aching for the touch of fresh air instead of the roasted stage air you breathe now.

Your eyes are screwed shut, but you can still see her, her exposed, bloody muscle rising and falling with her chest. The whitish yellow pockets of fat, the bones of her fingers, her blood-pooled eye sockets.

There’s a nauseating heat simmering just under your skin, and your breaths turn almost as guttural as hers.

Against every instinct, you have to rip away from Konig, not at all gracefully stumbling in your heels offstage.

“Oh, uh- technical difficulties, folks. Bear with us,” Caesar says cheekily, the audience’s collective chuckle laugh following.

You weren’t aiming for him, but Price catches you once offstage, sturdy arms pulling you into an embrace.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright, kid,” He whispers softly, “It’s alright.”

Your palms find his chest with a firm shove, freeing yourself from his hold. You swivel on your feet simultaneously, doubling over to vomit all over the floor, your bile splattering over Price’s shoes.

He doesn’t seem to mind, standing at your side and pulling your hair back from the line of fire as you heave in rhythmic convulses, struggling to work up what little is in your stomach.

“It’s alright,” Price soothes, holding your hair with one hand and rubbing your trembling back with the other, “It’s alright. Get it all out.”

You feel a second hand on your back, and you already know it’s Konig, standing tall on your other side.

A stage hand rolls over an industrial size trash can, and you grip the rim with white knuckles as you gag into it.

When you’re done spitting out the bitter, offensive taste, Konig has a cloth waiting for you to wipe your face. Exhausted breaths leave you, droplets of sweat trailing down your back and tears streaming over your cheeks.

Your arm stretches over the rim of the trash can as you lean over it, pinching your eyes shut to try to quell the nausea. Konig offers you a bottle of water, and shaking hands reach to take it gratefully.

They wait for you to collect yourself, someone gets you a toothbrush to clean out your mouth - apparently this kind of thing happens enough to warrant keeping toothbrushes on hand, - your prep team touches up your makeup, and Konig holds you wordlessly in his strong arms while you breathe him in, his silken tie brushing against your cheek.

When you’re ready, your fingers wrap around Konig’s bicep, his arm bent at the elbow to keep you steady as he escorts you back on stage, putting himself between you and the crowd to block you from the audience.

The crowd explodes at your return, a standing ovation that echoes with whistles and claps.

“Welcome back, welcome back!” Caesar chimes, dipping each syllable with flare.

The crowd keeps the applause going long after you’re sat, and once settled, Caesar segues back into the show.

You don’t watch, hiding your face in Konig’s chest as he holds you tight, gently stroking your back.

The feed resumes, and you hear your squeak through the speakers, your stumble and trip into the dirt. Your dash through the woods, your dry heaves towards the dirt.

Your desperate plea.

Luring Eight into the fall forest, almost killing him but bailing at the last second. Weakly running for Willow as you cry out to her in the tune of a desperate sorry, spoken exactly like her pleas to the boy who knew no bounds to his spite. Piercing a dart through her exposed muscle, her final three breaths, your sobbing as her cannon fires.

Konig’s grip on you loosens as he watches your mercy kill, his soothing rubs ceasing. He starts back up again when the footage pauses, but you can’t bring yourself to leave Konig’s chest.

The crowd erupts in a truly enthusiastic applause, shouting adorations in your direction as Konig squeezes you tight.

“Wow,” Caesar shouts over the crowd, “That was something!”

The audience ignores his attempt to settle them, showering you with praise for what must be a full minute while Konig rubs your back.

“That was really something,” Caesar says, “Wow, I have to say, that was really admirable.”

You say nothing, trying to block out Caesar and his stupid commentary.

“I must ask, have your feelings about your actions changed after learning of their history?”

Your brows pinch as your head lifts from Konig’s chest to find Caesar, your arms snug around Konig’s core.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Knowing what you know now, would you have still lended her a hand?”

The end of Caesar’s question perks up so innocently, as if he didn’t just ask the most insane question in the world.

Your face twists, “Of course I would have - what kind of question is that?”

You glare at him, voice taught and sharp.

“You think that I think that there’s anything in the world that justifies that?”

You shake your head.

“No, you’re out of your mind. I wouldn’t even wish that fate on someone sick enough to ask a question like that in the first place.”

Konig gives you a squeeze and a little shake to show you he’s on your side, sitting tall with his chest puffed out. The audience is on your side too, apparently, clapping along in approval.

Caesar breaks character for a moment as he flits his gaze between you and Konig, the latter surely dawning a just as loathsome stare. You hold Caesar’s eyes in challenge until he looks away.

You understand the boy from eight’s anger. If someone got Konig taken away to serve the Capitol, surely you’d be just as furious and hellbent on vengeance.

But Eight’s anger was misdirected.

While Willow blabbed, his anger was provoked by the Capitol, not by Willow.

The Capitol is the one who took his girlfriend away, cut out her tongue, and forced her to dote on her boyfriend, unable to speak with him - surely a calculated move to instigate more tension between the District Eight tributes. Willow was just the one who let it slip, intentional or not.

As fucked up as it sounds, though, you get it.

You get where Eight is coming from. There was no way for him to seek vengeance against a government that has the entire country under its strict thumb, so he took out his anger on the next best thing.

Nowhere near to the same extreme - but you’ve been in a similar position countless times before.

That day in District Nine was one of those days. A bad day riling you up, looking for a victim to boil over on. You’re not even sure if you stood up for Konig because it was the right thing to do, or because you were just looking for an outlet for anger you couldn’t direct elsewhere without severe consequence.

Deep down you know the answer, but you’re too cowardly to share it with anyone, especially Konig. He has you on a pedestal. He thinks of you as a true, selfless angel that protected him for no other reason than to do the right thing.

You really don’t want to ruin his perception of you.

But you know who you are.

“Well, more exciting things to come,” Caesar weakly chimes, looking to the floor as he clears his throat.

An arm comes up to gesture to the large screen.

“You bravely risked your life to end this girl’s suffering, my dear, and we have the footage to prove it.”

The replay resumes - cutting to a shot of the three remaining careers gliding over the snow as they make way towards the cornucopia.

“In and out,” Sapphire says to the group, “I don’t want to leave the woods for too long.”

“Not like she can leave,” Titan mumbles.

“If she got her hands on some supplies, she could.”

“Where would Funny Girl find supplies? We got ‘em all.”

“Gotten them off someone else.”

Titan scoffs, “You think Funny Girl’s killing?”

“She’s made it this far. Who knows.”

Titan laughs, “Funny Girl can’t fight. She’s just playing shy.”

“Lover Boy’s got his backpack,” Sapphire says, “If he found her, those two could go anywhere.”

“Well if he found her, it doesn’t really matter, does it?”

Sapphire just sighs, rolling her eyes. She doesn’t look good. Her face is puffy, bags under her eyes. You know a girl who’s too exhausted to argue when you see it. Clearly Titan’s attempt to get her to rest was unsuccessful.

“I’m sorry!”

The careers immediately perk up at your distant cry.

Titan’s mouth curls into a sickening grin, flashing his razor sharp canines, a giddy laugh threatening to spill from his lips.

Even in Sapphire’s exhaustion, her lips stretch in a smile, those brilliant blue eyes flickering with a spark of gut-churning determination.

“I’m sorry!”

Even from the distance, the desperation in your voice is unmistakable.

The career pack is in a full sprint to the direction of your broken, cried apology, hollering in celebration that their arduous hunt is coming to a conclusion.

As they burst through the trees, the shot cuts to you, running on weak ankles to the spring quadrant.

“There she is!”

Konig shoots forward in his chair, taking your arms with him and forcing you to leave his chest. His brows tighten as he plants his elbow on his knee, the pads of his fingers reaching up to gnaw on his nails.

Eight breaks into the clearing, making a beeline for the careers.

“What did you do?!” Eight shouts at them, barreling right for them with his blade raised. It’s clear now he thinks the careers killed Willow, not you.

The three prime their weapons and when Eight catches up, he’s already swinging.

“Titan - get the brat!” Sapphire shouts, her tone leaving no room for argument as she blocks one of Eight’s swings.

It’s as if Titan was a dog growling on the end of Sapphire’s taut leash, itching to be released so he can maul his target - and Sapphire just unclasped his collar. There is no transition between his stand to a full sprint, both his pace and his strides at least three times as quick as yours.

Konig’s fingers are digging into his knees hard enough to turn his knuckles white, on the edge of his seat and glued to the screen, not so much as blinking.

Titan catches up, powerful hold wrapping around your waist and slamming you into the sand hard enough to steal your breath.

Konig flinches in his seat, his lips parting and pulling to the side to reveal grit teeth. As he watches Titan toy with you, pinning you to the ground and reveling in the power he holds, Konig’s fists are clenched so tight they’re shaking. Resting a gentle hand on his forearm does nothing to placate him - he’s locked on the screen.

“Why don’t you yell for him?”

“Fuck you!”

Really not your best comeback, but to be fair to you, you were running on steam and also thought you were about to die.

When Titan’s hand shoots out to choke you, Konig springs up from his seat and rips away from your hold on him.

He can’t watch anymore, turning to face the couch, his face pinched and a hand threading his hair with a tight grip.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” You whisper, reaching out to grab the rigid hand at his side.

“No,” He grits through strained breath.

He can’t look at you, the sounds of your desperate chokes for air blaring from the speakers and suffocating him second hand.

“It is, it’s okay,” You say with sloped brows, “I’m fine. I’m okay, it’s okay. He’s dead.”

It’s almost funny, Konig is so concerned with your fight with Titan - when it pales in comparison to the rest of your arena experiences.

Even the cold of the freezing nights in the forest were worse than this.

A gory bloodbath, the snap of a neck, a first hand lesson on the anatomy of the human muscular system, blinding and skewering Sapphire, Konig beating Titan to death with his own two hands - these are the moments that truly haunt you.

You give Konig’s trembling hand a squeeze. He doesn’t speak, he just shakes his head.

“Call for him!”

On screen you’re gasping for air, Titan forcing his demands through his clenched teeth.

The feed pauses, the crowd silent as Caesar starts.

“Konig, it’s clear this is upsetting for you to watch, mind sharing your thoughts?”

Konig’s eyes crease when he closes them, his free fist tight at his side. He doesn’t turn around, his shoulders raised.

“Hey, Caesar,” he grits.

Konig takes a breath.

“Shut the fuck up.”

You jump to your feet as the crowd erupts, both your arms shooting up in the air and taking one of Konig’s hands with you.

“Yes! Yes!”

You practically order the crowd to shower him in praise, waving your hands to beckon them to keep it up. You let go of Konig’s hand to grab his tensed arm and give him an excited, proud shake. He rolls his eyes, a half grin blooming on his face as he turns pliant to your jostling.

“Right,” Caesar says, clearing his throat and looking down.

They resume the feed, and you give Konig’s suit a tug, beckoning him to sit with you.

“Watch this part,” You whisper.

He finally looks to you, giving a swallow as he follows your wish.

“Call for him or I’ll make you!”

On screen - your spit-stained face pinches, and you send two fistfuls of sand directly into Titan’s face.

The audience explodes at your escape maneuver, and Konig hums at Titan’s cries of pain, giving that soft inaudible laugh that raises his shoulders. He looks to you, eyes crinkled with a pressed grin. He grabs a shoulder and rests his other hand on the crook of your neck, leaning down to press a long, messy kiss on your lips.

You hum into him, the crowd still cheering when he pulls you into him with an arm slung over your shoulder, squeezing your bicep.

“Wow, wow, wow!” Caesar says after the audience has settled, “Escaping the hands of such a powerful career - I think you managed to surprise every citizen of Panem!”

The audience gives a hearty applause in approval. Caesar leans in, voice suddenly serious.

“And I think we were all very, very touched to see you risk your life to keep Konig out of danger.”

Your brows crease as you turn to the audience, clapping in approval.

It takes you a moment to realize that Panem thinks you refrained from calling Konig’s name for his benefit, to keep him safe from Titan, which isn’t true at all.

You just didn’t want to submit to Titan’s demands, didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of fulfilling his plan, didn’t want to give him whatever scrap of dignity you had left. It was a move of spite against Titan, not of care for Konig.

Guilt.

You have to look down at your lap as you try to swallow it - because saving Konig from Titan was not a thought that even crossed your mind.

You couldn’t even think of Konig when you knew Titan wanted to kill him. Konig, the boy who killed Titan with his two hands for even daring to lay a hand on you.

Konig squeezes you tight and plants a kiss on your forehead, the audience cooing at his adoration for you.

Guilt.

When your unearned praise dies down, Caesar continues.

“It’s truly beautiful what you two have.”

You don’t care, Caesar.

You don’t care what anyone in the Capitol thinks of you and Konig. You wish your relationship wasn’t able to be perceived at all, actually - not out of shame, but because you hate how everyone in Panem has their grubby little hands all over your romance, something so personal and intimate and fresh to you.

The people of Panem have had more time to process your new relationship than you have.

The feed shows you collapsing into the grass, cutting to the part where District Eight sent you the bread, eventually showing you picking up the ribbon, tying it around your wrist.

“I have to ask, my dear,” Caesar says, “You’ve mentioned that the ribbon means a lot to you, can you share with us the significance of this ribbon?”

To be honest, you really don’t have a reason for why you kept the ribbon, or why it means so much to you. You just know it does.

You know it’s symbolic, but for what?

Is it a reminder of Willow, the girl you feel an immense connection to, even though you just assigned her name to her less than an hour ago and never shared a word with?

Is it the unification of two districts forced to be pit against each other?

Is it because it is a token of the district who went against all the standards to thank a girl who treated their tribute with human decency - the opposite of what the games are about?

Why does this ribbon mean so much to you?

You really don’t know. But you do know you can’t be snarky here - this moment is important, and you need to get this right.

Your mouth has gone dry again, and you look to your lap.

“I- uh-“

You clear your throat, and Konig gives you a squeeze.

“It just does,” You say, not harshly, but genuinely.

You turn your head to find a camera and speak into it. You’re talking to District Eight now, not the audience, not to Caesar.

“I don’t know why it means so much to me, but I know that I am grateful for the gifts. I am grateful that you helped me put an end to her suffering.”

Your voice cracks.

“And I am sorry for your loss.”

The audience gives a soft applause, and you have to look down at your lap again.

“Wow,” Caesar says, his voice gentle, “Beautifully spoken.”

He’s so full of shit, it actually makes you scoff.

You know your words aren’t striking the proper emotion, because you haven’t even had the opportunity to digest them yourself. To assign words to the attachment you have to your ribbon, to your feelings about Willow, Eight, his girlfriend, about his unwavering dedication and her brutal end and a district who thanked you for making a life-threatening sacrifice.

“Enough about you, my dear, let’s take a look at what Konig was up to in the meantime.”

Eight’s cannon woke him up with a start, a cloud of sand wafting up with him as he shoots to a sit. A hand comes up to his hood, and he lets out a long sigh.

Just by looking at his eyes through his hood, you can tell it’s all catching up with him. The restless nights, his aching body, the instinctual fear.

The jump the sun makes when the feed cuts suggests he laid unmoving in the sand for hours. Price caves once again, sending him food and water.

When he finally gets to his feet, he makes slow, unsteady steps through the desert. To see him so weakened makes your heart throb in your chest, because it reminds you of the last time you saw him stumble, the last time you saw him drained of life.

You swallow, looking down to your fidgeting fingers, smoothing along the pleats of your dress.

It’s your turn to wish you could have been there for him. You get it now, how hard it is knowing the one you love struggled and you were useless to help.

Konig’s eyes are drowsy, his steps sluggish, even with One’s shoe attachments.

Next to you on the couch, all of Panem watching him in this state, Konig’s head is hung, looking to his shoes in shame, the pads of fingers swirling together.

You nuzzle your head into his shoulder and give him a squeeze.

I’m here now.

The effects of the spiky plants in the desert, cacti as Caesar calls them, were severely downplayed by Konig.

Konig trips over his own boot and falls forward, weak hands shooting out to brace himself, his palm catching a handful of needles. He winces, a strangled grunt leaving him as he rips his hand back to his chest.

He rolls over in the sand, propping himself up on his backpack to inspect his palm. Tiny beads of blood smear between his skin and the perforated temperature suit.

He lets out a grunt of defeat and throws his arm to the sand. His breaths are heaved, his chest struggling to work in breaths, eyes pinching shut behind his hood.

When he brings his hand to his face again, it’s swollen and as black as the ooze that dripped from the ginkgo petals and swallowed you whole during your hallucinations. The color soaks into his veins and up his forearm in inky streaks.

He lets out a strained whine, his other hand trembling as he goes in to touch the source of the wound. The gentlest touch has him wailing out in pain, his cries tighten your chest and wring your heart out.

He lies on the desert sand, his infection getting worse by the second. It spreads up his bicep, swallowing his entire arm until he can’t even move it. He’s crying, but the tears that spill from his eyes are not normal tears. Whatever is dripping from his eyes is bleaching his hood, streaks of color pulling up on the black fabric.

The infection creeps up his shoulders, his collarbones, sucking what little strength he has left from him.

He’s given up.

You can see it, in his eyes. He knows he’s about to die.

“Just tell her I love her,” He whispers to the arid desert air, his voice hoarse and barely loud enough to carry, “Just make sure she knows I love her.”

A shaky finger comes up to swipe away the tears threatening to spill from your eyeline, but you are powerless against the squeak that leaves the back of your throat.

You can practically hear Price’s eye roll from the mentor’s suite, and before the infection can spread to his other arm, a parachute comes down from the sky and lands inches from him.

He’s so weak he can hardly get the canister open. Grunting and hitting it against the sand in frustration. His shaking fingers pop it open to reveal a small syringe filled with a clear liquid, a tiny needle at the end.

Konig lets out another grunt as he jams the needle into his dead bicep, and shortly after succumbs to either exhaustion or the pain, maybe both, and passes out propped up on his backpack.

“That looked pretty painful,” Caesar says, “How do you feel after overcoming such adversity?”

Konig shrugs his shoulders at him, a slight shake in his head and lips bunched in annoyance.

Caesar directs the question to you, and you can’t bite your tongue.

“How do I feel after watching Konig nearly die from a cacti?”

“Cactus.”

You pause, narrowing your eyes at Caesar and offering an obnoxious suck of your teeth.

“Cact-you,” You say.

You and Caesar stay locked on each other for a moment before you shrug.

“Feels great, Caesar.”

The audience seems to find your annoyance and sarcasm amusing.

“Well, the fun doesn’t stop there,” Caesar says, “Looks like you woke up to some trouble too.”

Konig’s eyes roll, and the feed resumes.

You had not encountered any mutts in the arena, but Konig was not as lucky.

He wakes long after the sun has gone down to find himself surrounded.

Genetically modified scorpions, ten to twenty of them, the size of large dogs and equipped with bulbous tails that taper into razor sharp hooks. Exoskeletons designed to be nearly impenetrable, serrated claws itching to tear apart flesh.

Konig’s mumbling curses under his breath, springing to weak legs, stumbling through the sand. The scorpions hiss at him, curling their wicked tails, as if beckoning him to come closer.

Konig’s head is ducked, body low as he swivels on his feet, the handle of Eleven’s scythe in a tight grip at his side.

His mind has drawn a blank - he’s panicking.

They close in on him, their spider-like legs dancing over the sand as they hiss at him, snapping their claws and curling their tails.

His darting eyes stop on the cactus, and he’s got it.

There’s no hesitation, his arm winds back entirely, using all of his strength to cut clean through the base. Ten feet of poisonous spikes comes crashing down, a flood of pulpy water pouring at Konig’s feet. It lands on one of the scorpions, giving him a break in the circle of mutts to make his escape.

When one of the scorpions cries out, both you and Konig freeze, shoulders tensed on the couch.

It’s your voice.

Your haunting wails recorded during your nightmares, crying out Konig’s name.

On screen, Konig whips his head around, stumbling on the sand as he looks in the direction of your cry. He trips, his hands springing up to brace himself before he hits the ground.

The nearest scorpion closes in on him, and shortly after Konig’s back on his feet and working up to a sprint, the mutt’s serrated claws snap at and tear through the flesh of his calf. Your brows slope at Konig’s cry of pain, your hand coming up to your racing heart.

He’s limping through the desert now, blood gushing down the back of his leg and splattering on the grains of sand.

The scorpions are following him, not struggling to keep up now that he’s injured.

All of them, crying out in your voice, crying out his name, scared and pleading, desperate and helpless. Both on screen and now, Konig’s hands shoot up to his ears to block out the overlapping wails.

He’s curled up next to you on the couch as you rub your palm over his button down and tie.

“Hey, hey it’s okay. It’s okay, I’m fine, it was just a nightmare. It was just a nightmare.”

“No,” He objects through a grit, his eyes pinching shut.

“Don’t listen to it, just listen to me. I’m fine, it was just a nightmare. I’m okay, I’m right here.”

He throws himself into your arms, wrapping around you and squeezing hard enough to steal your breath, his stubble scraping against you as he buries his face into your neck.

You rub his back, looking over his head to watch the screen over his shoulder.

He straggles through the desert, his leg threatening to give out under the pain of each stride, but he doesn’t stop. He’s scrambling to get away from your cries.

This is when he finds the oasis. The scorpions stop at what appears to be an invisible circle of safety looping the ring of trees. Konig doesn’t look back until he’s in the middle of the pool of water, until the waterfall drowns out the scorpion’s cries. He’s heaving and struggling to stay afloat with his injury and the weight of his soaked backpack. He rips off his hood, pulling in deep breaths of air as he flails.

Once the scorpions lose interest, he swims to where his toes can touch, taking a moment to catch his breath.

He lets out a cry, loud and unrestrained - not from pain, no, this is a cry of pure frustration, the cry of a boy pushed to his limit. He shakes his head, his hair sending water droplets flinging in all directions, fists splashing in the water as he tries to work out the emotions suffocating him.

Konig is still in your arms and avoiding the screen, sunk in on himself, a hand coming up to cover his red face.

You’re not judging him. You get it. In fact, you just threw a nationwide temper tantrum in front of all of Panem. Basically challenged the whole country with a one-girl rebellion because you thought he was dead.

Oh, shit.

He thought you were dead.

Neither of you watched the faces of the fallen, you because you didn’t want to see Willow’s face and him because he’d passed out after the cactus. Surely he thought those screams were recorded not during a nightmare, but during your brutal end. A brutal end where you screamed and cried and pleaded for Konig’s help, and he failed to save you.

When enough time has passed and he deems it safe, Konig drags himself to shore and lies defeated in the wet sand, deep, brilliant red oozing generously from his calf. Tears stream down his puffy, pale face, his breaths choppy and his chest stuttering.

The sight is enough to bring tears in your eyes, your lower lip pulling between your teeth.

You squeeze Konig tight, the hand you rest on his back raising to scratch his scalp and simultaneously shield him from the world.

On screen, Konig digs into One’s soaked backpack, and retrieves the canister of medicine to tend to his wound.

The feed pauses, and you give Caesar a look that would have made a king’s knees buckle.

‘Try it, Caesar. If you even dare utter a word in his direction, I will grab you by your ponytail and beat your ass in front of all of Panem.’

He receives the message loud and clear, and speaks into the audience while you scratch Konig’s hair, cooing reassurance into his ear in between soft kisses on his head.

Caesar rambles on about Konig’s escape maneuver, praising the design of the scorpions, going on about how your screams were just such a heart wrenching thing for Konig to endure.

When the feed resumes, Konig’s wound is tended to, his face no longer pained, but hollow. He just lies face up in the sand, bags under his eyes and gaze fixed to the night sky. Numb, motionless.

Tired.

Tears stream down his temples, and he has no motivation to wipe them away. He gets no rest the night before the finale.

Just lies in the sand, unmoving.

Price caves and sends him more food, hoping that he’ll eat without the arduous task of fishing or scavenging, but he doesn’t eat.

The feed cuts, skipping to when he finally finds the will to move.

You know it well.

The rage, he’s using his anger to push through, to survive. It shows in every movement he makes, too forceful and aggressive. Yanking and slamming and grunting through grit teeth at everything he comes in contact with. It’s a stark contrast to his usually reserved demeanor.

Weirdly, it’s working for you.

Which does make you feel bad, since he’s clearly in distress, both on screen and now, but you can’t help it. Those seething hormones that don’t know their place.

The feed pauses, and Caesar makes his stupid little commentary.

“Now, this next part here, we really get to see some action from Konig.”

The feed resumes, having cut to morning. Konig has left the oasis, heading back to the heart of the arena with forceful steps.

“Please don’t watch,” Konig mutters into your neck, his words just a low vibration against your skin.

Your brows pinch and your lips part, pausing your soothing rubs.

“Okay,” You whisper. You rest your cheek on his head and close your eyes, starting up the back rubs again. He squeezes you a little tighter, nestling into you, his shaky breaths tickling the skin of your neck.

You have to watch.

Your eyes instinctually open at the sound of Konig in conflict, and once they’re on screen you can’t bring yourself to rip them away.

The boy from Four, one of the particularly bigger volunteer tributes, holds out his arms, inviting Konig to a confrontation. He eggs him on with some taunts, and Konig doesn’t so much break his pace.

You already know the ending, not just because Konig is sitting right next to you, a victor, but because the boy from four is decked head to toe in the gear Konig wore at the finale.

It does not deter Konig. He doesn’t evade. In fact, he seems almost eager to fight, picking up into a run.

Konig rams his shoulder square into his front, entirely ignoring the knife that slashes into his bicep. Four is knocked back into the sand, the impact stealing the breath from him.

With each hit Konig lands to Four’s face, Titan’s caved-in head pulses in front of your eyes.

Konig pulls away from your embrace to look up at you, his brows sloped, a glint of betrayal in those worried eyes. Your lips part to give him an apology for watching, but you can get the words out. Between flashes of Titan steadily turned to pulp, choking the breath from you beyond the grave, it takes you right back to the last time Konig looked at you in betrayal, pale and almost entirely drained of life.

The nausea is bubbling up again, and you have to pinch your eyes shut. You blindly nudge into him, burying your face in his shoulder while you try to block everything out.

You don’t watch, but you know Four didn’t die. His cannon doesn’t go off, only knocked unconscious and injured at Konig’s hand.

When you find the screen again, Konig’s wearing Four’s gear back at the oasis, his bicep fully healed. He’s propped up against a tree, his knees pulled to his chest, head in his hands, staring blankly at the sand.

The feed pauses, and Caesar starts up.

“I have to know, Konig, what were you feeling in this moment?”

Konig loosens the embrace and finds Caesar. He shrugs, and says nothing.

“Well then. Let’s take a break from the intense stuff, and let’s see what our lovely lady was doing in the meantime.”

You roll your eyes, and the audience gushes over your crown of petals, your tiny snow-family.

Konig seems to find it endearing, too. He relaxes a bit in your hold, a soft hum vibrating your skin as you scratch his hair.

“Now,” Caesar says, “Before we get into a truly spectacular finale, I’d like to bring someone on stage for a chat.”

As you and Konig sit straight, the crowd whispers to themselves as they try and guess who it is.

“The man who pulled off the impossible, the mastermind behind it all, Mentor - John - Price!”

The crowd explodes into applause, and you turn your head to watch Price walk out on stage, waving a hand loosely at the crowd.

You’re incredibly relieved to see him, actually. It’s clear that you and Konig are entirely lost on this couch, and Price’s experience and his ever-sturdy nature will surely be a crutch for you both. You’re hoping he’ll take the spotlight off of you and Konig for a while.

Before Price sits, he leans down and simultaneously ruffles both you and Konig’s hair with a chuckle.

“How’s my poker face?” He asks with a laugh.

You and Konig sputter, rolling your eyes at him, but you can’t help the half-grin that peeks through.

Price takes a seat on the sofa next to you, giving you a hearty pat on the back before he slings his arms over either side of the back of the couch.

“Wow, wow, wow!” Caesar exclaims, “What an honor it is to have you with us today. You truly pulled off the strategy of the century!”

Price gives a single nod, a raise of his brows that hardens the lines on his forehead.

“Tell us, how did you come up with such a plan?”

Price scratches his temple and gives a light grunt before he gestures to Konig.

“Boy liked the girl. Practically did the work for me.”

The audience laughs as Konig’s hand comes up to rub the back of his neck.

Caesar crosses his legs and leans in, “And at what point did you realize Konig was in love with her?”

Price snorts, a small sly smile on his face.

“Took me about an hour.”

The audience laughs as Konig turns pink at your side. Your cheeks flush with heat as well, once again embarrassed it took you so long to notice the obvious.

You were under a lot of pressure, okay?

“For those of us who don’t know, I’d like to take the opportunity to revisit your victory.”

Price just grunts, and you and Konig look to each other with furrowed brows.

The thought hadn’t even crossed your mind - what Price’s games looked like. How he pulled off a feat that no one from District Nine but you and Konig have been able to recreate since.

Judging by the look on Konig’s face, this is the first time he’s considered it too.

Instantly you’re aching to know.

They start with the reaping of the girl tribute from District Nine, a girl named Summer. She’s average in stature, a headful of wavy, miskept hair frames her face.

For a moment, she is stunned, jaw tight and a slight sway in her feet. Round, deep brown eyes are fully blown, staring straight ahead.

She blinks twice, and her face relaxes, a scoff from lips that pull into a devilish smile. Her eyes roll as she elbows her way through the crowd, striding up to stage before the peacekeepers can even get their hands on her.

Summer hauls herself up on stage and rips the microphone from the escort’s hands. Her arm extends, swatting away the escort’s attempts to take back the microphone by alternating planting her palm into her face and chest. Their mild altercation broadcasts over the speakers - grunts, hissed demands, and almost comical shrieks of mic feedback.

Eventually the escort gives up with a grunt of annoyance.

Summer’s laugh echoes throughout the speakers, and she takes a few slow, bouncing strides across the stage, her back sloped in an irreverent lean, strolling leisurely in front of the crowd. She throws her free arm into the air and lets out a sharp ‘Wooo!’

“I just want to say, I mean - what an honor it is to be the tribute of District Nine.”

Her sarcasm slips from her tongue like it’s her native language, her body slack and dipping a shoulder towards the crowd.

“Truly!” She laughs again, spinning on light feet, projecting faux verve, “It is such an honor to sacrifice the wonderful life the Capitol has graciously offered me so far.”

The escort approaches and tries to swipe for the microphone again, but Summer’s shin catches across the escort’s ankles mid-stride, causing her to trip and crash to the ground with a ridiculously dramatic cry.

The crowd actually laughs at this, which is jarring, because no one ever laughs at a reaping.

Summer ignores the escort's aggravated chirping as she continues with a wide smile.

“A life of harvesting grain on an empty stomach, I mean, I really am giving up something special, aren’t I folks?”

Summer laughs again, but it’s interrupted by a shout in the crowd.

“I volunteer!”

Summer’s face falls at once, her jaw tightening. Her lighthearted, sarcastic tone sheds the moment she hears the voice.

“No!” She objects, shaking her head and pointing into the crowd, “No he doesn’t!”

The camera finds the source of the disruption, shoving his way through the crowd with familiar sturdy arms.

Price volunteered.

Your brows furrow, your head turning to find Price on the couch next to you.

He doesn’t look at you. He keeps his eyes on the screen, but you know he can feel your stare. His jaw cocks, his lips fold in, and he gives a nearly indistinguishable nod.

“Johnny!” Summer grits, her tone that of a parent pushed to her limit as they scold a misbehaving child, “Get back in the crowd, you fucking moron!”

Price trips over himself as he makes his way to her. He tries to crawl up the middle of the stage, but Summer sticks her foot out, pressing the sole of her shoe to his chest to keep him from pulling himself up.

“Stop it! Get back!” She grunts, but his sturdy arms pull themselves up to stage regardless of her shoves and objections.

Summer drops the microphone, the entire audience jumping at the ear-piercing thud that echoes through the speakers. She puts her hands on his shoulders, and for a moment the two wrestle as she froths at him.

“Take it back! Take it back!”

The peacekeepers intervene and rip the two apart, dragging them back with tight grips on the crook of their elbows.

Price isn’t fighting the peacekeeper’s hold, but Summer’s kicking her feet, thrashing ruthlessly against the restraint. Her words are slathered with fury, loud enough for the back of the crowd to hear even without the microphone.

“You fucking idiot, Johnny! What did you do?! What did you do?! You killed yourself, Johnny! You killed yourself!”

Price is panting, chest heaving as his bright blue eyes soak in her rage.

When the escort finally restores order, she has the two shake hands. Summer doesn’t take her glare off Price the entire time. She practically smacks his hand, squeezing him with a deathly grip, a twist in her lips as she grumbles under her breath. Price just swallows, staring at her with sad eyes as he lets her assault his hand.

You hate to admit it, the thought itself making your stomach turn, but Price was kind of good-looking at your age.

While his blue eyes are still hooded, they’re not narrowed into his constant squint. Distressed in this moment, but overall his eyes are brighter, wider, full of life. His face isn’t harshened with fine lines, and instead of the intense facial hair he wears now, he only has faint stubble along his jaw. Price is strong as you know him, but his younger self seems to be entirely fit, a young man primed with youth and strengthened from a life of fieldwork.

The year Price competed in the games, the arena was truly foreign, you don’t recognize a single plant or tree that makes up the lush jungle. The trees fork in odd places, their leaves awkwardly fanned. A few are reminiscent of the trees you saw at the oasis, puffs of leaves only at the very top of their branches, but even that comparison is a stretch. Some of the flora carry leaves bigger than your entire body. Plants that you’d describe as large ferns swallow the jungle floor, camouflaging only a few feet into the tree line. Massive bones scatter the jungle, bones much larger than any animal you’ve ever seen. In many places the jungle drops off into truly stunning valleys teeming with huge, thick-stemmed flowers. Rivers carve out the land, sidewinding through the valleys.

A Jurassic landscape, they call it.

Price and Summer are locked onto each other the entirety of the countdown. When the gong sounds, they don’t hesitate to dart for each other, each of them working up to a full sprint the moment their boots leave the pedestals. They link hands at the center of the brutal bloodbath, blind to the gory altercations surrounding them. As soon as their hands are locked they make a run for the jungle, quickly disappearing into thick foliage.

They skip a lot of the games, and show the particularly exciting moments Price and Summer went through.

For the circumstances, the tone between them is light, smiling and joking as they dredge through the jungle. They’re playing a game to see who can catch the insides of a jungle nut in their mouth from the highest toss straight up in the air.

Price, leading the way, gets stuck mid-stride, as if his boot had been glued to the jungle floor. He looks down, and immediately his palms shoot out to shove Summer back in the dirt.

“What-”

Summer’s eyes widen when she sees the pit of thick sand swallowing Price’s boots.

Price panics, jerking his legs to free himself, but it’s only making it worse. The more he thrashes, the quicker the pool of sand climbs up his legs. Summer curses, kicking to her feet and stepping to the edge of the pit.

“Stop!” She yells, her fingers a blur as she shakes her palms at him, “Stop moving, Johnny! Grab my hand!”

He stills as he looks at her, heavy breaths leaving parted lips and wide eyes pooled with fear. His knuckles turn white the moment he latches to her wrists.

Summer grunts through clenched, bared teeth and leans back, every muscle shaking as her entire body weight pulls on his arms. The heels of her boots dig into the jungle floor, but Price doesn’t budge.

“Ow, ow!” He yells, “Gonna break my arms!”

“Oh, is that a worse alternative to dying?!” Summer spits.

“Save now, fight later!” He grunts.

“Just- stay still!” She says, eyes frantically darting around.

She locks onto one of the trees, a nearly matured sapling with a long, skinny, branchless trunk that stretches well above Summer’s head.

“Got it, I fucking got it, Johnny!” She shouts with excited revelation, giving herself a running start before she jumps up to grab the trunk as high as she can. Her legs fold around the tree, climbing hand over hand to shimmy herself up. When the sapling begins to curl, she jerks her body weight in the direction of Price, unwrapping her legs and dangling off the trunk until the tip of her toes touch the ground.

“Grab it!” Summer hisses, a grunt caught in the back of her throat as she holds down the spring-loaded tree.

Price, now submerged to his diaphragm, scrambles for the sapling, his arms getting lost in the sprouts of leaves at the very top of the odd tree.

“Got it!”

“Hang on tight!” She hisses before releasing the tree, falling backwards into the dirt.

The tree springs up a few feet in the absence of her weight and yanks Price from the sand to his mid-thigh. Summer’s already on her feet, scrambling to the edge of the pit to wrap her arms around Price’s core, yanking to help work him free as he climbs up the sapling with shaking arms.

Once the sand spits out the tops of his boots, he pops free, the tree slingshotting back into place and almost taking him with it. He’s dragged into Summer, both of them crashing to the ground with a thud.

Summer’s eyes pinch shut and she lets out a drawn-out, low groan under his weight.

Price heaves a breathless, relieved laugh, planting his palms in the dirt to prop himself up, smiling down at Summer.

“So,” Price says in between heavy breaths, “Want to finish that fight?”

Summer gives an amused hum behind a grin, her eyelids fluttering. She snatches him by the collar of his shirt with two fingers and pulls him in until his face is inches from hers. A sly grin spreads thick on her face, voice low and as smooth as silk.

“Kiss first, fight later.”

“Deal.”

When Summer closes the gap and plants a long kiss on his lips, you have to look down at your lap, swallowing around the lump in your throat.

Because you already know how this one ends.

The feed cuts to a shot of Summer and Price at the border of the jungle, a rock ledge next to a fifty-foot cliff overlooking a truly gorgeous valley. They’re both inspecting bushes of fruit, none of which you recognize.

“I don’t know, if I had to place my bets, I’m going with this weird one,” Summer says as she pats a fruit the size of her head, its skin a deep purple and knotted with bumps.

“Really?” Price asks, tucking his walking stick into his armpit, “Betting your life on the weird one?”

“That’s rich, coming from you,” Summer digs with a teasing, but slightly pointed tongue.

Price huffs, lacking defense.

He inspects a curved, green fruit the size of his hand, running his thumb along its grains.

“I like this one,” He says, “Got a good feel to it.”

Summer narrows her eyes at him, that sly grin making a reappearance.

“I’ll test yours if you test mine,” She goads.

Price lets out a huff, “Alright, fine. Loser dies.”

“Deal.”

They switch fruits, and dig in.

“Oh, that’s it,” Summer says with a groan, “Good pick, Johnny.”

Price speaks through a mouthful, juice dripping down his chin and staining his chin maroon.

“Can’t say, I’m hungry enough to think dirt tastes good.”

He takes another bite, sucking out the fruit’s insides.

“Johnny,” Summer says carefully.

“No, no, it’s good,” He reassures her, one of his palms blindly gesturing in her direction.

“Johnny,” Summer repeats, her voice low with a slight waver stitched in.

“Yeah?”

Price licks his fingers, and turns to Summer when he doesn’t get an answer.

“Oh, f-!” Price springs to his feet, stumbling backwards with a flail.

“Sh, sh, sh!” Summer hushes with a soft wince, “Just be calm - Don’t freak out.”

A massive snake with a head the size of a loaf of bread, a body as thick as a tree trunk, has crept from a tree above the fruit bushes. Its scales slide around the back of Summer’s neck, slithering leisurely down her shoulder and her front.

“What do I do?!” Price whispers frantically.

“Relax,” The word rides one of Summer’s exhales as she closes her eyes.

You’re not sure if she’s talking to herself or Price.

“Just let me think,” She says quietly.

The python moves slow, snaking around her core like a sash, wrinkling the fabric of her shirt as it curiously explores her.

Summer’s face pinches - she’s trying to come up with a plan but her focus is split between steadying the rise and fall of her chest and keeping herself from panicking.

“So cold,” Summer whispers under her breath as she suppresses a shiver, “Feels so fucking weird.”

Price takes a few slow steps forward, arms puffed out at his sides and his back hunched over.

“Johnny,” Summer warns.

Price lowers himself to a squat, picking up the purple fruit with careful hands.

“Johnny,” Summer tries again with a draw, but with concern to angering the snake coiling around her, her voice isn’t as forceful as she would have liked it to be.

His brows furrow, and a hand comes up with a wave of annoyance.

“I got it, Trouble.”

Price gets his boots in front of her crossed legs, leaning down and carefully extending the fruit in the direction of the snake’s face.

“What are you doing?” Summer grits.

Price ignores her, cooing to the snake.

“Oh, what’s this?” He says softly, animated and affectionate, the way one would speak to a beloved pet.

The snake’s tongue flicks out, it’s head perking up from Summer’s thigh.

“Yeah, buddy, check this out,” Price coos, “You don’t want her, you want this thing.”

“Run, Johnny,” Summer hisses through clenched teeth.

“Smells good, don’t it?” Price says to the snake, ignoring Summer’s demands.

The snake’s tongue flicks from its mouth furiously, hunting down the fresh, pungent scent of the purple fruit, juice still dripping from the taken bite.

The snake double back on itself, peeling back from Summer’s stomach, and Price gives a drawn out, low, “Yeah-heh-heah.”

Price takes careful steps, shifting to Summer’s side, delicately guiding the snake to unwrap from her core.

Price chuckles, “That’s it.”

When the snake is only draped over her shoulders, Price grits to Summer.

“Run, Trouble, Run!”

With a grunt, Summer shoves the snake from her shoulders to get away from its slimy scales.

The snake did not like this maneuver one bit.

With a deafening hiss, another fifteen feet of tail whips from the jungle, the end coiling around Summer’s ankle in less than a second, pulling her foot out from under her. Summer slams face first into the ground, busting her chin open on the rock ledge.

At the same time, the snake’s jaw unhinges, its lips peeling open well below where the corner of its mouth should be, parting down the sides of its body to reveal an opening large enough to effortlessly swallow a full grown man whole with one bite. Its razor sharp fangs start at a size you’d expect at the front of its mouth, and increase in size down its unfurled body until they’re as big as Price’s forearm.

Price screams as he stares into the snake’s gaped innards displayed in clear threat while Summer desperately claws at plants on the jungle floor. Her shirt bunching up her torso as she’s dragged on her front by the snake’s tail. Price flings himself back when the snake’s uncanny mouth closes with a snap like a whip in his direction. Summer flips over on her front, folding her core to peel the tail from her ankle, but she’s no match for its deadly grip.

As Price moves away, Summer is effortlessly lifted from the ground, flailing her limbs once airborne. The snake fully unfurls its mouth towards the sky, its tail curling to hover Summer over its gaped throat. She screams and kicks suspended in the air, dangling helplessly as she stares into the snake’s mouth.

“Hey!” Price yells from off screen.

The purple fruit smacks the snake’s neck with an almost comedic wet slap.

The snake’s mouth snaps shut beneath Summer, its head whipping to the side, venomous eyes locking onto Price. Summer is slammed against the rock ledge, expelling all of the air from her lungs with a guttural wheeze as the snake slithers with unnatural speed towards Price. A choppy groan leaves Summer, dragged across the rock ledge in the snake’s wake as Price trembles, taking uneasy steps backward as he points his meager walking stick in the direction of the snake.

The snake’s already unfurled its terrifying mouth again, priming to swallow him with a gut-churning hiss, but it does not deter Price from launching himself into the snake’s mouth, jamming the thick branch vertically between the bottom and the roof of its mouth.

The snake lets out a cry as it tries to snap its jaw around Price, but instead pierces the walking stick through the roof of its mouth.

The snake wails, ripping away from Price and releasing Summer as it desperately shakes its head to rid the wedge propping its jaw open. Price boots fumble along the rock as he makes a run for Summer, moaning in pain on the ground.

Price skids to a stop before leaning over and pulling her up with sturdy arms and a grunt. Her wobbly legs come to a stand while Price slings her arms over his shoulders, half-dragging her as they stumble through the jungle.

When the two finally give out, Summer collapses to her knees and Price doubles over, his hands on his thighs and spitting his exhaustion into the dirt.

As they catch their heaving breaths, Price lets out a huff.

“Betting on the weird one worked for ya, did it?”

Summer puts two shaky palms to the jungle floor and lowers herself onto her side with a wince.

“You tell me,” She says after a long breath, resting her cheek on her bicep, smearing her arm with the blood of her split chin.

Price laughs again, lying down next to her.

A tightly pressed smile blooms on Summer’s face. Her eyes close, cheeks bunching with a glow that can be seen even under the blood and dirt. Her voice is soft when she speaks to the jungle floor.

“You’re the biggest idiot I know.”

Price hums.

“Well, I can’t help that.”

He touches the pad of his finger to the tip of her nose, a cheeky, goofy grin on his face.

“You’re the one who picked the biggest idiot you know.”

She scoffs, loosely swatting at him, but her hand lingers on his chest, her fingers toying with the slack fabric on the front of his shirt.

“Tell me about it,” She says with a wistful sigh.

You carefully turn your head to get a discreet glimpse of Price on the couch next to you. His elbows are propped up on his knees, leaning forward in his spot. His eyes are relaxed, lost in the rerun. Wearing the outline of a smile that matches Summer’s and the side of his index finger absentmindedly stroking his beard.

Your heart is heavy in your chest and your throat has gone sore and dry, you have to look away from him.

Because you know how this one ends.

When the footage cuts, they show Price and Summer setting up camp in a dilapidated skull the size of a modest room, a snug but cozy fit for two. Whatever animal it came from must have been massive, and had a powerful, flesh-eating jaw. The entrance to their hideout, the mouth of the once creature, is lined with rows of teeth, each tooth the length of Summer’s palm. The skull has been partially overtaken by time and foliage, dirt filthying the yellowish white bone, moss and vines climbing up the holes along the roof of the skull.

Inside the mouth, Summer’s resting on her back on a hand-gathered bed of moss, her elbows bent to cradle her head in her palms. Price is curled up at her side, a sturdy arm slung over her waist, nestled into her shoulder. He snores lightly into her neck as she keeps watch, staring through a hole in the roof of their skull, watching the stars through the leaves of the nearby trees.

Something shakes the jungle, every last tree and leaf on the foliage disturbed as the world rumbles for just a second.

“What’s’it?” Price slurs as he opens his eyes, a deep inhale of morning as he lifts his head to find Summer’s worried face.

It happens again, something shakes the ground beneath them, the both of them jostled for a brief stint.

“The fuck is that?” Summer whispers to him, her brows pinched.

“Don’ know, jus’ woke up,” He mumbles with a slur, voice low with annoyance and sleep.

They flinch and cling to each other when it happens again, their heads swiveling as they try to piece together what’s happening.

“Earthquake?” Summer asks.

Something gives a deafening, screeching roar, booming in the distant forest, ripping a gasp from both of them. Their fingernails are digging into each other, huddled in a ball of tense limbs as they wait for threat.

The thuds turn rhythmic, the entire jungle vibrating with tremendous force.

A shallow breath leaves Price when a tribute screams in the distance.

Both of their mouths are parted, locked onto each other before they peer out of the skull, unable to see beyond the foliage.

The speed increases, the spaced out jostles quickly becoming one continuous rumble. It’s getting closer, intensifying with each beat.

“What do we do?!” Price shouts.

Summer just shakes her head, face slack with fear. The rumbling stops, and the tribute screams pick up in its absence.

The truly harrowing, bone-chilling roar cuts through the jungle again, both Summer and Price jumping from their skin, arms tensing around each other.

A cannon fires.

For minutes the jungle settles, but the two don’t dare break away from each other, holding each other close.

They both flinch when the thuds start up again, one after another, the entire jungle quaking. It’s getting closer, the two have to lower themselves on their hands and knees to keep from being tossed around.

It is a truly terrifying beast, the ultimate predator.

The beast is well over the size of a building, with flesh like a lizard’s. Two powerful, bird-like legs support a body that must be four stories wide, its feet lined with killer claws. A thick neck supports a head the size of a car and two useless arms hang from its front. Half of its body is just a massive tail balancing out the weight of its huge head, thick near its body and thinning out to a point twenty feet away.

When the beast gives a powerful roar, its screeched breath rustles nearby leaves, displaying its powerful jaws far and wide.

Summer blinks, and her gaze flits to the row of teeth at the entrance of their hideout, and she’s coming to the haunting realization that her and Price would be a snug, but cozy fit inside the mouth of the beast. It cross the jungle what must be only fifty yards from Price and Summer, their entire world becoming a nauseating blur.

The two flinch when the extreme force causes the jaws of their hideout to snap shut, trapping them in the skull.

The two watch through the nostril openings until the beast is long lost to the jungle.

“Okay,” Summer draws out a long sigh, closing her eyes, “Hated that.”

“Not a holiday for me, either.”

“Let’s make a deal,” Summer’s fist jams a thumb in the direction of the beast, “We stay far away from that thing.”

“No?” Price asks with a tilt of his head and a raised brow, “I was thinking we put a collar on ‘em and keep ‘em as a pet.”

Summer snorts.

“Fine, but I’m not going to get stuck taking care of it. You have to clean up after it.”

Price’s eyes crinkle when he smiles at her.

“Deal.”

When the feed cuts again, it’s clear a good chunk of time has passed. The hideout is camouflaged, they’ve rigged the skull’s jaw open with a pulley, and the two managed to get their hands on some modest supplies - some rope and knives.

Price and Summer are digging into a nice bounty of fruit and the meat of a jungle creature, cooked over some now extinguished embers. They’re eating in a comfortable silence, resting their backs against the skull with their legs stretched out. It’s clear they’re both exhausted.

Heavy eyelids shoot open when voices in the jungle near.

“I can smell it, it was definitely over here.”

“Well, it’s not anymore. They’re long gone.”

Two careers, slicing their weapons through vines and overgrown plants, hunting for the smoke from Summer and Price’s campfire.

“Lower district rats prol’ly too stupid to clear out.”

Summer’s face twists, a snarl tugging on her lips. Price shakes his head at her, his eyes wide and lips folded in.

“We can look around for a little.”

“Or we can look until we get to spill some rat blood.”

With pointed brows and a growl threatening to leave her, Summer makes a ring with her index finger and her thumb. She goes to place it in her mouth, but Price snatches her wrist and slaps a hand over her mouth, prompting Summer to muffle objections into his palm.

Summer starts swinging at him as she tries to shake away her muzzle, but Price positions himself behind her, pressing her back to his chest and keeping her secure between his legs as she trashes in his hold until the careers move on.

When Price loosens his grip, she shoves him away.

“What is wrong with you?” He hisses, “Are you nuts?”

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you?! How can you just sit by after hearing their bullshit all week?”

“Because I’m not trying to get myself killed!”

“Well then you shouldn’t have volunteered, should ya’ve, Johnny?!”

He doesn’t have anything to say to that one.

The pain wells in his eyes for just a moment before he huffs, pinching his brows and looking away.

Summer grumbles under her breath before crawling out of the skull, getting much needed space from him.

The feed cuts, and it appears as if the two have resolved the fight, or at least have repaired things enough to tolerate being next to each other. They walk silently through the jungle, both of their steps sluggish, but are stopped in their tracks as the world gets brighter. It takes only a few seconds for the entire arena to be engulfed in a blinding white light.

The sound of the impact blares over the speakers loud enough you feel the vibration in your ribcage. It makes you jump. A flinch and a sharp draw of breath that drives Konig to tighten his hold on you.

The ground shakes beneath Price and Summer, tenfold more intense than the beast’s footsteps. It knocks them both to the ground instantly, and they have to scramble to narrowly miss getting crushed by weakened trees, uprooted and crashing to the ground.

A cloud of white dust barrels like a wave in their direction, and even though Price wasted no time to grab Summer’s arm and make a run from it, they are swallowed by a thick cloud of smoke, coughing and hacking as they stumble blindly through the jungle.

Half of the arena has been entirely destroyed, now only a burning, fiery wasteland ringing an enormous crater, a meteor wedged deep into the earth at the center. What remains of the arena is so foggy with debris they can’t see a foot in front of their faces.

The impact killed a handful of tributes instantly, including half the career pack, and wiped out all of the beasts that roamed the land.

The feed cuts again, and your stomach twists when Price licks his lips and looks to the floor.

You know what that means.

You follow his gaze for a moment, trying to swallow the lump forming in your throat.

The meteor strike has driven what remains of the tributes together, the pool slimmed. The dust has mostly cleared the arena, now only a slight fog weaving through the foliage.

Where the jungle breaks into the cornucopia, Price and Summer lock eyes with what remains of the career pack.

Summer’s fists clench at her sides and Price’s hand immediately shoots to Summer’s shoulder.

The careers don’t even lunge for them.

They stand in front of the cornucopia, arms crossed over their chests and smug grins on their faces.

Price gives Summer a tug, guiding her to turn and run, but her feet stay planted firmly on the dirt.

“Trouble,” Price hisses, “Let’s go.”

“C’mon rat!” One of the careers calls from across the field, his arms uncrossing and held out at his sides, inviting them to a fight.

Summer’s knuckles have gone white around the handle of her blade, shallow breaths leave her parted lips. She’s caught in a trance as she stares down the careers.

“Summer! Let’s go!” He says sternly, giving a harsh tug on her arm and taking a step to backtrack into the forest.

“You all talk?!” One of the careers calls, “Put your bread where your mouth is, Rat!”

Summer jaw clenches before she rips from Price’s grip, breaking into a sprint towards the careers.

“Summer, no!”

Price runs after her, but stops in his tracks when Summer’s ankle snags against something.

It happens so fast.

A nearly invisible tripwire hidden within the fern-like plants sends an axe into the side of her stomach in an instant. For a moment she is paralyzed, only a slight sway on her feet before she turns to face Price.

It takes a moment for Price to understand what just happened, in stunned disbelief as his hands find his head.

“No!” Price cries when his thoughts catch up, “No, no!”

His boots take off, slamming against the dirt and tearing through the ferns as he runs for her.

“Summer! Summer!”

A heavy wall of tears rims his eyeline, a shake in his hands as he locks on to her wide eyes. Summer collapses face first into the foliage, and when Price catches up he forcefully flips her onto her front.

Summer groans as Price’s panicked eyes dart over the wound, muttering to himself while the blood oozes generously around the blade of the axe.

“You’re going to be okay!” He says, but he convinces absolutely no one, then and now.

“‘S make a deal, okay?” Summer grits, her words chopped with each twitch of her body, “You win this thing-”

Summer coughs, blood splattering on her lips and chin.

“And I’ll love you for the rest of my life.”

He nods, tears slipping down his face.

Price’s voice is just a choked breath.

“Deal.”

She closes her eyes and hums.

“Love you, Johnny.”

“Love you, Summertime.”

“Go,” She says hoarsely, “Make sure you didn’t do it for nuthin’.”

Price nods, his brows pinching. He looks up to the careers, both of them making the dash across the clearing to finish Price off.

He looks back to Summer, his face falling and swelled with worry.

Her eyes roll ever so slightly, her words wet and gurgled through her blood.

“Go, idiot.”

Price nods with a swallow and rises to his feet, breaking into a run further into the jungle as soon as he musters up the courage to take his eyes off her. He doesn’t look back, his boots slamming against the jungle floor with each step, the leaves of the flora wavering in his wake.

Tears streak his face, his lips parted to push out sharp breaths, but otherwise his face is expressionless, stone-cold. He only breaks for a moment when the cannon fires, a wince that creases his eyes, but his boots don’t slow.

The careers are closing in on him, and you find your nails are digging into Konig’s thigh, threatening to tear a chunk of fabric from his dress pants.

Price must have run miles without slowing before he sidesteps the familiar pool of quicksand and returns to his previous trajectory. One of the careers gets sucked right into his trap, his body is thrown when his boot gets caught in the pit, planting his palms right into the quicksand.

By time the other career catches up, the sand has swallowed the boy to his wrists and ankles. He’s tugging futilely against its hold on him, only burying himself further into the sand’s clutches. The other career ignores him entirely, doesn’t even look in the direction of the desperate pleas for help.

When Price finds his and Summer’s hideout, he makes a beeline for it.

Both your teeth and fists are clenched, resisting the urge to scold Price for cornering himself by crawling into the skull.

Price turns on his feet, hunched over to fit as he steps to the back of the hideout, his knife primed above his head.

“Let’s go, Rat!” The career calls before lowering himself to follow Price into the hideout.

Price swings his knife, but not at the career, no.

As the career is halfway into the mouth of the skull, Price slices clean through the rope of the pulley. The skull’s powerful jaw clamps shut with tremendous force, massive teeth piercing through the career’s torso with a snap, pinning him in the mouth of the once beast.

The career sputters his breath, eyes blown and blood shooting from his mouth at once. His hands instinctively press the back of the beast’s teeth to pointlessly try to work himself free.

Price carefully nears as the boy struggles, keeping eye contact with him. Price’s face is eerily even as he squats down in the bed of moss soaking up the blood that drains down the massive, bone white teeth.

He raises his knife to his own forearm, and slices clean through his skin without so much as wincing.

Price inspects the wound with furrowed brows for a moment before he slowly extends his forearm to the boy, droplets of Price’s blood streaking from the cut and down his arm.

“You see that?” He says, his voice low and dangerous.

Price huffs.

“Looks like you bleed the same colors as the rats.”

The boy can’t respond, too busy choking on his blood, but what life remains in his eyes sparks with rage, his brows creasing ever so slightly as he glares at Price.

Price’s eyes narrow into a deep squint.

“You tell Summer who sent you.”

Price’s knife pierces through the career’s windpipe without warning.

You flinch in your seat, eyes pinching shut to rid the sight of Sapphire being skewered at your hand, your nails nearly drawing blood from the flesh of your knee as you try to shake the reverb of the staff in your grip and silence the sound of her choking on her own blood.

“Wow,” Caesar starts, “Let’s give John a hand, huh?”

The audience complies, but it’s muffled by the sound of your own shallow breaths in your ears. Behind the cover of your eyelids, your irises dart furiously.

So much new information you’re learning about your fellow victors today, and not at all the proper space to digest it.

Your nausea is making a reappearance and your heels scrape across the stage in a futile attempt to expel the heat bubbling from your pores.

“It must be really special to you, that after all this time, you managed to pull off getting these two star-crossed lovers out together.”

Price gives a curt nod.

“That’s right,” He says evenly.

Your hand crosses over your bicep, and your lower lips catches between your teeth. That sickening guilt is coiling in your intestines again, the heavy weight that’s impossible to ignore.

What makes you worthy of getting out of the arena, when Summer couldn’t?

Why do you and Konig get to have each other at your sides - when Price didn’t get the same?

You don’t feel deserving of it.

Not just in comparison to Price - but even in relation to your games.

Why do you get to sit here on this stage, alive and unharmed, while there are twenty-two other tributes - many of them much more deserving of the victor title - who’ve long since been packed up in wooden boxes and shipped back to their districts?

Because you are alive today, someone else is dead.

And it’s only worse that a selfish little brat like you got gifted something that an honorable man like Price couldn’t have.

Guilt.

“Tell us,” Caesar says to you and Konig, “Have you seen this footage before?”

You swallow hard enough you can feel it tug on your ears. You can’t bring yourself to speak, or even open your eyes, so you just shake your head.

“And how do you feel after seeing John’s win for the first time?”

You shake your head again, and when you speak, your words are choked and barely audible.

“Not good.”

Price gives you a squeeze on the shoulder before rubbing it out. You think he’s trying to tell you it’s okay, that you shouldn’t feel bad, but it does nothing to relieve the sickening guilt swelling in your gut and swallowing you whole.

Caesar receives little cooperation from Konig.

“Well, John, I have to say, your tributes weren’t the only ones stirring excitement in the arena.”

Price scoffs, a smile tugging on his lips.

”We have some never-before seen footage I can’t wait to share with you all! Let’s take a look, shall we?”

The mentor’s suite is just a sterile white, curved room, lined with screens and chairs. One large screen shows the audience’s perspective, and each mentor’s seat has multiple screens to keep an eye on their own tributes at all times.

You’d think Price bet the farm on you and Konig.

Price is consistently the loudest of all the mentors. It’s easy to see from one look that everyone else is annoyed with him.

Ruby isn’t nearly as loud, but she’s just as obnoxious, looking over Price’s shoulder and squealing every word.

Oh, how you have missed that shrill Capitol accent.

They only show the particularly interesting moments.

When you escaped the snare, Price threw his chair across the room, making everyone in the room flinch.

“That’s my fucking girl!”

“Well, she has always been stubborn!” Ruby chimes.

It actually makes you blow an amused huff of air out of your nose, a grin creeping on your lips.

And of course, they show Price pulling Ruby into an excited kiss when you escaped Titan. She turns bright red and grunts when he lets go of her, smoothing out her shirt.

”Well, I never!”

The audience loves it, a hearty applause for Price’s antics.

Caesar asks Price a few more questions, but you do your best to tune them out, taking your opportunity to shut off your brain for a minute as you bury yourself into Konig’s chest.

When Caesar prompts Price off the stage, he practically strongholds you into standing with him, Konig in turn following.

He pulls you in for a hug and digs his nails into your back hard enough you hiss into his ear. He doesn’t let you wriggle away, holding you for a few more sharp seconds before he finally lets you free, ignoring your face pinched in defense.

His jaw clenches, and the message his eyes are drilling into you is clear.

Be. Good.

The look, the first implementation of physical correction - it’s enough to dry out your mouth and clench your muscles. An ominous feeling pools from your center and infects your limbs, ultimately putting a shake in your fingers and a wobble in your knees.

There it is, that feeling again. The unpinnable, chest-wrenching, breath-stealing feeling.

Something is wrong.

How badly did you fuck up? What specifically was he correcting?

Konig doesn’t get the same treatment. Price plasters his crowd-worthy grin on his face and pulls Konig into a short side-hug, giving him two gentle but firm pats on the back before he struts off, waving at the crowd.

With stitched brows you follow him with your gaze as Price walks off stage, carefully taking your seat once he’s out of sight. Your fingers fidget at your side as you try to heed off the urge to throw up all over the glittery stage.

Caesar hypes up the crowd for the finale before digging into the highlights.

You’re not looking forward to this part.

The oasis does not grant Konig refuge from the dust storm, a light breeze turning to a gusting wind that turns to a full on twister of sand.

They cut to the boy from four, still lying on the sand exactly where Konig left him, skin fried from the desert sun.

Konig paralyzed him.

And judging by the way Konig’s eyes widen and his lips part, he had no idea. He looks to his hands, horrified.

The dust storm steadily suffocates Four, his weak cries more muffled with each passing second before his cannon fires.

Konig’s horrified expression lingers the entirety of the arena being destroyed.

You give him a squeeze that he doesn’t return, motionless when you rest your cheek on his shoulder.

They feature the boy from six and the boy from seven, the boys who ran into the snow quadrant at the bloodbath. They took refuge in the center of the snow quadrant, in the large, complex system of caves. They were out hunting for food before the avalanche chased them out of the woods and swallowed them whole.

Even though you only knew of them as ‘The boys who ran into the snow quadrant’ - there’s some level of unpinnable familiarity there that makes your heart sink. Maybe because you witnessed their death happen in person, or maybe because you got too close of a look at them at the bloodbath, or maybe it was that moment where the boy from seven was smiling in his chariot with his district companion. You don’t know. This interview is so exhausting, and has left you with more than enough emotional homework you care to handle, and you’re still not finished yet.

You still have to relive Sapphire’s death, you still have to watch Konig beat Titan into a bloody pulp, and you still have to see Konig die.

What you wouldn’t give for a breather.

For five minutes with Konig in private.

You just want to be done, done with this interview, done with The Capitol, done with the Hunger Games.

But you won’t ever be, will you? Every year they’ll drag you and Konig back with Price, forced to mentor a pair of kids destined to die, and you won’t be able to keep your distance. Every year they will break your heart, and every year they’ll broadcast your romance far and wide, both in recaps and in new footage.

They start with Sapphire.

As soon as her cry blares over the speakers, your eyes are screwed shut.

Konig’s nearly squeezing the life from you, surely watching Sapphire close in as you bleed generously from your hedge-inflicted wounds.

“He killed him! He killed him!”

Konig’s grip on you loosens as soon as he realizes it.

Realizes that you took the brunt of her vengeance against him for killing her district companion. A boy she surely trained with for years, preparing for this moment.

You give his arm a squeeze. Konig doesn’t know it, but that same vengeance is what saved you.

The exhaustion from mourning her companion made Sapphire’s spear toss sloppy, her hatred for Konig left her defenses wide open, and her spite drove her own spear square into her abdomen.

How many times does a boy have to save a girl’s life before she gets the fucking picture?

Konig is so skilled at protecting you - he managed to pull it off without even being by your side - all while you fought with everything you had to die.

It feels as if these games have revolved around you and Konig since the beginning. Tethered together by a rope that stretched across the arena, ensnaring any tributes that neared in its indestructible, suffocating web.

You can’t help but wonder - if you had never been, if you were never a soul on this earth, what would the outcome have been?

Who would have had a fair chance if you and Konig had not been unintentional allies, if it weren’t for you two being an unstoppable force that pulled tributes under without even trying?

How many deaths fall back on you, simply for breathing, for existing?

Konig’s grip has turned crushing since Sapphire whipped her spear in your direction, and it almost grounds you as you’re suffocated by the replay of her froths.

The squelch of Sapphire’s eye and her haunting wail makes you gag, bile sloshing up the back of your throat and bringing tears to your eyes.

Konig’s clutch on you is so tight he’s shaking. As you and Sapphire attack simultaneously, he sucks in a sharp breath, flinching in his seat. He almost takes your hand with him to find his head, but corrects himself and rests your intertwined hands where your thighs meld together.

Your eyes are closed, but you can see her - on her knees, ripping out her own eye, the tear of her shredded optic nerve. You can feel it - the spear jamming into your stomach, the weight of Sapphire’s body scraping the spear against your flayed hands, the ground jostling you about as her limp body bounces lifelessly on the ground.

“What a moment, what a moment!” Caesar chimes once the footage pauses, a chorus of claps echoing throughout the theatre.

“Wow, I have to say, it’s not every games we get to see a tribute drive another to end their own life,” Caesar’s lips pull to the side, and he speaks in a lowered, cheeky tone, “And I hate to spoil it for you folks, but that won’t be the last time it happens.”

As the audience laughs, your face pinches, crushing Konig’s hand in yours. Your lips part to run your mouth - but you stop yourself, forcing out a deep breath.

Be. Good.

So instead your lips press into a tightly pursed smile, your neck jerking to the side.

Konig finds you, those icy blue eyes just as annoyed as yours.

He lifts your locked hands with a gentle shake and a squeeze.

“And here I thought I was being original,” He mutters with a slight roll of his eyes.

For a moment your brows tighten, and then you scoff, finding yourself actually smiling during this grueling, painful interview.

“Eh,” You shrug, “She may have gotten there first, but you perfected it.”

His chest puffs out with an amused huff, his fingers raising to rub out his temple. He shakes his head and looks at you, and you share a weak, but genuine smile.

It doesn’t last long.

Konig’s next.

Really, you should have connected the dots considering you saw the two dead tributes at the other end of the maze, but it hadn’t crossed your mind to think of the fights that were taking place as you fought Sapphire.

His assigned opponent is the girl from two, Sage as Sapphire called her.

Sage wastes no time once the ground settles, in a run straight for him. Konig’s not fazed by her speed. He roughly tosses his pack to the side, and stands tall with Four’s blade primed.

There’s little to see of his expression under his hood, but his eyes are fearless, slightly narrowed as he waits for her approach.

Sage wields a sword of her own, and once Konig is in motion, it’s impossible to look away. The footage isn’t altered, but it feels as if time has slowed for them. You catch every movement, the way Konig’s leg dips and his arm straightens behind him, winding up to deflect her hit with the perfect clinks of metal on metal. They way her feet shuffle in perfect positioning, alternating between offensive and defensive maneuvers.

It’s violent, aggressive, - but also graceful.

Their fight is a mesmerizing dance. They meet in the middle like it has been rehearsed, perfect timing of the commanding clashes to form a grated song of their swords embracing.

Sage’s face is pinched in determination and focus, grunts behind her grit teeth with each swing.

They exchange no words.

It’s a transaction, professional. The two are there to complete their task and nothing more.

Their swords clash between their chests and hold there, hands trembling as they push against the other. Their eyes are locked and crinkled in focus.

Konig closes in and gives a forceful shove, sending her tumbling back onto the grass.

When she’s on her elbows, her legs bending in a scramble, the very end of Konig’s blade finds her neck, resting an inch under her chin. He looms over her in all his glory, blocking out the sun and casting his shadow over her.

Sage stills at once, her lips twitching as she looks up at him. It’s not quite anger in her eyes, more frustration at herself. Bested even with her training.

She doesn’t beg. She holds his taut stare, and waits. Accepting her defeat in good sportsmanship.

Konig’s sword lingers for a few moments before it slowly retreats, pulling away from her neck.

Sage breaks the stare to follow Konig’s sword until it’s back at his side.

“Up, Girl.”

Her chest heaves with her shallow breaths, irises shifting back and forth as she flits between both of his unreadable eyes.

There’s a pause, lingering their stares on each other before she comes to a slow stand.

Konig takes a few steps back, his sword relaxed at his side. For a moment she eyes him in unease, but he waits patiently. She fixes her shirt, tugging down the hem that bunched up when she fell, and tilts her head to the side to pop a joint in her neck. A long exhale leaves her, she rolls her shoulders, and repositions her feet.

Her face pinches in determination, and they begin round two.

They’re not holding back. Sage is back in the game, catching every swing. She almost gets him, twisting her wrist with a jerk of her arm to leave his core undefended, but he saves it with a quick deflect by putting the sword vertically just in front of his middle. She would have cut him when she forced her sword further into his, but the supplies in his vest spares him from being nicked with his own sword.

Sage retreats her blade and risks opening herself up while Konig’s busy winding regaining his grip on his swords. She returns with all her might, a grunt that borders on a shout leaving her. Konig blocks her from the inside and pushes outwards, and for a moment she loses balance, stumbling at Konig’s side. His upper half quickly leans back as he swivels to keep face to face with her, a few steps back to keep his distance.

He flinches when she cries out. Sage learns the hard way about the hedge’s blades, slicing deep gashes on the undersides of her forearms and through the meat of her palms.

Konig’s eyes widen as he tries to figure out what just happened, taking a few uneasy steps back as she collects herself.

Sage shakes out her arm, flicking blood in all directions. She winces, but it does little to stop her from wrapping her palms around the handle of her sword and finishing their fight.

They sidestep each other for a moment, swords at the ready.

Sage advances quickly and with little warning, frustration laced into her flurry of offensive strikes. Her blade is just a blur, each collision announced with the clash of steel and a splatter of her blood. Konig follows her lead, blocking each strike, both of them slipping right back into their perfected routine. She’s clearly got the upper hand when it comes to skill, her sword techniques much more advanced. But Konig’s holding his ground even with his base level understanding.

Sapphire’s cannon fires, and the girl from two loses her rhythm when she flinches and whips her head to the side.

That’s all Konig needs. He gives a forceful shove to the blades, knocking her off balance. He has no problem dismounting her sword. She’s back on the ground again, unarmed and dwarfed under Konig’s full stature.

She doesn’t scramble for her sword or to a stand, calmly propping up on her elbows and watching as Konig leisurely returns the sword to her neck.

They lock eyes again, her chest rising and falling with her heavy breaths as they stare at each other.

Sage licks her lips and nods.

“Do me a favor,” She says through shallow breath.

She looks to the blade, and then back to him.

“Make sure that loon doesn’t win.”

Konig pauses, his eyes relaxing.

“Okay,” He says.

She gives him a faint nod, and Konig takes a long, deep breath, closing his eyes on the exhale. With one motion he pierces the sword into her neck until it imbeds through the ground beneath her.

As the audience claps for Konig, your eyes are pinched shut, trying to free your hands of Sapphire’s spear.

When you do look to him, your brows pinched and gnawing on your lower lip, he doesn’t meet your stare. His eyes point low and to the side, a solemn look weighing down his pale features.

“Wow,” Caesar starts as the audience settles, “Konig, I have to say, that was a truly thrilling fight.”

You have to agree with Caesar on that one. Your heart is beating so fast you can feel it in your ribcage, and you wouldn’t be surprised if your lips have turned blue from holding your breath.

“I have to ask, what were your motivations in granting Sage a second chance?”

You’d like to know the answer to that one, too.

Konig is silent and still, sunken eyes taking their time to find Caesar. He swallows hard enough you can see it, and he gives an unsteady, slow shrug. This one’s different, it’s not disrespectful. Defeated and sluggish, you can tell he genuinely cannot find the words.

They’re used to careers sitting on this couch, wearing proud with each replay of their kills, cheering along with the crowd.

If The Capitol wanted meaningful commentary from you both, they should have given you more time to think on everything, because right now it is so painful. You feel like you’ve been sliced from chest to core, your guts spilling all over the glittery stage, and Caesar might as well be squishing your intestines under his dress shoes with every question he asks.

Caesar sees he’s not going to get the answers the country is desperate for, and moves on.

Titan’s turn.

His fight is much less fair.

He’s up against a male tribute who’s clearly out of his depth, unarmed and no match for Titan.

If you had to guess, his strategy for the games was the same as yours. To evade until he had no choice, and he’s realizing that this is his reckoning.

A prey trapped with its predator, the instinctual fear of an animal taking control as he tries to put as much space between him and Titan as possible.

Titan’s maniacal cackle as he watches the boy tremble and flee sends a shiver down your spine. He stands so casually, laughing at him as if the boy wasn’t rightfully treating Titan like the killer he is.

It’s a jarring contrast, they’re not even playing the same game.

For Titan, it’s like a game of tag. Toying with the boy as he chases him around their pen, teasing calls in a sing-song tune, smiling and laughing all the while. He purposely slows up a few times to drag the fun out a little longer.

It’s so unnerving, an unsettling twist in your lower core that begs for attention.

Titan.

If you never see those teeth again, if you never hear that laugh again - it’ll be too soon.

It’s clear that both you and Konig have checked out. Shut down on yourselves, staring blankly at the stage and trying your hardest not to retain any of it. Your limp body leans into him, lulling your head on his bicep.

He gives you a weak squeeze on your locked, sweaty hands, but is otherwise motionless at your side.

The Capitol forcing you to falsely grieve his death has worn yourself down emotionally before you even stepped onto this stage, and every highlight chips away at what little of you remains.

You find your mind wandering to that night before the games. Longing for a soft bed and Konig’s chest as a pillow, leeching his cozy warmth, his heartbeat a lullaby to ease you into a much needed break from consciousness.

Your eyes are still closed when Titan finishes the excruciatingly drawn-out hunt, but you can hear it.

Titan chose to break his neck.

Every muscle in you and Konig’s bodies have clenched with such speed and intensity it’s painful. You lurch forward involuntarily, folding your core in preparation to keep from throwing up over yourself.

Titan’s cackle is the accompanying song to the vivid image of Eleven’s limp bounce off the platform, his lifeless eyes a searing, white hot flash behind your eyelids.

You shake your head to try and rid the visual, taking deep breaths in a futile effort to settle your boiling stomach.

You can’t take much more of this. The only thing keeping you on this couch is Price’s fingernails sinking into your back.

It was a warning.

A warning without explanation of consequence or instruction on how to proceed. A blaring alarm, not sure if you’re dealing with a tornado or a wildfire, unsure if you’re meant to hunker down or evacuate.

All you have to work with is - Be. Good.

You barely manage to stay on the couch, squirming and shaking into Konig’s side.

Once Caesar is done analyzing the footage of Titan and his victim, the rest of the hedge walls descend, and it’s on to the three-way standoff.

You have to open your eyes to watch, because other than Konig’s hand nearly crushing the bones in your hand to dust - the glittery stage, Caesar Flickerman, and this godforsaken audience is the only thing reminding you that you’re not in the arena.

The wide aerial shot they use makes the six of you look like insects as Titan and Konig close in.

They pause on you, coated and dripping in blood, brows pinched and eyes pointed, Sapphire’s colorful spear trained at Konig’s chest.

The image makes your face warp, knotting your insides with shame and guilt. You look like a heartless killer, aiming your spear at the boy who loves you so much he sacrificed himself for you.

“Konig, I have to say, it must have been tough watching a friend, your crush, displaying such apparent distrust.”

Caesar’s words are like a knife to the chest. Slicing deep and exposing your heart to the entire country.

And you would know.

Konig swallows, his eyes flitting to his fidgeting dress shoes. He gives a grave nod that twists the knife sticking out of your chest.

“My dear,” Caesar says, “What was going on in your head at this moment?”

It takes you a few moments to coax the words from your dry, raw throat.

“I-”

You take a deep breath, smoothing out your dress skirt. You sound like a child when you speak.

“Nothing. Nothing was going through my head. I was just scared.”

Caesar nods.

“Scared of a friend?”

He might as well have taken the knife from your heart and plunged it right back in.

You swallow, your words consisting of only breath.

“Yeah.”

“And why’s that?”

For fucks sake, Caesar.

Be. Good.

“Because it was the end,” You croak, the audience hanging onto every word.

“I think we understand dear,” Caesar says, “Afterall, you’re not a mind reader.”

You give a shaky nod, and Caesar finally gives it a rest.

Titan’s taunts blaring over the speakers are unable to be ignored.

Titan.

That sardonic laugh, that mocking voice, those killer teeth.

It’s somehow worse the second time.

Your skewered heart is racing, your entire body pulsing in rhythm and blurring your vision with each beat.

At your side, Konig’s jaw is clicking as he grinds his teeth, his hand shaking in your hold.

Sapphire’s ribs snapping under Titan’s boot fold your body in a cringe, Eleven’s lifeless eyes stealing your breath.

When Titan’s gotten his hands on you, Konig lets go of your hand and slings his arms around your waist instead, possessively tugging you flush against him, quick and just forceful enough to pull a gasp from you. As Konig gives your hand a break to squeeze your side instead, your stare follows your touch as you rub out the ache in your palm.

You can feel the vibration of Titan’s chest against your back, his breath in your ear, his massive arm snaked around your neck.

Next to you, Konig’s leg is bouncing furiously, a hand lost in his hair in a useless attempt to placate his rage.

You give his leg a gentle squeeze, trying to get him to look at you, to remind him that you’re right here, that it’s okay. He doesn’t meet your gaze, staring daggers at Titan through the screen as he coos and purrs and growls and yells and taunts.

Every insufferable moment of this standoff is a grating ringing in your ears. Listening to yourself yell at Konig in a demand to kill you is making you feel dumb, Titan’s voice rips a shudder from you with every sentence, and Konig’s rage is a burning heat on your skin.

The worst is yet to come, of course. The encore of Konig beating Titan to a bloody pulp.

Konig’s arm turns to lead over your shoulders, working against each flinch you make. He’s entirely still at your side as you shake in his hold, pinching your eyes shut but not at all able to rid the visual of Titan's smashed face and the waterfall of blood behind him, his lifeless body collapsing to the grass and razor sharp blades shredding his flesh.

As you beg and plead with Konig for your life, you’re both deathly still on the couch, only the rise and fall of your chest to heave breaths towards your lap.

You can’t bring yourself to sit up or to open your eyes. The sound of your own voice, pleading for your life with the boy who killed himself for you, it’s making you sink in on yourself.

To your relief, they skip your breakdown. You find it strange they also skip Konig tending to your wounds and his detail of that day in District Nine.

They do show a few bits of conversation from your picnic, but most of it is cut. They leave out the trip to the oasis entirely.

At first, it’s a relief. The more they skip the quicker this interview is over with, and to be honest, you weren’t crazy about the idea of all of Panem watching you and Konig having careless fun in your underwear. You’re especially thankful that Konig won’t be finding out about the lingering stares anytime soon.

There’s something about it that’s not sitting right with you, though. Yours and Konig’s romance was the star of this year’s games, and it seems odd they’re cutting out the particularly lighthearted, but intimate moments.

The audience does get a chance to gush over Konig carrying you through the desert, and laugh over you asking Konig about having a crush back home, but again, they skip most of yours and Konig’s conversations.

And there it is again. The dread that sloshes around your core, lapping up your insides, a dark cloud drifting into your thoughts but entirely unidentifiable.

Something is wrong.

Konig rests his cheek on the crowd of your head, his finger tracing gentle swirls into your sides instead of squeezing. You find yourself melting into him, your finger absentmindedly stroking his silken tie as you let your eyes flutter shut.

“You’ve really never had a boyfriend?”

You’ve seen this one already.

Might as well try and sneak in a break, here in his chest.

Konig’s hand finds your hair, running his fingers through your Capitol-Standard silken locks, sending electric tingles up your scalp. He manages to draw a soft, content hum from you.

It’s like the eye of the storm, a moment of calm before you’re thrown right back into the hurricane.

Caesar leaves you both alone. He doesn’t need to ask you how you feel, or what was going through your mind, because the versions of you and Konig on screen are doing the work for you.

Caesar does occasionally stop the footage to make commentary that would normally make your teeth drive straight through the flesh of your tongue, but you truly can't find it in you to care. The only thing you care about in this moment is the billow of Konig’s ribcage with each breath, the feeling of his chest from beneath his suit, the soothing fingers sliding through your hair.

“I have to say, it’s the first time we’ve ever seen two tributes fight to the death quite like this!”

And yeah, you’d prefer if all of Panem wasn’t watching you be so raw and vulnerable, but you can’t bring yourself to even be embarrassed about your fits and fight.

Aside from the obscenities and insults thrown at Konig, you stand by everything you said, everything you did, and you’d do it again if you have to.

The kissing doesn’t even faze you.

You’d do it again and again and again.

They obviously skip your intimacy.

You expected at the very least some teasing from Caesar, innocuous jokes and cheeky, knowing stares until you and Konig’s cheeks turn warm, but they don’t even mention it.

And unusually, they skip your preparations for death. You do remember making the faintest slight against the Capitol, but they skip all of it. Your plea to die, the exchange of the ribbon, the final hug.

Come on. That’s the height of television to these people. The drama and the tragedy.

You and Konig put on a show. In more ways than one, and it’s hard to stomach why The Capitol didn’t include any of it in the highlights.

And while you’re relieved you don’t have to relive such a painful, bittersweet moment - you know that there is a reason it was not included.

A reason The Capitol did not like.

And it’s starting to sink in that maybe you don’t have the upper hand anymore.

Because with Konig at your side - they finally have the leverage they need. It is no longer you as the sacrificial lamb. If The Capitol is upset with you, they will not use your tongue against you.

They will use his.

Konig’s chest does little to quell this thought.

The sound of a blade slicing flesh, screams and desperate pleas, weak reassurances also does little to help.

And of course, the audience cheers for your double suicide. It doesn’t even surprise you.

What does surprise you, though, is the footage of you in your hospital room.

Immediately your head rips from Konig’s chest, your face falling, scrambling to comb over everything you said in your fits to figure out what could possibly be exposed to all of Panem in moments you thought were private.

They show you attacking Price in the hospital room, which the crowd finds funny, but you scratch behind your ear, not sure how to feel about it. It is kind of funny, considering Konig was alive the entire time, but you find being forced to believe he was dead, the grief that otherwise was not necessary, not so funny.

And they show Konig. Restrained to his hospital bed, staring up at the ceiling, his temples red and raw from the never-ending stream of tears trailing down the side of his face to contribute to the growing stain on his pillow.

He refused to do anything.

Wouldn’t eat, wouldn’t listen to the nurses, wouldn’t even speak to Price.

Just stares at the ceiling, unmoving.

When you try to meet his stare, he refuses, his eyes fixated on his lap, sitting low on the couch.

You rest your head back on his chest, your arms creeping around his waist and squeezing tight.

I’m here now.

After a pause, the arm around your waist gives a gentle squeeze back.

You tune out Caesar’s closing commentary, trying to focus on breathing Konig in, the feeling of his firm chest billowing against your ear. His hand creeps behind you, fingertips tracing over the back of your dress in soothing, abstract patterns.

The crowd gives another roaring round of applause before the anthem plays, and out steps The President.

The sight of him, stepping onto the stage with his stark black suit and precise smile, floods you with a wave of dread from head to toe. You don’t even have the sense to hide the intimidation pulling at your features as you and Konig rise from the couch, your sweaty hands interlocking once again.

Behind him stands a Capitol attendant, carrying your crowns onto stage.

Konig actually has to bend at the knee to keep The President from standing on his tiptoes.

The President gives a soft, calculated laugh.

“Thank you, boy.”

With delicate hands he places a thick and ornate golden crown onto Konig’s head before he steps to you.

Inches from you, he wears a perfect smile as he places your crown on your head. His eyes are cruel and piercing, he doesn’t so much as blink. His icy stare lingers long after he’s dawned you with the dainty golden crown.

You swallow once when he finally turns away, looking to your heels, crushing Konig’s hand with your own.

The standing ovation, bowing, and waving goes on for far too long. You’re starting to think Caesar is dragging it out on purpose just to torture you when you finally get the cue to leave the stage.

You don’t even get a moment to take a breath before the prep teams and stylists swallow you both whole, showering you with praise and squeals overlapping each other, you can’t make out a single thing any one of them are saying.

Their group moves in a pack, forcing you and Konig to shuffle forward, locked at the hands to keep the other from getting lost.

Mauve manages to push her way through, grabbing your free hand.

“Just wait until you see the dress for the party!”

“What do you mean?” You ask, looking down at your dress, “I can’t just wear this?”

“Of course not, babe! It’s a ball.”

No much-needed elaboration is received.

Mauve and the woman you saw whispering frantically with her before the interview try to seperate you both to get you ready.

“No!”

As you object, Konig tugs you closer to his side, the hardened hand engulfing yours doubling its grip.

The group goes silent, all of them looking to you.

Mauve and the woman share an uneasy stare and nod.

“Yeah, babe,” Mauve says with a waver in her unusually high-pitched voice, her hand raising to twirl the charm in her necklace between her fingers, “We can- yeah, we can get you both ready together.”

You give a shaky nod, your other arm reaching across your front to grab his tense bicep.

They take you to your fitting room, and you both are once again transformed.

So sparkly.

Tonight’s color is champagne. A weird mixture of a golden beige and rose. Shimmering rays of gold reflect from the glittery dress with the slightest movements. It almost hurts your eyes.

Another sweetheart bust that comes in at your waist, and you already know the way the hem of your dress drags against the ground is going to be annoying. Two straps only as thick as twine reach over each of your shoulder blades to criss-cross in the middle of your back.

And you find your inner biceps will once again be tortured by the rough texture of the glitter.

Konig’s suit is a matching color, but no glitter. The elegant paisley patterns and the lapels of his suit are the slightest bit reflective, the designs appearing to change color depending on how the light hits him.

“You look beautiful,” Konig says.

His voice is soft, his eyebrows the slightest bit pinched.

“You too,” You whisper.

Unsure eyes linger on each other, a sad smile on both of your faces as the prep team gushes over your compliments.

You don’t want to talk about what happened, but it feels wrong to talk about anything else. Every word feels like it is overheard by twenty-two dead tributes, like every sentence must justify a double suicide.

The air between you is more than heavy, awkward even.

Because how do you look at each other and not immediately think of the nightmare you both just woke up from?

The click of her heels announces her presence before that unmistakable voice does.

“Oh! There’s my tributes!”

Ruby pulls you both into a hug at the same time, smushing yours and Konig’s arms together.

“Oh, you did it! You did it!” She squeals, actually jumping up and down in your group hug, her brilliant white smile flashing far and wide, “I am just so proud of you!”

She doesn’t even let either of you get a word in, which usually is annoying, but at the moment a huge relief. Not just because you’re incredibly relieved to see her, but you’re really not up for talking right now. You feel like a lifeless husk, your insides shriveled up and flaked away to dust.

She reaches out to scoop up yours and Konig’s free hands, the three of you now linked in a triangle of hand holding.

“Not one, but two of my tributes! My stars! Oh, I’m sorry dears, I’m sorry I didn’t come see you before. I just wouldn’t have been able to keep the secret! They wouldn’t let us tell you, I’d have had my tongue cut out!”

Ruby rambles on, gushing and singing praises at you and Konig, both of you hardly having the energy to listen to the words being thrown at you.

“Oh,” You say quietly, interrupting her mid-sentence what must be twenty minutes into a monologue, “I forgot.”

You fish into the bust of your dress and retrieve her token, staring at the small trinket in your palm before extending it to her.

“Thanks for letting me borrow it,” You whisper.

Ruby’s lips fold in, a soft hand resting on her collarbones.

Tears brim in her eyeline as she gently closes your fingers over the token and clasps her hands around yours.

“It’s yours, dear. It’s yours.”

Her words prick the back of your throat, mouth suddenly dry as you try to choke back tears. You go to thank her, but you can’t find your voice. Instead you give her a deep nod, finishing out on an involuntary, choked sob.

“Oh, dear,” She pulls you into her arms, and while you don’t return the embrace, you do bury your cheek into her shoulder, squeezing Konig’s token at your side.

“Thank you,” You whisper, the tears escaping down your cheeks, “Thank you.”

“Of course,” she says, stroking your upper back, “Of course.”

She gives you a gentle swat on your forearm.

“And don’t you cry young lady! Your makeup hasn’t even had time to dry!’

You let out a nasally laugh, giving a sniff.

”You got it, Ruby,” You mumble.

You give a long sigh as your smile fades, closing your eyes on the exhale. You’re exhausted, mentally and physically. It’s weighing you down, eyelids heavy and each movement slowed.

How badly you want to take a break, to turn off your brain and fall asleep on Konig’s chest in the privacy of your own room, to have even a moment to process the nightmare you just went through.

But now is not the time for respite, privacy, or reflection

Now is the time for a party.

NEXT CHAPTER | CHAPTER NAVIGATION

Dividers @saradika-graphics

Konig Photo Credit

440 notes · View notes

suzukiblu · 5 months ago

Text

Canon divergence where immediately after making Superboy someone at Cadmus realizes how damn lucrative "we can make a designer baby out of same-sex or infertile or not even the same SPECIES couples and also make it any age said couples want" actually IS as a business model and anyway then they never need another government grant again and clones' rights get Flash levels of fast-tracked because literally every other rich person in the world has at least one or ten of said designer babies within the next five years. What, Lex Luthor did it, why can't THEY??

( Lex, somewhere: . . . this is not remotely the legacy I intended to leave but if I lean into this I will make ten trillion dollars, be worldwide-famous and adored/revered for the rest of human history, AND influence the evolution of the species more than any other single human being to ever have existed so guess this is my legacy now. also no one can arrest me for illegally cloning a Kryptonian metaweapon if I pretend this was totally on purpose, worst I'll get is sued for child support. /literally already writing the first check )

Teen idol Superboy is suddenly instead a poster boy for this new wave of test tube miracle babies and can't go anywhere without getting swarmed by people with questions about how this works, is there a catalog or something? A website?? And the Agenda has to decide between mass-producing clone soldiers or clone KIDS, because let's be real, the math on the profits/longevity/decreased likelihood of getting their labs regularly destroyed by pissed-off superheroes there is hard to argue with. If this means a grumpy lil' kindergartener version of Match exists in this theoretical AU and that Superboy IS getting clockwork-regular child support checks from Lex Luthor, then so be it. So be it, I say!!

Is that anything, fandom? Can we do something with that?? 🤔

#superboy #kon el #conner kent #lex luthor #project cadmus #meta ecetera

503 notes · View notes

yourfatherlucifer · 7 months ago

Text

Our Aurora : Chapter 1

Ot8!Ateez x afab/female!reader

Summary: Attending university with your eight boyfriends wasn’t easy, neither was sharing a mansion with them.

Warnings: MDNI, this mini series includes tons of smut, slight violence, protective ateez, poly relationship, established relationship, mentions of mxm, choking, other smut themes.

WC: 2K

AU: University

Genre: Smut/Fluff

Nets: @newworldnet

Taglist: (open)

Note: GUESS WHOS BACK BITCHES!!!!! Btw please reblog 🤭

Series Masterlist

The greatest benefit of being rich and going to a very prestigious university meant owning your own mansion with your eight boyfriends. That was a lot of lovers but you didn’t mind and neither did they. Of course, there was always someone who’d called you a whore for having so many men to yourself. You would ignore them because you knew your boyfriends loved you, they took care of your every need.

Each man was different, Hongjoong is an art major. Seonghwa is a mathematics major, he’s the nerd of the school. Yunho is an English major, he wants to be a teacher. Yeosang is a cheerleader for the football team. San is a quarterback for the football team. Mingi is a music major but is part of the basketball team. Wooyoung is a dance major. Jongho is part of the soccer team on a scholarship.

One time, Jongho punched one of his teammates in the face for flirting with you in the middle of practice. You had just come from supporting San at his practice, wearing his letter jacket and one of the boys favorite skirts. You had looked so cute cheering on Jongho, he was always so happy to see you there. Though his face had turned sour when he saw his captain walking up to you, a pervy grin on his face.

Oh this infuriated Jongho. Everyone knew at this school that you were taken, yes the relationship was polyamorous but you guys weren’t welcoming anyone else into the relationship. You were happy with just the nine of you.

So to see this vile man reach out to touch you brought pure anger to him. Jongho had charged him, tackling him to the dirt ground. Jongho had broken the man's nose, his knuckles were bleeding. You had to jump the fence to stop your lover. He was nearly kicked off the team until you paid off the school to keep quiet about it. Which he wasn’t very happy about but he got to keep his scholarship so he couldn’t complain. But you rewarded his protective behavior with a blowjob when the two of you got home. Safe to say he got over what you did.

After that, you’d spend time alone in the university’s art room, alone with Hongjoong. You’d sit in his lap while he painted. This was his practice for his future designer line. He wanted his own fashion line but decided on being an art major to help with his goal. His free hand would dance along the inside of your skirt, around the plush of your thighs while his paint brush stroked the canvas in front of him. You’d have to work so hard not to squirm in his lap, else you wanted to be punished for screwing up his artwork. Today was no different.

“Beautiful, you really need to stop moving. You’re gonna mess me up.” He tutted, “You don’t want that, now do you?”

You lightly whined, trying to get off his lap only for him to pull you back down.

Hongjoong didn’t like that you tried to leave him, “You already want to leave me? I thought it was my day?”

“It is your day, Joongie, but, I..” You couldn’t even finish your sentence.

“What is it? Why can’t you stay?”

To answer his question, you dug your ass into his pelvis, “Because, Joongie, I can feel your cock against me.”

Hongjoong set down his paintbrush with a groan, “I really wish you didn’t notice.”

He pushed his wet canvas to the side and bent you over the table, flipping up your skirt, “You’ll let me fuck this pretty cunt, won’t you?”

His words made you quiver, legs threatening to give out beneath you, “Please.”

“Please what, baby? You want me to fuck you so hard that I’ll have to get one of the boys to come pick you up? Cause your brain can only think of my cock?” Hongjoong’s decorated fingers pushed the soaked panties to the side. Your cunt glistening in the light. Just for him.

The moment you felt his lips to your cunt, you let out a loud cry. This man ate out cunt like it was his last meal. He was one of the few of your boyfriends who would even do such a thing.

Your fingers dug into the edge of the table as Hongjoong’s tongue slithered inside of your dripping hole.

Your body lurched forward with his movements. His hands gripped your thighs to let you know he wasn’t letting you go anytime soon. Two of his digits pushed inside alongside his tongue, pushing and prodding against your walls. He had to free one of his hands to massage his bulge, the growing discomfort in his shorts.

Once his cock was freed from its confines, he moaned a sigh of relief. His lips peeled away from your cunt, just to rub his cockhead against your folds, “Baby, you’re so soaked, and it's all for me.”

Ah yes, Hongjoong was very cocky, he knew your cunt belonged to your other boyfriends as well.

As he slowly pushed in, your mouth fell open and your eyes widened, still not used to him, “Ah, Joongie, careful. Stretching me so much.”

Hongjoong dipped his fingers in his paint palette and marked your ass cheeks with color. The cold liquid gave shivers down your spine. The red and yellow contrasted beautifully in his eyes, he couldn’t wait for the day for you to let him paint your body like a canvas. His perverted mind thought it would be a great idea to paint your breasts someday.

He watched as his cock pushed into your cunt, the squelching could be heard quite greatly.

Your body laid limp on the table, Hongjoong’s cum flowing out of your cunt, “Well, as much as I wanna go for round two, you’re all spent. I’ll call Yunho to pick you up.”

When your tallest boyfriend arrived, he chuckled at the sight of your exhausted body, “Again, Hongjoong? How rough did you go this time?”

As he stepped closer he could see the paint streaks along your body, your eyes were barely staying open, “Yuyu?” You could hardly call out.

“Hi, my sunshine, I’m here to take you home.” Yunho fixed your clothes and lifted your body onto his back, “Mingi is gonna take good care of you because I can’t. I have students I still need to tutor.”

You whined at his words, “But..want you to be home, all of you to be home.”

He couldn’t help but frown as he walked the two of you out the door, “I know, sunshine, but you know how busy we are. Seonghwa and Mingi are at home. You know the rest have their sports practice, I’m not sure if Wooyoung is home or not, but if he is, you know he’ll cook you a nice meal.” He could feel your ruined panties against his back, he’d have to tell Mingi to change you.

Yunho gently sat you in the passenger seat, reaching in the back to grab a blanket, covering your shaking legs, “Oh, sunshine, he really put you through it.” He chuckled to himself.

“Yunho?”

“Yes, Y/N?”

“Shut up.”

Yunho looked offended before he went around the car to get in the passenger seat, “You know, as rich as you are, you seem to love to be spoiled only by your eight boyfriends.”

“Yeah well, the money doesn’t matter to me, all that matters is I have you guys. It would be very lonely in that mansion without you boys.” You sighed, fiddling with your fingers.

As the car rumbled to life, Yunho reached over the console to grip your blanket covered leg, “Sunshine, don’t worry, we won’t be going anywhere. We wouldn’t dream of it. You’re stuck with us and us with you.”

Yunho honked the horn a couple times and a very rough looking Mingi wobbled out of the front door. He must’ve been sleeping. His white hair was a mess, his black rimmed glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. His shirt was wrinkled and his basketball shorts hung low on his waist. He wore his cute little flip flops too. You did spoil them with designer clothes but sometimes they liked to dress normal, and so did you.

His face brightened up when he saw you in the front seat. He was like an excited puppy as he opened the passenger seat, “Hi Yunho, hello my princess.” Mingi’s plush lips pressed against yours as he leaned into the car, his huge hand practically swallowed your cheek.

Yunho leaned over the console and smacked Mingi’s shoulder, “Come on, lover boy, take her inside and do what I told you, I gotta get back to lessons. I cannot be late.”

“Be nice, Yuyu, he’s just excited to see me.” You unbuckled your seat belt and tossed the blanket in the back. You tried to step out of the car but your wobbly legs nearly gave out on you, luckily Mingi caught you.

“Goodbye Yunho.” You both waved your goodbyes as he drove away.

He carried you inside, already dismissing your butler and cleaning servants earlier. He knew he was about to make you scream in the bathroom, of course he had to be careful, knowing you just had the daylight fucked out of you by one your shared older boyfriends.

He took you up the giant staircase, took a left and brought you into the main bathroom. The massive tub sat in the middle, it was a square marble tub. The inner lining itself was white and had jets hooked in.

After he sat you on the side of the tub, he slowly pulled off your shoes, your socks. His cheeks reddened when he saw the state of your underwear but continued on, removing your clothes.

“Just sit here and look pretty, I’m gonna let the bath run.” He leaned over to turn the hot water on, “Did you need anything else?”

“Do you mind staying with me, Mingi? I’m really sore and don’t want to be alone..I’ll let you clean me?”

Mingi grinned at that, anything for his princess, “Of course I can.” He threw his wrinkled tank top to the side, his glasses falling to the ground but he didn’t care. He was stripped within seconds, proudly standing bare before you.

You slowly sunk yourself into the water and Mingi sat behind you, his chest pressed against your back, “The warm water feel good, princess?”

You let out a moan in contentment, the water already doing wonders on your sore cunt, “Yes, Mingi, it’s amazing, thank you, big boy.”

Minutes after just relaxing in the water, the tall man’s hand slinked around your shoulder to wrap around your throat, “it’s okay, princess.”

You let out a whimper as you could feel his hardening cock from behind.

“I won’t fuck you with my cock because I know you’re hurting, but you can handle my fingers, right?” His husky voice reverberated in your ear. If it wasn’t for the water, you just knew you’d be wet right now.

“Mingi, please, don’t tease me and just touch me.” Your ass pressed against his cock and his grip on your neck tightened in response.

“I’ll touch you but you just can’t move, got it?”

You couldn’t even get out a word before his fingers went for your cunt, still stretched out from Hongjoong.

Your lips curled inward and your head fell back to his chest, “Mingi!” His fingers were already doing wonders.

His heavy breathing was so hard to focus on as his eyes were glued to the way your cunt sucked in his fingers.

Mingi’s fingers were so long they could easily touch your cervix, “I can feel Hongjoong’s cum inside of you, princess, seems like you need a good cleaning, yeah?”

You whined, “He’s your boyfriend just as much as he is mine, ah Mingi!”

His fingers squeezed your throat, “Doesn’t mean I can’t get jealous, this cunt is heavenly.”

His teeth latched onto your shoulder as he quickened his pace, the water was splashing everywhere. His fingers never slowed down. You could feel his calloused fingertips touching your walls. Those guitar playing fingers.

“Come on, princess, cum for me, cleanse that delicious cunt for me.” He let out a growl.

With your cunt still overstimulated, your orgasm came quick and flooded around his fingers.

He pulled out his fingers with a smile, watching as the water washed the cum from his fingers, “Oh, princess, seems you came a lot..” Mingi kissed along the crevice of your neck while you whined in exhaustion.

“Mingi, please, need..bed.” You could barely keep your eyes open.

“Sure, princess, let’s go get some rest in.”

#newworldnet #ateez x reader #ateez smut #hongjoong smut #san x reader #x reader #choi san x reader #seonghwa smut #mingi smut #wooyoung smut #Jongho smut #Yeosang smut #Yunho smut

611 notes · View notes

vampireimiko · 2 months ago

Note

i loved your most recent steve work! i was wondering if i could request an eddie work similar to that where the hellfire club just doesn’t believe that he could have a gf

Full of Surprises

warnings, none! note, this was fun to write !! also i didn't include the whole hellfire club i didn't feel like writing the extras in💔

"Eddie, you expecting a call or something? You keep staring at the phone like a maniac." Mike pointed out.

"You noticed too?! I didn't wanna say anything but holy shit, every few seconds he stares at it." Dustin agrees.

Eddie rolled his eyes, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. "Yeah I'm uh, just waiting on my girlfriend to call." he muttered, his tone nonchalant, but the room instantly fell into a stunned silence.

Mike’s eyes widened. “Girlfriend?”

Dustin snorted, crossing his arms. “Sure, Eddie. And I’m dating Madonna.”

Eddie shot them both an annoyed glance. “I’m serious.”

The skepticism in the air was palpable. Lucas raised an eyebrow from across the room, tossing a pencil onto the table. “Eddie Munson... with a girlfriend? That’s rich.”

"What's that supposed to mean?" Eddie asked, defensively, leaning forward.

Dustin shrugged, an innocent grin on his face. "C'mon, man. If you had a girlfriend, we would’ve heard about it by now."

"And met her," Lucas added.

Eddie groaned, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. "Not everything revolves around you guys, y’know. Some relationships are private."

Dustin, Lucas, and Mike exchanged skeptical glances before bursting into laughter. "Yeah, right! What, does she go to another school or something?" Mike teased.

"Yeah there's no way in hell Eddie Munson gets bitches." Dustin laughed.

"Well news flash, Dusty boy! I do infact gets bitches. Not that my girlfriends a bitch or anything." He said adding that last part very quickly. Even though you weren't there, he'd never disrespect you like that or in any way for that matter.

Dustin raised his hands in mock surrender, still grinning. "Okay, okay, so you get bitches. Prove it."

"Yeah, let’s see some evidence," Lucas added with a smirk. "I mean, it’s kinda hard to believe when we’ve never even seen her. Is she invisible or something?"

Eddie huffed, tapping his fingers on the table, clearly annoyed but trying to keep his cool. "She’s not some trophy I need to parade around, alright? She’s busy. She’s got... a job! School stuff too."

"Uh-huh, and I’m guessing she also lives in Canada and only writes letters?" Mike quipped, earning a round of chuckles from the others.

Eddie sighed dramatically, throwing his hands in the air. "Fine! You wanna meet her so bad? She’ll come by Hellfire next week."

Dustin raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. "Oh, really? Can’t wait."

"Yeah yeah, I'll believe it when I see it. Now enough about his imaginary girlfriend, I'm hungry." Mike interrupted.

The next week couldn’t have come fast enough for the Hellfire boys. The anticipation was thick in the air as they sat around the table, pretending to focus on the campaign, but their eyes constantly darted to the door. Even Eddie, who usually basked in his Dungeon Master role with enthusiasm, seemed a little distracted, checking his watch more than usual.

Dustin nudged Lucas under the table. “You think he’s actually gonna pull through? Or are we about to witness the most embarrassing bluff in Hellfire history?”

Lucas smirked. “I dunno, man. He’s been pretty confident. It’s either the truth, or he’s about to go down in flames.”

The whole week leading up to this very moment, Eddie talked about you to the guys. They obviously did not believe him one bit. Eddie had told them about some of your hobbies, favorite movies, he was even close to telling them where you worked but quickly decided against that.

They always asked him to just give out your name, but then they'd know who you were obviously. Eddie wanted to keep a little bit of mystery surrounding your identity. News flash, you were a quite known person at Hawkins High.

"Can't wait to see him squirm either way," Mike added with a grin.

Eddie, sensing their whispers, glared across the table. “You know, you guys are real supportive friends.”

“We’re just preparing for disappointment, Eddie,” Dustin shot back, hands raised. “Don’t take it personally.”

Eddie opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, there was a knock on the door. The room fell silent, and all eyes shot toward the entrance. Eddie’s cocky grin returned as he stood up, walking over to the door with a confidence that even had Dustin second-guessing his skepticism.

He swung the door open, and there she was—you. Dressed casually, you gave Eddie a warm smile before stepping into the room, completely unaware of the stunned expressions plastered across the faces of his friends.

“Hey, babe,” Eddie greeted you, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek. “Told you I wasn’t making her up.”

The room was deathly quiet, the boys blinking in disbelief as you walked further into the room.

Mike was the first to break the silence. “Holy shit. Y/N Y/LN?

You laughed softly, glancing at Eddie before turning back to the group. “I take it he’s been bragging about me?”

“More like we didn’t believe you existed,” Lucas admitted, still wide-eyed. "Much less did we expect the girlfriend to be you?!"

Dustin was still frozen, mouth hanging open in shock. “Eddie... how?”

Eddie grinned smugly, draping an arm around your shoulders. “Told you, Dustin. I get bitches. Not that I'm calling you a bitch." He quickly clarified, knowing you didn't tolerate any type of getting called out of your name.

You playfully elbowed him in the side. “I know you'd never do anything like that."

Eddie chuckled, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Noted.”

"Anyway, nice to meet you guys! I've seen you around and Eddie talks about you guys all the time." You exclaimed cheerfully, extending a hand to the nearest person to you, which happened to be Mike.

Mike, still in shock, shook your hand cautiously, like he couldn’t quite believe you were real. “Uh, nice to meet you too…”

Lucas stood up, still blinking. “Okay, I have to ask—how the hell did Eddie Munson land a girlfriend like you?”

You laughed, glancing over at Eddie with a playful smile. “What can I say? He’s full of surprises.”

Eddie grinned proudly, leaning against you. “See? Told you guys. I’m not just some lonely metalhead.”

Dustin finally regained his composure, shaking his head. “This has to be some kind of cosmic glitch. I mean, Y/N Y/LN... and Eddie Munson? Something isn't right."

Lucas nodded in agreement, still processing. “Seriously, I gotta know—what did he say to win you over?”

You smirked, crossing your arms. “Well, he didn’t try too hard, if that’s what you’re thinking. Eddie’s actually... kind of sweet once you get past all the theatrics.”

Eddie gave a mock bow. “Thank you, thank you. Theatrics are part of the charm.”

You giggled and gave him a loving look.

Mike snorted. “Yeah, we’re still trying to figure out what charm you’re talking about.”

Eddie shot Mike a look, then turned back to you, clearly soaking in the validation. “See what I deal with?”

You shook your head, laughing. “They’re not so bad, Eddie. Just a little... doubtful.” You glanced at the group, your expression softening.

Dustin nodded. “You’re like, Hawkins royalty compared to... well, Eddie.”

You raised an eyebrow, giving Eddie a curious look. “Royalty, huh?”

Eddie rolled his eyes, but you could tell he secretly liked the sound of it. “They exaggerate. A lot.”

You smiled warmly at him. “Well, royalty or not, he’s good to me. And that’s what matters.”

Mike finally cracked a grin. “Alright, alright. Maybe you’re not completely full of shit, Eddie.”

Dustin laughed, pointing a finger. “Still can’t believe it though. You lucked out, Munson.”

Eddie smirked, wrapping his arm around your waist. “Told you, man. I’m full of surprises.”

additional note ! my requests are open if you wanna have me write something<3

𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

#spirits works 🤍#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #stranger things x reader #x black reader #black!reader #black reader #fem!reader #x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #x female reader

305 notes · View notes

kazzattack · 10 months ago

Text

Pretty, pretty girl…

Dick Grayson x Black fem!reader x Jason Todd, w/c 2.6k

Synopsis;; You attend one of Bruce Wayne’s galas with your father, for the pure pleasure of seeing the infamous Wayne brothers, and end up being snuck into the manor for the night.

content;; 18+, threesome, oral (fem receiving, implied male receiving), face fucking (male receiving), brief chokehold, hair pulling, fingering, finger sucking, eye contact, lots of banter, technically mirror sex (bc I lowk forgot about the mirror oops), light degradation (whore, slut), brief dry humping, doggy style, manhandling (?), spanking for 2 seconds, pet names (baby, doll, sweetheart), Jason’s a bit of a meanie, and Dick is… Dick, I think that’s it, poorly edited/proof read

“Stupid, stupid, stupid…” you begin to mutter, frustrated that you agreed to attend in the first place. Still, you find the will power to put on your prettiest smile and runway worthy strut.

Functions likes these never served any entertainment for you, nor did you get anything out of it. Galas your father attends for the sole purpose of saving face, surrounded by rich scum and snakes. At least this is Bruce Wayne’s gala. One of the only billionaires you find tolerable. The only people worth going for are those Wayne boys, though. Pure eye candy. You couldn’t pick a favorite out of the two.

Dick Grayson’s the first to greet you, eyes darting up and down over your figure before meeting your eyes. “Hey pretty lady,” he sing-songs, friendly and welcoming despite the telling glint in his eyes. Wayne’s prodigal son, the first, and he definitely fits the title. Dick is almost surprisingly sweet, pouring you wine and complimenting the shiny gold jewelry around your wrists and neck, rather than the dress that rides just a bit high on your thighs when you sit in the chair he pulls out for you.

Jason Todd meets you with an unintentional death stare, bless his heart. Not to say you don’t do the same thing at first. If he wasn’t 6’1 and 200+ lbs of pure muscle stuffed into a red tux, he’d be easier to miss. At first you don’t even realize his connection to Dick, let alone Bruce Wayne, but you quickly take notice of the familial banter from afar. As of now, you two share the commonality of not really wanting to be here. The two of you only get the chance to properly speak thanks to the loud-mouthed brother, followed by the chance to subtly gawk at each other, of course.

The two of them, though most of the effort is through Dick, make most of the event fly by. You take part in shameless flirting with the leaner of the two, laugh a few times at Jason’s more snarky jabs, and before you know it? Your father’s left wondering where his daughter ran off to. Guess you’ll have to figure out how to tell him two out of many of Wayne’s kids are busy trying to sneak you into his manner.

The… guest bedroom? Is awfully large, along with the bed, and the nightstand, and the mirror you use to make eye contact with Dick. They’ve put you under the impression to have made it past the security system, but realistically they both know Bruce has been notified of your presence. They also trust the billionaire playboy will mind his business. And besides, the old man should be the least of your worries when Dick tugs your dress up, followed by Jason’s calloused hands running up your thighs.

“You’re shameless,” you tease, settling yourself between Dick’s legs with your back against his chest while Jason lowers his overwhelming stature in front of you.

“Oh, sweetheart, you haven’t seen the half of it,” he corrects, grabbing the tiny zipper between his fingertips to expose more skin. “Especially not from that one down there.”

Jason scoffs, sliding your heels off as he responds. “I’m almost positive she knows what you are. Hard not to.”

“I know what I am,” Dick snickers into your ear, hands snaking over your figure. “You’re the one who stomps around acting like you’re too high and mighty for a little fun.”

You muster up the courage to jump in, urging Jason to come a little closer to your face. Despite the persona, you’ve both warmed up to each other throughout the night. “You too good for me, Jay?” You inquire, tugging him closer by his collar and tie. The glint in his eyes answers for you, giving away every intention he has for the rest of tonight.

“‘M just shy,” he jokes, though you’re not 100% sure he is. After a few drinks and the comfort of a seperate room, his eyes wander more freely, and it doesn’t take long before you notice Grayson’s gawking at you through the mirror as he undresses. “Not that you’ve gotta worry about that anymore.”

𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ

Jason was no longer shy, clearly.

“Oh my god, Jay-“ you moan above him, head resting on Dick’s shoulder as one hand roams around your upper body. The other curls under your knee, supposedly holding your legs open as opposed to closing around Jason’s head while his tongue flicks against your clit.

“Fuck, you sound gorgeous,” Dick whispers as he sucks another hickey into your collarbone, and you feel a smooth hand wrap around your neck and rest there. “You gonna make those pretty noises for me too?” His tone is sultry and teasing, though you aren’t sure if it’s meant to provoke you or the short-tempered brother between your legs. You haven’t spent that long with them, but it’s been long enough for you to learn of Jason’s competitive edge and Dick’s insufferable tendencies to get under his skin.

“You could always find out for yourself…” you manage to respond, circling your hips in time with the thick finger on your insides. The strength is found to pick your head up and look at Dick, who’s already watching you like a hawk. Eyes focused with an almost obsessive gaze, tongue grazing over your skin. You can tell he’s fixing his dirty mouth for a quip but you cut him off with a gasp as another finger is dipped into your cunt, breaking eye contact as your head falls back.

“Quit talking to him,” Jason grumbles into your heat, “just sit and look pretty like you were doin’.” His words are muffled and the bass in his voice vibrates against your leg, leaving no room for you to consider not listening to him. He’s sure you’d much rather listen to him after that debauched moan you let out anyway.

Your hand moves to tug on the white streak of Jason’s hair, blanking out for a moment as the tips of his fingers curl and thrust into you. “Aw, gonna let him ruin the fun?” Dick teases, “I still wanna look at that pretty face.” He fixes you after his comment flies over your head, gripping your jaw to face him in the mirror and letting go to see if you’ll focus on your own. Jason, still seemingly irritated with him, tightens his biceps around the plush of your thighs and pulls you further from Dick. He doesn’t like sharing either. Noted. You glance down at him, green eyes half lidded and entirely zoned in on your pussy. He doesn’t talk all that much, but he’s got his own filthy mouth, tongue dipping in with his fingers for a moment as his free hand circles your clit. This is where you learn that Dick has his own frustrations too. He needs control, power in his hands.

“No wonder you like her,” he grins, “she’s almost as hard-headed as you.” Through the hazy pleasure you giggle, not expecting the way his arm slots around your neck. There’s a gasp before a strangled moan and you clench around Jason’s fingers, hips bucking into his face and he groans into your pussy. You’re in a more compromised position now, and he’s looking you directly in the eyes while his free hand tweaks at your nipple, making you arch further away from him.

“Oh, the pretty lady likes this? You want it tighter?”

Shamelessly, you nod despite your restrictions and he listens, squeezing your head between his forearm and bicep. A familiar feeling coils in your tummy, pretty nails digging into the flesh around your neck as your leg wraps around Jason’s head. You’d feel bad if it weren’t for the needy groan against your cunt.

“Ohh, gonna come on his tongue from getting choked out? Yeah, let him know who you’re looking at while you fuck his face.”

Oh?

You’re ashamed of it, but the limited oxygen and lightheaded effect had you follow along without a thought.

“‘S you- fuck, Dick- I wanna…”

At this point, Dick’s sure he can see steam from Jason’s ears.

Still, his ministrations only go deeper, even if it’s not exactly of his free will. Thick nails dig deep into your hips and thighs to keep you in place as you orgasm and he helps you ride it out as he huffs and grunts. Meanwhile you’re right where Dick wants you, laying up against his chest and moaning against his forearm as if you were his bitch.

“Fuckin’ attention whore,” Jason sighs, easily moving your body further from Dick after practically yanking his arm from you. “Can’t go five minutes without begging for someone to look at you?” He’s clearly ticked off, but the frustration is also accompanied by the bulge of his dress pants pressing against your thigh. He hates the competition yet he undeniably craves it, and it’s clear in how much rougher his touches get. Jason moves to kiss up your body as his fingers curl at a slower pace, holding your hips in place to keep you from squirming underneath him.

“Jay-“ you sigh in bliss, hips trying to inch away as you sit up to look down at him. “Ja-son… ‘s too-“

“Shut up,” rude, “I know this pretty pussy’s beggin’ for it.”

“Struck a nerve? Sensitive much.” All he gets it a glare, rightfully so. You’d expect Dick Grayson to get in on more fun, but he’s just evil. He likes seeing a pretty girl like you squirm. Jason’s clearly more hands on, scissoring you open a few times before abruptly pulling away shoving his fingers down your throat. You’d be embarrassed by how easily you take it if the two of them weren’t mesmerized, watching while you suck his fingers clean of your own slick.

“We got us a pretty little slut, Jaybird,” Dick praises.

“Didn’t I tell you to stop talking?”

“No, actually.”

“Well I am now, Dick.”

You get out a little giggle while they bicker before Jason flips you over, positioning your ass against his pelvis and guiding your hips back. You’d been too high in pleasure before to realize that Jason Todd is big, everywhere. His dick presses against you through his pants and you almost panic as he pushes you back and forth, watching your ass bounce against him a few times and you whine.

“Yeah, y’feel that?” He groans from behind you and only Dick can see the prideful grin on his face. “You’ll take it, baby, jus’ for me.” Still, you let out a little whine at his words and clench around nothing. What you can see is the bulge in front of you as your head rests between Dick’s legs, doesn’t look as big but it’s definitely enough. You have no right to complain.

Jason leans over to deepen your arch and you hear his belt unbuckle. You wanna tell him wait, but you’re too slow. The tip of his cock slips against your opening and you mewl, looking back at him over your shoulder. “Oh my god, Jay-“ you gasp before he pushes deeper inside of you.

“Fuck… what’d I tell you?” He grunts, already halfway inside. “Already so wet and you’re tellin’ me you don’t wanna get fucked?”

“Be nice,” Dick interrupts as his fingers curl into your hair gently, as if he didn’t have you moaning against his arm in a chokehold earlier tonight. He gets to be the nice one now, your handsome knight in shining armor. If that were entirely true, though, he wouldn’t be over so slightly forcing you back onto Jason’s cock with his other hand.

Dick’s order is easily disregarded once he’s all the way inside, and with a few thrusts, pulling all the way out before slamming you onto his cock, pretty nails are clawing at the fabric of Dick’s slacks and you muffle your moans into them with soft whines. “Ah-ah, sweetheart,” he hums from above you, cooing at you with a soft voice yet tugging your head up by the chin a little harshly to look at you.

“‘S big.. oh- fuck, Dick-“

“‘Scuse me?”

Oopsie.

“Now you’re in for it, doll.” The smile of amusement and lust on Dick’s face is almost demeaning.

“We got an ungrateful little slut,” Jason scowls, tugging so hard on your hair he might fuck it up if he doesn’t fuck you up first. His thrusts gain a brutal pace and he fucks you even deeper than before, leaning down to your face before he speaks again. “Here I am, face covered in your cum, fuckin this tight cunt with my cock and you’ve still got the nerve to be moanin’ for him? The fuck is he doing for you, huh? Tell me. Tell both of us.”

You can’t, even if you wanted to. Even if you could. Just from the close proximity, the way his dick hits that sweet spot harder and harder has you whimpering an incoherent apology and clenching around him. The only thing he can make out is the pathetic little “‘m sorry” as your hand moves to cover your face.

“Oh hell no,” he corrects you, grabbing your arm and folding it behind your back. You’re weaker than ever right now, no longer holding yourself up. In fact, Jason’s the one holding you, keeping you stable while he fucks the lights out of you.

“I think she wants it like this,” Dick chimes in, smiling like all you’re doing is putting on a show for him. Not that you mind, of course. You’re busy trying not to cry from the intensity, but you haven’t even realized your mascara’s been fucked up for a hot minute already.

“Yeah, you wanted this, right? Bet you thought you’d get it from that bastard,” Jason huffs a guttural laugh, “guess he shoulda told you about this thick dick.”

“‘M sorry, ‘m sorry, Jay- fuck, please,” you beg from beneath him, tightening around his dick as another orgasm has your moans higher pitched. “Wanna cum- lemme cum, Jason, please-!”

“Now you wanna moan my name?”

“Guess you fucked some sense into her.”

“Shut your goddamn mouth, Grayson.” The venom in his voice is for Dick, but unfortunately the anger gets taken out on you with a sharp smack on the ass and you yelp. “Give it to me,” he groans, “cum all over this cock.”

“Thank you- thank you, Jason-“

Your eyes roll, so far back you can see your skull as he fucks you throught it. You still babble on about how good he feels and he never lets up, focused on his own orgasm as he shoves your face into the mattress. Without another beat, he fucks you full, nasty fluids gushing around his cock as he finally calms down. You damn near back out, honestly, but distantly you can hear another belt buckle being undone.

“Y’done yet, Jaybird?”

“Not really,” he huffs through a deep groan, still rutting into you. “But go ahead. Just don’t piss me off again.” Dick fake pouts, pulling your face back up and you’re met with his length, throbbing and neglected.

“Wha…” you weakly moan, legs trembling and cunt twitching around Jason. Dick almost moans at the sight of your fucked out face, drool pooling at the corner of your lips and mascara smudged down your face. Still just as gorgeous, albeit more shameful than before. Dick can admit he prefers you with this look.

“We’ve still got plans for you, pretty girl,” he whispers, squishing your cheeks to push your mouth open before slapping the fat of his cock onto your tongue. “You still with us?”

“Mhm…”

“Good, good girl.“

𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ

a/n;; dick was supposed to have the upper hand for most of this but listen, things happen. writing this was honestly so fun but idk if it’ll ever happen again anytime soon </3. pls enjoy, like, comment and reblog, i’d appreciate it :p

#jason todd #jason todd smut #wet dreamz <3 #jason todd x reader #dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #red hood #dick grayson smut #dick grayson x you #jason todd x you #red hood x reader #red hood smut #nightwing #nightwing x you #nightwing x reader #nightwing smut #dc smut #jt <3 #dg <3

843 notes · View notes

letstalkaboutfandomsbaby · 1 year ago

Text

╔══•.·.☆.·.♥︎.·.☆.·.•══╗

clone - a - willy

╚══•.·.☆.·.♥︎.·.☆.·.•══╝

ʚ Gojo Satoru x Chubby Fem Reader ɞ

❥ Summary: You've been paired up with Gojo Satoru for a class and you've developed a crush on him. After his fraternity holds a "Clone-a-Willy" fundraiser, and your friend buys you a dildo of his dick, your feelings grow stronger. You just hope he never finds out...

❥ Word Count: 4.2k

❥ CW: chubby fem reader, smut, female masturbation, oral sex (fem receiving), penetrative sex (penis in vagina), petnames (princess, pretty), biting

───────────────

Smart. Handsome. Rich. Gojo Satoru was all these things, and now he was your lab partner.

You were shocked when you were given the assigned seat next to him and told that you would be partners for the semester. He was so polite too, nothing like the usual frat boys you met in your other classes.

“I’m Gojo Satoru! Nice to meet you! Let’s work hard this semester!”

God, his cheerfulness was intoxicating. No wonder you developed a crush on him during your first meeting.

It was just a little crush, nothing to sneeze over, but your roommate noticed how your disposition changed in just a couple weeks. She teased you endlessly, asking for details about the infamous Gojo Satoru of Alpha Phi. She’d heard rumors, just like you, of how he was a playboy and a huge flirt, but you hadn’t experienced that in class yet, much to your roommate’s disappointment.

“Damn, I was really hoping he was an ass like everyone said, you know, just so you could say the rumors are true about frat boys.”

You shrugged it off, just grateful that Gojo was kind to you and helpful during your labs together.

But things changed when Alpha Phi held a fundraiser.

You didn’t hear much about it until you got back to your dorm after the day’s classes and had to listen to your roommate gush about the event.

“You would not believe what they did this year!” You sighed, taking off your shoes by the door.

“What did they do?”

Your roommate didn’t reply. Instead she reached into her bag and pulled out… a dildo?

“What—”

“They did a Clone-A-Willy fundraiser!”

You stared, shocked at the tan silicone toy, blinking rapidly.

“They… sold dildos?”

“That are copies of their own dicks!”

You kept staring, shocked, unsure of what to say.

“This is Geto Suguru’s dick. Isn’t it big? God, I can’t wait to use it.”

“I—”

“But don’t worry!” she interrupted, going back into her bag and pulling out yet another large dildo. “I got one for you too! Guess whose it is.”

Your eyes widened, jaw dropping.

“No—”

“Yes! It’s the Gojo Satoru’s dick in dildo form! Surprise! Happy birthday, happy New Year’s, happy whatever holiday you wanna celebrate!”

Your hand went to your mouth, trying to cover your expression.

“You didn’t.”

“Oh, I totally did. Gojo was out there selling em too, flirting with all the girls who bought his toy. And there were a lot of them too, I actually got one of the last ones just for you!”

“Ashley… This is insane. I can’t accept this.”

“What? Why not? I got it just for you. You don’t have to worry about the cost, I’m not gonna make you pay me back—”

“No! No, I… Ashley, he’s my lab partner. This is so inappropriate.” She rolled her eyes.

“Oh, come on, Y/N. It’s nothing to worry about. You have a crush on him, we both know that, but unless you’re gonna start coming out of your shell and actively flirt with him, you’re never gonna get that dick. This will give you the chance to experience his dick without committing to the guy.” You rubbed your hand over your face.

“Ashley… This is so wrong…”

“Oh, Y/N, please calm down. Why are you getting so upset over this? It’s just some harmless fun. If Gojo didn’t want people to use these dildos, he wouldn’t have made them in the first place. He’s okay with it.”

“But—”

“Look,” she started, opening your nightstand drawer, “you don’t have to use it if it really makes you uncomfortable, but I can’t take it back so you might as well keep it just in case.”

You couldn’t fight her on this, not when she gave those pathetic puppy dog eyes, pleading for forgiveness.

“Alright, fine. But I’m not going to use it!”

That’s what you told her. That’s what you told yourself. But you found yourself drawn to the girthy toy in your nightstand. The next time you had the dorm to yourself, you took it out and examined it in detail. It was thick, your hand barely able to wrap around it, and it was long too, long enough to reach deep inside you, hit all those spots that your stubby fingers would never be able to reach…

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise when you used the toy that same day, fucking yourself vigorously with it, making yourself whine. It felt so fucking good, filling you up so nicely, making you cum over and over again.

You cleaned and hid the toy before your roommate came back, and you promised yourself it wouldn’t happen again.

You were very good at lying to yourself. Every chance you got alone, you were grabbing that toy, fucking yourself nice and deep in between your classes. You’d started imagining Gojo there with you, fucking you good, praising you all the while for taking his fat cock. You felt guilty for it, but you couldn’t help but moan his name quietly, wishing he was there to treat you right. Would he be slow and sweet? Or hard and fast? Would he call you a good girl or his precious little slut? Would he make you cream or squirt? Your thoughts swirled endlessly as you came on the toy once again, pulling it out and panting hard.

This was getting out of hand. You couldn’t be developing feelings for your lab partner like this. He even began to notice a change in you.

“Is something wrong?” he asked one day in the library while you were working on your project together. You cleared your throat, shying away when he leaned in closer towards you. God, his cologne smelled so good—

“I’m fine,” you lied, swallowing hard. You couldn’t look at him after what you had done the day before, after you had ridden his dildo for close to half an hour, cumming almost a dozen times. You couldn’t stop wondering if he would ever try to make you feel that good.

“You sure? You’ve been acting off the last few classes, and you’re not talking as much as usual.” He leaned forward into your line of sight, smiling softly, speaking quietly. “Look, if something’s wrong, we can reschedule. Maybe we could go someplace less stressful and not as packed? Maybe the lobby of the physics building? Or we can go to your dorm if that makes you comfortable?”

Here he was, being so sweet and considerate, and all the while you were masturbating to the thought of him using a dildo that was a literal copy of his dick. You felt so ashamed, and yet the thought alone was currently turning you on, making your legs clench.

“It’s okay. I can keep working.” He gave an unsure frown but nodded.

“Alright, if you say so, but I’m serious about working somewhere quieter next time. Maybe it’d be easier to finish this at your dorm. That way you’re comfortable and not as stressed about finishing this.” You smiled at him genuinely.

“Thank you, Gojo. We can go to my place tomorrow. My roommate has classes till five, so maybe we could meet right after lunch? That should give us enough time to finish what we don’t get done today.” Gojo smiled back at you, and you swore you could feel your heart skip a beat.

“Sounds good. We could meet up for lunch if you want. I have a class at ten but then I’m free the rest of the day.”

You felt your heart pound, and you nodded a bit too enthusiastically.

“Yeah, that sounds great.”

So, that’s what you did. You met at your chemistry building before walking to an on-campus cafe. You had a quick lunch, mostly talking about your project and your respective classes before you made your way to your dorm.

“Here it is,” you said after you unlocked the door, opening it wide and walking inside. You both discarded your shoes by the door before locking it and heading farther into your room.

“Nice place,” Gojo stated, looking around at the posters you had on the wall. “You like this band too?”

“Oh, them? Yeah, I’ve been a fan for a few years.”

“Really? That’s crazy. I haven’t met anyone on campus yet who likes em. What a coincidence,” he said with a toothy grin. You felt your heart flutter, but you shook your head and took out your laptop, plugging it in and sitting at your desk.

“Yeah, what a coincidence…”

The two of you started working quickly, you at your desk, Gojo on your bed with his own laptop. You were pretty quiet, making the occasional comment about your work before going back to silence. It was about an hour later when Gojo pushed his laptop to the side, lying back and stretching.

“Man, I’m beat! Thank God this project is pretty much done. I don’t know how much more I can take.”

You hummed, glancing over at him, just to find him on his phone.

“Damn, I’m at 20%. Do you have a charger I could borrow?”

“Uh, yeah. Check the drawer on my nightstand.”

You didn’t realize what you said until the nightstand drawer opened.

“W-Wait—”

It was too late. Gojo had already pulled out the toy and proceeded to stare at it. You could feel your face burn as you stood up.

“I-It’s not what you think! My roommate got it for me as a joke!” He kept staring as he sat up, making you panic. “I-I haven’t even used it! It’s just been sitting in there collecting dust, ha ha!” Gojo hummed, scraping his nail along the toy.

“Something weird is dried on it…”

Fuck, you must not have cleaned it well. You rushed to his side, pulling the dildo away from him and hiding it behind your back.

“Look, I know this is weird, and I’m super sorry, but I promise it’s just a joke! Nothing’s happened, we can just go back to studying and—”

“Y/N,” he said low, standing up to his full height, looking down at you. “Be honest with me. Have you used that toy before?”

You felt like you were backed into a corner. Your stomach was flipping like crazy, making you sweat. You couldn’t answer him, couldn’t do anything but look down at the floor.

“Have you… thought about me while you did it?”

You still couldn’t answer, but you felt yourself shrink in on yourself. You could see his fists clench and unclench in your line of sight. Fuck, he was mad, he must’ve been. Why else would he be so quiet? Maybe he was disgusted with you. Maybe he would yell at you and stomp out. Shit, what if he told your secret to all his friends? What if you became the laughing stock of your university?

“Y/N. Look at me.”

You hesitantly looked up, meeting his icy blue gaze. You were about to apologize, beg him not to say anything to anyone, promise to do all the work the rest of the semester if he would just keep quiet. But you didn’t have the chance to.

Before you could blink, Gojo leaned forward and kissed you.

Your eyes widened, hands dropping the dildo behind you as his lips moved against yours. Your hands instinctively went to his chest—you could feel his muscles through his shirt—nails digging into the fabric. His hands found your waist, pulling you to him, hips pressed together. You pulled away when he licked at your lip, staring up at him, cheeks burning.

“I… I don’t understand,” you whispered, eyes searching his face. He was blushing, glowing when he smiled down at you.

“I got a confession to make, Y/N.” His arms circled your waist, keeping you flush to him. “I’ve kinda been crushing on you all semester.”

Your eyes widened, jaw going slack.

“You… what?”

“I can’t help it!” he exclaimed, holding up his hands. “You’re just so sweet and nice and smart and pretty! I’m sorry for throwing this on you, really I am, but I can’t keep it to myself anymore.”

You shook your head, taking a step back.

“This isn’t funny, Gojo. Don’t play with my feelings.”

“I’m not, I swear! Here, look at me,” he said, taking your hands and looking deep into your eyes. “I really like you, Y/N. I’m sorry I didn’t say it till now, but I’m telling the truth.”

“You… you mean it? You’re not joking around?”

“No, Y/N. I would never joke about this. I swear to God, I like you so much that it’s keeping me up at night.”

You couldn’t believe it. The Gojo Satoru was confessing to you. Not even in your best dreams did you think this would be happening to you.

“Hey,” he whispered, pulling you closer, leaning towards you. “Is it okay if I prove how much I like you?”

“P-Prove?” you stuttered, picking up on his flirting. He nodded, pulling you to his chest again, arms flying around your waist.

“Wanna show you how much I like you.”

You hesitated, feeling your skin burn, your cunt clenching in anticipation.

“O-Okay… you can sh-show me.”

“Yeah? Pretty girl wants me to show her how crazy she makes me?” You stifled a whine, nodding quickly, only making his smirk grow. “Good. How about you get on the bed for me?”

You found yourself complying with his demands, inching towards the bed and sitting on top, waiting for his next move. He stood between your legs, staring down at you for a good long while before his hands went down to your hips.

“Can I take these off?”

You nodded, letting him unbutton your jeans, lifting your hips so he could slide them off. Your jeans and panties were discarded onto the floor, and Gojo fell to his knees.

“Your thighs are so warm and soft,” he muttered, kneading your legs, making you leak. “I love seeing how they squish when you sit down. I’ve thought about laying my head on them way too much.”

With that, he rest his forehead against your thighs, nuzzling into you, humming to himself. He pressed a gentle kiss to your thigh, making you inhale sharply, squeezing your legs shut tighter. He clicked his tongue, weaving his hand between your legs.

“Don’t hide from me, princess. I wanna show you how I feel.”

He pulled apart your thighs, spreading them wide, revealing your chubby pussy to him. He sighed, leaning forward to place a kiss on your upper pussy, nosing his way down between your legs. He kissed your pudgy pussy lips, flicking his tongue against them, making you tremble. His slender hands trailed up your thighs, peeling apart your pussy lips, revealing yourself to him.

“Oh God… your pussy… it’s so pretty,” he spoke in disbelief, staring at you. You felt yourself grow embarrassed, squirming under his gaze.

“Please… don’t—hah!”

His tongue darted out, flicking your clit with the tip. His blue eyes stared up at you, watching your expression contort as his tongue flattened against your clit, licking it fully. He moved it up and down languidly, blinking slowly as he gained a rhythm. After a minute, he began drawing patterns—circles and figure eights. At one point you wondered if he was spelling his name because you could’ve sworn he was writing in cursive with his tongue.

You soon became a moaning mess, resting back on your elbows, hips twitching into his mouth. You gasped when you felt his finger prod at your entrance, circling it, dipping in just the tip before pushing in down to the knuckle.

“God, you’re so tight, too. How in the world did you fit my dildo inside? Fuck, just thinking about you masturbating with it turns me on like crazy.”

“I-I’m sorry f-for using the t-toy!” you whined, voice pitching when he curled his finger, hitting your g-spot.

“Don’t apologize, princess. I think it’s so fucking hot. I was hoping you would show up that day to get one, but I must’ve missed you.”

“It-It was from my f-friend.”

“Ahh, nice friend, getting you such a nice toy to play with. Shit, if I had known you were using my dildo, I would’ve confessed a lot fucking sooner. So much time wasted.”

He added a second finger, pumping the two of them in and out at a steady pace. You could hear how wet you were, your cunt clenching around his fingers as he thrust them into you. You fell back on the bed, back arching as you felt pressure build inside you.

“Oh my God… you’re pulsing around me. You gonna cum? Ya gonna cum on my fingers? Fuck, I want you to, please, I want it so bad.”

His mouth went back to your clit, forming an ‘O’ shape around it, sucking harshly. The action made you squeal, hands finding his hair, tugging at the white strands. You only made him moan against you, the vibrations sending you into a frenzy. His combined efforts were putting you through a whirlwind of sensations, hurtling you towards your peak.

“G-Gojo, please, I-I-I—”

“Go on, pretty. Let go for me. Wanna see you cum on my fingers.”

That was it. That was enough to send you over the edge. Your breath hitched, mouth falling open as you came. You gushed around his fingers, back hurting from how hard it was arching off the bed, thighs clenching next to his cheeks. The moment passed, and you could feel yourself coming down from your high.

But he didn’t stop.

You cried out, begging him to let up, to slow down, but he wasn’t listening. He kept sucking at your clit, fingers pumping quickly, making you climb towards another climax far too quickly.

“Gojo, Gojo! Please, stop, I-I can’t! Please, I—ah!”

It was too late. You were cumming again, trembling under his hold. His mouth and fingers slowed down, helping you down from your peak, guiding you back to Earth. He released your clit, pulling away, a string of spit connecting him to your cunt.

“Holy shit. That was good. Do you always cum like that or was it because of me? Wait, don’t answer that, I don’t know if my ego can take it.”

You giggled, breathless, eyes traveling from the ceiling to between your legs where Gojo was sucking your slick off of his fingers, moaning at the taste.

“God, and you taste good too. Not fair!”

You both laughed. You sat up, reaching for him. He got up, complaining for a moment about his knees hurting before he leaned down to kiss you sweetly, his tongue prodding into your mouth. You opened up for him, deepening the kiss, moaning into him. You felt good, really good, and you wanted to keep things going.

You pulled away, staring up at him lustfully.

“Do you wanna keep going?” you asked, batting your eyelashes at him. He blushed, huffing out a laugh.

“God, I do, I really fucking do, but…” He sighed, hanging his head. “I don’t have any condoms.”

“That’s okay,” you replied quickly. “I’m on the pill.”

His head whipped up, almost busting your lip in the process.

“Really?! And you’re okay with having sex without a condom?” You nodded, making him smile. “Jeez, and here I thought you couldn’t get anymore perfect.”

He stood up, pulling his shirt off, revealing his chiseled physique. He undid his belt, eyeing you the whole time he pulled down his zipper and pushed his pants down. It was all very sexy until he tried to kick off his pants, tripping over them and stumbling to the side, catching himself on your nightstand. You covered your mouth, stifling your laughter. He chuckled as well, brushing himself off even though he was blushing hard.

Gojo joined you on the bed, helping you out of your shirt and bra, letting you lie down and relax against your pillow. He massaged your thighs as he spread them open.

“You’re sure you’re okay?” You nodded, humming in confirmation. He nodded back at you, holding the base of his cock and directing it towards your cunt. “Okay… I’m gonna put it in.”

He pushed the head of his cock into you, hissing quietly at the tight fit. He stopped once the head was in, glancing at you to make sure you were okay. When you nodded at him, he pushed in further, moving slow, steadily, purposefully. Once he bottomed out, he let out a shaky sigh, laughing lightly.

“You’re… you’re tighter than I thought,” he huffed, already out of breath as he met your gaze. “I-I’m gonna move now.”

He pulled back, leaving in just the tip before pushing back in slow, savoring every ribbed inch of your cunt. He pulled out again, pushing in faster, beginning a steady pace.

“Oh… Oh wow. You feel… so much better than I thought you would.”

“Yeah? You like it?” you asked, voice small and sweet.

“Mm-hm. Never thought I’d get to do this, ya know. I thought you’d reject me if I confessed to you.”

“Really?” you asked, eyes widening. He nodded, moving a little faster, making you moan. “I… I had a crush on you from the first moment we met…”

“You did?” You nodded, making him huff. “No way… no fucking way. You liked me all this time? You didn’t just wanna fuck me?”

“N-No… You’re so sweet and nice… I thought you were so cool, Gojo, too cool for me.”

“What? No way… If anything, you’re too cool for me.” He moved faster, making you bounce along the bed. “You’re so fucking smart. I don’t have a clue what’s happening in class half the time, but you do. And you’re so pretty too. You’re way out of my league.”

Your cunt clenched around him and he groaned, moving from his hands down to his forearms, leaning closer towards you. You moved forward and kissed him gently, making him moan in your mouth, tongues dancing as he slowed his pace just a bit. He savored feeling your lips against his, petting your hair, marveling at its texture. He pulled away to stare down at you as he started moving faster again, pumping his cock in and out of you, making you gasp.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he mumbled, glancing over your figure. “I love your body. I love your curves. You have no idea how many times I’ve jerked off thinking about you.”

“G-Gojo—”

“Please, call me Satoru. Wanna hear you say my name.” You swallowed, cupping his cheeks.

“S-Satoru… It f-feels good!”

“Yeah? Feels good? What feels good, baby?”

“Your cock… It feels so good inside me…”

“Yeah? Better than that silly dildo, right? Do I fuck you better than that little toy?”

“Mm-hm! So much better!”

His eyes rolled back and he thrust faster, hands traveling over your form. He palmed at your breast, pinching and pulling your nipple, making you whine. His mouth found your other nipple, sucking hard, making you perk up in his mouth. His tongue rolled around your nipple, mouth slobbering on it. He moved his mouth to your other nipple next, his hands moving to your belly, squeezing and molding it.

“You’re so fucking soft,” he whispered in disbelief. “How are you so fucking soft?”

“I mean… I-I moisturize…”

“But still… I’ve never felt skin as soft as yours. I kind of envy you,” he said with a laugh, making you laugh as well. “God, and your giggle. It’s so fucking cute. I just wanna bite you.” You bit your lip, looking up at him innocently.

“You… you can bite me… if you want…” His eyes widened.

“Fuck, say less.”

He dipped down towards your neck, kissing and licking at it before digging his teeth into you, biting down. You moaned at the feeling, his cock pumping even faster now that he was latched onto your neck. He sucked hard, hands rubbing your plush tummy as he fucked you harder. He pulled back with a loud ‘pop’, admiring the mark he left behind.

“Fuck, I… shit, I think I’m gonna cum. Can I cum in you, pretty thing? I know that’s a lot to ask, but I can’t fucking stand it.” You nodded quickly, moving your hand between your legs to rub your clit.

“Y-Yeah… you can cum in me.”

Satoru groaned, pushing your hand away and replacing it with his own, moving his fingers quickly to get you to the edge. You moaned, throwing your head back into the pillow, hips bucking up to meet his. You rocked against each other, moaning each other’s names, begging and pleading for God knows what as you simultaneously reached your highs. His hips lost their rhythm, moving faster, more erratically. The unpredictable rhythm made you climax, nails digging into Satoru’s pale back as you came. He followed right after, groaning low as he released inside you. He almost collapsed on top of you as he came, bracing himself on his forearms so he wouldn’t crush you. His hips twitched, the last bit of cum spilling from his cock and filling you up.

The two of you were panting, rubbing your noses against each other as you came down from your highs. He eventually pulled out, watching his cum leak from your abused cunt, smiling softly. He fell to your side, sighing, pulling you towards him and kissing your cheek.

“So,” he started, smiling at you, “guess you won’t be needing that dildo anymore, huh?”

───────────────

#smut #☀️ fics #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #fem reader #chubby reader #chubby fem reader

2K notes · View notes

sentientcave · 7 months ago

Text

Retirement Party

Price has retired from Military life, and he's not handling the change well. But on the one year anniversary of him hanging it up, his boys bring him something special to help keep him busy. You.

Chapter One - The Perfect Gift

Next Chapter >

Contains: No Y/N (Reader is an OC), Kidnapping, Stalking, Drugging, Forcible relocation, Generally creepy behaviour, Threats (open-ended), I guess this might count as human trafficking?, Dubcon everything because Reader is terrified (non-sexual), plus-sized reader, fem/afab reader, There is something fucking wrong with these guys for real.

~3.2k - MDNI - Dark fic! Please mind the content warning above

"I told ye, she's perfect," Soap said, eyes on the window across the street. They could see you puttering around your living room, wearing a pretty flower print dress as you tidied up. "Good with bairns too, met her when I was pickin' up the niece and nephew from school. She was workin' for some rich family, an' they let her go because the wife found a pair of her knickers in her husband's briefcase." He snickered. He'd been the one to put them there, although, in his opinion, he’d been pushing the bounds for a long while anyway. Sure he’d essentially cast you adrift, jobless and with no one looking out for you, but, well, they were looking after you now, weren’t they? So it wasn’t all that bad.

"Good job, pup," Ghost said fondly, ruffling Johnny's hair. "Captain's gonna love 'er."

"How do you lads want to play it?" Gaz asked. "Could go in tonight. Won’t take much to knock her out, pack up her things, take her to the cabin. Get her nice and situated for when Price gets back."

"No point in waitin', is there?" Ghost asked. "Nice she's on the ground floor. Makes takin' 'er things easier. I'll go round 'n' check the windows in a bit. Should wait till after midnight. Don't want to be spotted by the neighbours."

"No' much risk o' tha'," Soap said. "Knocked over a bunch of bins last I was here and the cunts didna even turn on a light. Just the bonnie thing worryin’ while the rest of ‘em sleep sound."

Gaz lit a cigarette, nodding thoughtfully. "Small apartment too. Is there much to move?"

Soap shook his head. "Nah, no' much. Sweet girl lives simply. I told ye, she's perfect for the captain. He'll be able to spoil the fuck out of her, once she's broken in, aye?"

"Know 'e'll like that. Man needs a wife to dote on. ‘e’s been goin’ a bit crazy, all alone. An' 'e can train'er up nice."

"Think he might share?" Gaz asked wistfully, exhaling a stream of thin smoke as he sighed. "Nice soft girl like that-- Plenty to go around."

Ghost laughed. "Thought we'd 'ave trouble gettin' Johnny to keep 'is 'ands to 'imself, and you're the one droolin'."

"Scuse me for having eyes, mate. Just think she looks sweet."

"We'll get to see first 'and soon.” Ghost clapped him on the shoulder. “Come on lads. Let's get ready."

You wake up on the hard metal floor of a moving vehicle, your pounding head cradled in someone's hands. That's what you notice first, and the thumbs rubbing circles against your neck soothingly.

It has the opposite effect. Your eyes fly open.

“Hi, bonnie,” a somewhat familiar face grins down at you, blue eyes smiling, but too intense, glittering in the low light that filters in from the windows at the front of the truck. “How’s yer head?”

You grimace, trying to make sense of what’s going on around you. The back of the van seems to be filled with boxes. “Aren’t you Finn and Rory’s uncle?”

“Aw, ye remember me? Knew ye were a sweetheart.”

You try to sit up, but Johnny puts a strong hand on your shoulder and keeps you where you are. Your head feels too heavy to try and fight him, your muscles weak. “What’s going on?” you ask. “What— Is this a kidnapping?”

“Tha’s an ugly word, bonnie. We’re doin’ ye a favour, really. Settin’ ye up with someone respectable. Captain’ll take good care of ye.” He pats your cheek. “Whyna get back to sleep? Still a ways to go, aye?”

Maybe it’s just a bad, weird dream. You do feel foggy, like you’re not fully attached to your body, and keeping your eyes open is a struggle. You’ll wake up back in your own bed, and have a funny story to tell if you ever bump into Johnny again. He’s definitely too nice to be a kidnapper, right? Like, people don’t really do that sort of thing. It has to be a dream.

“Okay,” you mumble, letting your eyes close again.

As you suspected, you wake up again in bed. The headache’s receded some, and there’s warm sunlight streaming in through the windows. You bury your face into the pillows, and then bolt upright. The pillow smells weird, like sweet tobacco and spice, and you don’t get morning sun in your bedroom. The window faces a brick wall across a narrow alley.

The room you’re in now is not your room. It’s sparsely furnished, just a dresser under the window and the bed you’re tucked into, and two doors, one that’s clearly a closet, and one that must lead out into the rest of the… house? Judging by the sound of birdsong outside, you’re out of the city.

You pad to the window and look out. There’s a van in the driveway, and three men carrying things in. One of them looks up and spots you in the window, waving cheerfully.

Not a dream. Fear grips you, ice sliding down your spine, shards settling in your stomach, needling and uncomfortable. Your sinuses prickle like you’re about to cry, but no tears come. You’re too dehydrated to summon them. It’s hard to tell how long you’ve been out— It’s fully daylight outside, but you have no idea what time. A second look around the room finds a digital clock sitting on the nightstand, 3:05 glaring back at you in red.

There’s a knock on the door, and it pushes open. The man who walks in is handsome, smiling at you so beautifully that your automatic response is to try and smile back, although you feel that it’s flimsy, unsure. There’s no chance that this man is here to help you, but you at least hope he’s not here to hurt you either.

“How’re you feeling?” he asks. His voice is as pleasant as his face is, smooth and cheerful, although it makes you wary about him on principle. “You hungry?”

You shake your head. It’s not true, but you can’t trust that there wouldn’t be drugs in anything they give you.

“Well, come on downstairs, hm? Get some water at least. Maybe a tea?”

Your stomach churns. “I might be sick,” you manage to squeak out. He quickly ushers you out into the hall and into a bathroom. You don’t make it to the toilet, but you do manage to make it to the sink. If you had a little more fire in you, you might have tried to vomit bile onto the pretty man’s shoes, but it’s hard to shake the instinct to be good, not to make any trouble, to hope that they’ll just let you go. You’re not even sure what they want. You have no family to ransom, you don’t have any money to speak of, you’re just a fat little ex-nanny still paying off an English Literature degree from a second-rate college.

You turn on the sink to wash away the sick, and rinse your mouth out. Your hands start shaking when you realize your toothbrush is sitting in the holder next to the sink, like it belongs there. Your makeup bag is sitting on the counter too, and when you look down, you realize you’re standing on your own bathmat, taken from your home and arranged here, as if effects from your own house are supposed to make you feel comfortable. You look at your reflection in the mirror, and then at the man still standing in the doorway, his brown eyes all concern, as if he wasn’t party to a fucking nightmare.

You straighten up, gripping the counter to steady yourself. “What the hell is this?” you ask, trying to inject some authority into your quaking voice. “Who are you? What do you want from me?”

“I’m Gaz. Nice to meet you. Johnny had lots of nice things to say about you.”

So that hadn’t been a dream either. You look around the room desperately, looking for anything that could possibly be used as a weapon, but Gaz seems to know exactly what you’re doing, and he steps into your space quickly to grab your hands.

“None of that. Come on. You’ll feel better after a tea, yeah? Then you can get ready to meet the captain.”

He leads you downstairs. Questions spin around your head, but you’re not sure if it’s worth asking. Gaz only bothered to respond to one of the three you’ve asked so far, and it wasn’t the one that you were most interested in an answer to. So you stay quiet instead, taking in the layout of the big room. A front door and a back door, and windows that look out onto a forest on one side of the property, and more forest on the other side, beyond a large cleared space with a neat garden and a few fruit trees. There’s a second building that you can just see the corner of from the kitchen window, more likely a garage than a neighbour.

Gaz backs you up against the counter and leans down slightly, his hands gripping your thighs. You panic, the touch surprising you, and slap him across the face. The sharp sound makes you freeze, like it wasn’t you that had done it. He takes advantage of your surprise to shove you up onto the counter and grab both your hands with one of his, all the friendliness draining our of his eyes in an instant as he points a scolding finger at you. You feel like you’ve done something naughty that you’re not fully aware of the implications of yet, a badly trained dog or a child. “I’m going to let that one slide, because I understand that this is a big change for you. But you’re not going to like what happens if you try that again, understood?”

You nod quickly, your own eyes wide. “I-I’m sorry,” you say, the instinct for appeasement rearing it’s skittish little head.

And then the smile returns, as pretty as before, storm clouds blowing away as though they’d never been there to begin with. “It’s alright, doll. Just don’t do it again. And definitely don’t try that attitude on with the captain.” He taps the pointing finger against your nose playfully, and lets your hands drop back into your lap.

The rules seem simple enough. Be good and sweet, and get friendly faces in return, to a degree. No matter how cooperative you are, you doubt they’re going to let you go home. Fighting back means consequences, and you’re not sure how far those consequences will extend. If you’re too much trouble, it’s not a stretch to imagine that they’ll just kill you outright and try again with a meeker woman. You don’t yet know if death would be the more preferable outcome.

You pull your sweater down over your thighs. The black zip-up hoodie isn’t yours (the word Riley is stitched onto the front of it), but it’s big, and even though it smells faintly of cigarettes, it affords you at least a little modesty and comfort, more than the tank top and the sleep-shorts you’re wearing underneath do. Riley must be the third man. Was he the captain? Or was there a fourth one somewhere?

Johnny comes through the door carrying your suitcases, and he grins widely when he sees you, the charming, boyish one that you’d thought was handsome before. It’s only unnerving now. “Didja have a good sleep, bonnie?”

“You drugged me,” you accuse.

“Weel, of course. You were no’ goan ta come all peaceable, and LT wouldna be patient if ye were cryin’ the whole way here.” He trots upstairs, and you can hear him drop the bags with a thump, before he’s clattering back down the steps and leaning against the counter next to you. “How’d’ye like yer new home, bonnie? S’a nice place, aye? Better than tha’ little shoebox back in the city.”

“I like my apartment,” you protest.

“Psh, ye’d say tha’. Puttin’ on a brave face since yer such a good girl. But it wasna verra safe, was it? No’ a single neighbour paid us any mind while we were loadin’ up yer things. No’ a good place for a single girl, aye?” He reaches out and puts a big hand on your knee, squeezing lightly. “Now ye’ll be taken care of, like ye should be.”

“I don’t want to be taken care of.”

“Nonsense. Ye’ll be glad, once ye get used to things. Already looks real homey in here, don’t ye think?” He gestures at the living room.

You twist to look, and your stomach sinks. Your throw pillows are on the couch, one of the afghans you crocheted hanging over the back of it. You recognize the titles of your books on the shelves. These men were nothing if not thorough, surgically removing your entire life and transplanting it to this house in the woods, with it’s wood panel walls and big, overstuffed leather couches.

He continues blithely, like he’s not delivering some of the most horrifying news you’ve ever heard. “Most of your furniture’s in the garage, ye can sort tha’ out with Price, aye? But we brought all yer clothes and decorations and whatnot in. Figure ye should wear tha’ pretty black sundress, an’ those long stockin’s with the clippy belt, ye ken the one? Cap’ll like those.”

They’d been through all your things. If you had anything left to throw up, you might’ve again. Gaz sets a glass of water on the counter next to you. “How d’you take your tea, doll?”

“Milk, two sugars,” Johnny answers for you. “Our sweet lass has a sweet tooth, aye?”

“How do you know that?” You can hear the quiver in your voice, and it doesn’t slip by either of them.

“Come oan, hen, ye ken I didna jus’ pick ye off the street. Did my research. Wouldna pick just anyone for the captain.”

“When he said he’d found the perfect girl, we didn’t believe him at first,” Gaz says, leaning against the counter on the other side of the kitchen while the tea steeps. “But Ghost and I knew he was right, soon as we saw you.” He nods at the glass. “Drink your water. You haven’t had anything since last night.”

“Is it drugged?” you ask flatly.

“No, want ye awake for when Price gets here. Yer a real cute thing asleep, but we want him ta hear yer pretty voice and see that smile, aye?” Johnny reaches past you and picks up the glass of water, taking a big swig to demonstrate it’s harmlessness.

You take a careful sip when he hands it back to you, and then another, resisting the urge to just gulp the whole thing down. The door opens again, and the biggest man you’ve seen in your life walks in, wearing a black t-shirt and a mask with the jaw of a skull printed on it, pulled up over the lower half of his face. He looks at you dispassionately, and then at Gaz and Johnny. “What the ‘ell have you two muppets been sayin’ to the poor thing?” he asks, his voice rumbling like an avalanche. “She looks like she’s gonna faint.”

“Figure she’s just peaky,” Gaz says defensively. “I’m making her tea.”

The big guy swats Johnny’s hand away from your knee impatiently, and cages you in against the counter, one huge arm on either side of you. “How’re you feelin’ bird? Be honest.”

“Terrified,” you admit.

He chuckles. “Sensible, considerin’. But you don’t need to worry, olright? No one’s gonna hurt you, so long as you’re good. And you want to be good, don’t you, bird?”

You nod. You’d thought Gaz and Johnny were big, but this one’s huge, broad and tall and even scarier. It’s clear why they started off introducing themselves to you in the order they did. If this man had been the first thing you’d seen after waking up you probably would have gone into hysterics.

“Use your words, pet.”

“I want to be good,” you say obediently, because you don’t see any other options, at least for the moment.

“Good girl,” he says, and there’s the slightest hint of a smile in his dark eyes.

Somehow, this is the most comforting thing that you’ve experienced all day. You won’t be hurt if you’re good, and you are being good.

He pushes back from the counter slightly, giving you more space, takes the mug of tea from Gaz, and hands it off to you. “Small sips,” he instructs. “And maybe a biscuit, if you think you can keep it down.”

“Are you the captain?” you ask nervously, gripping the mug with two hands.

“Hm? No. ‘e’s still about an hour out. I’m Simon. Ghost to these two.” He fishes an open package of biscuits out of the cupboard and sets them next to you. “Once you finish your tea, we’ll get you ready. Want to make a good first impression, right bird?”

“Not really,” you admit. “I’d like to go home.”

He laughs, at least finding your honesty amusing. “That won’t be ‘appenin’. If Price dun’t want you, I’ll keep you myself. But I’ll tell you right now, you’ll like Price better. If you’re good for him, he’ll be real good to you, understood?”

You bite your tongue. It won’t do you any good to point out that a man that would accept a person as a gift is probably not capable of being good to anyone. Good is subjective, and the three men in front of you are lunatics. Their captain probably has the slightest bit stronger a grasp on his sanity, or a consistent moral code, if not a particularly righteous one. So you just keep your mouth shut, and drink your tea, and eat two chocolate digestives while Gaz and Johnny start collecting things to make dinner.

As soon as you set your empty mug to the side Ghost pops you down from the counter and ushers you upstairs with a big hand placed a little too low on your back. He tells you what to wear (down to the lingerie), but blessedly doesn’t insist on watching you get dressed. He does sit on the edge of the tub and watch you put on makeup, however, requesting red lipstick and winged eyeliner. Your hands are still a little shaky, but you manage to do as he asks. His eyes smile at you just a little when you’re obedient. You feel pathetic for not making a fuss, but you’re not sure what you can possibly do, except something stupid that will make them angry enough to hurt you.

He helps you into a pair of strappy red heels that had been languishing in the back of your closet before they dug everything out, and straightens the seam of your stockings, running his big hands up your calves. It’s like you’re a doll, dressed just how he wants, something to look pretty and say less than nothing, a gift for some other man you’ve never met to keep on a shelf.

Or worse, to play with.

You hear Johnny and Gaz greet someone downstairs, their voices loud and excited, and your heart skips nervously.

Ghost rises to his feet, smiling so big you can see it even with the mask. “Wait right here, pet,” he says firmly, leaving you sitting on the edge of the bed while he goes off to greet his captain. “Want to introduce you proper.”

So you sit, and you wait, shaking and nervous, for what feels like eternity, until you hear Simon’s surprisingly light footfalls on the stairs again. He offers you a hand, and hoists you over his shoulder as soon as you’re on your feet, carrying you down into the living room.

“We all pitched in,” Gaz says, as casually as if he meant throwing in five dollars for a card. “But she was Soap’s idea.”

“Picked ‘er out special, Cap,” Johnny says. “She’s perfect for ye.”

“She?” an unfamiliar voice asks. “Don’t tell me you got me a dog.”

“Better than that, skipper.” Ghost laughs as he circles around the couch, and drops you carefully into the man’s lap, stepping into line with the other two. “We got you a wife.”

I've been low-key thinking about this concept since I read ohbo-ohno's Don't Leave Me Locked in Your Heart a while back (If you haven't read and you like a good dark fic, you should click that link, you may enjoy it). I think getting someone a person as a gift, or being given as a gift, rather, is a fun fucked up fantasy to explore. I'm not entirely sure where I'll take this but I promise to put in content warnings. Let me know if I miss something, I don't want anyone to be surprised by what they find!

Image Credits: Banner

Dividers: 1 - 2 - 3 by @/Cafekitsune

#cod mw fanfiction #cave writing #John Price x Reader #x reader #dark fic #Price please keep your dogs on leashes they are terrorizing women #The boys missed the real retirement party because they got emergency deployed and they've been trying to reschedule all year long #Good thing they've got such a good gift to make up for it #The homies in discord agree: These guys are unsettling

795 notes · View notes

joequiinn · 4 months ago

Text

The Dos & Don'ts of Fake Dating | E.M. x reader | pt. 12

[chap eleven] | [all chapters here] | [chap thirteen]

Story Summary: You propose a crazy idea to the resident freak of Hawkins, Eddie Munson. But maybe he was even crazier for agreeing to it…

notes & tropes: fem reader, slooow burn, faking dating, opposites attract, bratty rich bitch reader, super minor revenge plot, dysfunctional family dynamics, idiots-to-lovers

a/n: We're back people!!! This chapter has some big ol' drama that I wasn't expecting to write, but boy do I love every moment of it. This is also a little heavy on the ~*~ice princess family lore~*~, so... sorrynotsorry, I guess? This stemmed from my friend and I bemoaning people being mad at ice princess, and then the idea spiralled from there. Can't wait to see what y'all think!

wc: 8.0k

Chapter Twelve

Waking up to the sunlight streaming in through a window, you grunted in annoyance at its offending rays - you always loathed waking up with the sun, preferring all curtains to be drawn while you slept. Your ears began to instantly ring with a headache, and you burrowed deeper into the blankets, curling into a tight ball and twisting your face into a childish furrow.

God, you felt awful. Not even conscious for a full minute, and you already felt like complete shit; this hangover was instantly relentless, drumming in your skull and causing intense pressure behind your eyes. You were so not looking forward to the rest of the day - just your luck, you’d be battling this hangover well into the evening, hell, maybe even into tomorrow.

You realized amidst your suffering that you weren’t lying in your comfortable bed, the surface beneath you too rigid and bumpy, the blankets too scratchy, the pillow too flat. Considering that you were out at a party all night, you weren’t at all surprised that you ended up asleep elsewhere, so you didn’t bother opening your eyes to gauge your surroundings. No, your only concern right now was getting at least a few more hours of shut eye, but the aching of your body and the pressure in your skull was sure to deprive you of that small joy.

With incoherent grumbles and sighs, you tried to get comfortable again, but everything was working against you - the material of your clothes was suddenly unbearable, the makeshift bed you were in was rock hard, the sunlight was too bright despite the blankets pulled over your head. This was going to be absolutely unbearable. You knew better than to drink that much, and yet you did it anyway, like you always seemed to.

Hell, you couldn’t even remember anything past your impromptu walk with Eddie. You vaguely recalled dragging him to his feet and insisting that you needed to work off some of your energy and clear your head, and apparently drunk-you decided a hike around the lake was the best way to manage that. You could remember snippets of the walk - you were sure you spoke about your parents, that at some point you two sat alone by the bonfire. But everything from that point on was completely lost to you - you’d have to ask Eddie to fill in the blanks, unless he was also so drunk that he forgot what happened.

As you thought about your partner-in-crime, your expression furrowed thoughtfully, so with an exhausted sigh, you stuck your head out of the blankets just enough to open your eyes and peer around. For a few long moments, your vision was just a blur, the glare of the sunlight proving to be anything but helpful; once your eyes had finally adjusted, you were staring at a wall - more specifically, the interior of Eddie’s van.

You two slept in the van? Shit, that explained why your body was so achy, you had barely any cushion between you and the rough metal floor. With another histrionic sigh, you attempted to roll onto your back, but your shoulder almost immediately met Eddie’s solid body, preventing you from moving. So, instead, you turned your head to look at him, the two of you practically nose-to-nose. Despite yourself, your cheeks grew a touch warm; you weren’t quite spooning, but you may as well have been considering how close you were, how Eddie’s legs curled up a little behind yours.

Given your proximity, it was challenging to even get a good look at Eddie’s face, but you nonetheless studied him for a brief couple of moments - his curls were in his face again, tempting you to push them back, but his expression seemed restful. As you stared at him, the assault of your hangover faded away for a split second, but it just as quickly came back, the drumming in your skull growing more aggressive. Your face twisted again as you turned forward, trying to settle back down under the blankets as your brain rattled. As you curled the sheets around you, you accidentally bumped Eddie with both your shoulder and your rear, your heel booting him in the shin, but he didn’t stir even slightly at any of the disturbances. So, you relaxed with a deep sigh, allowing yourself to rest back against him.

Eddie’s steady breathing against your ear was surprisingly perfect white noise, your eyes fluttering shut as your body slowly relaxed. Despite the headache and the ringing ears, you managed to fall asleep again in a huddle of blankets and limbs beside him.

The rest felt short-lived, however, with Eddie eventually jolting awake, as if he’d been falling in a dream. The sudden motion, of course, awoke you instantly, and with a startled look you turned towards Eddie, your head spinning wildly from the quick motion; you squeezed your eyes shut and pressed your hands to your head as you waited for your brain to settle back down. Once you opened your eyes again, you met Eddie’s confused gaze; your close proximity caused his eyes to cross briefly as he focused on you, and you watched as the cogs slowly turned in his head. Despite how deeply he’d been sleeping, he still looked exhausted.

“You okay?” You asked hoarsely, cringing at the sound of your own quiet voice. Eddie still seemed confused for a moment, but he nodded slowly, looking around the van with a furrow that suggested his ears were ringing just as badly as yours.

Eddie slumped back onto his makeshift pillow with a moan, closing his eyes as his breathing mellowed out. You lazily leaned your head against his shoulder, your slow inhales and exhales beginning to synchronize with his as you stared up at the ceiling. You could feel his body tense a little, so you shuffled away a few inches - you were never a touchy person to begin with, so that small act of leaning against him was strange even to you.

For a few long minutes, you both lied there in silence, neither of you quite ready to act human considering your hangovers. You eventually looked at Eddie again, watching his expression - he’d go from calm to afflicted, from disoriented to content. He most definitely wasn’t doing good right now, and he was probably trying to recall the missing parts of the evening as well.

You inhaled deeply as Eddie finally turned his head to look at you again, his expression contemplative as he studied you. The corner of your mouth pulled up in a lazy smirk, causing Eddie to stare thoughtfully at your lips long enough that it made you squirm. You bit the inside of your cheek, growing edgy under the acuteness of Eddie’s eyes; there was something about his stare that was a little too intense for your liking, so you looked away again to calm yourself.

“Hungover?” Your voice croaked again, but you felt the need to say something - Eddie being quiet was uncommon, and in this moment it made you a little anxious. Eddie simply hummed in confirmation, the sound gravelly much like his morning voice. You took a breath, feeling mild annoyance although you knew it was unwarranted, “Me too.”

Eddie’s gaze still burnt into you, and it was beginning to grow irritating - again, you shouldn’t have let his silence bother you, but there was something about it that you didn’t like. Or maybe you were just feeling bitchy because you were hungover. So, with a tired frown, you looked back at Eddie, giving him something of an irked look. He seemed to realize it was in reaction to his silence, so his expression softened as he took a moment to collect himself.

“Sorry…” He grumbled in a small tone.

You offered a grin, unable to stay annoyed with Eddie considering that you both felt like total crap right now. But nonetheless there was a tension between you two that you couldn’t quite place, so you attempted to tease, “You get grouchy after a night of drinking?”

Eddie smiled back, although the look didn’t quite reach his eyes, which flicked back down to your lips, “I think I drank my weight in booze.”

Your smile grew a little wider. You pressed the palms of your hands onto your forehead as if that would alleviate some of the hangover pains you were feeling, closing your eyes again, “Then I must’ve had double mine.”

Eddie huffed out a laugh, and you two lied there in silence for a few long beats.

“Why are we in the van?” You asked while opening your eyes, though you kept your hands hovering over them as if to block out the sun. A surprised confusion crossed Eddie’s face, a reaction that felt a little bigger than necessary considering your seemingly harmless question.

He licked his chapped lips, blinking rapidly as he tried to mask his befuddlement, “You don’t… remember last night?”

There was hesitation in the way he asked the question, and your brow knotted as you studied his face for a few moments. You didn’t always drink so much that it led to memory loss, but when it did, you were generally left in utter confusion, especially once you were told all the ridiculous things you may or may not have done while intoxicated.

“Last thing I remember was… walking? We went on a walk or something, right?” Eddie nodded, the despondent look in his eyes nearly distracting. As you considered it, worry washed over you, and you felt embarrassed without knowing the reason why, “Oh god, don’t tell me I did something stupid. Your face is saying I did something stupid.”

At that comment, Eddie’s cheeks grew pink, and the quick shake of his head wasn’t particularly convincing even as he answered, “Nothing stupid.” You narrowed your eyes a little, so he nervously elaborated, “We talked a lot. Probably about stuff you wouldn’t have said sober.”

You hissed under your breath, knowing that you could be a handful when you drank. You looked up at Eddie through your lashes, tempted to ask for him to explain what exactly you talked about, but at the same time you weren’t sure if you actually wanted to hear. At least not yet. The knowing look in Eddie’s eyes suggested that he remembered nearly everything about last night, but wasn’t about to share unless asked. So, of course, you assumed the worst of yourself, trying to go down the list of all the wild things you’ve done in the past during a night of drinking - did you repeat any of those habits, or did you do something worse?

With a sigh, you tugged the blanket back up over your head, as if hiding would relieve you of the shame you may have caused yourself last night. You heard Eddie laugh to himself at the action, and although he couldn’t see your face you glared in his general direction.

“You really don’t remember anything?” Eddie asked as if he were seeking a specific response, clearly aware of something you weren’t; hell, there was almost something downcast about the question. You slowly pulled the blanket down far enough to expose your eyes, looking at Eddie in question.

“Why’d you ask it like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re not telling me something important.” You narrowed your eyes in scrutiny, trying to gauge Eddie’s reaction to your words. He was doing his best to play it cool, something that could’ve fooled you only a couple of weeks ago. But you’d learned enough about Eddie at this point, and when he scratched the back of his neck it confirmed that he was feeling a little edgy right now - so, that definitely was a nervous habit of his.

With a set jaw, Eddie gave you a convincing look, “Nothing to do with you.”

Your brows went up as if to ask “really” and Eddie matched the expression, an insistence in his gaze, evidently wanting you to drop the subject. As if to put you at ease, he smirked a little, and although you may not have entirely believed him, you also didn’t want to think that Eddie would lie to you about it. So, you accepted his answer, sighing tiredly as you disappeared under the blankets again; your body felt so damn heavy, and your head was spinning again.

“God, I wish I could lie here all fucking day.” You grumbled, your voice muffled slightly by the layers on top of you. You just knew that the moment you tried to sit up or move, you’d feel queasy and the drums in your head would become unbearably aggressive. Maybe you could convince Eddie to just stay here in the damn van, maybe you two could just sleep off your hangovers; you’d both probably be better for it.

Eddie shuffled around next to you; it seemed like he was also getting comfortable again, but you couldn’t be quite sure. He pulled at the blankets until he was under them with you, lying on his side and tenting the sheets with his hand so that he could continue looking at you. The lazy, tired smile on his face made you feel warm, and you nearly laughed at how silly and intimate this felt - the two of you hiding out under the sheets as if that would keep the world from ever disturbing you again. You rolled onto your side to face him, studying him as he studied you, his dark eyes continuing to linger on your lips.

“We can lie here all fucking day.” Eddie repeated your words reassuringly, causing you to grin back as your body relaxed.

“Then we’re going to - I feel like shit.” You answered while snuggling into your pillow, closing your eyes while attempting to get comfortable.

“You and me both, princess.” Eddie muttered back, as if he, too, was trying to mellow out enough to fall asleep again.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Considering that you had no idea when you woke up the first time, it was absolutely disorienting to wake up again around mid-afternoon. You’d managed to sleep most of the day away, something you’d almost never done before. Both you and Eddie were begrudging the fact that you had to return to reality, that you had to act human again and get yourselves home. You tried not to think about the lecture you’d get from your parents or how your head was still pounding or how you somehow had to be functional enough to go back to school tomorrow. All of these things were easy to ignore as you two lied there in the back of the van for a little while longer; it wasn’t until Eddie finally backed out of Rick’s driveway and began the trek back to your place that the dread began to set in.

Despite fearing you’d puke all over yourself now that you were in motion, you managed to keep it down, although Eddie had to pull over for you once when the nausea got particularly nasty. As you took deep breaths to compose yourself, you’d wished that the two of you had the forethought to grab some water and aspirin from Rick’s before leaving. As if reading your mind, Eddie pulled into a gas station a few minutes later and quickly ran in to grab bottled water, which you both promptly chugged down.

The drive was otherwise passed in relative silence - you were both fighting your headaches, so that was reason enough to stay quiet, but there was also something you observed in Eddie’s energy that seemed disinterested in conversation. You certainly weren’t going to push it, at least not today, but there was an uncharacteristic standoffishness about him that you couldn’t ignore, that got you wondering what was going on in his head. You kept staring at him, trying to recall anything about last night that could have put him in a mood, but your mind was drawing a complete, frustrating blank.

As Eddie drove through your neighborhood, a wave of disappointment washed over you - you really weren’t in the mood to face your parents, already knowing it would be bad. When Eddie picked you up last night, you practically sprinted out the door, avoiding the both of them out of fear that they wouldn’t let you go to this party. At the time, you didn’t care that you’d eventually be confronted with questions on your whereabouts, but now that it was nearly upon you, you were absolutely dreading it, cursing your past-self for putting you in this position.

So, when Eddie pulled in front of your driveway and you saw your uncle’s car there, your heart dropped into the pit of your stomach, the ringing in your ears escalating to an unbearable tone. Tom’s car meant that whatever was about to happen was far worse than you were expecting. He never came around the house on Sundays, those were his days for golfing or fishing or some equally as dumb “man” hobby; if he was here, then it meant your mom must have called him, probably in a melodramatic panic about your running off last night.

As you stared at the vehicle, your dread mounting as you began to feel queasy again, Eddie spared you a confused look, identifying your worry almost immediately. He gave your shoulder a light nudge to draw your attention back, and head-on you looked even more trepidatious than he originally thought.

“I think I’m about to be in deep shit.” You said plainly, trying to mask your hesitation. Eddie’s face twisted with confusion, obviously not aware of what you were referring to, but being nonetheless concerned for you.

“Want me to just drive off?” Eddie joked in a measly effort to put you at ease. Unfortunately, it didn’t work in the slightest, no matter how badly you wanted it to. Your brows rose in warning.

“That’s my uncle’s car.” His face dropped into a similarly worried expression, looking quickly between you and the house.

“Shit.” He didn’t need you to explain any further - having encountered your uncle while the man was on-duty, Eddie was more than aware of the kind of imposing jackass he could be.

And that didn’t even take into account how much you personally detested Tom - you loathed him for the way he talked down to you, the way he pretended to tease you when in reality he was just being cruel. Since your fourteenth or maybe fifteenth birthday, you’d made every effort to ignore him or make excuses whenever he was around; he was absolutely unbearable. How your mother could stand growing up with him, you’d never know, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to know.

As you watched Eddie - who continued to stare at the house in consideration - he suddenly hissed and shrank down in his seat, clearly being spotted by someone. You whipped your gaze back towards your house, spotting your uncle Tom in the front window with his arms crossed, clearly watching the two of you with a critical eye. You, too, couldn’t help but shrink in your seat a little, although you knew it wouldn’t do you any good.

“If I’m not at school tomorrow, assume I’m dead.” You cracked without even a hint of humor in your voice, sharing a fearful look with Eddie. You began to adjust your belongings in your arms, readying to open the door, but Eddie’s arm shot across your front to stop you, his hand resting gently atop your collarbone.

“Are you going to be okay?” You were nearly dumbfounded by the level of concern in his voice, as if somehow he knew all the unsaid hatred and fear you had of your uncle. For a few long moments, you and Eddie simply stared at each other, and you gave him an almost sad look.

“I have to be.” You responded simply, putting your hand on his arm and lowering it away from you, “Get going, Eddie, I don’t want him dragging you into this.”

“I’m supposed to just leave you to the vultures?” He was about to say something more, but his eyes flicked past you and out the window, his skin paling a little in alarm. Without looking back, your heart started pounding rapidly - you knew for a fact Eddie was looking at Tom right now.

Before you could turn to look, the passenger door was yanked open, taking you by surprise as a meaty hand grabbed your elbow. You let out an affronted sound as you steadied yourself so you wouldn’t fall right on your ass, Eddie practically leaping across the seat to assist you.“Get the hell outta here, kid.” Tom’s aggressive tone addressed Eddie as if he were scrum, while you were all too easily pulled from the vehicle. You let out a sound of frustration, yanking yourself from his hold and shaking your arm of the slight pain he caused you. You whipped around to glare at Tom, pressing back against the side of the passenger seat to keep as much distance between you two as possible.

“You can’t just drag me out of a fucking car!” You nearly surprised yourself with your fiery tone, though you seemed to always resort to aggression these days, not nearly as level headed as you once were. Tom, too, gave you a provoked look that made you shrink just a little.

“Do you know how worried your parents were!?” He retorted, his fists tightly clenched at his sides, “Another hour and we were gonna report you as a missing person to the police!” His eyes flicked back towards Eddie, making you wish you could stand tall between them like a human shield, “And you. The hell are you doing hanging around with my niece? What, being a little punk at the station isn’t enough for you?”

You spun around to give Eddie a warning look, hoping that maybe he’d speed out of here before things inevitably got ugly between you and your family, “Eddie, get out of here, please.”

He’d been staring boldly at your uncle, doing his best to hide his alarm and unease. At your insistent request, he met your eyes with a seriousness that took you by surprise, “Like hell I’m gonna leave.”

Your heart skipped anxiously, your gaze almost pleading with Eddie - this wasn’t his battle to fight, this wasn’t his problem to fix. You just wanted him to go, to pretend he wasn’t seeing the skeletons in your family closet; for a second, you felt shame that he was seeing this part of your life that you so carefully kept to yourself.

“Get in the house.” Tom spoke between his teeth, and you couldn’t help the scoff in your throat as you looked back up at him.

“You don’t have any say in what I do.” Beyond his shoulder, you could see your parents on the front step, your father with one foot forward as if prepared to approach you any minute now. Your mother stood back, biting her nails on one hand while looking around nervously, as if fearful that neighbors may be watching, “Look, I’m home, I’m fine, so will you get over it?”

“That attitude isn’t going to fly with me.” Tom’s voice was laced with venom as he crossed his arms as if to become even more imposing, “Do you know how many stupid girls go missing all because they don’t tell their families where they’re going?”

You rolled your eyes, your gaze darting between Tom and your father, who was finally walking towards you.

“I’m not a stupid girl, and I wasn’t gonna go missing.” You said insistently; at that same moment, you heard Eddie’s door open and slam shut, causing you to panic yet again. You shoved past your uncle as you saw Eddie rounding the van in your peripheral vision. You quickly put yourself between him and your family, your back to them as you put your hands up to Eddie’s shoulders, “Please don’t…”

You weren’t sure what you thought Eddie was going to do, but it nonetheless had you worried. Your family was too temperamental, too cruel, and you didn’t want him to bear the brunt of it. He didn’t need to do any of this, didn’t need to help you, and his insistence on staying with you was causing far too much confusion in your head right now.

The worried look in his eyes were nearly staggering as he looked down at you, “I can’t just let you take this--”

“All this fuss for him?” Your father’s accusatory voice forced you to turn around again, meeting his harsh glare. With all this chaos going on, you were getting fucking dizzy. Your father made a disappointed sound, shaking his head, “I don’t believe this… Are you just doing this to upset us? You run around without telling us where you are, you skip school, you talk back - all because of some drug dealing satanic punk?”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you, an exasperated, pissed off sound as you threw back your head at the ridiculous generalization of the man standing behind you, “Eddie’s the most harmless person I’ve ever met. You should be more worried about him than Eddie.”

Your eyes shot towards Tom, your brows practically pointing at him with accusation. The look on his face was condescending in response, and you crossed your arms in frustration as you glared at your father again.

“Don’t be so naive.” Your uncle said cruelly, but you didn’t dare look at him again, “You’ve already upset your parents enough, but you just keep pushing. You wouldn’t be nearly so lucky if you were my kid.”

Your father shared a glance with Tom beforing looking back at you, his eyes quickly zeroing in on Eddie instead. He took an assertive step forward while pointing his finger harshly at Eddie; you took a step back, bumping into Eddie, who put his hands on the back of your arms to steady you.

“What could you and my daughter possibly have in common? What is it about you that has her so possessed that she’s insistent on acting like this?”

“Will you just leave him alone!” You interjected before Eddie could answer, again wishing that he wasn’t involved in this. Your father’s dark eyes returned to yours, “Have any of you considered he’s not at fault? Maybe I’m tired of how boring my life is and he makes it more fun than it’s been in years?”

“‘Fun.’” Your father repeated with a mocking huff.

“You couldn’t have chosen someone ‘fun’ who isn’t a degenerate?” Tom chimed in snidefully.

“As if anyone else in this town even comes close.” You reply harshly, your eyes cruel and intense, “None of you can scare me into listening to you, you know.”

You stare smartly at your uncle, making it clear his presence wasn’t appreciated; he simply stared back challengingly, a mean smirk pulling at his lips.

He leveled Eddie with a condescending look, “Let’s hope you don’t get pulled over next time I’m on duty, Munson.”

“Don’t fucking bother him.” You whined in exasperation, your head throbbing from the migraine that had rapidly grown during the course of this fight. You clenched your eyes shut as if to block it out, but that only seemed to make you feel worse.

Your mother’s voice surprised you, having not realized that she came to join you at the end of the driveway; her skittish body had been hidden by your father and uncle, “Can we all please calm down and just talk? It doesn’t have to get ugly like this.”

Her gaze looked between you and Eddie with worry; when her gaze lingered on him, she nearly looked apologetic, as if she, too, was embarrassed by him seeing the family like this.

“There’s nothing more to talk about.” You responded, but your voice was weaker, the hangover finally catching up with you. It felt like your head was spinning as you tried to just focus on your mother, your hands grasping at air as if to center yourself. You felt Eddie’s hands tighten on your arms a little, as if he could tell how you were feeling.

“Oh, this conversation is far from over.” Your father said coldly, staring at Eddie with all the disappointment he could muster, “No daughter of mine is going to keep hanging around a kid like you, so get the hell out of here before things get worse.”

The threat caused your temper to flare, and before you could stop yourself you took a step towards your father and gave him a rough shove, “What is your problem!?”

He stumbled, but steady himself with ease, the dangerous glare in his eyes nearly frightening you. Tom put an arm out to catch your father should he need to, taking a dangerous step towards you. Again, your head spun, this time accompanied by nausea that forced you to gasp for air. You pressed a hand to your forehead as if that would somehow help, doubling over with your other hand on your knee.

“Oh, god, honey.” Your mother’s voice leapt with concern as Eddie put a hand to the small of your back while the other carefully gripped your arm. You could hear voices overlapping as you tried to breathe, but it became impossible to focus as your stomach turned on you, only about to make out Eddie’s stressed voice demanding that everyone stop.

You heaved up mostly liquid and bile, the contents of your stomach splashing onto Tom’s shoes and the pavement. You struggled to breathe as snot and tears started to stream down your face, pathetic little sounds leaving your mouth between spurts of puke as your back arched like a cat. You could feel Eddie’s hand on your arm keeping you steady, shouting something at your family that you weren’t aware enough to hear, although you thought you’d heard something along the lines of “back the fuck up.” You watched as your uncle leapt back, feet and ankles filthy, his voice also shouting something unintelligible.

When you finally had a chance to breathe, you looked around at your family from your hunched position, your gaze venomous even as saliva dribbled down your chin. The feeling of Eddie’s hands kept you secured as you slowly came back to yourself, easing back up to full height with shaking breaths.

“Get me outta here, Eddie.” Your defeated tone was in stark contrast to the dark glare you shot each member of your family. You started to look up at Eddie, but quickly turned away, feeling too disgusting right now to look him in the eye. Without hesitation, he guided you back to the passenger door, making sure he was between you and your family, who actually appeared to be giving you space for the first time in this entire argument.

Once you were back in your seat and Eddie slammed the door, you watched him round over to his side, keeping his complete attention on your angry family as if he were worried they might jump in front of the van. Just in case, you reached out and locked your door, taking in the looks on everyone’s faces through the strands of hair that had fallen in your face - your father looked stunned, your mother hurt, and your uncle angry as he tried to shake the puke from his shoes.

As Eddie sped off, you wiped your chin with the back of your hand, as revolting as it felt to do. You stared at the dashboard, becoming lost in thought as your head spun, your vision blurring as you zoned out. You ran your fingers under your eyes, trying to catch any stray tears that may still be lingering there, sniffling smally in a measly attempt to regain your composure.

From the corner of your eye, you could tell Eddie kept looking over at you every time he came to a stop sign or got caught at a red light. But you refused to meet his gaze, refused to let him see just how fucking pathetic you felt right now. No one saw the ugliness of your family - none of your old friends, none of your exes. No, you all kept it a secret, pretended to be a good little cookie-cutter family when others were around, so for Eddie to be the one to actually see through the cracks dared to make you feel sick all over again.

“I’m sorry…” You muttered quietly, eyes staring ahead of you without actually seeing. Eddie sighed deeply, but you continued to keep your gaze off of him.

“You don’t have to apologize for a damn thing.” He answered, his voice equally as quiet, although stronger than yours. You were tempted to look at him, but you settled for just watching him from the corner of your eye, letting your hair act as a shield between you.

You pressed your lips tightly together, struggling to find your words, “That was fucking embarrassing; you didn’t need to see that.”

A long stretch of silence passed between you two, long enough that you finally dared to turn your attention to Eddie. His jaw was clenched and his knuckles were white on the steering wheel, his eyes looking even darker than they already were.

He couldn’t possibly be so worked up for you, could he? The thought was unfathomable, and you instantly felt undeserving of it. You never let people close enough to worry about you like this, and you loathed the idea that Eddie was pitying you, feeling sorry for you.

Just as he turned his head to look at you, you whipped your gaze forward again nervously, the back of your neck warm.

“Is that the shit you deal with?” He asked, voice both angry and sad. When you didn’t respond, he added, “There’s nothing for you to be embarrassed about.”

You could tell there was so much more that Eddie would have liked to say - the way he kept working his jaw, kept opening his mouth only to snap it shut again. His mind must have been going a thousand miles per hour, and yet he couldn’t seem to say a single thing. Much like you, although you felt more as if your brain had turned on you, as if you were so worked up and frightened of being emotional that everything within you simply turned off.

Although you hadn’t given Eddie a destination to drive to, you were nonetheless a little surprised that you ended up back at his place. You simply stared at the trailer as Eddie climbed out of the van, coming back around to your side and opening the door for you; it took you another few moments before you slid out of the seat, fussing to keep your skirt in place. God, you couldn’t wait to take off this damn outfit; it was cute yesterday, when you were excited to go to a party, but today it was simply annoying and burdensome.

Eddie led you inside, his hands hovering just a couple inches from you as if he were worried you were some fragile porcelain doll. A part of you hated it, but a larger part of you was still shocked at just how kind he was being towards you, even after seeing how ugly your homelife was.

There was so much you wanted to say, and yet you couldn’t bring yourself to speak, allowing Eddie to sit the pair of you down on the edge of his mattress. He was being far too patient with you, just waiting for you to lead whatever discussion may or may not happen next. Again, you refrained from meeting his eyes, your gaze darting mindlessly around his bedroom.

After a long, tense stretch, you finally asked in a small voice, “Can I use the shower?” Eddie nodded, standing quickly as if he intended to help you to the bathroom, but you held your hands up a little in a tired surrender, “I’m okay.”

Even without looking at him, you knew he was watching you with concern. But he sighed in acceptance, letting you walk past him towards the door, “I’ll get you a change of clothes.”

You couldn’t help the very slight smile that tugged at your lips; despite how awful you felt, you found it amusing to even try to picture yourself wearing whatever silly clothes Eddie brought you. As you closed yourself off in the bathroom, you wondered if he had the same thought.

You spent what was probably an ungodly amount of time in the shower, letting the steam and the heat release everything that you’ve kept pent up from the moment you left your parents in the driveway. You tried to breathe deeply, tried to keep yourself composed, but within the safe confines of the shower, all your emotions began to spill over. Biting down on your thumb to keep your sobs in, you leaned against the wall to stay upright, your body silently wracking as salty tears mixed with the hot water.

Fuck, you couldn’t believe this. How the hell were you going to look Eddie in the eye, knowing that he’d seen the way your family behaved? He probably thought you were all so damn pathetic, so damn dysfunctional. It felt like he was in on a dirty little secret, like it would be the elephant in the room that was impossible to ignore. You were so ashamed of your family as you slowly lowered yourself to the floor, letting the water beat against your back as you tried once more to breathe slowly, steadily. For a second, you thought you may puke again, but your stomach was too empty for anything to come up.

Was it always this bad? You’d be so used to the coldness and the negativity, that you weren’t sure if it had gotten worse or if you were simply becoming more aware of it. If this is how bad it got after only a month, you were nervous to see how much worse it may possibly get as your senior year continued.

Eventually, you dragged yourself out of the shower, your limbs feeling heavy as you grabbed a towel. Your brow knotted then rose in surprise when you saw a small stack of clothes sitting atop the bathroom counter - when the hell did Eddie sneak those in here, and when he did, could he hear you trying not to cry too loud? Your neck grew hot at the thought that he heard your muffled sobs.

Once you were clad in Eddie’s old sweater and pajama pants, you appreciated how comfortable they were, tugging the sleeves down over your hands as if you were a small child. You lingered in the bathroom for a long while, watching as the foggy mirror slowly became clear again, frowning at your frail-looking reflection; you felt a wash of shame, thinking about how unpresentable you must’ve looked all day.

Taking a deep breath, you straightened your shoulders and raised your chin high, trying to shake off how feeble you looked. Brushing your wet hair back from your face, you sighed with determination, finally opening the bathroom door.

You ducked into Eddie’s room without even looking in the direction of the living room - you weren’t sure whether or not Wayne was home, but you weren’t quite ready to face other people yet if he was. Eddie must’ve been out there, because his room was empty; you slumped down onto his bed, pulling your knees up under your chin as you leaned back against the wall. Your ears perked at the sound of Eddie’s footsteps approaching the room, and you sat up a little as he stepped through the door, water in hand and a more relaxed look on his face.

You gave him a weak smile, finally able to meet his eyes as he sat next to you. Wordlessly, he offered you the glass of water, opening up his other hand to reveal a couple of painkillers. You accepted them with an appreciative look, taking a long chug from the glass before setting it aside. Your fingers drummed rhythmless atop your knees as you and Eddie stared at one another.

“You okay?” He finally asked, and your face fell a little. You shrugged as if you were unbothered, almost hoping that Eddie would simply accept that response. But he narrowed his eyes at you instead, leaning forward just a little, “You don’t have to lie to me.”

You cocked your head as you studied his features, keeping a false little grin on your lips as you answered quietly, “I’ll be fine.” Eddie hummed, looking away from you for a moment as he worked his jaw, “Are you?”

He gave you a genuine smirk, rolling his eyes fondly, “Aw, you do care.”

Your gaze lit up as your grin spread a little wider, thankful for Eddie’s ability to lighten the mood, to make you smile when you needed it. His eyes twinkled a little at your reaction, although the bouncing of his knee suggested that he was still on edge.

Eddie took a deep breath, looking you up and down thoughtfully, “I know you’re not gonna bear your soul or anything, but… you can talk to me, if you need. I’m a good listener when I want to be.”

You continued to smile keenly, so damn appreciative of him right now. You rested your chin on your knees again, taking him in, “You’re the best fake boyfriend a girl could ask for.”

“Yeah?” He looked as if he were about to laugh, but also as if the statement gave him pause, “You’re not so bad yourself.”

A doubtful look crossed your face as you rolled your eyes and teased, “Liar.”

Eddie turned toward you, crossing his legs on the bed so that his knees rested against your ankles; you glanced down at them for a moment before meeting his gaze again. His expression was furrowed with seriousness, “You know, no one’s come to my defense the way you did back there; you’re pretty ballsy, getting between me and a cop, even if he is your uncle.”

He smiled again in that easy way of his, which effectively kept you at ease. You nudged him lightly with the tip of your toes, eying him through your lashes, “Don’t make it sound so heroic…”

Eddie stared at you long enough that you began to nibble on the inside of your lips, his eyes making you timid. You weren’t sure if he was simply studying you, if he was considering something to say, or if he was waiting for you to speak again. You tried to look unaffected, tried to look as if you’d already moved on from the fight with your family, but you knew that Eddie could see right through all that falseness. These days, he knew you a little too well, but in a way you were grateful for (most of the time) - no one else could see through you quite the way he did.

With a slouch of his shoulders, Eddie caved, shaking his head at you, “Alright, princess, you’re no hero.”

His tone was intentionally unconvincing, daring you to respond. Now, you watched him fidget under your gaze, just as he’d done to you. Sincerity didn’t come easy to you, and you certainly weren’t going to pour your heart out, but you needed to make some effort. For your own sake, you needed Eddie to know that he was appreciated today - you told him to go, but instead he stayed, and that said a lot about his character. The thought of even trying to speak with total honesty made your heart drum nervously.

You opened your mouth, but hesitated for a moment, causing him to raise a curious brow. So, you licked your lips and looked down briefly, saying simply, “Thank you, Eddie.”

He didn’t need you to elaborate, didn’t need you to go down the laundry list of things that you were referring to - the way he held your gaze and nodded back spoke volumes. The weighty look on his face made it clear that he knew you were thanking him for more things than you knew how to list.

Eddie gave an untroubled shrug before relaxing his shoulders, again knowing just the right balance of easiness and seriousness to keep you comfortable, his eyes shining playfully, “Ah, don’t make me sound like a hero, either.”

He reached out and set his hand on one of your knees. his fingers applying slight pressure, although the look on his face suggested it was an impulsive move, something he didn’t intend to do. You both looked between his hand and one another’s faces before he pulled back and stood, turning his back to you for a moment as he looked around his room while rubbing the back of his neck. When he met your eyes again, he grinned easily, nodding his head towards the bedroom door.

“You need anything? We haven’t eaten all day.” You smiled tranquilly, although the nervous energy surrounding Eddie is what really had your attention. To appease him, you gave a small nod, tugging at the sleeves of your sweater while relaxing back against the wall, looking him up and down slowly as if worried you would forget him once he left the room.

“Yeah, let’s eat.” Food was the last thing on your mind right now, but Eddie seemed nearly desperate to make sure you were alright, so you could appease him in this. He gave you one more charming smile as he was about to leave the room, but he came to a pause in the doorway. You watched him expectantly, assuming he had something else to say, but just as quickly as he had stopped he disappeared.

Your stare lingered on the spot he was just in, your face relaxing into a content look. You absentmindedly began to fiddle with your sleeves, your eyes lazily traveling around Eddie’s room, stopping to study band posters or clutter lying around.

You couldn’t help but feel at ease, even as your mind continued reeling over the confrontation with your parents. The whole fiasco was an easier pill to swallow thanks to Eddie and his ability to make you smile or laugh at even the most inopportune moments. And you did just that, grinning affectionately to yourself as your cheeks flushed; a warmth washed over you as you oh-so easily pictured Eddie in your head.

But suddenly that gave you pause, your expression faltering in realization that you were acting giddy over Eddie. You stared blankly at the wall across from you as your heart skipped and your chest felt heavy, exhaling slowly as you grasped what exactly was going through your head at that moment.

You felt foolish and panicked, although that seemed like a completely stupid reaction; you tried to shake yourself of the ridiculous sensation, but your heart just kept drumming rapidly. With a knotted brow, you had to wonder if this had been slowly building and if you’d just been ignoring it. Or were you too dumb to have noticed it before - the easy way you and Eddie could coexist, the shared smiles and glances and laughter, the occasional jolt when you’d bump shoulders or hold hands.

When did all of those little things start to stir something in you? Why did you suddenly have goosebumps breaking out across your arms and legs? You realized your jaw was slack, so you tightly pressed your lips together and shook your head; you ran your hands up and down your legs then along your arms, as if the goosebumps were from being cold and not from the damn epiphany you just had.

You were being ridiculous getting yourself all worked up unnecessarily. But there was no shaking your realization, no ignoring the thought now bombarding your brain. You swallowed your nerves to the best of your ability, shooting a glance towards the door as if fearful you’d be caught doing something wrong. Your foot began to bounce, in need of some way to release this stupid anxiety you were feeling.

But there was no shaking it, no ignoring it, no releasing it. And for whatever reason, that filled you with complete and utter apprehension.

Fuck… You liked Eddie.

additional a/n: Let the idiots-to-lovers shenanigans commence :)))

@3rd-conchord @a-queen-blr @adelalaaa @adversary713 @avalon-wolf

@cosmicdanielle @costellation-hunter @daisy-munson @daisyridleyss @damon-loves-pie

@damp4eddie @delilaaahhh @eddiernunson @em0220 @frogtape

@fromasgardandback @fckyeahlames @graciehams @kellsck @kthomps914

@littlexdeaths @lotrefcp @love-anonymous-writer @marrowfrog00 @maskofmirrors

@mewchiili @miaajaade @miss-celestial-being @mmmunson @moonisu

@munsonssweets @no-bueno-writer @nxrdamp @rach5ive @rcailleachcola

@sav12321 @seatbacksandtraytables @sheneedsrocknroll92 @sokkasimp101 @steeldaisies

@stormgrl19 @welcometohellsock