#girl help why am i fixating on this

[puppym3]

⋆˚࿔ seven minutes in heaven 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

lee felix x fem!reader

synopsis: you and your best friend, felix are at a party. felix has a massive crush on you and you have no idea, so when you get picked for seven minutes in heaven with him, you didn't expect it to change everything for you.

wc: 3.6k

warnings: MDNI! 18+, friends to lovers, 7 minutes in heaven (duh), alcohol consumption (not much), reader is dumb, fluffy, kinda angst, a lot of kissing, they're both horny, felix is pining, confessions, a lot of banter, other members are mentioned, (lmk if i missed any)

a/n: SECOND FELIX FIC OF THE DAY, EAT UP. no fr i love spoiling you guys. pls pls leave suggestions in my inbox i literally am running out of ideas... also also if u want to be tagged in future fics lmk, i think that's it, I LOVE YOU GUYS FR!!

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The music thumped through the walls, the bass reverberating in your chest as you sat on the edge of the couch, nervously sipping your drink. Felix stood beside you, offering comfort amidst the sea of strangers. The house party, hosted by Chan, was in full swing, with people mingling and chatting all around.

You'd been reluctant to come, but Felix had convinced you with his warm smile and persistent charm. After all, you’d been best friends for years, sharing countless memories and inside jokes. What you didn’t know was that Felix had been harboring a crush on you for almost as long.

"Hey, are you having fun?" Felix nudged you gently, his eyes crinkling at the corners in that familiar, reassuring way. His cheerful voice always brightened the place.

"Yeah, it's alright," you lied, forcing a smile. Parties weren't really your thing, and mingling with strangers made you uneasy. But with Felix by your side, it was bearable.

As the song ended, Changbin’s voice rang out, calling everyone to gather in a circle. "Alright, everyone! We're playing 7 Minutes in Heaven!"

You groaned inwardly, rolling your eyes. "Seriously? That's so stupid," you muttered under your breath. Felix laughed in response, his laugh a soothing balm to your nerves. "Don’t worry, he’s just doing this so he can get a kiss from Hyunjin."

"Okay, but if I get picked, I’m not doing anything," you said with finality, taking another sip of your drink. Felix gave a non-committal hum, nodding as if he agreed with you. The thought of Felix potentially being picked by someone else made you uneasy, and you didn’t like the feeling. It was selfish, but you knew that if he did get picked, you’d probably make a scene or throw up so he'd be distracted and not have to go along with it.

You took a seat in the circle, positioning yourself right next to Felix as the others settled in around you. Your red solo cup was perched behind you, barely noticed.

Changbin spun an empty bottle in the center of the circle. You tried to keep your composure as you watched it spin, your heart rate increasing with every slow rotation. The bottle eventually landed on a girl you didn’t recognize.

You heard Changbin mutter a curse word under his breath as he stood up.

"Why does he look so serious about it?" you whispered to Felix. "It’s not like you actually have to do anything, right?"

Felix shrugged, a faint smile on his face as he watched them walk to the closet. "That’s the rule, though," he explained, leaning in close. "If you’re chosen, you have to at least kiss."

Your stomach twisted at that comment. The thought of Felix, your best friend, being paired with someone else, made you nervous. Maybe it was the alcohol not sitting right with you, even though you hadn’t finished your first drink yet.

The 7 minutes went by quickly. Felix couldn’t help but steal a few glances at you. Your eyes were fixated on the floor, and your fingers twirled your hair absentmindedly.

"Alright, that’s enough time! Out, out, out!" Changbin shouted, pounding on the closet that locked from the outside. Chan was laughing as he unlocked the door, letting the two out.

The girl looked flustered, her lips swollen and her cheeks pink, while Changbin looked smug. You watched them rejoin the circle and settle back in.

The game continued, and eventually, it was Felix’s turn to spin. You swallowed thickly, praying that the bottle wouldn’t land on anyone.

"H-Hey Felix, maybe we should—"

He spun the bottle before you could finish your sentence. The sound of the glass against the floor made your nerves go haywire. You held your breath as the bottle began to slow, watching as it spun round and round. A woman you didn’t know from across the circle was giggling and whispering while looking at Felix, and it made your blood boil.

The bottle stopped, and your eyes widened as it pointed directly at you. Your heart seemed to skip a beat, a momentary pause in the rhythm of anticipation. You looked at Felix, who was trying to hide his smile, his freckled cheeks rosy.

You couldn’t tell if it was the alcohol, the nerves, or the sudden burst of emotions that made you feel dizzy. You could hear the circle “ooh” ing and starting to whisper. Minho had a shit-eating grin on his face, and Changbin was giving Felix a thumbs up.

Felix stood up and held his hand out to you. "Come on, let’s go," he said, his voice surprisingly calm, a smile plastered on his face. You were too stunned to say anything, and the butterflies and alcohol in your stomach were making you nauseous.

You hesitantly took his hand and followed him to the closet.

The closet was tiny, only big enough for the two of you to stand facing each other. Once the door was closed and locked, the tension in the air felt palpable. The dim light barely illuminated Felix’s face. Your heart pounded in your ears, and the muffled sounds of the party outside only added to the surreal atmosphere.

Felix took a deep breath, his hand still holding yours. "Are you okay?" he asked softly, his concern evident in his eyes.

"Yeah, just... nervous," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "This is kind of awkward."

He chuckled softly, his thumb gently rubbing the back of your hand. "It doesn’t have to be."

"But Felix, you’re my best friend," you protested, your voice trembling slightly. "What... what if this changes things?"

He shook his head, leaning closer to you. You could smell his shampoo, the familiar scent comforting you. "I would never let anything change that," he whispered, his eyes searching yours with earnest sincerity. "I promise."

You bit your lip, nodding slightly. He cupped your cheek with his free hand, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. The gentle touch made your breath hitch.

"Okay, well... don’t make fun of me if I’m a shit kisser, then," you said, trying to break the tension with a joke.

Felix let out a small laugh, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Only if you don’t make fun of me," he replied, a tiny smile on his face.

You looked up into his eyes, the intensity of his gaze sending a shiver down your spine. Despite being best friends, or perhaps because of the three sips of alcohol, you wanted this. Felix leaned forward, his lips brushing against yours softly, barely a kiss, testing the waters. The contact sent a jolt through your body, and you felt your breath hitch. You closed your eyes, leaning into the kiss, your heart pounding in your chest.

You’d always imagined how his lips would feel on yours—they always looked so plump and soft. And now that they were on your lips, they definitely exceeded your expectations. His warm, slightly alcoholic-tasting lips were soft against yours.

Felix’s lips lingered against yours, the kiss soft and tentative. The initial brush of his lips sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt a rush of warmth spreading through you. His kiss was gentle but full of a quiet longing that made your knees weak.

He pulled away slightly, giving both of you a moment to breathe. Your eyes scanned his face, noting his flushed cheeks and slightly parted lips. The desire in his gaze made your heart race. You wanted more.

Without a second thought, you pulled him back in, grabbing the sides of his face and pressing your lips to his once more. Felix hesitated for a second, his eyes widening in surprise, before he began to kiss you back. His arms snaked around your waist, pulling you closer. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your hands tangling in his hair as the kiss intensified with a new sense of desire.

The initial softness of the kiss transformed into something deeper, more passionate. You could feel his tongue gently probing at your lips, and you hesitated only for a moment before parting them to allow him access. His tongue slipped into your mouth, exploring every inch with a skill and tenderness that took your breath away.

The kiss was slow and sensual, filled with a growing urgency. Your stomach fluttered as his hands explored your waist, his body heat pressing against you. Goosebumps spread across your skin, and you could feel a knot forming in your stomach.

A soft whine escaped your lips, and Felix responded by pressing his body more firmly against yours. His chest pressed against your soft breasts, his knee parting your legs as he pressed closer. His leg pressing against your core only heightened your arousal.

You didn’t realize you were panting until you pulled away to take a deep breath. Felix’s lips immediately trailed down to your neck, his soft kisses sending your heart racing. His warm breath brushed your skin, his teeth lightly grazing your neck before his tongue soothed the area. It drove you wild.

His kisses traveled down to your collarbone, and you felt weak in the knees, literally. Your legs trembled, perhaps from the lack of oxygen or the overwhelming excitement. Felix picked you up and pressed you against the wall of the closet, his strong hands lifting you by your thighs. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist.

"Lix," you moaned out, barely above a whisper. His lips lightly brushed over your neck, peppering you with tender, gentle kisses.

"Hmm?" he hummed against your skin, his breath hot and reassuring. His grip on you tightened as he sucked another mark on your skin.

You could barely get the words out, the feeling of his lips and teeth and tongue all over your neck was driving you wild. You could feel your cheeks burning and the wetness pooling in your underwear, and you could tell he was getting hard from the bulge pressing against your core.

You heard a light knocking on the door.

"Do... do you think... the seven minutes are up?" you managed to get out, the words barely coherent. Felix stopped what he was doing, and it looked like he snapped back into it a little, you could feel his shoulders tense.

"Oh shit, we have been in here for a while." Felix's voice was shaky, and he sounded breathless.

He put you down, and you stumbled a little, still light-headed from the kisses. He helped you get steady, his arm supporting you. You could see the flush on his face and his tousled hair, and he could see the marks and red spots littered on your neck, his eyes were glossed over, and his breathing was heavy.

You tried to straighten your clothes, and he cleared his throat, fixing his hair.

The sound of the door unlocking startled you both.

You were still flustered and breathing heavily as the door opened. Chan was standing there, a smirk on his face. "Alright, come on out."

"You better not have fucked in there," Changbin said, appearing next to Chan, his arms crossed. "We have to sit on that floor."

You walked out of the closet, a dazed expression on your face, Felix close behind. You felt as if everyone in the room could see the marks all over your neck and the fact that your legs were still shaky.

The other members were gathered around the two, and their stares were almost enough to make you blush more. Minho's smug expression and the look of amusement on Jisung's face told you that they were aware of what just transpired.

"I need some fresh air," you said, trying to sound normal.

You didn't wait for Felix to respond and made your way through the crowded living room, towards the patio doors. The chilly night air felt refreshing against your heated skin, and you inhaled deeply, closing your eyes for a moment. You could hear the laughter and music coming from inside, the sounds far less intrusive out here.

You laid your head in your hands as you tried to take deep breaths, clearing your mind. You'd been best friends with Felix for years, and you pulled him in for another unrequired kiss.

You felt stupid for doing it, but it felt so good, the way he picked you up and devoured your neck and lips as if he was starving.

You could still taste him, and the memory alone made you weak.

But... what if it was just a mistake?

The alcohol made you reckless, and you didn't want to lose him, your best friend, just because you couldn't control yourself.

The thought of never feeling his lips against yours again made you feel a dull ache.

You shook your head, trying to clear your thoughts. You should go back inside and forget about it for the night, besides, he said he'd promise this wouldn't ruin anything.

When you got back inside, you could see the girl you noticed earlier, giggling and batting her eyelashes at Felix.

She was pretty, sure, but it irked you.

But you'd seen her before, and you knew she wasn't as perfect as she seemed. She was a player, always going for men that were already in relationships, or men that were too young for her.

"Oh, it's my turn!" She exclaimed, looking over at Felix. Her voice was shrill, and it grated on your ears.

You observed her spinning the bottle, and just as it was about to halt, you caught her slyly halting its rotation with a discreet movement of her foot towards Felix. A surge of anger erupted within you, fueling an immediate response as you strode forward and forcefully kicked the bottle across the room.

It went flying across the room and shattered against the wall.

There was a moment of stunned silence as everyone stared at you.

"Jealous much? You already had your moment with Felix." The girl taunted, her voice grating.

"Fuck you. You used your foot to stop the bottle on him." You retorted, glaring at her.

Felix's eyes widened, and he gave you a confused look. "Wait, what?"

"Yeah, right! She's just a lying bitch." She rolled her eyes, clearly annoyed.

You clenched your fists, trying to keep your cool. "Don't call me a bitch," you said, stepping towards her.

"Oh, so we're going to fight? Okay, fine. I've been wanting to mess up that pretty little face of yours."

Right before she could attempt to swing at you, but Felix stopped her hand, catching her wrist.

"Stop," he said, his tone stern.

"Felix is single, so he can kiss whoever he wants."

"Yeah, well, he's not single." You blurted out before you could stop yourself.

Everyone from the circle was shocked and confused, and you could hear the whispers and questions.

"What?" the girl asked, her eyes wide.

Felix's expression was similar.

The words spilled from your lips, leaving you stunned and at a loss for an explanation, grappling with the sudden revelation that had escaped your own lips. You could feel the eyes on you, the curious stares and the whispers. Your heart was pounding in your ears, and you felt like your head was about to explode.

"He's not single." You repeated, your voice firm. "He's... he's my boyfriend."

Felix had an unreadable expression, but it looked like he was trying not to laugh. You didn't know why, and you couldn't think straight at the moment.

"Wait, you guys are finally dating?" Changbin interjected, his brows furrowed.

You nodded, not taking your eyes off the girl. "Yeah. We're together."

You grabbed Felix's hand before anyone else could call you out on your bluff, leading him to a random room and closing the door behind you.

"So... I'm your boyfriend, huh?" Felix said, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"Shut up..." You murmured, embarrassed. He could tell by the look on your face that you were struggling internally.

"Hey," he said softly, putting his hands on your shoulders. "I'm just teasing you."

You sighed, trying to calm your racing heart. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that, I shouldn't have picked a fight for something as little as that, she can kiss you if she wants, it's not like we're together."

"It's okay, really," he reassured you in a soft tone. "She can't kiss me."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm already taken." He said with a smile, his eyes searching yours.

"I'm the only one who gets to kiss those soft lips," you whispered out.

He looked surprised, and then he chuckled softly. "Is that so?"

You nodded, feeling a blush creep up your neck.

"Well, then..." He leaned down and brushed his lips against yours, feather-light and barely a kiss.

Your heart skipped a beat.

"Claim them," he whispered, his words sending a shiver down your spine.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him passionately. He responded eagerly, his hands gripping your waist and pulling you close. The kiss was intense and desperate, full of pent-up desire. His tongue explored your mouth, tasting every inch, making you moan softly into the kiss.

Your hands found their way into his hair, tangling in the soft strands and tugging slightly. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, and the way he was gripping your waist was almost bruising.

When you broke apart, you were both panting. His gaze was intense, his pupils blown wide.

"Lix," you started, your voice shaky.

"What?"

"I... I'm sorry."

His brows furrowed, a confused look on his face. "For what?"

"This is so confusing, now" you started, your a tear swelling in your eye. "You're my best friend and... what are we doing? Why do I feel like this? Is this supposed to be casual?"

"You mean like how you were jealous of that girl? And how you're currently making out with me right now?" Felix said, his voice laced with sarcasm.

"What's that supposed to mean?" You shot back, the words hitting you.

"It means that I love you," he confessed, the words coming out of his mouth quickly. "I'm in love with you, have been for a while, and I thought you were too."

You could hear your heartbeat, and it felt like the room was spinning.

"What?"

He smiled sadly, his eyes filled with emotion.

"But... I..." You didn't know what to say. Your feelings for him were clear, and yet you'd never let it click, you refused to.

Your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest, and tears were spilling down your cheeks.

"It's okay," he said, his voice gentle. "I don't expect you to feel the same way. I just wanted you to know."

"No, it's not okay," you cried, wiping away your tears. "I'm in love with you too."

His eyes widened, and his lips parted in surprise.

"I just didn't realize it until now. I was scared of admitting it to myself, but... I love you, Lix. I love you so much."

Felix's smile was like the sun, bright and warm, and it made your heart soar.

"I'm in love with you too," he said softly.

You couldn't help but laugh, tears still rolling down your cheeks. "I know"

He cupped your cheek and wiped away your tears, his gaze intense. "I'm going to kiss you again," he whispered.

"Okay," you smiled.

And he did.

His lips were soft and warm, and his kiss was filled with a tenderness that took your breath away. You could taste the salt of your tears on his lips, and you could feel the warmth of his skin against yours.

He pulled away after a few moments, and you couldn't help but sigh.

"Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?" he murmured, his eyes searching yours.

"Me? You're the beautiful one."

"No, you're the beautiful one," he said, shaking his head. "I've never seen anyone as beautiful as you."

You blushed, unable to hold his gaze.

"Hey," he said, lifting your chin with his finger. "I mean it. You're the most beautiful person I've ever met."

"Lix, you're the beautiful one," you said, smiling at him. "You're the most beautiful person I've ever met. Your eyes, your smile, the way you laugh, the way you light up a room when you walk in. And your stupid freckles."

He laughed, shaking his head. "My freckles aren't stupid," he said, trying to sound offended.

"They're cute, and they make you even more beautiful," you said, scoffing. "Don't try to deny it."

He gave you a warm smile. "If you say so."

"I do," you said, feeling bold. You leaned in and pressed a kiss to his lips, enjoying the way he tasted.

He chuckled softly and pulled away, his eyes shining.

"So, was this casual? Or are you finally going to let me date you?"

"We've been dating since I confessed," you said, raising a brow.

"Then can we go on a real date? Where we dress up, go out to dinner, and then make out afterwards?"

"That's basically what we just did."

"But we only made out," he whined.

"Okay, okay, fine. We can go on a proper date."

He smiled and gave you another quick kiss.

"I'm going to spoil the fuck out of you," he said.

"Just spoil me? Or spoil me, and then fuck me?" You teased, trailing fingers down his chest.

"Is that an invitation?"

"Maybe it is," you smiled, your hands running back up his chest.

He groaned and buried his face in your neck, his hands rubbing at your waist. "Can we please leave now?"

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

pt 2 here <3

[robynlilyblack]

Do you think I'm a monster?

Remus Lupin x fem! hufflepuff! werewolf! reader

Summary: After an eventful summer, Remus’ finds his girlfriend being distant, but it isn’t until the the next full moon he realises why

Warnings: swearing, mentions of eating, scars, greyback, violence, sex and nudity (non-sexual), kissing, established relationship, hurt/comfort

A/n: 4.1k words, I am back and taking requests, i haven’t written anything for over a year so things might be a little rusty, please bare with me as i get back into the groove of writing but I’m so happy to be back writing again, thank you so much for the request, enjoy ♡

Navigation | Remus Lupin Masterlist

Remus’ leg bobbed impatiently, eyes darting to the entrance everytime someone entered hoping it was you yet he was only met with disappointment. His mood did lighten as he saw his friends enter, chuckling as he watched James walk into the table as he tried to woo Lily.

“You alright?” he asks trying not to smile to hard as James groans 

“Eh it’s nothing” he cringes sitting opposite, Peter by his side, while Sirius plops himself down next to Remus “Did she laugh at least?” he ignores his pain and embarrassment, only thinking of the girl sitting little ways down from them now, giggling with Marlene and Alice

“Yeah Prongs, she laughed” he tells a little white lie, though he’s sure Lily probably did think it slightly adorable

“Where's your lovely lady?” Sirius asks, scanning the Hufflepuff table for you

Remus sighs “She hasn’t appeared yet” he knew you were probably catching up with your friends, they had both been away with their families travelling so you hadn’t seen them either…he’d never admit it but he was a tad jealous he wasn’t going to get to hug you first

“Oi” he’s pulled from his gloom by Sirius nudging him, pointing towards the door “Speak of the angel and there she shall appear” he grins, his point turning it’s a little wave at you and your friends

Remus lights up, heart warming at your shy smile and slight embarrassment when both Peter and James join in waving to you…in fact they couldn’t see but Marlene, Lily and Alice had all begun to wave as well. You grant them a small wave back as you head to find a seat, Amos joining you as he smiles at them, while Alex shoots a wink and a small salute, the former towards one particular marauder. 

“Happy now?” James grins at his friend

Remus nods bringing his gaze back to you as Dumbledore starts his speech, he barely listens, doubting it’s any more interesting this year than it has been the last six. Instead he admires you, he’d missed you so much, more than he realised in fact, the boy couldn’t take his eyes off you. His gaze drifted across your features, while he noted your face did look a little hollow, his mind had other ideas, asking you if you had been eating properly could come later, but for now his eyes fixated on your lips as he daydreamed about kissing you, touching you, f…

“Ha…best behaviour for the youngins…” Sirius brings him back to reality, chuckling to himself “...that’ll be right?” turning his gaze to him, before he starts to grin “Moony missin’ her too eh?” he wiggles his eyebrows noting Remus’ blown pupils and guilty look

If he wasn’t already bright in the face Remus was scarlet now “Shut up” he grumbles trying to compose himself, face riddled with embarrassment but it softens as he realises your looking over 

Hi, he mouths 

Hi, you mouth back with a small smile before turning your attention to the front once more but somethings off, he can feel it

You felt awful, every bone in your body ached, and it didn’t help that your skirt's waistband was rubbing against last month's scar. You were grateful none were too visible, the biggest were along your waist and hips from the initial attack, though there was one other on your arm, it could easily be written off as a fall or cat scratch, the former being the one used likely use as it lined up with a real fall you had written to Remus about over summer.

Remus

You sighed as you glanced over at him, finding his attention had finally moved back to his friends, most likely plotting their first prank of the year. It was easy to pretend in your letters, thankfully he hadn’t come looking for you on the train but you knew you would have to talk to him eventually. Would he know? Would he be able to sense you were now like him? Would he see you as he saw himself? Would he think you a monster?

Am I a monster now?

“Hey…” you’re broken out of your gaze, a soft hand finding your shoulder, followed by your friend's kind smile “...are you alright?” Alex asks, knowing something is wrong, just not what

“You can tell us anything” Amos adds, smiling on your other side “You’ve been quiet” and he was right, you’d barely said two words to them since kings cross that morning

How do I tell them? you think eyes welling 

“”Hey hey” Amos turns you around as you try to look away, making you face him “You don’t have to tell us…” he assures and you almost want to cry more, you had such wonderful friends “...but let us help you” 

“Anything you need, sunshine” Alex’s smile grows into a smirk “We do hugs, skipping out on welcome feasts early, hexes…” that one makes you giggle causing the two boys faces to light up

“Think we could start with a group hug?” you look up at them, the welling tears dissipating as they waste no time wrapping you up in a warm embrace

“Love, wait up!”

You close your eyes, scrunching your face a little as you stop, trying to put on your best act as you turn back around to greet your boyfriend as he lightly jogs towards you

“Oh hi” you smile at him, playing dumb and pretending like you weren’t just trying to avoid him…again

Remus stops in front of you “I’ve been trying to catch you all day!” he laughs a little bit while you feel guilt swell in your stomach “Merlin I’ve missed you so much” he confesses right away 

Dammit, you think, finding yourself folding as you stare up at those big brown eyes of his, it didn’t help that your new little wolfy self was acting up either

You’d noticed the heightened senses, your hearing was impeccable now, and you finally understood why Remus was so prone to irritation, you almost smacked poor Amos in potions earlier for stirring the cauldron a little too loudly. Turns out smell was no different either, Remus smelled absolutely divine, and your wolf earned for him.

“Bun?” he gently prods and your heart breaks…you weren’t his bunny anymore

The realisation causes you to crumble, almost knocking him over as you wrap your arms around his torso, burying your face in his chest

He chuckles at that, oblivious to the turmoil inside “I’ll take that as you missed me too” he returns the hug, nose finding your hair

Merlin you smelled great, more so than normal, your pheromones always drove him nuts around the full moon but it was on overdrive now, so much so he finds himself gently shifting, unable to resist waiting to kiss you in a more private location as he brings one hand up to cup the back of your head, while he uses the other to guide your gaze back towards him, but as he moves in he notices the slight glisten in your eyes 

“Is something wrong?” he asks, large hands finding your cheeks 

You freeze, you never wanted to lie to Remus, you never thought yourself capable, and perhaps you aren’t not truely “I…I wish I could’ve spent the summer with you” it’s not a lie…because if you had, things would be just as they were and nothing would have to change 

His face softens to a downturned smile, his eyes looking at you with such love “You’re too sweet to me” he brings you back into a warm embrace “I promise we will next year” he tells you, and you squeeze him tighter

You might not want me next year

The next few days went slowly for both of you, you knew Remus had figured out you were avoiding him on purpose. Never before had you been so distant, especially before a full moon. It hurt so much, every time you crossed paths you wanted nothing more than to run to him, hold him, kiss him anywhere he was hurting but you couldn’t. You knew how the full moons affected your boyfriend, in fact you could feel it yourself, that desire to be close to the one you love, if you did go to his dorm as you normally did he would see the scars, he would see the bite mark, he would know you weren’t his sweet little bunny anymore.

You fell back on your bed, eyes glancing over to the clock, you would need to leave soon if you were to get deep enough into the woods. Your eyes started to water, you didn’t want to go, this was only your second moon and it was already unbearable 

You had never felt so alone…

Remus was worried, you never came by to see him, it was so unlike you. These past few days had been so strange to him, he knew something must have happened, he also knew you hadn’t spoken to your friends about it as they seemed just as confused as he did, but whatever it was he couldn’t fix right now

“That's us set up” Sirius pokes his head in averting his eyes from Remus’ unclothed figure “I’m sure she has a good reason moons” 

Remus only nods, waiting until Sirius closes the door before reassuring himself  “She does…” he brings his legs up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them “...she loves us…” he gently rocks back and forth whispering “...she loves us”

Meanwhile Sirius makes it out of the willow, meeting James and Peter as they hide their bags for later “How is he?” Peter asks, looking forlorn as he notices his friend

“He’s putting on a brave face but…” Sirius shakes his head handing his and Remus’ bags to James “...he needs her” he puts simply

“I don’t understand why she didn’t come” James says, feeling genuinely confused as he reaches up to tuck away the last of the bags “Even when they’ve been in a fight she’s always shown up”

“Something must have happened” Peter looks to James “Maybe tomorrow we could go talk to her friends, surely they know” he suggests

James nods, hands finding his hips “Yeah…yeah that sounds good” he agrees, nodding a little more than was necessary in his worry “Sirius that a plan?” he and Peter look towards their friend only to find him looking somewhere between confused and concerned “Sirius?”

After a few more calls and one branch thrown at him Sirius finally responds “I…ugh…look” he can’t even form a sentence, doing a double take at his friends as he points towards the lining of the trees

James and Peter's eyes scan the area, widening with horror as they see you running towards the tree line. The trio look amongst themselves, their eyes doing the talking as they shift, they didn’t have much time to question why you were out here on tonight of all nights but they follow you into a small clearing, watching as you hang your bag on one of the branches, opening it up as you begin to take off your clothes.

Sirius makes a quiet grunt for only the boys to hear as they grasp you are fully stripping down causing them to all look at him instead of you as they give each other confused looks. However you never make it that far, it’s a scream that causes their heads to shoot back in your direction and they watch an all too familiar scene

You did have a good reason for not showing up tonight…and it shattered their hearts

They didn’t have much time to dwell. Sirius jumps into action first, attempting to distract you from clawing at yourself, while James slowly approaches behind with Peter sitting up on his back acting as a lookout for Remus as if you turned he surely couldn’t be far behind. 

You seem a little startled at first before stalking towards Sirius, you seem to note he isn’t scared of you, the boys watch as you calm, your body no longer tense, nor sensing you are in danger and so you let them guide you warily through the woods. In all honesty the boys had no idea what they were doing, they figured if you could sense that Sirius wasn’t a threat then maybe you and Remus would recognise each other as such as well…hopefully

As they came towards the clearing they could hear Remus as he whined in pain but the boys had no time to react as you already bolted off. Startled, they try to catch up, but as they move past the tree line they realise you’ve already made your way to him, growling. 

Shit

They’re eyes flick between one another, worried they had made the wrong choice until they watch Remus relax, the two of you sniffing around each other before you begin to lick his wounds and it dawns on them that you weren’t challenging him, you were berating him for hurting himself.

The rest of the moon went by smoothly, the best the boys had ever seen and it was all thanks to you. By the end Sirius and Peter had managed to herd you and Remus back into the willow while James headed back to get your bag

“I can’t believe it” Peter says in astonishment, sliding down the roots to sit at the entrance beside James “No wonder she’s been acting off”

James hums in agreement, fiddling with the strap of your bag “She doesn’t deserve this…neither of them do” he states, sadness washing over him “Man…this gonna break him when he wakes up, he loves her so much”

“He does…” the boys jump a little as Sirius reappears from the willow “I didn’t want to go in fully for y/n’s sake...but I’ve thrown the blanket in that general direction and well…it’s not like they haven’t seen it all before” he makes a face, chuckling softly with the other two as lowers himself to the ground to join them as they decide to try and get a little bit of sleep

At first you didn’t know where you were, eyes opening slowly to survey your surroundings, you had expected to wake up in a ditch somewhere but not…wait. Your eyes widen, jolting up with a slight hiss as you look around, you were in the shack but if you were in the shack then that meant…

“Hey…” you jump a little at his voice, slowly turning to find Remus sitting just behind you, posted up against the wall, one leg half bent with his arm wrapped around it “...how are you feeling? Any pain?” he asks, strain evident in his voice, he looks broken and it kills you

You can only shake your head, slowly bringing the blanket up to cover yourself, shivering a little from the cold draft “Rem…” you say so quietly you’re not even sure you’ve said anything at all

“You’re cold” he states, wincing a little as he moves over to you, body still aching from from his own transformation “I’m okay, don’t worry” he assures, knowing exactly what you were thinking “Here” he pulls off his jumper “Hands up sweetheart” 

You do as you're told, allowing him to slip the jumper over your head. He was being so gentle with you, like you might shatter at a single touch, it shouldn’t have surprised you but it did, he must have seen the scars, he must see you differently now…he must…

“Do you think I’m a monster?” you whisper and his movements stop, eyes meeting yours in shock

He blinks at you a couple times before letting out a confused “What?”

Your eyes mist “Do you think I’m a monster?” you repeat, gaze never leaving his

“No” he shake his head firmly, hands finding yours “Never” he says almost harshly, stunned you would ever think such a thing 

“Really?” you eyebrows lift, hope and relief in your voice 

His eyes soften, confusion washing away as he finally sees it, and a bitter sense of deja vu falls over him. Almost a year ago to the day he sat in your position, looking up at you, asking if you fought him, a monster. He even remembers trying to convince you he was but you wouldn’t hear it, you refused to believe he was no matter what he said. In the end he stil didn’t believed it, but seeing you now, looking at you from the other position he realised just how stupid he had been, how much his own self hatred had made you scared to come to him, made you hate yourself the way he had all this time

“Really” he promises “Is…” he hesitates, because he’s almost certain he knows the answer “Is this why you've been avoiding me?” he asks, one hand slipping out of your own to softly cup your cheek

You lean into it, eyes fluttering as your own comes up to cup it “Yes” you confirm and he nods, looking in though “I’m so sorry…I…” he cuts you off 

“Don’t you dare” he warns “You aren’t turning into me, I won’t allow it” both hands are cupping your face now “You haven’t changed, not to me, okay? You are still my girl, still my bu-” but you cut him off this time

“But I’m not I-” you try to argue but Remus isn’t having it

“Stop” he gently shakes your face to regain your attention “You know why I started to call you bunny?” you shake your head “Because whenever you get excited you would do this little bounce, you do it when you’re excited to see me, geeking out about a new book and not to mention when we…” he blushes, stopping himself

You feel heat rush to your cheeks “Remmyy!” you gently shove him as you bounce a little in faux annoyance, causing you both to let out little laughs 

“There she is” he smiles at you, laughing more as you become self aware of your bounces, getting all shy before him “Nothing you could ever do would make me think you a monster. I’m so sorry bun, I never want you to talk about yourself the way I have, understood?”

You hum in agreement, nodding “...but that means you can’t be cruel to yourself either” you challenge him, holding your pinky up at him as a small smile gracing your face as you do

Remus clicks his tongue, of course you would use this as a way to help him love himself as well “Fine” he promises, taking your pinky “…now come ‘ere” he moves back to sit against the wall once more, patting his lap as he hithers for you to join him while you chew on your lip a little, shyly accepting the offer and moving to straddle his legs 

“There we go” he presses a lingering kiss to your hair, hands wrapping around you while your head falls into his chest “Better?”

“Much” you hum, savouring the moment before you lift your head “I suppose you must have some questions?” you wonder, hands finding his chest, fiddling with buttons of his shirt

“I do” he confesses, it was only natural “My attack is hazy for me now because I was so young…” he softly caresses your cheek “...but it’s fresh for you and I…I don’t want to pry, I can wait until you’re ready” he assures you

You take his hand, pressing a soft kiss to his palm “You remember I told you about my dads case? He was representing the family that was attacked much like you were?” you begin and Remus nods, hands moving to your hips, thumbs gently brushing beneath the hem of his jumper   

“Yeah, in your letters you said they got them all and your dad was taking you up north to celebrate?” he recalls but then his lips part “They didn’t get them all did they?”

You shake your head “Turns out their was a much bigger player, someone else behind the scenes who was pulling all the strings” you explain, eyes falling down to his chest, this is going to kill him

“Love…” he tries to guide you back to him “...who…” but as your eyes meet his and they tell all 

“Rem” you voice trembles a little

“Say it” he begs you

“Greyback” you whisper watching as Remus’ heartbreak sinks into rage, his grip on your hips tightening “Remmy…Rem…”

He doesn’t hear you say his name, everything around him fades as his anger grows. He never wanted to hear that name again, he never wanted to see that monster again but now? All he could think about was ripping him apart, taking away his freedom like he had done to so many, making him feel as weak and powerless as Remus had felt his whole life…how you would now feel your whole life

I’ll kill him

“Rem” you gently cup his face pulling back to you “Stay with me” you kiss him softly

His hands come up to meet yours “But he hurt you, cursed us to be in pain for the rest of our lives…and the worst part is he’ll be revelling in it all…that bastard…he…” his anger sinks into sadness at your comforting touch “he…” he pleads with you 

“He did and we don’t ever have to forgive him but we can't let him take away anything else from us either. He won’t ruin our lives”  you watch remus’ eyes soften and you smile at him trying to lighten the mood “Besides…there's always silver linings”

“And what would those be?” he tilts his head, struggling to see it

“Well…” you move your hands downward and kiss his cheeks “...if your senses are anything like mine I smell great” you giggle and he starts to smile, a loving gaze as he looks up at you “And perhaps more importantly…” you peck his nose making it scrunch in the most perfect way “...you’ll never worry about me during a full moon…” you nudge your nose against his “...and that fantasy you have of us living in your parents old cottage can be real, because…” you lean in close, lips grazing as your foreheads kiss “...you’ll never be alone again”

Remus’ heart feels like it might burst, you were right, there were silver linings. He had no idea what his life was going to be like after Hogwarts, he knew he couldn’t rely on his friends forever, nor could he have asked you to bear that responsibility alone, instead you and he would face it together, care for each other together…heal together

“Promise” he holds up his pinky 

You smile against his lips, wrapping you own pinky around it “Promise” and with that he closes the gap

Thank you for reading ♡ (I promise my writing will get smoother again with time)

[lovegasmic]

DADDY’S BEST FRIEND

mdni. ( gojo satoru + fem!reader ) age gap, cunilingus.

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔. thinks he’s sly. luckily for him, you’re a bit oblivious of his antics.

aw, your dad isn’t home right now? that’s a pity, but perhaps Satoru could wait for him inside, yeah?

he thinks you’re an angel, so kindly offering the white haired man a drink, unaware of his eyes glued on your ass and the swing of your hips. there’s a confident smirk on his face, you were to become his at last, too tired of continuously daydreaming about his friend’s daughter while grasping his hard cock.

“why don’t we play a game” he says, grinning harder when you turn around slightly startled, watching him rest his hip against the kitchen counter, head tilting to a side to observe your flustered expression.

“a game?” you voice your confusion.

“mhm” Satoru bites back a smile, pretending to think while tapping his chin, “i am thinking about something sweet, guess what it is” he whispers, cornering you against the counter.

you can’t help and gasp, nervous and slightly aroused by the strong smell of cologne emanating from the man, it was wrong from wherever you looked at it, a man twice your age, your father’s friend, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to push him away, entrance by his deep blue eyes and calloused thumb sliding across your bottom lip.

“a fruit?” you mutter, quietly and allowing your lips to remain slightly parted, giving Satoru a better space to collect a drop of saliva and smearing it across the tender flesh of your lip. he tuts, not responding but enough to make it seem as if your response was incorrect. “then... a dessert?”

“no it’s not” he grins, a bit more cheerfully than necessary, letting his free hand rest on your hip, like a breeze. “is this alright?” the question is quickly answered by a nod. “then, would you like me to give you another hint?” he speaks again, watching how both his hands hold your waist, lowering your hips and squeezing.

“alright...”

his eyes land on you again, watching into your eyes for any sign of discomfort or wish for him to stop, although all he finds is the darkened tone of your irises, flustered and chest heaving with each hard breathing. you’ve always been his, there’s no point in denying the desire looks you’ve given him as he met your family for dinner, squeezing your thighs shut under the table to avoid any wetness from seeping out of your horny pussy just from the sight of the man in a suit.

“it’s something so sweet and plump...” he starts, playing with the fabric of your skirt around your thighs, “i love feeling it around my tongue, wrap my lips around it until it drools all over my face” he then kneels, making the air catch in your lungs, your only reaction being spreading out your thighs a bit more, moaning softly when he hunches your skirt up and around your hips, the tip of his nose running across the wet patch in your panties, “i think you have the answer now, don’t you, baby?”

“y-yeah”

“say it” Satoru growls, sliding a single finger under the crotch of your panties, his eyes fixated on the wetness of your pussy that comes into sight, almost salivating.

“my... p-pussy” you stutter, knees bucking and half yelping when Satoru’s tongue plunges into your seeping cunt, devouring you like a fucking starved man, lapping and sucking on the tender skin of your folds and clit.

“good girl” he growls around your clitoris, the sounds of his enjoyment resonating through the kitchen and vibrating in your pussy, forcing you to hold onto the white hairs peaking from under your skirt. your vision going blurry, holding onto the man whose thumbs keep your lower lips open for his eager tongue to reach as deep as possible, “you taste so fucking good, just like I imagined”

“S’toru” you mewl, grinding down on his eager mouth, stealing him moans of satisfaction, eyes almost crossed with the delicious taste of your pussy, unable to hold himself back in the intense assault on your hole, slurping so hard your knees buck.

he doesn’t mention the fact that your pussy flutters wildly around his wet tongue, a sign that you’re dangerously close to orgasming, yet his movements only speed up, almost forcing you to scream and gush cum all over his pretty face.

he’s still on the floor, licking your pussy clean with soft grunts before licking his lips, “you’re much better than I imagined”

[kaysungshine]

𝓛𝓸𝓯𝓲 𝓛𝓾𝓼𝓽 ♡

{ Pairing } - Producer.bf!Jisung x afab.gf!reader

{ Genre } - NSFW; s/f/d(dark)*, PWP, established relationship

{ Synopsis } - Your boyfriend doesn't know any other method of stress relief, other than creating music. He can get so consumed by it, it can become the stressor. So you decide to present him with a new method. That's how you found yourself walking down the street in nothing but lingerie and a long coat.

{ WC } - 2.9k

{ Warnings & Tags } - 18+ MDNI, *forced orgasm/slight dubcon if you squint, everything is consensual but there is begging for more when reader might be at her limit so that's why I'm including dubcon (for those who may find it triggering)*, use of pet names (baby, angel, mine, my love, good girl & Ji), very lowkey needy/soft dom & romantic sub dynamic, worshipping reader, oral (f. recieving), squirting, overstimulation, unprotected piv (do as I say & not as I write, pee after sex too!), creampie, cum feeding & eating, fingers in mouth, pussy worship, I may just have gotten carried away with oral fixations okay? FORGIVE ME.

{ Disclaimer } - This work is in no way associated or depicting the actual life of the members of SKZ. It is a fictional piece of work, and I do not own Stray Kids. All works of fiction are loosely inspired by SKZ, and in no way am I saying it is true to their character.

{ A/N } - I originally was going to post a Hyunjin oneshot next, but I wanted to finish this one in time for Jiji's birthday! It's 2 am on the 14th where I am heheh. Hopefully you all like it. Han producing music will always be hot asf for me personally lmao. Barely proofread.

The air was cool, seeping underneath your long wool coat. In any other circumstance, on a late fall night, the coat would be enough to keep the chill out. Today however, it wouldn't. But you still kept walking, determined to make it to Jisungs studio. 

You focused on the clicking of the heels on the boots you wore. And the sound of the wind picking up, signalling a blustery night ahead. The small sounds calm your nerves. 

You were anxious about Jisung's reaction, he was in one of his moods again. You understand, you truly do. Juggling everything he has to on his plate, it was no easy feat. There were times he'd just let that dark veil take over, and shut everyone out without even meaning to. 

You knew he was in that state again when you hadn't seen or heard from him in three days. It wasn't for lack of effort on your end either. Every phone call sent to voicemail, every text sent by you was met with the same response;

'At the studio, I'll text you after, angel'.

You knew it was time for intervention when Chan texted you that he was only coming home, at 2 in the morning no less, to shower and change. No eating, no resting, just back to the studio afterwards.

This had happened twice before in the almost year you've been dating. Each time you remember talking with him afterwards, he always said the same thing;

'making music is my stress relief.'

That may be true, but it doesn't change the fact that he is also a workaholic. One who easily gets lost in the creative space he has built a career off of. And once that diligence sets in, it's hard to shake off. 

So here you are, ready to try a new approach. Ready to offer a new kind of relief. An alternative. 

You and Jisungs sex life was far from boring. Far from infrequent, you'd say too. But it surely was more... monotonous. You'd never complain about it, and neither would he. There was nothing wrong with it. It just happened at the 'perfect' times in your relationship. 

Before bed, after date nights, on monthly anniversaries, to express massive amounts of love, etc. 

It was never to celebrate happiness, calm anger, or comfort sadness. Never to relieve stress. 

You were determined to change that. There was no reason you could not help him in any way you could. And in this aspect, you knew you could. 

Still, you were nervous. This would be new, he never did well with new. 

Your footsteps stopped, leaving only the sound of the wind in your ears. Until you pressed your badge against the card reader, listening to the beeps, to the gears unlock. 

Once inside the lobby, the clinking of your heels against the vinyl tile filled your ears. Each step matches the thumping in your heart, you find yourself speed walking.

 You smiled and gave a little wave to the staff in the lobby, and they returned it. 

In the elevator, the sound of its melodic music filled your ears next. The whirring background noise the machinery made, stopped, as you reached your desired floor. 

There was silence when you stepped off. The flooring is carpeted now, and soundproof rooms lined the hallway leaving the night quiet. 

You took a deep breath and made your way to the door you knew was your boyfriend's. It was unlocked, thankfully. 

You let yourself in, seeing the silhouette of your boyfriends back facing the door in the blue lighting. 

He was all about ambiance in this facet of life, having LED's lining the ceiling. The only source of light in the room, besides the glowing screens of his monitors. 

He was sat in his chair, headphones on, hood up, head nodding in tandem with his fingers tapping. 

You took the opportunity to slide your boots off. Opting to keep your coat on, you brushed your hair over one shoulder. You took your badge from around your neck, and tossed it on the leather couch that was against the wall. 

Padding your way over to him, you place your hand on his shoulder lightly. He tenses under your touch, and turns his head. He's frowning when he first faces you, eyebrow furrowed together. 

When he sees you though, he softens. The corners of his mouth slightly upturning to a small smile. 

"Baby..." He whispers, sliding his head phones off. Soft lofi music is filling the room from them. 

He grabs your hand off his shoulder, bringing it to his lips. He's pressing soft kisses to your palm, and placing it on his cheek. 

"It's late my angel, why are you here?" He says in a husky voice with more volume. 

Your heart flutters at his gentleness, and you bend down to press your own lips to the top of his head. A musky, yet spicy vanilla scent fills your nostrils. His scent. 

"I'm here to help you baby." You murmur to him softly. 

That caught his attention. He fully swivelled around to face you, taking both of your hands in his. He gazed up into your eyes, a curious look on his face. 

You smiled down on him, feeling nothing but love for this man. You'd relax him in any way you can. You placed a hand on each side of his face, bending down again. No more words were said as you kissed him. As your hands slid down his neck, his found themselves on yours, pulling you closer to him. Matching your eagerness.

You let your hands fully slide off him, and tilted your head to deepen the kiss. Your trembling fingers were working the buttons on your coat. One by one, releasing the fabric from your bare skin. 

You stood up, letting the coat fall from your shoulders.

Jisung lets out a soft gasp, and licks his lips. 

Exposed to him, was his favorite lingerie you owned. It was a bra and panty set, satin and lace. Revealing. 

All white. 

Your boyfriends favorite part. He always said that the contrast against your melanated skin was a work of art. He joked about commissioning Hyunjin, if he didn't have to see you essentially naked.

So here you stood before him, presenting yourself to him. Silently willing him to do as he pleases. To take your body and use you to decompress. You were too nervous to say it.

He traces the swell of your breast with a finger, curving around the delicate lace. It's a simple touch, but it still sends a shiver down your spine. Goosebumps blooming on your skin. 

"So sexy." He mumbles, eyes roving your whole body. 

He stands up, kissing you desperately, and walking you back to the couch. Your knees hit the back of it, and you're forced to sit. Lips ripping away from his, panting at the desire in his eyes. 

All your nerves were gone. New or not, it would never change the fact that Jisung craved you as much as you craved him. 

He held himself up with his hands on the back of the couch, and hovered above you for a moment looking you in the eyes. 

Then he was sinking to the ground, on his knees, between your legs. His hands smooth over your thighs, making them pliant with soft kisses, before he spreads them open. Your pussy is glistening behind the lace, and he licks his lips again. 

His hand glides from your thigh, to your heat. Thumb brushing against that sensitive bud, the friction eliciting a whine from you. 

His eyes snap up to you, and he holds your gaze as his tongue licks a stripe up your clothed core. The tip of it flicking deliciously against your sensitive clit. 

"Mmmm..." He groaned at the taste of you, "All for me?"

You moan at his tongue swiping against you again, and again, "All for you, my love." 

His fingers hook underneath the band of your underwear, and he peels them off you. He's whimpering, watching as strings of your arousal stick to them. The cool air is hitting your sex, before puffs of hot air from his mouth is. And you're shivering again at the sensation. 

A gasp escapes you when his tongue slides between your folds. Lapping up your juices, and suckling at that bundle of nerves. You listen to the wet sounds his mouth is making against you, along with the broken melody coming from his head set. You get lost in it. 

Your hand finds his hair, and you're grinding against his mouth. He's whimpering and moaning with you, one hand palming at his bulge. The other has fingers teasing your entrance. 

You let out a loud moan when two fingers push into you, and your grasp on his hair loosens. He takes the opportunity to get air, panting, mouth hanging open. His cheeks, chin and lips all shine in the dull blue light. 

His fingers continue to pump into you as he watches your face contort for him. He's smiling with lidded eyes, basking in the fact that he's making you feel so good. 

"Ji..." You moan, needing more.

"My beautiful baby, let me worship you a little longer." And he's diving back down.

His tongue focuses on your clit, and fingers coaxing that gummy spot inside you. He's pulling moan after moan from you, making out with your lower lips, bringing you closer to the edge. Your thighs start trembling around his head, and he has to grip the fleshy part of one of them to stop you from squeezing him before he's finished. 

You're spilling over the edge, body alight and your release coating his fingers, and face. He's lapping up every little bit, determined to taste your pleasure on his tongue. Only when you start to whine from constant overstimulation does he stop. 

He's kissing his way up to your lips, leaving a wet trail behind him that you couldn't bring yourself to care about. 

You're not sure when he managed to discard his pants and boxers, but you feel his hard, bare length pressing against your inner thigh. 

He's rubbing his member against your pussy now, letting your slick and his saliva cover him. Kissing your neck as he's rocking against you, he whispers, "Angel, do you have another one for me?"

Of course you did, you knew you did. You needed to feel him, you needed to please him. So you started nodding fervently, eyes rolling in the back of your head when he sucked lightly near your ear and jaw. 

He had a grasp of his cock now, dragging the head through your folds with added pressure. Each squelch of your juices sounds like music to your ears, anticipation building in your body.

"'Gonna make you feel s'good." He's whining into your neck. 

He has your legs around him now, as he fills you slowly, both of you savoring the sensations it brings. Your pussy spasms around him, and it has him grunting. 

"Always feel so good squeezin' me..." He mumbled, letting you adjust, "...exactly what I needed..." 

Then he was pumping into you, and you felt it. All the frustrations he was holding onto, all the stress, all the vexation. He was translating it into the energy he used to pleasure you. Letting go of it all. 

You couldn't hear the soft lofi music coming from his head set anymore, instead the slapping of skin and heavy breathing mixed with moans were filling the room. You'd never be more thankful for a soundproof space. Neither of you were holding back. 

Your moans only being interrupted by quiet curses, and his being peppered in between praises of how good you feel for him. He made it known he was chasing your high before his, begging you to cum for him. 

"Please angel," he whispers against your lips, "need to feel you cumming on my cock."

His pace became quicker as he kissed you, and his hand slithered down to play with your clit. Your back arched off the couch at that, angling him deeper inside you. He groaned, and his thrusts faltered for a second indicating he was close. 

Regardless he was determined to finish you, and his tone grew more demanding, "Be a good girl... cum for me, angel."

And that was all your body and mind needed to let go, legs locking around him and body shaking. Your hands slid under his hoodie, and nails dug into his back. It was the kind of intense orgasm, that your moan got stuck in your throat, instead a rough growl coming out. 

You sounded absolutely feral for him, and you were. 

That was what pushed him over the edge, a slew of curses leaving his mouth as his hips stuttered. With a final harsh thrust, he cums deep inside you. All of the negativity has dispersed from his body, and he collapsed back to his knees. 

You're both panting, trying to catch your breath. You jolt when you feel his fingers in your folds, over sensitivity taking over yet again. He's spreading you open, hypnotized by the way his cum is drooling out of you. 

"So perfect, fuck." He says as he drags his finger through it. 

He's bringing it up to your lips, and your mouth opens instinctively. You're sucking his finger into your mouth, his essence salty but familiar on your tongue. 

His eyes are locked to yours as you work his finger, licking it clean. He slips a second finger in your mouth, letting you cover them in your saliva before he dips back down for a taste himself. 

You're whining around his fingers when his tongue glides against your clit, and your hips try to retract into the couch. Quickly, he has both hands on your hips, securing you in place so he can continue tasting you. 

"We taste so good together, my love..." He's mumbling against you. 

His words will never fail to coax submission out of you.

Your hand flies back to his hair, as good as it feels you're trying to pull him away. He's just burying his face deeper, tongue dipping into your entrance to make sure he's tasting everything. 

"Ji... s'too much... I can't-" You're pleading, even though you feel yourself succumbing to the overwhelming brushes of his tongue.

He hisses when you finally succeed in pulling him off you, "Please angel," He's begging again, "Just one more. I know you have one more for me." 

"Fuck, Ji, I-" 

He silences you with his tongue flat against you, another lick up to your clit "Please, need to hear you cumming one more time for me." He whines and starts leaving sloppy, wet kisses on your pussy. 

You always knew he was more of a giver. That even though it was you who had cum twice, and he only once. He preferred it that way. Even if he was the one needing the release more, he thrived more on your pleasure.

"Just be gentl-" You try to say, but cut yourself off with a groan. 

He's eagerly slurping at your core. Lost in the moment, all he has is your pussy on his mind now. Messily licking and lapping at every inch. He's shaking his head and moaning into it, keeping you pinned in place by your hips. 

You feel another orgasm starting to build quickly, clenching around nothing. He risks you bucking your hips roughly into his face, and takes a hand off your hip. He's pushing two fingers into you yet again, and you're seeing stars. 

His fingers curl, and his lips close around your clit, sucking lightly. You feel your release slip away from you, and your cumming on his face again. Yelling his name. He only grows more determined.

He leans back so he can watch the beautiful, writhing, mess he reduced you to. The thumb of his other hand is replacing his mouth, continuously flicking your bud. He doesn't slow his movements as you ride out your orgasm, instead picking them up. 

Your world turns white, and you feel yourself squirt on his hands. He's watching you in awe, whispering more praise for you as your juices spray over him. 

"So fucking sexy, my good girl."

"That's it, let go for me, let it all go."

"Knew you had one more in you, all for me."

"My perfect angel."

It's when you start to slip into that floaty space that he finally stops. He doesn't want you too gone, he's limited in the care he can provide here.

He's positioning you to lay on the couch, and he's laying behind you. You're both wet and sticky, and heaving for air. Yet, it's blissful. 

You lay there for what could've been minutes or an hour, you weren't sure. You were content in each other's touch. Your arm reaches back to caress his head, fingers combing through his hair. He's humming. 

"I love you." You finally murmur. 

"I love you more, angel. Thank you for this." He says, and kisses your shoulder. 

"You caught on quickly to my idea." You giggled.

He laughed with you, "I caught on halfway through it, actually. I was just beside myself with desire for you." 

You blushed at that, and you were thankful he couldn't see it. 

"I mean you showed up in my favorite set..." He whispers and starts toying with the lace on your bra, his finger slipping underneath to flick your nipple, "In ONLY my favorite set. How could I not show you how much I admire you." 

You felt his length harden against you again, and he rolled his hips slowly as he gripped your hip. 

You knew the night was far from over. 

As for how you were both going to escape and clean up? Well that was a problem for future you. 

Taglist:

@eczlipse @sailor--sun @maisyyyyyy @jupire @prettiichocolateprincess

@meowmeowminnie @joyofbebbanburg @adieu-lisette @sleeping-beau-tay @staytinyluv

@lookitsjess @majorlymismanaged @kpopsstuffs @helloimacalumgirl @bbokarimenu

@bubblepop-stay @mauvemelon @ohhlittlegirl @ang4lheart @spnwinchestersd

@adieu-lisette @loud-minhoe @juwire @anylady-fics @antisocialties

@nebugalaxy @wowitsafemale

As always, please let me know if you'd like to join the taglist. And if you do, pretty please interact with my fics besides liking (ie; replying/commenting/reblogging). Although I will always appreciate liking as well! Feedback is always cherished! ♡

But again, please be gentle in your criticism! I am but a sensitive soul.

[misslovasstuff]

Writing prompt: Them taking about their lover

op men x fem!reader

with: Sanji, Zoro, Luffy, Buggy.

author’s note: oh to be described by hot pirates that would die for me hehe. Enjoy ~

please support me here (⁎⁍̴̛ᴗ⁍̴̛⁎)：ko-fi

Sanji:

“Ah, - he rests his elbows on the table, pupils dilated and somehow taken the form of an heart as his face rests on his palms. - she…”

The moment you are mentioned in the conversation, Sanji completely melts. His mind now travels distant lands where he imagines you and his surroundings become dust.

“She completely devastates me. - he closes his eyes and starts describing you. - Eyes that lure me in even with the shortest of glance, a smile that determines my fate, the touch of those hands that are grown among prickles of roses and yet have remained so soft that when caressing my skin so gently, I feel like I am healed from everything that has hurt me. Ah, for my love I could talk for hours. She… she is someone I thought I could ever meet. A miracle.”

Zoro

He puts his sake down for a moment, eyes lowered as he looks down whilst thinking. Suddenly he chuckles and shakes his head.

“That woman will be the death of me. - Zoro says, leaning against the chair with a sigh and a smile. - She’s an open book, easy to understand, at least for me. The way she smiles and lightens up every time she sees me… it warms my heart. I hear my name falling out her lips and my whole body just shivers from the sound of her voice. Sometimes while I’m training she’ll walk by to visit me. Those are the times I cherish a lot since we don’t get to be alone together for a long time. Small pecks she gives me during the day, notes that she sticks to my swords, lipstick marks on my clothes…- his pushes his head back, staring at the ceiling as he covers his bashful face. - What a woman she is… I can never get enough of her.”

Luffy

“Ah, she’s amazing! - his eyes shine brightly at the mention of your name. - we have known each other for a while now.”

Luffy smiles, voice deepening as his cheeks turn slightly pink.

“We met as she tried to save my life. That type of courage, I’ve seen only in a few people. - he begins explaining. - Anyone that looks at her can feel how genuine she is: her kindness… she has helped so many people and yet fails to see how she has helped me the most by opening my heart to so many new experiences. I don’t know what it is, perhaps I’m always too full when I look at her and my stomach feels heavy, my eyes get fixated on her as she watches over the horizon, the one I used to observe but now I completely ignore it, as if I’ve found something more beautiful to look forward to.”

Buggy

“Uh?? Why would you ask me about her?”- with his voice high pitched eyebrow raised, Buggy is taken a bit aback but soon calms down his protective instinct. - Well, there’s no reason for you to know but I’ll say it anyways because I’m so proud of my girl.”

He smirks, crossing his legs as he sits comfortably whilst beginning his description:

“A total babe, tall and curvy, so beautiful that my hands shake upon first touching her. - his eyes soften a bit, so does his voice. - Her laugh is the most precious thing ever in my world. She chuckles at my jokes and makes me laugh too. Not only is she fun, but my sweetheart is my biggest support. There is no one who believes in me like her. And… if I can become the man that she hopes I can be, then I could make her the happiest, like she makes me. A man like me saw her and truly believed that I had found the treasure that was meant for me and I’m willing to guard her with my life.”

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

About the "kwamis as mentors" angle: Interesting to read and analyse, yet I can't help but feel they were not necessarily meant to be seen as mentors. At least to me, they seemed to be kind of whacky mascot characters who are tied to the lore, who have a personality to crack a joke or point something out or cause a little situation or be cute, but nothing more.

They are rather naive magical entities chained to jewelry (a fact they don't seem to mind that much or think about at all except for Plagg) and all that talk about "being around for 5000 years" and having seen many holders before is just there to make them seem more wise than they actually act like. From what I've seen on the show I would even assume there's a threshold to how much they can even mature emotionally and understand humans. Sometimes Tikki and Plagg even come off as indifferent and egoistical towards their holders (like an example you gave with Tikki, or Plagg's fixation on cheese over Adrien at times).

So...sorry if I missed it, but why do you view them as mentor characters? You made an interesting post about rom-com vs magical girl and the magical girl part is exactly why I always viewed them just as critters to appeal to kids, but nothing more. I can see that the show's writing is so inconsistent that sometimes they are portrayed as wise but more often then not they are just background noise to get a little interaction on screen so that the characters are not talking to themselves about miraculous stuff or to point something out for the audience.

The show's writing is pretty weird, so there are elements that are hard to get a clear read on. The Kwamis are one such element. When they're one-on-one with their chosen, they often feel like mentors to me. When they're all together, they almost always read like "critters to appeal to kids" (mostly because there are too many of them to let them have individual personalities when they're all together). So while I think that they're supposed to be mentors, it's not like that's the only canon-accurate read.

To dig into what I mean by the one-on-one writing, let's look at this exchange from Feast:

Master Fu: See, Wayzz? If Marinette had kept her Miraculous, the sentimonster would have swallowed her right up. Wayzz: Or she would have transformed into Ladybug and fought it. Master Fu: Sometimes fighting is futile, Wayzz.

And then later on we get this:

Wayzz: Master, look! Ladybug and Cat Noir, despite their ridiculous costumes, they haven't let you down! Wang Fu: That's impossible! They don't have their Miraculous! Wayzz: Master, it's obvious it's them—who else would do something so crazy? Cat Noir (Adrien): Hey, have a taste of this! Some exploding banana split from Bananoir! Ladybug (Marinette): Much tastier than any Miraculous! Wayzz: Look, Master, there's no use in running! Your disciples never give up the fight, no matter what! With or without their Miraculous, they are Ladybug and Cat Noir!

That's some pretty active mentoring right there.

Wayzz is probably the character that feels the most like a mentor to me. When he's with Fu, he feels like Fu's partner or adviser, which is why I think that the Kwami's aren't supposed to just be cute critters. They're regular ol' Jimmy Crickets meant to act as a conscience that the characters can talk to since this is visual media and you want a way for the characters to talk through their thoughts instead of having them do it all internally.

I also present this exchange from Desperada as evidence:

Adrien: Plagg, Ladybug needs me. She needs "Adrien"! Plagg: If you asked me, this whole idea is worse than cheese in a can. Adrien: She thinks I'm the perfect guy for this mission. Plagg: You can't be Cat Noir and another superhero at the same time! Which means that you're not the perfect guy for this mission. Adrien: The Lucky Charm told her I am. Plagg: That's not how it works. Why am I bothering? You're not even listening.

We then get Plagg reiterating that this is a bad idea through multiple loops, ending with this:

Plagg: Ah! At last, you've come to your senses. Adrien: I'm not sure Ladybug will have very fond memories of her experience with "Adrien Agreste". Plagg: Then make up for it as Cat Noir.

See? I told you Plagg can be a good mentor when he wants to! Tikki, take notes!

I'd even call this bit from Sapitos some quality subtle mentoring from Trixx:

Alya: Oh please, Ladybug! We'd make a great team! I could help Cat Noir and you every day! Ladybug:(her earrings ring) I'm about to transform back! Hurry! Alya: Please? Ladybug: I have to go! I'm trusting you! (opens a nearby door and goes inside, so she can detransform) Trixx: You're absolutely right, Alya. I'm sure the three of you would make quite the team! You have all the makings of a true superhero. You're strong, brave; but most of all, you're trustworthy.

Way to both build Alya up and reminder her of her duty, Trixx. Gold star. Quality mentorship!

So are the Kwamis supposed to be mentors? Who knows! I just see them fill the role often enough to feel comfortable judging them through that lens.

Miraculous also isn't the only magical girl team show to make the cute critters into mentors. That's a pretty standard path even though it's also common to see the critters used to sell merch/appeal to kids and nothing more. In terms of classic magical girl team shows, I'd say that the Kwamis are written way more like Luna and Artemis from Sailor Moon than Mini Mew from Tokyo Mew Mew.

[purplecoffee13]

NFWMB - part 2

Summary: “Y/N’s first self defense class leads to some inevitable tension, all of which is thrown out of Y/N’s mind when she gets an unexpected visit at her office desk…”

Wc: 4.8k

Tropes: boxer!Harry x innocent!reader

Warnings: sexual TENSION😈, brief mention of SA, blood

A/N: hi everyone! I am so positively overwhelmed by the great response this new series has been getting🥹. I have such a good feeling about this and I hope you’ll appreciate this little adventure we’re going on😋. Xxx

P.S. I would also recommend listening to ‘Knuckles’ by the Snuts. Not only because it’s a great song, but along with NFWMB, it’s kinda the theme song of this series🤭.

General Masterlist

Series Masterlist

It was 8:55pm.

Harry had never been so fixated on time before. It was like his brain was counting down each second, even when he was trying to concentrate on quite literally anything else.

All weekend he had been wondering whether or not Y/N would show up tonight. Even though he had other things to do, and plenty of more urgent matters occupying his mind, the thought of her still managed to take up some space.

He hadn't heard from her. Not that it was technically possible; he didn't give him any contact information. God, why was he sweating this so much?

8:59pm.

The gym was entirely empty. He always closed early on Tuesdays. The rest of the week he stays open until 12am. There are more people who go to the gym late at night than he thought, but since he needed to cut himself some slack, he decided to use Tuesdays for that.

Not that he really cut himself some slack. He'd stay and do his own exercises, then stay longer to work on administration. He would eventually go home at around 11pm. Greg scolded him for it, demanding he take some time for himself, but that seemed to be impossible for Harry.

He loved this. He loved helping people and the shitty administrative stuff was nothing in comparison to the smiles he would see on people's faces upon leaving the gym. Whether that was one of the women in his defense classes, or a man who'd reached his new weightlifting goal. He loved seeing people happy.

9:04pm.

A wave of disappointment flooded through Harry's body. He didn't even know why he thought she'd come. It's not like he gave any indication that she wanted to. She actually told him, outright, that she didn't. He needed to check himself into a mental hospital or something... occupying himself so much with a girl he met once. He needed some sort of reality check.

The sound of the reception bell tore Harry from his thoughts, his head shooting towards the hallway where the sound was coming from. His feet began to move before he could even comprehend, and when he turned around the corner, a small sigh left his mouth.

Shit. There she was. Wearing baggy sweatpants and an oversized Rolling Stones t-shirt. Her hair was up in a ponytail, much like it had been the last time he saw her. It still looked different, though, as if she had put in more effort this time. There were no stray hairs, and the ponytail was braided. Her eyes were as big as ever, and he could've sworn they gleamed a bit when they landed on him.

Angel.

"Hi." She smiled shyly, adjusting the strap of her duffel bag that slung around her shoulder. The corner of Harry's mouth tugged up.

"Hi."

She didn't say anything, just stared at him and waited for him to continue talking. Harry, however, was too busy with looking at her that he forgot he should probably say something. It's why it took him a little longer to say:

"C'mon, let's go to the other room."

He waited for her to pace towards him before he turned around and walked to the training room. He tried, he truly did, to stay casual and just keep walking, but he couldn't help it. His head turned—just to check, he said to himself—to see the beautiful woman still walking behind him. She really was here.

Having entered the training room, Harry walked onto the mat, Y/N following him closely. He turned around and gestured for her to put her bag on the ground. She did as instructed, and stood back in front of him. He noticed her posture, the way it was extra straight. She was compensating for the insecurity that displayed in the way she fiddled with her fingers behind her back. She probably thought he didn't notice, but there were mirrors all around the room, so he could see every single part of her.

Harry titled his head downwards and looked at her. He was only realizing it now; the height difference between them. He had seen it last week, but now that he was standing close to her, it was more prominent.

"I want to say beforehand, that during these classes I will have to touch you." He said softly, his voice still in that low baritone. Y/N's lips slowly parted, but no words came out. "Is that okay with you?"

From the way her cheeks flushed after vigorously nodding her head, he could tell she had found her quick agreement to be a bit embarrassing. Harry only smiled.

"Words, please, Y/N."

"Y—yes," She quickly answered, and Harry opened his mouth to communicate his approval, but the continuation of her consent caught him off guard. "You can touch me."

His heartbeat began to pick up a bit, blood rushing towards parts that it should definitely not be rushing to. He clenched his jaw and balled up his fists, hoping the tension in the other parts of his body would refrain his cock from straining too hard against his pants.

Jesus, what was wrong with him? Why was he acting like he just got out of prison?

"Let's warm up." He said gruffly, sounding more moody than he wanted to. Y/N nodded, looking at her feet as she took a step backwards. She waited as Harry walked to the bench to get jump rope. When he walked back and handed it to her, her eyebrows knitted in confusion.

"It's to get your heart rate up. It'll have you ready for the exercises."

"Okay." She took the rope from his hands and got ready, but never started the exercise.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked. Her eyes went all big like it did in that first class.

"Oh— no, nothing. I was waiting for you. I don't know why... you're the instructor, of course." She was rambling again, shutting her eyes tightly for a few seconds after closing her mouth. Harry bit his lip to keep himself from chuckling at the woman in front of him.

"You know what, you're right, I'll join you. I haven't done my exercises today anyway." He said as he grabbed another rope. It was a big fat lie; he had trained for a good two hours today. But these exercises were harmless fun, and if it would make her feel more comfortable, he'd do it in a heartbeat.

"Would you like some music? I always prefer it because it tends to get kind of quiet in here. But we don't have to. It's really a personal preference." Harry explained, holding up his phone. A small smile appeared on Y/N's face.

"Uhm, yeah, that would be great. What do you usually listen to?"

Harry shrugged. "Uhm, rap usually."

Y/N hummed. Harry squinted his eyes at the woman in front of him, then raised a brow.

"You don't like that, do you?"

"What? No! I don't care, really. You can put on whatever you want." She was quick to defend herself. She wasn't exactly lying. Y/N didn't care, she wouldn't dream of opposing the man in front of her.

"What do you usually listen to?"

"Uhm, I like older music." You confessed. Harry tilted his head.

"Yeah? What kind?"

"Jazz, Soul, classic rock, a bit of hard rock, disco."

Harry nodded, and looked down at his phone to type in something. Y/N frowned—probably wondering what he was doing—but a giggle escaped her as 'Let's Hear It For The Boy' started playing through the speakers. Harry's eyes twinkled as he took in the sight of her. He couldn't help but smile pridefully, knowing he made her laugh like that. It felt like an accomplishment.

"Okay, let's begin."

And so, Harry and Y/N began jumping with the jump rope next to each other. He told her to count until fifty out loud, and she obeyed him. By the time they were done, Y/N's heavy breathing made her realize that her physical shape had gotten a lot worse since moving out. She always used to run back when she lived with her parents, she told Harry, but she hadn't found time for it since she'd moved.

They did a couple other warm-up exercises together, and when stretching the final time, Harry dared to comment.

"You're pretty flexible."

Y/N looked up, shrugging at her instructor. "I was a cheerleader back in high school, and I used to do a lot of yoga in college. Maybe it stuck."

"Yeah, probably." Harry nodded, admiring the woman in front of him. She talked so casually about herself. She was actually impressively flexible; it's why he noted it in the first place. She was taking herself for granted, he could tell.

"Okay, let's start, shall we?" Harry said, getting up to his feet. Y/N silently nodded as she followed in his footsteps. "I'm going to teach you some basic things, but I also want to ask you if there are some specific exercises you would like to focus on. If so, we can start by handling those after having learned the basics, okay?"

"Okay." Y/N said, taking a deep breath.

"You can think about it, and tell me next time." Harry added, and as The Jackson 5's ABC began to play, the real exercises started.

Y/N listened intently as he explained her the basic things about throwing a punch. Balance was the most important thing, Harry had said. She followed his instructions closely and stood with her feet shoulder-with apart, her right foot—the dominant one, he told her it had to be—slightly ahead of her left one.

"Good." Harry's sound of approval had awakened something in your stomach. "Now clench your fist— you have to wrap your thumb around your index and middle fingers. Otherwise you'll break your thumb."

Y/N did as he said, keeping her wrist straight. Her stomach dropped as he let out a disapproving hum. He went to stand beside her as he lowly said:

"Bend your knees."

As soon as the words had left his mouth, Y/N bent her knees a bit. From all the nervousness she kept stretching her limbs all the time, going against his order. Seeing her answer to him so quickly had made him smirk a bit.

"Good."

He didn't miss the deep breath Y/N took as he spoke. She desperately wanted his approval. It was endearing... and other things that it shouldn't be. Harry mentally slapped himself in the face. This was a professional environment, why were his thoughts racing the same way they used to back when he was a teenager? It was pathetic, really.

"Now, when you punch someone, it's important to put your entire body into it. If you punch without moving the rest of your body, it won't have as much of an impact. You have to generate the power from your core and legs. That way, the blow will land way harder." He explained, trying not to smile at Y/N's faint frown as she took in all the he was saying. She was so concentrated, wanting to absorb every piece of information he shared. "Like this."

He showed her what he meant. Y/N nodded and tried to imitate her instructor, but without much luck.

"You don't have to lean forward that much. If you turn with your entire body, it'll do that for you." He said, and had to fight the small grin that threatened to form on his lips when she tried to hold herself back too much this time. She huffed in annoyance.

"How am I ever going to be able to defend myself again if I can't even get a punch right?" She murmured, mainly to herself, as she pinched the bridge between her nose. Harry's ears perked up at what she said.

What did she mean with 'again'? Rage started simmering in his body at the sole implication of someone having done something to this woman that made her have to defend herself. Is that why she was so interested in the class? Why she wanted to learn so bad despite being so shy? Because someone had hurt her, or threatened to, and made her feel unsafe?

"Can I touch you?"

Y/N's gaze shot up to Harry's, keeping them locked for a few seconds before she let out a soft 'yes'. He nodded once, went to stand behind her, and told her to get back into position. As soon as she had, he grabbed her hips. Firm, but light.

"Do it again, slowly."

Y/N did as he said, and let him help her move her body in the right way. Automatically, her foot stayed in the right position, and she wasn't really leaning forward anymore.

"That's it." Harry said proudly. He was kind of caught off guard when Y/N sucked in a breath and turned around, his hands falling off her hips immediately. For a second, he felt bad, not having wanted to make her feel uncomfortable in any way, but when he saw her swallow, biting her lip, he knew that his touch had caused something else.

Fuck. He was definitely better off not knowing.

"I— Can I drink some water?" Y/N asked, almost sounding like she was out of breath. Harry did his best not to let it get to his head too much as he nodded, biting inside of his cheek. She scurried over to her bag, and took out a water bottle, of which she probably gulped half down before she set it down on the bench.

"Okay, c'mon. We have a lot to cover." Harry said when he felt she was lingering by the bench too much. She immediately walked back to him, and there was sense of pride that filled Harry's chest. Such a good listener, she was.

Y/N was exhausted. Her first self defense class was finally over, and it was a lot harder than she thought it'd be. They went over the basics of punching, and Harry had decided that she definitely needed to build some muscle. In the end, they practiced half an hour longer than the original hour Y/N thought the class was going to be. The regular classes were sixty minutes, so she'd just assumed.

It was also unbearable. She couldn't believe how worked up she was getting over the proximity between her and Harry. It was embarrassing, she had to be ovulating or something. Of course, it probably also had something to do with the fact that Harry was singlehandedly the most beautiful man she'd ever seen, but she shouldn't have let that distract her from her goal. She needed these classes, she needed not to be weak anymore.

After the class, Harry told her to be here at the same time next week, and she thanked him before walking out of the gym.

Harry probably didn't expect her to still stand outside ten minutes later when he walked out to lock up, but when he noticed the pouring rain, it looked like he understood.

"Did you walk?" He asked casually, locking the door. Y/N shook her head.

"Bike." She pointed to the soaking wet bicycle a few feet away.

"D'you need a ride?" He questioned, stepping towards her. Again, she shook her head.

"It's fine, I'll just wait until this blows over."

As if the universe and the weather were playing a crude joke on her, loud thunder ripped through the sky just as the sentence left her mouth. Harry tilted his head a bit.

"Yeah, no. I'm dropping you off at home." He said, and before she could protest, Harry began to walk away, right into the rain. He stepped into his car and drove over to Y/N, then got out of the car again. As he approached her, he asked:

"Where are the keys to your bike?"

Too stunned to say anything, she just handed him the keys. She was a little occupied with how hot he looked all soaking wet and— oh Jesus, she needed shock therapy.

She watched as Harry carried the bicycle and out in the trunk of his car. The grey hoodie that he must've thrown on before leaving the gym was a few shades darker now, and strands of his hair clung to his forehead. He made his way to the passenger door, and opened it, a wave of his arm gesturing for her to get in. She ran into the car, the door closing behind her with a harsh thud.

Harry ran around the car and got in himself, closing the door and turning the vehicle on immediately. Y/N's eyes went wide as Harry pulled the hoodie over his head, tugging his t-shirt up a bit along with it. She eyed the tattoos that inked his hip bones. They seemed like... leaves of some kind? She couldn't exactly make it up in such a short time because she shifted her gaze to the car window and strictly kept it there as soon as she'd realized she was staring.

"Where to?" Harry asked, but Y/N only replied with a distracted hum, not daring to take her eyes off the car window. She had never been around someone who'd made her so nervous before. Sure, she'd been awkward a whole bunch in her life, especially around her crushes in high school. But she was 23 now, she shouldn't be behaving like this around men anymore!

"Y/N?" He leaned forward, waving a hand in front of her face. She snapped her head to him.

"Oh, sorry!" She said, her tone revealing how stressed she was.

"It's okay. Just type in your address, and I'll drive you home." Harry answered sweetly. His soft, green eyes made him seem like much less of an intimidating man. That was, until one would look further down his body of course. The man was extremely jacked, and while that was very hot, it could also be quite scary. But she couldn't find any part of herself that was afraid of him.

No, he might've intimidated her, and that might've made her act like an complet fool in front of him, but she wasn't scared of him.

The silence during the car ride was mostly filled up with Harry asking Y/N questions about herself. Where she was from, what she'd studied. She, alike, returned those questions and found out a bit more about Harry's past as well.

The he was a boxer, retired two years ago, and now owned several gyms. Y/N knows she should've been taken aback a bit when she asked Harry's age and he said he was 29, but for some reason it worked the opposite for her.

Was this a topic for therapy?

She hadn't time to think too much of it, as he soon pulled up in front of her apartment complex. They both got out of the car and Harry helped carry her bicycle to a little garage for bikes at the side of the apartment.

They walked back towards the car, both drenched in water by now, and Harry turned around to say goodbye, but Y/N interrupted him.

"What do I owe you?" She asked, not caring that she was standing in the pouring rain and she was shivering from the cold. A sort of didn't want the conversation to end just yet. Harry thought it over for a few seconds, then shrugged.

"Nothing." He said, to which Y/N knitted her brows.

"But I need to pay you for the classes." She stated the obvious, at least she felt like she was.

"It was a try-out class." Harry replied with a smile.

"I already had my try-out class." She reiterated. Harry shook his head.

"That was your group try-out class, this was your private try-out class. Try-outs are always free."

Y/N bit her lip, unsure of what to say to that. Eventually she settled on something in the middle. "Fine. I'll just tip you extra good the upcoming classes."

Harry let out a laugh. "Sure, angel."

She could've sworn that her heart skipped the beat at the sound of that nickname rolling off Harry's tongue. Did he really just call her that? Y/N scanned for answers in Harry's face, and only noticed a slight shock in his eyes, but it was quickly covered up with that casual ease that always seemed to be hanging over him.

"I— I'm gonna get inside. Thank you for the ride, and the class."

Harry just gave her a small nod. "Anytime."

With that, Y/N turned around and hurried to her apartment complex, shivering by the time she got inside her own place. Her mind was racing, everything that had happened tonight kept flashing through her brain and it was like she could feel the burn of his fingers on her hips.

This was so unlike her. Unlike anything she'd ever done. Taking this class was a risk, one she'd thought being worth it, because it would bring her safety and security.

But this... these tingling feelings crashing into her like an avalanche— she hadn't felt like this since college. Hadn't had a crush become so intense in such a short time.

What the hell was she gonna do about this?

All she knew is that she couldn't stop thinking about him. Not as she got in the shower, nor as she got into bed. She kept tossing and turning until she gave into that feeling that had been nagging at her all night, her hand slowly sliding down her belly and to the sensitive ache that had been growing between her legs.

She closed her eyes and didn't even have to try to imagine Harry's hands on her again, the way he'd said those words to her. As if he wanted her to misinterpret them for something dirty.

"Can I touch you?"

"Do it again, slowly."

"That's it."

The sound of his voice ringing through her head had Y/N rubbing her fingers faster over her clit, her legs starting to close from the immense stimulation. Nevertheless, she forced herself to keep them open as she pleasured herself. Small gasps for air began leaving her body as she felt her climax coming closer and closer.

"Sure, angel."

The teasing tone in which he spoke, the playfulness in his eyes and the accent with which he said the nickname, that memory is what made her make a mess all over her fingers. A small moan even left her mouth in the sound of his name, and although no one was there to hear it, Y/N was embarrassed as she went to the bathroom, cleaned herself up, and went back to bed.

She did fall asleep quite quickly after, though. She was exhausted.

The next morning, there was a slight flutter in her stomach and a smile on her face as she opened her eyes. A new reason to get up in the morning had been making its way into her life, and she couldn't feel anything but giddy about it. Having a crush was always fun.

Despite the replaying of yesterday's practice over breakfast, and the heating of her cheeks at the memories of his words in the car on her way to work, Y/N knew that she was playing with fire by letting herself indulge in this crush. She needed to be careful not to let it go too far. A simple crush wasn't a problem, but he was her instructor and if she truly wanted to learn something in those self defense classes, she better separate business and pleasure.

With the loads of work she had to do at work, Y/N managed to drown out most of the thoughts about Harry the rest of the morning. She was finally relaxing after getting some important papers sent over—which was a stressful problem, as they had to be sent yesterday but some incompetent idiot messed up, leaving Y/N to solve it by herself first thing in the morning—when she got an e-mail from Sophie.

You are invited to

SOPHIE'S 30th BIRTHDAY PARTY

SATURDAY 5 OCTOBER

8:00pm (don't be late!)

Theme: Casino Night

Y/N stared at the invitation on her computer screen, a wide smile covering most of her face. She knew she didn't have any plans, but she still checked her agenda to make sure she was available Saturday next week. She felt like a child who'd just gotten her first ever birthday invitation. It sure felt like that.

Y/N hadn't really had such sweet friends before. Getting along with Sophie had been so incredibly easy and although she always felt like it was too good to be true and there must be some sort of trap, there never was. Sophie just enjoyed Y/N's company, and vice versa. It was like having a big sister and a best friend in one.

About five seconds after silently celebrating having received the invitation, Y/N began to stress about what present she should bring her new friend. It had to be something good. Sophie had earned a lot of money, and could basically get herself anything she wanted, so it had to be more of a sentimental gift.

Y/N had her eyes on a present already. She was very enthusiastic about it; it was something Sophie would really like.

All caught up in the excitement, she didn't notice a tall shadow standing over her until he coughed to get her attention. Y/N looked up, dread filling her stomach as she locked eyes with Oscar. She was still trying to remember how to breathe since her body just shut down out of anxiousness at the sight of him, when he started talking.

"Look, I'll keep this short, because I know you don't want to talk to me," He looked to his left and right before grabbing onto the desk and leaning over it. "but I just want to make sure we're on the same page."

Y/N could do nothing but blink at the man in front of her. What was he talking about, 'same page'?

"Things didn't really go how I thought they would that night, and I've accepted that. But I would appreciate if you wouldn't go around telling people."

"Telling people what?" The words left her mouth before she could stop herself. Originally she didn't want to utter a word in front of this man, nor did she believe she was able to, but this demand of his made her stomach twist. The way he said it, the distaste so apparent on his tongue. As if she were an inconvenience to be dealt with. He'd really mastered that heartlessness that only the cruelest of lawyers could conjure.

"You know what..." He said through clenched teeth, giving her a bit of a warning glare. The anger that boiled within her was new. She had never experienced it in such a large quantity before, and it had her acting out of character.

"What? About you assaulting me?"

The sentence had barely escaped her mouth when Oscar leaped forward a bit, frown so deep that it had made the vein in his forehead extremely prominent. She flinched at the sudden movement, tilting back into her chair. She felt the sped up pace of heartbeat as she clenched her fists, the rest of her body frozen in anticipation of what he was going to do.

"I did not assault—" he stopped himself, his crazy eyes calming a bit, as if he realized he was still in the office. "You know what, you can run to whoever you want. This firm trusts me, and they know what kind of man I am, that I would never do such a thing. Either way, it’s most likely not my job you'll be risking by bringing forth such an accusation."

Y/N had no idea what to possibly say to that. Not that Oscar gave her the chance, seeing as he backed away and walked off before she had the chance to come up with something. She began breathing more heavily with every step he took away from her.

Did he just threaten her?

A tingling pain in her hand distracted Y/N from the rabbit hole of thoughts she was just about to fall into, and when her eyes moved to see what it was, she raised her brows at the sight of blood in her hand.

Unconsciously, somewhere in between looking at the invitation and Oscar's impromptu visit, she must've grabbed the pair of scissors that were laying on the desk. She must've balled up her fists so much that she cut her hand.

Staring at the blood, a thousand thoughts running through her head, only one was the loudest.

She needed to get out of here.

Taglist: @meetmeatyourworst @mema10 @seafoamwhispers @namoreno

[tender-rosiey]

to be honest, idk how you did it but you truly got me stoked over heian era husband! sukuna. i hate the man with most passion (bcs of what he did in the manga), but i couldn't help but giggling, crying, kicking my feet with butterflies in my stomach every time i read your husband!sukuna stories. your writings are *chef's kiss*, i read all of those more than twice already.

idk if you're currently open for request or not, but i want to ask, are you comfortable writing angst/hurt no comfort stuffs? bcs my mind keeps imagining what and how the husbands (gojo, geto, sukuna, nanami) react to their wife (y/n) got klled right in front of their eyes? perhaps bcs of their enemies or something, the enemies know you are their weakness (imagining sukuna, the king of curses, who's feared by most, or satoru who's known as the strongest — turns out have a weakness that he himself perhaps is not aware of is so mindblowing(?)) anyway, you don't have to write it if you're unable to, no worries and no pressure!!

"YOU— WHO I HAVE LOVED TILL LOVE BURNED"

— when you die in front of gojo, geto, nanami, and sukuna

a/n: hehe i am so glad that you like my heinaera!sukuna MWUAH 💕 we gotta ignore what he is doing in the manga ��‍♀️ also sorry in advance y’all, but I lowkey had a blast writing this; hope you like this anon <333

GOJO SATORU:

satoru stood outside the operations room, anxiously tapping his feet on the floor.

he clutches his hands tightly, and his eyes are trained on the door, fixated on your cursed energy that he can feel through the door.

you were going into labor, after long 9 months of waiting.

the two of you were going to finally meet your baby girl. the same girl that the two of you would talk to at night, whispering and giggling amongst yourselves.

he knew that the pregnancy was hard on you, and that’s part of the reason why he is relieved that this day has come.

the moments are long agonizing, and what kills him on the inside are your screams of pain as you try to push out your daughter.

he wanted, so desperately, to be with you in the room, but the doctor decided against it; they thought that it would be better to free the room as they worried that there might be a risk in the labor.

that worried him, but he had no choice but to abide by what they said. finally, the sun smiles upon him, and he hears the cry of his daughter.

he stands up, grin overtaking his face, and eagerly awaiting being let in.

he waits.

and he waits, but nothing happens, and he stops the first nurse that goes out the room, “what is happening? is my wife okay?”

the nurse splutters and nods, before dashing to another room. he doesn’t believe her for one second, and so, he tries looking into the room through the windows on the door.

he can’t see anything, but he can still feel your cursed energy. that’s the only thing that calms him down.

but, he can’t find it in him to sit back on the chair. he leans on the wall beside the door, and his nails dig into his knuckles, almost making them bleed.

he doesn’t snap out of it, until the doctor walks out, lowering his mask, “mister gojo—”

he walks past the doctor and heads inside.

“y/n!” he calls out, but he is met with the sight of the nurses covering your figure with a white cloth. his eyes widen, and he grips the wrist of one of them, “what are you doing? she is not dead.”

the nurse’s brows furrow, and her expression turns into of one of pity. he snaps his head towards you then at her, “she is not dead. I can feel it.”

he can still feel your cursed energy, so they must be wrong.

he looks down at you and cups your face gently. he moves your face to his direction, and he whispers, “pretty girl, you did so well, but you gotta wake up now.”

your face is limp in his hand, and his eyes grow frantic, “y/n?” he urges, “please say anything, yell or scold me even.”

he rubs his thumb across your cheek as he chuckles nervously, “love, I can feel your cursed energy. the prank you’re playing is a bit too much, no?”

“mister gojo,” one of the nurses calls out, “I think it’s from her.”

he looks up, and he sees your daughter in the nurse’s arms. she is wailing loudly, and—the nurse is right—she is emitting your cursed energy or remnants of it, he realizes now.

“mister gojo, you need to have skin-to-skin contact with your daughter,” she speaks softly, gently handing the little girl to him.

he takes her, wordlessly, and he mindlessly opens his chest to hug his daughter to it.

the nurses exit the room, and satoru is left to stare at you.

he sits on the bed, one arm holding your daughter and the other hand holding your face. he speaks up lowly with a small and quivering smile, “wifey, come on, wake up. our daughter is here.”

said girl lets out a small huff, and satoru finds himself biting his lip as he lays his forehead on your own.

“come on, y/n,” he begs, “she even looks exactly like you,” he pulls you closer, “you cant do this to me—please, not you too.”

GETO SUGURU:

the businessman sighs, “I won’t pay more than what I offered. geto. my words are final.”

“and who are you to be making orders? geto asks, resting his elbows on the desk, “I could kill you with the flick of a finger, so either you give me the two million yen—I know you can provide—monthly, or you can say goodbye to this life and empire you built.”

the man taps his palm and sighs, “I assume that we won’t be reaching the outcome I want?”

geto tilts his head with a smile, “come on, you still have the power of choice.”

the man stares at geto for a second before speaking up, “your wife is a lovely woman,” he grins, “too bad she has to depart so early.”

at the moment, for the first time since that incident, geto feels his heart drop to his stomach.

he jolts up, grabbing the man by the collar and slamming him into the nearest wall, “what nonsense are you spouting?”

geto’s grip on the man’s throat quickly tightens.

the man is barely able to choke out his reply, “y—your dear sweetheart has been poisoned, since she went to your ‘usual’ café spot, and my men were there,” he grins manically, “better go and try to get your goodbyes, while you’re at it.”

your husband throws him on the floor and releases his most brutal curses to eat him. the man’s screams are ignored, as geto hurriedly runs to the café.

his heart beats violently against his chest. how did his curses not notice anything? how could he let you be in danger?

he slams the door open and yells out, “y/n?! y/n, do you hear me?!”

the café is empty, and the only person present there is you. the others having long fled.

you look so pained, letting out labored breaths and furrowing your eyebrows in discomfort. he kneels beside you and gathers you in his arms. he rises to his feet, but halts when you let out a pained shriek.

“I am sorry, honey, I know, just hold on,” he comforts. you shake your head and bury your face into his chest. he tightens his embrace on you and quickly starts running out.

“suguru, it hurts—moving hurts,” you cry, and it makes him kiss the top of your head firmly while nodding, trying to comfort both himself and you.

he thanks the heavens that he arrives at the estate, and he gently places you on the bed. he looks back at manami, “call all the healers and doctors, now!”

he looks down at you, and he grips your hand with it and presses it to his lips. he murmurs softly, “you will be okay; don’t worry,” he clutches your shirt.

he repeatedly apologizes and brings you fully into his arms. he watches your breathing slow down, and he feels your skin get colder. your expression starts to relax little by little.

it sends geto into a frenzy. he snaps, “where are the doctors?! why is no here yet?!”

manami runs inside and pants, “a-all the doctors have been k-killed.”

geto stops feeling the tips of his fingers, and he looks down at you. he starts breathing frantically, “then get anyone! anyone who knows about poison!” he cups your face and shakes you lightly, “y/n, please open your eyes.”

“suguru,” you say weakly, and he instantly lowers his head, so he can hear you better. you whisper softly, “I love you.”

he nods repeatedly, “and I love you too, so you have to stay awake, so we can say it again, yeah? come on, y/n.”

he moves your hair away from your face, his hands shaky as he falters, “can you say it again? one more time.”

your body stills in his arms, and he shudders, “just o-one more, y/n…” he closes his eyes, burying his face in your chest. your arms are limp, and he is left hugging your body.

everybody stays silent, and they watch geto not leave or loosen his hold on you.

he looks up slowly at manami and speaks lowly, “round up everyone that had an affiliation to that scum; those filthy monkeys will pay for what they have done.”

NANAMI KENTO:

nanami heaves a sigh of relief when he spots yuuji, “are you okay?”

the young boy nods frantically, and nanami looks around him then at yuuji again, “is y/n not with you? have you seen her? anywhere?”

yuuji shakes his head, regretfully, but nanami takes a deep breath, “it’s fine; let’s search for her together, okay?” he assures.

yuuji smiles and nods, determined, “yes!”

nanami barely manages a reassured nod of his own, his mind focused on finding you. in fact, he starts running, eyes quickly scanning each street and corner for any sight of you.

he clenches his jaw, remembering what you said before taking this mission.

“kento, I have a really bad feeling about this.”

he dismissed your worries and pulled you close, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. he hummed softly, “I know, but we have to do it. if things go bad, then we have gojo present anyway.”

gojo is not present. shibuya is slowly turning into a city full of blood and corpses, both non-sorcerers’ and sorcerers’. he regrets not listening to you, but what else could’ve been done?

all he can do right now is find you and make sure you’re okay. that is his first and most important priority.

“nanamin, I found her!” yuuji screams excitedly, pointing at you who was busy thwarting off the myriad of curses charging at you. at the sight of you, nanami’s body relaxes, and he lets out a small smile.

you punch a curse back to a building, so you can finally turn to your husband.

“kento!” you grin and start running towards him. you throw yourself into his arms, and he—as always—catches you. he pulls you close and takes in your presence, burying his face into your hair.

he lets out a small breath.

“I am so glad you’re okay,” he says, but then he feels a strange wetness on his hand. he pulls away slowly and looks down at it. his eyes widen in alarm.

it’s covered in blood.

he looks up at you and mutters, “y/n, are you hurt? where are you hurt?”

“I—I don’t know,” you look up at him, “I can’t feel anything, k—kento; I don’t want to die,” you plead, and he quickly tears off a part of his suit to cover your wound and trying to stop the bleeding.

yuuji quickly goes to try and find shoko.

he hugs you closer, applying pressure to the wound, while pressing gentle kisses to your hair, “you…you won’t; don’t worry.”

you grip his shirt weakly and look up at your husband. you manage a small smile, “have I told you how handsome you are?”

he chuckles weakly, trying to stabilize his voice, “mhm, but I would like to hear you say it again tomorrow; can you do that?”

you nod slowly, “yeah…”

he stays silent for a second and grips you a bit tighter, “do you promise?”

your breathing starts slowing, “promise,” your body relaxes against his, and you feel his hand go to hold your own. he massages your ring finger and raises your hand to his lips.

you close your eyes with a smile, “I love you, ken.”

“I love you more,” he replies instantly. you stay still, and nanami embraces you with the entirety of his body, burying your face into his chest.

he clenches his jaw and whispers, “so much more.”

RYOMEN SUKUNA:

the king of curses dodges another attack with a full-blown smirk on his face. he swiftly turns and slashes the person till they drop into pieces. his chest heaves with excitement.

that is until he catches the smell of your blood.

he turns behind him, and he is greeted by a sight that he would usually take the time to relish in: a myriad of dead bodies, some piled on top of each other, and blood splattered and spilled everywhere.

he ignores of all that as his feet take him to where he senses your cursed energy.

he sees you standing in the middle of the bodies, and your stance is weak. you’re clutching your side, trying to stop the bleeding. he slowly walks towards to you and teases, “what happened? the queen got hurt?”

you let out a small chuckle, “shut up; it’s a minor injury, nothing worth noting.”

that is until the skin over your chest starts bubbling, and your heart explodes. the blood splashes all over him, and your body drops lifelessly to the floor.

sukuna’s eyes lock with your own blank ones, and he can’t process all the feelings he has.

his chest starts heaving particularly quickly, and his jaw clenches. he bends to his knees—something he never thought he would do—and raises your head towards his, searching for a glimpse of your cursed energy.

his eyes bore into your own as he speaks your name roughly.

“stop playing games, y/n!” he barked, shaking your head in his hand, but you grace him with no response.

“haha! I took out your dear wife; what will you do about it now, you monster?!”

sukuna eyes’ snap to where the voice came from.

he then decides that he will put that man through torture that is not even close to the amount of fury in his chest. sukuna is silent, as he gently lays your head down and walks towards the man.

the sorcerer’s smile starts crumbling, and he quickly falls on his back while trying to move away from sukuna.

“s-stay back, or I will kill you!” he attempts to threaten, but sukuna’s expression is blank. blank being a permanent furrowing of his eyebrows and his lips are pressed into a thin line.

the moment the sorcerer turns his back, trying to flee, sukuna cuts his feet.

sukuna doesn’t give him the chance to scream and wordlessly stomps on his back. little by little, he presses harder on the man under him.

he continues until he hears the cracking of bones and coughs full of blood. sukuna watches as the man tries to claw at his feet, in attempt to escape.

“I will make you suffer ten times over for what you have done.”

and it goes down in history as the biggest carnage sukuna has ever committed.

it didn’t stop at that man.

it extended to all the villages surrounding the vicinity. every sorcerer met a crueller death than the one before him. the single women were eaten, and the married ones were slaughtered.

no man was to enjoy what he was stripped of, and he would let the world remember your name along his through the passage of time, and he would make the temple he erected in your name stand tall forever.

taglist: @magenta-cat-drawingss@pompompurin1028@scul-pted@requiem626k@nameless-shrimp@sonder-paradise@jessbeinme15s-notebook @todorokichills @ginneko @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @starlostlaiba @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @dazaisbloodybandages @aeanya @sweetcloudsimp @moon-catto @the-midnightskies@pianopuppygirl @gojosblackqueen @kryscent @kunikida-simp @whoami-72 @mx-0-child @fiona782 @kisakitwister @imjustasimpxd @psychopotatomeme @dreamcastgirl99 @watyousayin @doobiebochana @laylasbunbunny @hojicha-expresso @4sat0ruu @nineooooo @chuuyasboots @alekssashka7 @rieejjyubi02 @satoryaa @nothisispatrick300 @fallencrescentmoon @etheviese @ho34gojo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @the-weeping-author @stray-npc @libbyistired @anon1412@maehemthemisfit @satorustar @b4nka1@sad-darksoul@ko-fi-heart@pumpkindudeishere@suyaaachin@babyqueen17@chaosguy352@murakami-kotone@sukun4ryomen@yumieis@hearts4itoshi@sleepyxxhead@dunixxd@sleepycrybbylaiah @imjustaduckwholikesbread @emilyyyy-08@spacebaby1@arabellatreaty@viscade @washeduphasbeen @janbannan @sugurubabe @enidths @mwtsxri @peppersapro @uranosbaaee

copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or I will rat you out to my bestie

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[so-much-for-the-seashells]

Logan Howlett, the man you are. (Headcanons!!)

Minors, do not interact.

A/N: Y’all. I’ve been in a writing rut, but something about Logan- and Huge Jackedman, by extension- regaining his moment in the spotlight has gotten me back at it. Hugh was 1000% the reason I found out that I have a thing for dilfs, and let me tell you, I ain’t mad about it. To quote one author, who I can’t remember off the top of my head but wrote a KILLER breeding kink fic for Wolvie, “before there was Jensen Ackles, there was Hugh Jackman.” If you know me or my work, you know I’m a Jackles girl, but Hugh? Hugh will always get me going, whether he’s a ringleader, a robot shadow boxer, or otherwise.

TLDR I’m so in love with Hugh/Logan again. I always am, but I’m really on fire rn. Don’t worry, I will be continuing the 2SC series, but I needed this.

As always, all interaction, especially your words, is so very much appreciated!! I hope you like this one! Also, thank you for 120 followers! This account is maybe three months old, this is an insane milestone.

CW: it’s really just soft with a side of spice, the most flavorful being daddy/breeding.

-first of all, this man is a the biter.

-and it’s not always in a sexual sense

-he’ll just walk up to you and gently graze his teeth against your exposed shoulder or neck

-especially at night, after sex or not. He’ll be holding you close- you’re the little spoon ofc🎀- and just nibble on the juncture of your neck and shoulder while you cuddle into him

-honestly, it doesn’t hurt. And he only leaves marks if he wants to, ie when he’s balls deep inside of your little cunt OR wanting to remind the world who you belong to

-he’s just got a bit of an oral fixation is all

-speaking of which, he could be between your thighs for the rest of eternity and he’d be fine with it. He LOVES when you tug on his hair as he makes you squirm, only needing one strong hand to hold you down

-he goes feral when he sees you wearing his shirts

-loves to throw you over his shoulder and to play fight

-he’s interested in anything you’re interested in

-mans can’t cook to save his life but adores watching you and “helping”

-aka being all up in your business when you’re literally just trying to chop an onion

-he can be clingy. Not in a whiny way, in a playfully annoying way.

-will always find a way to make you late to anything. Sometimes it’s for the sake of a quickie, other times it’s because he wants one more kiss or to see the last five minutes of whatever show you guys watch together

-if you’re into daddy, he’s into daddy. Especially if you’re significantly younger than him

-he likes to squish you- your boobs, tummy, ass, wherever. He loves your body for what it is and loves you

-this man is so in love with you, by the way

-he’s old as hell but if you teach him how to text he’ll text you sporadically throughout the day. Sometimes it’s really blurry, almost impossible to decipher, pictures of things that remind him of you, other times it’s “When will you be home?” even though he’s already called you to ask four times. That’s mainly on his days off though- if he’s not doing something or you then he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

-that’s not to say he’s not always thinking of you. On missions, wherever, you’re the first thing in his mind. Give him a locket with a picture of the two of you and chances are he’ll wear it forever

-oh back to the other one he totally texts like an old man. If you try to use slang, or even just use “u,” you’ll confuse him so bad that he’ll think he’s in the future or that you’re speaking a different language. He also doesn’t like emojis, unfortunately 😞

-he’s got a sweet tooth. Loves to bake with you- he can’t cook but he can make a mean batch of snickerdoodles. No one knows why, and he’ll never offer any explanation.

-speaking of sweets that’s why he loves eating you out so much, because you taste so sweet to him

-and all of his nicknames are sweet based- sweetheart, sweets, sugar, etc- with the exception of darling which coming from him would put anyone on their knees immediately

-speaking of being on your knees he loves when you do it. Not as much as he loves eating you out, but he does enjoy a solid blow once in a while

-he’s a sucker for cockwarming, even if it’s barely sexual. Just as a way to be close. If you don’t mind him smoking he’ll smoke a cigar while you do so, and get into a nice soft headspace

-the kink of his that annoys him the most is breeding. He doesn’t want kids (unless you do, which is its own conversation. Personally I don’t so works for me haha) but when he’s balls deep, pushing you into the mating press, it doesn’t matter. Especially if you’re in a place where he can fuck you raw all the time- ie you take the pill, have had a hysterectomy, etc- then he will, and he will always spill his seed deep in you, mind filling with pictures of you all round and swollen and cute even if it’s impossible

-however it is hot when he gets in that headspace regardless of if kids are in the question or not

-hang on I thought of something else and then I forgot it

-uhh

-oh that’s it. Praise. Loves getting it, loves receiving it. If you’re more receptive to degradation he’ll give you that, but he loves telling you what a good girl you are

-also has a blast with brat taming

-anyways back to the soft stuff

-he loves domestic life. Curling up with you on the couch with fluffy blankets and snacks, watching rom coms and other cheesy movies

-he’ll rest his head in your lap if you’re drawing, crocheting, reading, etc

-he loves being petted. Your hands in his hair, tracing his muscles, whatever. It makes him so happy and it’s soothing for him

-and we all know how he’s mr gruff n tuff, right?? Well if he’s really eepy and lying on his lap while you stroke his hair, there’s an ever slight chance you can get him to purr. Don’t tease him about it, though, or he’ll get super self conscious

-if you like to workout he’ll work out with you

-he really likes to box to blow off steam, but if it’s with you and you’re not a fellow mutant it’s more play fighting than anything, but it’s still fun

-he’s a sucker for cheesy dates

-call him ‘Lo’ or ‘Wolvie,’ or any nickname that fits him. He thinks it’s adorable, and owns it. He also gives you like fifty nicknames of his own.

-he loves long walks on the beach if it’s accesible, hiking’s also fun to him

-he’ll never take his anger out on you, ever

-he loves reading with you, just sitting in comfortable silence with your respective books

-that’s all for now!!

If you have any ideas for ficlets or headcanons, my asks box is always open!! Xx

[pinksturniolo]

phone sex head canons

warning: nfsw!!

what would it be like to sext / have phone sex with….

Chris ✰

- oh, he definitely gets needy when you’re away from him. you could be on vacation, or at work or maybe he’s on tour or visiting his family in boston. whatever it is that’s separating you two at that moment, he’s blowing up your phone.

but don’t call him clingy. he would never admit that and he gets an attitude if you even imply it. still, there he is, calling you for the fifth time since you made it to your hotel. you’ve barely set your stuff down and he’s demanding you face time him.

“babyyyy i miss you already..”

“chris i’m only gonna be gone two days, i promise ill be back before you know it.”

“i know, i know…”

his eyes trail down your face and to your chest as you pull your hoodie off, just a tight tank top with no bra underneath. he immediately feels the blood rush to his lower half. it’s almost pathetic how quickly you turn him on. but he doesn’t care.

and now he’s getting even harder as you prop your phone up on the night stand, pulling off your jean shorts so you can change into your pajama pants. the sight of your bare thighs and the pink lace of your underwear has him squeezing himself through his pants, unable to help himself now.

“come on baby… don’t do this to me.”

“chris what are you on about?”

you’re a little clueless until you notice his gaze fixated on your body and his hand directly over the large tent in his pants.

“what am i supposed to do with this now?” he gestures to his boner and your heart races, a playful smile forming on your face.

“hmm.. why don’t you take some clothes off? and maybe we’ll see..”

of course this ends with you and him helping each other get off through face time, your fingers playing with the wet mess between your legs while he talks you through it, stroking his dick until he cums in his hand.

Matt ✿

- he's sooo sweet. he loves how you patiently wait for him when he's away working. to be honest, he's not a huge texter. he prefers in person conversation and only talks on the phone if necessary. but with you, he always has time.

he loves to listen to your voice and spend all night talking with you. if you're not around each other, he's constantly thinking of what you're doing. if you miss him as much as he misses you... if you feel that certain missing piece only he can satisfy...

his thoughts can get a little... dirty. but he's not your stereotypical "send nudes" kind of guy. still, he knows how to tease you and let you know just how much he wants you. he likes to wait until you're in public or around other people, to catch you off guard. just to mess with you a little.

"and that was my day. how was yours?" you ask, your phone pressed to your ear as you mix the cookie batter. it was family night at your parent's house, and they were picking the next movie as you made everyone dessert.

matt was in boston for the weekend, and just finished filming a car video.

"boring. and lonely without you. i wish you were here."

"me too... i definitely need to go with you next time."

"yes you do. and then i can show you my old room like you've always wanted."

you smile to yourself, scooping the batter onto the baking sheet. you always told matt how much you wanted to visit his childhood home.

"and... i can show you how comfortable my bed is..."

you can practically hear the smirk on his face.

"oh yeah?"

"yeah. would you believe me if i said you would be the only girl who's been in it?"

your smile grows wider, putting the cookies in the oven.

"it's not nice to lie, matt."

"i swear."

he teases you even more the next day, when he texts you while you're at dinner with your friends. he gets you all worked up while you squeeze your thighs together under the table until you can’t take it anymore and run somewhere private to call him.

taglist!! <3

@mattspolitank @sturniolopepsi @whicked-hazlatwhore @tillies33ssss @riasturns @christhopersturniolo @junnniiieee07 @sturnsjtop @seahorsie11 @inveigledvex @mattslolita @certifiednatelover @glassesmattsbae @eryismum @sturncakez @wh0resstuff @ribread03 @sturniololoco @75sturn @mattscoquette @jnkvivi @h3arts4harry @chrizznmetswife @bambi-slxt @streamermattsgf @jetaimevous

[akazzzaa]

A/N- I saw this on Pinterest and thought it was so cute so I wanna try and write about child! reader x demons (platonic obvs) Credit goes to the artist @lll_123_lll

Summary- Short story for each demon interacting with a human child- Kokushibo, Akaza, Douma, Hantengu, Gyokko, Daki

Genre- Fluff

Warnings- None

Kokushibo

As Kokushibo walks through a peaceful village, he notices a small child playing with a wooden sword. Intrigued by the child's innocence, he decides to approach and kneels down to the child's level. The child stopped and looked at him wide eyed, '' Are you a samurai, mister?'' Kokushibo expression softened, ''Indeed, little one.''

The child jumped up in excitement, ''Wow, Can you show me some cool moves? Pretty please!?''

For a moment, Kokushibo, contemplates the request. Surprisingly, he decides to humour the child. With grace and precision, he performs a series of fluid sword movements, creating an intricate display of swordsmanship.

The child clapped in glee, '' That was amazing! Can I try too?''Kokushibo hands the child a small, wooden practice sword, showing them a basic stance. The child mimics his movements, albeit with less finesse. ''Excellent effort, young one... With dedication, you may become a skilled warrior.''

Douma

''Why do you have fangs? Are you a scary monster?"

Douma was taken aback but then chuckled softly, amused by the innocence of the child. "These fangs are a part of what I am, I need them to eat!''

The child, not completely satisfied with the answer, pointed to Douma's mouth and said, "Can I see them up close? I want to look!!''

Douma hesitated for a moment, contemplating whether to allow the child to get so close. However, he had no ill intentions and decided to humour her curiosity. With a nod, he opened his mouth wide, revealing his sharp fangs. Unfazed by the intimidating sight, The child leaned in closer to inspect the fangs. She reached out tentatively and touched one of them with her small fingers.

"They're sharp," she observed with wide-eyed wonder.

Douma, surprised by the child's boldness, couldn't help but smile. "Indeed, they are. But remember, appearances can be deceiving. It's essential to look beyond what you see on the surface."

Akaza

The moment the girl spotted Akaza, her eyes widened with excitement. She approached him fearlessly, her curiosity overcoming any apprehension she might have had. "Wow! Your hair is so pink! It's like cherry blossoms! Can I touch it?" she exclaimed, her enthusiasm contagious.

Akaza, taken aback by the girl's boldness, hesitated for a moment. Demons were not accustomed to such innocent interactions. However, something about the child's pure fascination touched a chord within him. "Uh, well, it's not something people usually ask," he replied, unsure of how to respond to such an unusual request.

The little girl beamed, undeterred by Akaza's initial uncertainty. "Please? I promise I won't pull it or anything. I just want to feel it! It looks so soft and pretty!"

Akaza couldn't help but crack a small smile at the girl's sincerity. Slowly, he nodded, allowing her to approach. Gently, she reached out and delicately ran her fingers through the strands of his pink hair. The texture surprised her, and a giggle escaped her lips. "It's softer than I imagined! Your hair is really nice, mister demon!"

Akaza found himself chuckling. Emboldened by the positive response, the girl continued to play with Akaza's hair, creating impromptu hairstyles and sharing her infectious laughter.

Hantengu (Main body)

The child's eyes fixated on the peculiar lump on Hantengu's head. "What's that big lump on your head?" she inquired, her concern evident in her voice.

Hantengu's faces displayed a mix of embarrassment and discomfort.'' I- I dont know, I've always had it! I'm not lying this time either!''

The child, being a compassionate soul, couldn't bear to see anyone in distress. Without a second thought, she took a step forward and planted a small, innocent kiss on the lump. Hantengu's face immediately transformed into expressions of surprise and gratitude.

"There, now it's better," The child said with a smile, her eyes sparkling with kindness.

Hantengu, touched by the child's pure heart, felt a warmth spreading through his body. "Thank you, little one. You possess a kindness that is rare even among humans."

Gyokko

Gyokko observed the child doodle in the dirt with a small stick, a display of untapped creativity. Intrigued, Gyokko decided to share his passion for painting with the young artist.

Gyokko teleported beside the child. In his hands, he conjured a set of vibrant paints and brushes, as if summoning colours from the very air. The child's eyes widened in amazement as Gyokko presented the tools of creation.

"Art is like the dance of a butterfly," Gyokko spoke, his voice gentle like a breeze. "Let the colors flow, and your heart guide the brush."

Gyokko dipped his brush into a pool of blue paint and began to demonstrate fluid strokes on a blank canvas. the child, fascinated, mimicked the motions with a mixture of excitement and concentration.

Gyokko and the child painted side by side, creating a masterpiece that mirrored the beauty of their newfound friendship.

In the quiet of the night, Gyokko spoke words of encouragement to the child. "Every stroke tells a story, and every colour holds an emotion. Let your imagination soar like a bird in the sky, young one."

Under Gyokko's guidance, the child discovered not only the art of painting but also the power of expression and self-discovery.

Daki

Daki's beauty was enhanced by the intricate layers of silk, vibrant colours, and elegant accessories. She moved through the crowd gracefully, her presence drawing both admiration and whispers. Unknown to her, a wide-eyed human had been trailing behind, mesmerized by the ethereal vision.

With her innocent curiosity, tugged on the hem of Daki's exquisite kimono, her eyes filled with admiration. Daki, though known for her short temper, couldn't help but soften at the sight of the little girl.

"Wow, you look so pretty!" The child exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with wonder.

Daki turned her attention to the child, a small smile playing on her lips. "Thank you, little one. You seem to have an eye for beauty," she replied, her voice as silky as her attire.

Undeterred by the imposing aura of a demon, asked, "Can I look pretty like you too? I want to wear such beautiful clothes!"

Daki crouched down to the child eye level, her long, silky hair cascading around her. "Of course, you can, little one. Beauty is not just in the clothes we wear but in the kindness of our hearts.''

As Daki spoke, she noticed the simple charm bracelet on the child's wrist. She reached into the folds of her kimono and took a delicate flower hairpin. "Here, take this. It will make you look even more beautiful."

The child's eyes widened as she accepted the gift, a radiant smile spreading across her face. Daki, for a moment, found herself enchanted by the purity of the child's joy.

"Thank you, miss!" The child exclaimed, twirling around with newfound delight.

Daki watched as she skipped away, her heart touched by the innocence of a child who saw beyond the dangers of the world. As the festival continued, Daki couldn't help but feel a warmth in her heart, a reminder that beauty, in its truest form, transcends appearances and lies within the bonds that connect people.

A/N=Added Gyokko and Daki

[heartsforvin]

SILENT TREATMENT

this is for my girl @forevergirlposts LOVE YOU BAE 😫(bit of a continuation to pranks, but that can be read as a stand-alone, this just mentions them in the car as if the last bits of the imagine (when they’re stargazing) didn’t happen !!)

pairing; vinnie hacker x fem!reader

warnings; smut, oral (fem receiving), orgasm denial, use of toys, use of pet names (baby, princess, etc), praise kink, degradation kink, thigh riding, unprotected p in v, slapping, spitting, vinnie being his own warning + him kinda being a dick, cussing, if i missed anything lmk!

summary; you give vinnie the silent treatment after an argument, earning you your own kind of treatment in return

sitting at a red light, vinnie turns his gaze to you, wondering if you’re ever gonna speak up.

“you gonna tell me why you’re acting like this?” he asks you, you look over with your arms crossed, glaring at him.

not replying, you turn your gaze back to the window you were looking out at before vinnie spoke up.

the light turns green and you two are on your way across the intersection, still not speaking.

you thought apologizing to him would help, but clearly it just made him more angry.

it was a harmless prank, you thought. clearly not to vinnie, though.

coming to another stop a few miles up the road, vinnie glances in your direction again, you try not to look a him, keeping your eyes on the window as you wait for the light to change.

he mutters something under his breath, gaining your attention, you look over at him and his eyes are on the road.

“that seemed to get your attention.” he says while keeping his gaze fixated on the road in front of you.

you roll your eyes. “well hearing my boyfriend call me a bitch isn’t exactly what i wanna hear.” you reply.

vinnie smirks but quickly changes the expression to a blank stare. the light turns green again and soon the car is filled with silence.

the blonde had stopped at a gas station on the way back to his place. once in the lot, he parked the car and asked if you wanted anything.

you didn’t reply, not having anything else to say. vinnie rolled his eyes and stepped out of the car, slamming the door behind him which resulted you to jump, not expecting the sudden impact.

five minutes later he returns and the two of you are soon on your way back to vinnie’s house.

once again, the ride is silent, the only noise heard his some song vinnie had put on, you not caring what it was.

finally, you pulled in the driveway and vinnie had turned off the car. grabbing his things, he opened the door but faced you. “are you just gonna sit there and pout like a baby or are you gonna come inside?” he asked.

waiting a moment for a reply, he scoffed when you ignored him again. vinnie climbed out of the car and shut the door behind him.

standing in front of the car, he waited for you, since it was the respectful thing to do. even if he was extremely pissed off at you.

“whatever,” he muttered, walking inside the home. once inside, he closes the door behind him and was met with his roommates.

saying a quick ‘hello’ vinnie then made his way to his room, shutting the door behind him and then taking his shoes off.

he put his things down on his desk and then laid on his bed, wondering how long you’d stay out in his car pouting like a child.

twenty minutes later he heard his door quietly open. lifting his gaze from his phone to his bedroom door, he saw you walk in with a slight smile on your face.

“wipe that fucking smile off your face,” he said sternly, making you huff.

you ignored him and just walked to his bathroom. a few moments later you walked out in one of vinnie’s tee’s and some shorts. you made your way to sit at his gaming chair, not wanting to be near him.

“so, you gonna tell me why you decided to start an argument and then give me the silent treatment,” vinnie started, propping himself up on his bed by his elbows. “or am i gonna have to fuck it out of you?”

you couldn’t help but blush and clench your legs together at the thought of vinnie taking his aggression out on you. it wasn’t often he did it, so when he did, you knew you were in for it.

you heard your boyfriend chuckle lowly, noticing the blush on your cheeks and how you pushed your legs together.

“pretty girl likes that idea, huh?” he teases, knowing he’s getting you riled up.

vinnie gets up from his bed and walks over to you, grabbing you by the waist to lift you up. he sits on his gaming chair, making you now sit on his lap.

feeling the prominent boner in his grey sweats, you decide to tease him. why not, right? you already pissed him off, why not do it some more.

wiggling your ass against him, vinnie groans into your neck, gripping your hips roughly.

“killin’ me, princess.” he says, evident strain in his voice.

you smirk at him, leaning in to kiss him but he pulls away. “nuh-uh,” he says, placing his finger on your lips. “only good girls get kisses.” he tells you with a smile spread across his face.

pouting once again, you cross your arms, just wanting to kiss your boyfriend. you start to get off his lap but vinnie pulls you back down.

straddling his thigh now, you squirm around, trying to get rid of the ache in between your legs.

vinnie smiles as he tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear, kissing your temple softly.

that’s the most physical contact you’ve gotten tonight, besides the current situation you two are in.

“wanna be a good girl for me?” he whispers, leaving kisses along your neck, making you even more wet than you already are.

all you can reply with is an ‘mhm’ which sounded more than a moan than an actual response.

smirking, vinnie wraps his arms around you so his hands are on your as, he squeezes gently, making you move a bit on his thigh.

“you were such a brat today, don’t know if you deserve it.” he says, making you whine.

“i’ll be good, swear.” you tell him, giving him the innocent look he loves so much.

grinding against his thigh, you can’t help but let a noise slip, making you bite your lip, not wanting vinnie to hear.

he had, though, and that lead to a smack against your ass. “get off on my thigh, baby,” he says lowly.

whining, you move against him, loving the pleasure it’s giving you. “such a dirty girl, getting herself off by just my thigh. you want it so bad, don’t you, huh?”

you grip at his shoulders to steady yourself, vinnie smiles at you as he grips your hips, helping you relive the ache.

that soon ends though. he abruptly stops you and removes you from his leg, walking you backwards to his bed and pushing you onto it.

“you thought i’d go easy on you? let you get your way?” he laughs, pulling his sweats down and throwing them in the room somewhere.

you nod your head, kind of hoping he would. vinnie chuckles as he smiles at you. you whine as you look at his boner wanting to be free of his boxers.

meanwhile, you find it extremely unfair since your still in his baggy t-shirt and shorts. he sees you lift your hips and pull the shorts off, a smirk plastered on his face.

once your shorts are off you hear vinnie audibly gasp at the sight in front of him.

this wasn’t your guys’ first time, not in the slightest. every time he saw you like this though, he couldn’t help but be mesmerized.

“so gorgeous, princess.” he compliments you, making you blush and hide your face in your shoulder.

vinnie goes soft on you for a moment, his once aggressive demeanor now a more calm one.

hooking his index finger under your chin, he lifts up your chin so you can look at him. he smiles and gives you what you’ve been waiting for.

the kiss isn’t rough nor fast paced, it’s slow and passionate.

once the two of you are separated, it’s like that kiss never happened and he wasn’t just giving you the most loving touches in the world.

“lay on your back,” is all he says before crawling up on the bed and being mere inches away from where you’ve been needing him most.

looking up at you, he stares at you coldly before asking, “can i take these off, sweetheart?” tugging at the waistband of your panties.

nodding, you have the biggest grin on your face, finally getting what you’ve been wanting. vinnie slowly pulls your panties down your legs and tosses them somewhere in his room.

lowering himself, he lays with his chest on the bed while his mouth his oh so close to your dripping core.

before giving you exactly what you want, vinnie rubs your clit ever so slowly, teasing you and making you squirm away from him.

he roughly pulls you back by your ankles, not even giving you another second to process anything before his mouth is on you.

another whine escapes your lips the second you feel his mouth on you. you grip at the sheets, loving the feeling.

“mhm, vin.” you moan out, the feeling of him sucking on your clit becoming too much to handle.

you feel like you can cum any second, squeezing your legs around his head, you hear vinnie moan into you, causing vibrations all over.

letting go with a loud sound, vinnie looks up at you with pure lust, you can see the wetness on his chin and that just makes you more needy.

“such a pretty pussy,” he says, smacking you gently which only makes you whimper in response. “you like that? like it when i smack your pussy like that, baby?”

biting your lip, you let out a loud moan when he does it again, making vinnie chuckle in return. “doin’ so good for me, sweetheart.” he praises, only making it worse for you.

you know the ‘innocent’ act from him won’t last long. well, however innocent he can get while eating you out.

you were cut off from your thoughts when you felt vinnies middle finger enter you, a groan erupting from him.

sucking on your clit again, he pumps his finger in and out of you at a fast pace, making you arch your back slightly as you grip the sheets.

“f-fuck, vin, feels so good.” you moan out, looking down at him with lust filled eyes.

detaching his lips from you, he adds another finger, circling your clit with his thumb to help you get close to the edge.

“mm close,” you whine out, gripping the boys hair below you.

right before you’re about to let go, vinnie pulls away from you, smirking as he licks his fingers clean.

“what the fuck?” you ask, lifting yourself up on your elbows to look at him. “why’d you stop?”

standing up, you can clearly see the visible boner in his boxers, making you close your legs.

he looks at you for a moment with his arms crossed, almost as if he’s studying you. feeling small under his gaze, you bring your arms up to cover yourself.

vinnie doesn’t answer, instead, he goes over to one of the bedside tables and pulls it open.

pulling out the toy, you immediately shake your head. “no, no, no.” you say, tears brimming your eyes.

vinnie climbs back on the bed and pushes you on your back again, he smiles at you as he brings the vibrator to your clit, turning it on to the second highest setting.

“mm, vinnie,” you moan out, trying your best to not close your legs in on him.

the pleasure soon gets to be too much, seeing as he’s upped the vibration to the second to last setting.

you grip the sheets and bite your lip, knowing if you didn’t, everyone would be able to hear you.

vinnie knew you were close and took the toy away from you, making you roll your eyes.

he chuckles as he tosses the toy to the side, forgetting all about it. vinnie moves his hands up your body and stops once he reaches your tits, squeezing them roughly through your shirt.

“fuck, baby,” he says, rubbing your nipples through your shirt. “so sensitive, are we?”

lifting your shirt, he can clearly see just how sensitive you are, one little movement from him and you’re squirming.

vinnie leans down to suck on your tits, leaving evident marks on them as he does. he moves his mouth to your left one, taking your nipple in his mouth as he massages the right.

“mm, more,” you say, loving the feeling of his mouth on your chest.

vinnie hums in response, not giving you what you want in the slightest.

moving down your body, he leaves kisses all down your stomach to your thighs.

vinnie looks up at you and you can’t help but smile, even if you aren’t going to be able to walk tomorrow morning.

“get that fuckin’ smile off your face,” he growls at you. “you know what’s gonna happen?” he asks.

you shake your head as you look up at him with puppy dog eyes. “i’m gonna fuck this pretty pussy of yours, and you’re gonna take it like a good girl.” the blonde explains.

this expression towards you was blank. he said the most filthy words to you with such a serious tone and an almost blank stare.

“can you say it for me, pretty?” vinnie asks as he kisses the inside of your thigh.

you squirm at the feeling of his lips on your skin. “i’m your good girl, vin.” you tell him.

he smiles and kisses your lips the second those words leave your mouth. the next thing you know his boxers are off and he’s pulling you closer to him.

“can i take this off?” he asks, tugging on your (his) shirt.

you nod your head frantically, wanting nothing more than the shirt off and for him to be inside of you.

vinnie finally pulls your shirt off and tosses it to the ground, leaving you both completely naked to each other.

he can’t help put kiss you, you just look too irresistible for him not too. although he is mad at you for the silent treatment you’ve given him all night, he can’t help but go soft on you and treat you as if you’re something so fragile.

“scoot up on the bed for me, baby.” vinnie whispers against your lips.

you pull away from the boy and move up to the headboard, laying your head against a pillow. you smile and bite your lip as you watch your boyfriend crawl on the bed closer to you.

once he reaches you, he gives you a quick kiss before placing his hands on either side of you to steady himself.

without a warning, he pushes himself into you with a groan, setting a steady pace. as his thrusts become deeper, so does the physical contact from him.

“yeah you like that, princess?” he asks, you can’t help but moan at the feeling. “like it when i fuck this pretty pussy, baby?”

vinnie smirks as you moan out his name, he watches as your eyes roll back in pleasure. “eyes on me, princess.” he tells you as he smacks your tits roughly.

grabbing onto vinnie’s hair, you pull it when he hits a particularly good spot, moaning as you do so. “vin, please.”

you open your eyes but soon close them once again when you feel the harsh smack on your chest.

vinnie grabs your face and makes you look at him as he keeps his pace fast. “open your mouth for me, sweetheart.”

opening your mouth, vinnie leans in closer and let’s a string of spit enter. “swallow.” is all he says. you do, and he smiles.

“good girl.” he praises. you grip his shoulders and buck your hips, meeting his thrusts.

“that’s it, baby. fuck yourself on my cock,” vinnie says with a moan followed after. “that’s it, doing so good.”

you feel that knot in your stomach tighten as vinnie’s thrusts become deeper. he could tell you were close, wanting to tease you, he thought about stopping, but he decided not to.

“come on baby, cum on my cock,” he grunts, his pace becoming faster. “ be a good girl for me.”

with a few more harsh thrusts from him, you’re moaning out his name as you come down from your high.

vinnie follows soon after, kissing you on the forehead once he catches his breath.

he stays inside of you for a minute, loving the feeling. laying down on your chest, you wrap your arm around him.

“maybe i should give you the silent treatment more often.” you tell your boyfriend.

he brushes some hair out of your face and kisses you passionately. “if i get to fuck you like that, then be my guest.” he replies with a smile.

kissing you one last time, he pulls out of you and the two of you get dressed, walking downstairs and acting as if your boyfriend didn’t just fuck you so good.

although everyone knew the minute you made your way into the living room, getting an earful from vinnie’s roommates.

vinnie comes up behind you and leans into you, kissing your neck. “don’t listen to them, they’re just jealous i get to have you.”

lil surprise (: i hope you all enjoyed, everyone say thank you to dakota ( @forevergirlposts) for commenting under my most recent imagine n puttin this idea in my head , ILY <333 and i hope you loved it 🩷

[uhohdad]

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, 144k 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, Sexual Content, First Time, Smut, Fluff, Angst

CHAPTER ONE | PREV | CHAPTER NAVIGATION

➤ THE TRIBUTES II

If you’re being honest, the worst part is not knowing why it hurts so much. How could you be stupid enough to give Konig this much control over you? Why do you feel so churned up inside over a boy you’ve known for a mere few days and only exchanged a handful of words? And why, even after recognizing that your anger isn’t rightfully pointed at Konig, are you still so mad at him?

You have to put your face in your pillow and scream to let it all out. All of it, the feelings about Konig, the feelings of inadequacy, the feelings about the games.

Price gives you five minutes, five minutes of stewing in the anger, chewing and splitting and dissecting every contradicting emotion before he knocks on your door.

You ignore the first few knocks, and after a second round of rapping he calls your name through the door.

“Go away!” You yell.

He gives a softer knock, maybe with just a knuckle or two. His voice drops low and persuading, a hint of a playful tease, “C’mon Plucky.”

You let out an overtly-dramatic groan, “I don’t want to talk about it! Just leave me alone!”

“Who said anything about talking?” His gruff voice carries through the door, “Let me pour you a drink.”

That… actually doesn’t sound too bad.

Even after the incident on the train you’re itching to relax, to get that feeling of easiness again. You let out a huff into the sheets, begrudgingly standing and dragging your feet to the door, by no means gently swinging it open.

“There’s my ray of sunshine.”

You try to shut the door in his face, but his shoe shoots out to catch it.

“I’m sorry,” He says, not entirely genuine. He then nudges in the direction of the dining room with his shoulder, “C’mon.”

You let out a heavy sigh and step into the hall.

“‘Atta girl,” He says, leading you into the dining table.

You plop yourself down on the chair, and Price stays true to his word. He fills up a crystal glass with the decanter, and he doesn’t get too close when he sets it next to you, scraping the glass across the table and into your reach.

He takes his place at the head of the table. For a while you both nurse your whiskey in silence. You take in as much as your body allows, eagerly anticipating the warmth that blooms in your chest as it goes down. You stand to get another drink to wash down the offensive taste, and Price has the sense to not make fun of you for it.

When your cheeks are flushed with heat, when you don’t feel quite yourself anymore, your mouth opens to speak and the words slip out without your permission, voice low and fixated on the tabletop.

“I don’t want to die.”

Price presses his lips together, and taps the tabletop with a few fingernails.

“Then don’t.”

You shoot him a glare, “Everyone knows I don’t stand a chance.”

“I don’t know that,” he says.

You face warps in a look that’s begging for him to drop the act.

He rolls his eyes, almost annoyed, and lets out a huff.

“I don’t care for quitters much.”

“Can we be realistic for a second?” You say exasperatedly, “I have nothing. Not the strength, not the skill, and no chance of getting help in that arena. I am not the smart bet.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” He says.

Your words flip from hot to ice cold, eyes narrowing at him, “It means everything.”

“Look, kid, tributes scrappier than you have won the games before. Stop counting yourself out and get your head in the fucking game.”

The harsh tone he ends with makes your lower lip bunch and your eye twitch.

He sighs with a long blink, a slight shake of his head, and when he speaks his voice is much softer.

”I get it. Yeah? I get the disdain. But it’s happening and I need you to get it together.”

It hits you all over again.

Your reality, the mere fact that you are going into that arena. You will have to survive, you will have to defend yourself, and you will most likely have to kill.

The booze seems to amplify the emotion, doubling the weight of the anvil that drops on your chest and steals every last wisp of air from your lungs. A sore lump forms in your throat and your mouth goes dry, tears welling in your eyes.

Price looks almost shocked, and then his forehead wrinkles and his arms cross as he leans in.

The tears are rolling now, big droplets that fall before catching on the height of your cheek, streaking down your face and your neck.

His hand reaches out to give a pat on your forearm before resting there, “Oh, c’mon now, Plucky.”

He sighs again, his voice gentle but persuasive, “I know a feisty girl when I see one. Before you even spoke I knew that you had a fire in ya’.”

You look at him with eyes red and glossed, your sight warped through tears.

He removes the hand on your forearm before giving a point in your direction, “You’re angry and I need you to use that. I need you to be a fighter. This is going to be the hardest thing you’ve ever done but I believe you can do this. I’ve seen a lot of kids come and go but there’s something about you.”

You scoff, voice slightly nasal, “I wouldn’t stand a chance against Konig, let alone any of the other tributes.”

“I know you’re smarter than that,” Price kicks back.

“Smarter than Konig?” You ask with a sniff, wiping your nose.

“No,” he gives a tilt of his head and perks his eyebrows, as if negating the ‘no’ before he continues, “I meant smart enough to realize that everyone else is going to overlook you. You don’t think that boy is going to have a giant target on his back? He’s a huge threat to the others and they know it.”

You hadn’t considered that, actually.

He sighs, “I’m not saying the kid doesn’t have a chance, but you are gonna find some sense, hunker down, and wait it out. They will underestimate you.”

Your eyes flick around his features, trying to decipher if his encouragement is genuine. The tears have stopped flowing, and you give a sniff.

“You’re going to put that fury, that fire, and you are going to channel it into survival. Even if you have to do it out of spite. Just don’t let anyone use it against you, okay?”

You give a shaky nod and take another sip of your whiskey with a wince.

“Yeah,” you whisper.

There’s another pause, Price tapping on the glass table as you both nurse your drinks.

The words come tumbling out one after another without thought.

“The careers want to ally with Konig and he didn’t say no.”

Price raises his brows again and gives one slow nod.

“Ah,” He says in understanding.

You can tell he’s pin-pointed the actual reason for your outburst, not the underlying one.

“He said yes?”

“Well, no,” Your eyes dart away, “He said he wanted to talk to you first.”

He nods again. “I’m not saying that wasn’t the right move, but I can see why you’re upset.”

“I’m not upset,” You say, your face still puffy from crying.

“Of course,” He says.

You shoot him another look with narrowed eyes.

“I’ll talk to him,” Price says, raising his palm off the table, “But you need to promise me you’ll go back down to training and give it your all. Forget what I said before, learn whatever you want for the rest of the day. And Konig doesn’t have to babysit.”

You nod again.

“Let the whiskey settle first,” He says as he stands, wagging a finger in your direction, “And drink some water, Plucky.”

Price saunters off with his drink, and you follow his advice without pushback. You let your face filter out the evidence of crying, hydrate, and wait until your cheeks drains of the tipsy heat before making your way back to the training center.

Konig’s eyes find you immediately. An instructor is speaking to him, but his head turns and locks on you. You catch a frown before you turn away. You can’t stand to look at him, he’s making all the complex and knotted feelings resurface.

You head to the opposite side of the training area, and find you’re not as intimidated by the weapons anymore. You pick up a handful of knives, following Price’s advice about channeling the anger. Whipping your arm with a grunt as you practice throwing at some dummy’s across the line of fire. Your aim is not great, but for the most part they are sticking into the dummy with satisfying thuds.

Everytime you get lucky and manage to hit the target, you take a step back to throw a few more from a farther distance.

Archery takes you a while to get accustomed to. You’d never used a bow before, you’re not sure how to hold it, and your positioning is all off.

The trainer does step in to help you out, and while initially overbearing he does prove to be quite helpful, guiding your positions and showing you where to pull the string.

You miss more times than not, but the trainer gives his best effort.

The spears are a bit heavy, and you don’t seem to be doing great at long distance throwing, but the short range throws are hard to mess up.

You curiously poke over swords, what remains of the booze in your system giving you the confidence to draw closer to the careers. You follow Price’s instructions on ignoring them. Pretending they’re not even there. The dirt beneath your feet.

“Done with your temper tantrum?”

A career, no doubt, each word knotted with arrogance.

You have to bite your tongue so hard it almost breaks flesh. Your expression goes sour, but you don’t whip around right away.

You so badly want to explode on them, let out your anger on the owner of the voice.

Instead you lick your lips, plaster a face drenched in curiosity, and turn on your heels.

As innocently as possible you ask, “Which of you three do you think is going to die in the arena?”

Their faces immediately fall, the boy from one’s eye twitches and the girl from two gives you a wicked scowl.

“Well, only one of you can win. Have you talked it over?” You shoot back a sweet smile and a shrug.

Titan lets out a maniacal, cackling laugh, actually grabbing his knees and doubling at the core.

His demeanor is enough to shake you, your face falling.

The other careers, with their loathing and hatred, are expected. That you can handle.

It’s clear Titan’s a wildcard, completely unhinged. That laugh is not one of someone who is entirely sane, hysterical enough to trigger the instinctual urge to run, dread knotting up your insides.

“I like you, Nine!” He says with a gulp for air. He lets out a final sigh through his wicked smile, “I think I get it now!”

He claps his hands together with a crack like thunder, and takes a step forward. You don’t have the courage to refrain from taking a step back.

“Funny girl,” Titan coos, his voice suddenly low and silky, eyelids fluttering in your direction, “You want to join the winners?”

Your face immediately twists. You go to speak, but your tongue is frozen.

Are they asking you to ally with them?

No.

“What is this?” You ask, a lot quieter and broken than you would have liked.

When Titan explodes into another fit of laughter, small droplets of his spit fly from his mouth and splatter onto your face. Your eyes close in a flinch, face pinching in a grimace.

“Don’t play shy, Nine!” He says after his fit. He drops his voice again, to an almost sultry tone, as if he was trying to flirt his way into an alliance with you, “We want you on our team.”

“Right,” you say when he confirms your suspicion, wiping his spit off your face. The notion is ridiculous enough for you to regain some of your confidence, “Fuck off, then.”

Titan explodes into laughter once more, and the boy from one sweeps him back with a push of his arm, clearly over the display.

“We can protect you in the arena, Nine,” One says gruffly.

“From who?” You ask, making a show of checking your nails, still dotted with wheat florettes, “From you?”

The girl from one perks up, “You won’t go hungry with us.”

“If you want my opinion,” you start, ignoring their offer as your finger points at the girl from one, “You.”

You point at the girl from District Two.

“You.”

The boy from one.

“And you.”

You hold his stare when you finish, voice taught as you jam your thumb in the direction of a hysterical Titan, “A weeks worth of bread says Hoo-Hah over here stabs you all in the throat while you’re sleeping.”

Titan finds this hilarious, his cackling escalating as his hands clap together.

The boy from one looks over your shoulder, cranes his head, and takes a step backwards.

“Keep your dog on a shorter leash,” He growls.

Your eyes roll and a long breath escapes you. Not at the insult, but at the realization that Konig is standing right behind you, still adhering to Price’s instructions.

Keeping you out of trouble.

Successfully.

The careers’ pointed stares bore into you as they walk away. Titan’s still laughing, and he calls out one final, “I’ll be seeing you, Funny Girl!”

His words send a shudder down your spine, stifling the twitch as you finish picking out a sword. You only turn to face Konig once they’re out of earshot, jaw cocked and head craned to meet his stare, “I talked to Price, and he said you didn’t have to chaperone me anymore.”

You inspect the sword casually in your hand, as if disinterested in his presence, “So, feel free to do your own thing.”

He swallows, eyes darting around your face, “Did- Did I?”

You drop your voice to an icy whisper, running a finger along the flat of the sword’s steel, “I’m not really interested in someone who fraternizes with careers. So.”

As awful as it is, you want to be mad at him. To make him feel how you feel.

His brows pinch and his head lowers, “I didn’t, I’m not!”

His eyes dart around, and he lowers his voice.

“It was on the spot and- I didn’t want to get on their bad side.”

He gives you just about the saddest eyes you’ve ever seen.

“Bitte-”

He cuts himself off, his arms at his sides and slightly lifted, begging for your forgiveness.

You give an annoyed huff, but not at him, at yourself, for immediately being tempted to forgive him. You’re aching to curl up in the arms of his comfort again, you don’t want to finish training all by yourself.

“I won’t do it, I won’t even mention it to Price. It was never-” He cuts himself off with a deep breath.

“It’s okay,” You whisper as you lower the sword and run your thumb over the handle’s crest. A drawn out sigh leaves you, “I’m sorry, it’s me. It’s just been hard.”

“I know,” He says. There’s a pause, and he looks down to the sword in your hand.

“Want to spar?” He asks.

“Uh,” You follow his gaze as you think, “Okay.”

He takes his time looking over the swords, keeping his eye trained carefully on the weapons as he asks under his breath, “What was that about?”

You look over your shoulder and eye the pack that convenes in a huddle, speaking to each other in hushed voices.

You step closer to him in an effort to keep your conversation unheard, “They asked me to ally with them, I think?” You shake your head, “I think they’re just asking everyone. Trying to lure in anyone they can for an easy kill? I have no clue.”

He gives a hum, giving a glance over his shoulder that was probably more discreet in his head than it was in real life, “What’d you say?”

“A lot. The gist was ‘Fuck that and fuck you.’”

Konig draws a sword and holds it at his side. It seems much lighter in Konig’s hand than it does your own.

“Must have been funny,” he says, his eyes lingering on the careers.

You blow out a huff of air, “Easy crowd.”

You make a gesture with your index finger that suggests Titan’s not right in the head, swirling it next to your temple to mimic scrambled brains.

He nods carefully, and ceases his line of questioning.

Sword training is more enjoyable than you thought it would be. The sword is heavy in your hands, and by time you finish your wrists and forearms are more than sore, but it is satisfying to swing and thrust the blade at targets.

You round out the day without disturbance, and you both make your way back to the suite.

Price is less lenient about his questioning. At dinner, he coaxes every word of your interactions with the careers from you and Konig.

He’s less pleased with your responses, “Taunting them? Are you nuts?”

“Not as nutty as the boy from two,” your tone is curved and paired with a flare of your eyelids as your teeth slide a perfectly cooked piece of steak from your fork.

“Even more of a reason to steer clear of them!”

“Hey!” You say, mouth still full of half-chewed steak, “They provoked me.”

“I don’t care, that’s not how you handle it.”

“What happened to being fiesty?” You say, throwing your arms up.

“The last thing you need is attention drawn to you,” Price shoots back.

You roll your eyes, “Whatever, it’s too late for me to fix it. Not like I’m gonna see them again anyway.”

“You’ll see them in the arena,” He says gruffly.

“John’s right,” Ruby interjects.

You blow a dismissive puff of air, but underneath it you wonder if he’s right. Your stomach turns at the thought you made a life-threatening decision by running your big mouth. If even Ruby agrees with Price, maybe he truly does have a point.

“She stood up for herself,” Konig blurts out on your behalf, “She did the right thing.”

Your eyebrows pinch, lips pulling back.

Price wears a matching expression, the wrinkles in his forehead deepening as he looks at Konig with shock and confusion torn through his features.

Konig’s briefly confident façade fades as he takes turns shifting his gaze between you and Price, his posture deflating.

“Well,” Price says, his brows perking for a moment as he returns his attention to his plate, “That’s that then.”

You continue holding Konig’s stare, trying to figure out why he would say that. What he stood to gain for getting Price off your back.

For making you feel better.

Encouraging you to pick fights with the careers to ensure they hunt you down and pick you off in the arena?

You don’t have an answer.

“Tomorrow they’ll be doing individual training,” Price starts, “Now’s the time to pull out all the stops, got it?”

“Aye aye,” You mutter, not at all genuine.

Price points his fork in your direction, “Be good, Plucky.”

“Not likely,” You say.

You’re certain you’ll be unremarkable. Wedged in the tail end in the middle of the pack, destined to be overshadowed by those that come before and after you. There’s nothing notable about you. No size or strength or skill to draw anyone’s attention.

After dinner, Price dismisses you and Konig so he, Ruby, and the stylists can go over strategy.

As you turn to your respective doors, you utter a weak, “Thanks.”

Konig pauses for a moment before nodding his head slowly.

“Of course.”

Ruby lets you sleep in until late morning, and by time you wander in for breakfast, everyone’s nearly completed their meal.

“Morning, Sunshine,” Price says.

You grunt in response, loading your plate and taking a seat.

Training starts at noon, so you have a few hours of free time after you down a hearty breakfast.

You spend it out on the balcony, soaking in the sun and watching the clouds roll by. You nurse a glass of orange juice as you take in the noisy city below.

Just before noon, Ruby collects you, has you change into your training outfit, and leads you and Konig down to the gymnasium.

You and Konig share a look as Ruby shoots back up in the elevator. A Capitol attendant leads you to a sterile, concrete sitting room with rows of benches, half full of tributes waiting to be evaluated. You sit towards the back, Konig following and sitting down next to you. He leaves a generous amount of space between you so he can spread his legs.

The room is quiet aside from the careers, sitting together and rowdily chatting. Every so often you hear Titan’s maniacal laughter, his cackle knotting your insides.

It doesn’t last long. They pull you in order of district, so the careers are drained from the room one by one, and they don’t return. The room goes quiet shortly after Titan is pulled from the room.

It’s a heavy air you all breathe, in a room full of people who will be trying to kill each other in a matter of days.

As the number of tributes dwindle, the air is easier to draw, but the lack of stimulation has your thoughts racing.

So you do what you've been when you find yourself spiraling.

“Did you bring a token?” You ask Konig, voice as low as you can manage in this stiff room.

“No,” He says at a whisper, “I forgot.”

“Y’know, it’s stupid, but I kind of wish I brought one. Something to touch in the arena. I can’t help but feel like a reminder of home will help me keep some sanity in there.”

He nods slow, and you worry you’ve overshared.

“I don’t want to think of home,” he mumbles, scraping his shoe along the concrete floor.

Your brows pinch as you find him.

His elbows are planted on his knees, leaning his weight on them. The pads of his fingers rub together slowly, mesmerizingly, as he fixates on a spot on the floor.

You realize, and it took you longer than it should have, that District Nine is two different places for you and Konig.

District Nine had its glaring problems. The majority of the population poor, overworked and starving. Unjust laws and cruel punishment. A society run primarily on fear.

But to you, it was still home.

Your friends, family, and every good thing that has ever happened you have resides in District Nine.

You knew it was not a place that was kind to him - it is a place that rejects anyone that is different, that does not fit the mold of district expectation.

But did Konig have anything waiting for him back home?

Did District Nine offer Konig any distraction, any love, any shred of light in the dark dismal place it was?

You don’t ask.

When it is your turn, you stand, legs made of jelly and a slight tremor in your body.

“Wait,” Konig blurts, and you turn on your heels. He fumbles through his words, “Be- Be good.”

You blink, not sure what to make of Konig reinforcing Price’s demand. You nod slow, lips parted to release terrified breaths.

Standing in front of the gamemakers with no crowd to hide behind is beyond intimidating.

You announce your name, your district, and they let you begin.

You take an edible plants and bug test, make a makeshift splint, throw short-range tosses with a spear, swing a sword, and throw knives around with about 35 percent accuracy. It’s subpar all around.

Once again, you find yourself in front of Price, grilling you about every detail.

You already know you’re getting a low score, but you’re sure it’s still going to be a blow to your ego.

You all settle in the sitting room for the announcement of the scores.

The careers do well, obviously. Scoring in the 8-10 range.

Everyone else settles on an average of 5-7.

As the boy from eight’s score of ‘7’ fades on the screen, the room draws a collective breath.

You see your solemn headshot, and after a painful few seconds, the number ‘5’ flashes on the screen.

“Others have certainly done worse!” Ruby chimes.

Price gives a light, encouraging bump on your shoulder, “Not bad, kid.”

You rub out your shoulder, which doesn’t actually hurt at all, and stare at the floor with wide eyes. You realize in this moment that Price’s opinion of you might actually mean something to you, because you can tell his compliment is only half genuine, and it stings. You wanted to do better for him. To be a tribute he could be proud of.

Not a five.

Below average.

Your score fades, and Konig’s intimidating headshot flashes on the screen, those hooded eyes staring menacingly at the camera.

“From District Nine we have Konig,” There’s a pause, everyone in the room holding a collective breath, “With a score of ten.”

For a moment, the room is silent, faces made of stone as you all process his score.

Ruby lets out a squeal in excitement, and Price actually lets out a pleased laugh. His pride for Konig twists your gut.

Your lower lip clamps between your teeth with a roll as your thumb rubs circles in your palm.

“Atta’ boy,” Price says, his fist stiffly pumping in the air.

This praise is genuine.

When Konig finally takes his eyes off the screen, he lets out a breathy laugh of relief, his body untensing.

Ruby is behind him, squeezing his shoulders and giving him an excited shake.

You’re happy for him, really.

You are.

You’re also jealous, disheartened, and nauseous.

You have both been evaluated by professionals, and he blew you out of the water. He did twice as well. Ranked superior in every way. You knew he was, but it didn’t ease the blow of seeing the undeniable data.

You hate not excelling. You crave to be above-average, to get a perfect score, to be on the end of the room’s, the country’s, adoration.

Your score was broadcasted to all of Panem, and now everyone knows how average you are. How weak you are compared to all these worthy tributes.

Your confidence has surely taken a hit.

He will be the better bet, he will get the sponsors, and he will get Price’s affection.

It’s fine.

“Congratulations,” You mutter as you meet Konig’s stare.

You can tell he’s noticed your lack of enthusiasm, and for a moment his face wavers, his eyes showing a glint of that unsure look before he looks away with another nervous, relieved laugh.

“We should celebrate!” Ruby says in her high pitched squeal.

Konig nods absentmindedly, staring at the television but not retaining what’s on the screen, wearing the widest grin you’ve ever seen stretched on his face. He’s riding the high of the praise, the joy of receiving the highest score, of being a winner.

It’s pissing you off.

Taking pride in scoring highly in a test designed for a fight to the death.

He should be ashamed.

While everyone’s busy gushing over Konig’s score, you quietly slip out of the room and isolate yourself in your quarters. Face down on the bed and groaning into the soft duvet.

An oblivious Ruby grabs you for dinner. You’re not hungry, and you don’t want to be subjected to Konig’s celebration, but you’d do good to put on a few pounds for the arena.

Konig’s score is all anyone is talking about at dinner, and his accomplishment makes it easy to be disregarded. The only input you offer is the sound of a fork scraping around your plate as you inspect some roasted greens.

You don’t say much of anything, keeping your focus to your meal and doing your best to tune out the team’s adoration for Konig.

You can feel the burn of his stare every so often. You don’t have the ability to decipher the expression he wears from just your peripheral, probably pity, maybe annoyance for the lack of praise.

Now is probably a better time than any to sever this tie. You know the feeling of inadequacy, the jealousy, the anger inside of you - it’s all misdirected. Konig, once again, is just doing what he’s supposed to. A victim of the games and these unfair conditions just as much as you. But the feelings are there, and your introspection does nothing to quell them. Might as well make use of them and take your opportunity to shed the security he blankets over you.

You are officially done with him.

No more reassurance, no more babysitting, no more Konig.

He is the male tribute from your district.

Your opponent.

That’s it.

You excuse yourself before dessert is served, retiring to your room for the night. You take a long shower, steaming yourself under the intense pressure as you stare blankly at the glittery gold swirls in the marble walls.

From outside the bathroom, you can hear someone knocking on your bedroom door, but you make no action to answer it. Eventually the attempted visitor goes away, and after a thorough soaping you let the heated dryers dry you off. You get dressed, climb into bed, and drift off.

Ruby’s voice rouses you early in the morning and instructs you to report for breakfast to go over today’s plan.

You’re slow in doing so, and when you take your place, everyone’s already sat. You avoid meeting anyone’s eyes as you load your plate and dig in.

Ruby claps her hands together, “Tonight is the big interview!” She lets out a squeal, “Very exciting!”

“Very,” Price says sarcastically.

Ruby either doesn’t notice, or doesn’t care, pushing on, “We’ll each have four hours with you, I’ll be training you on stage presence, and John will be working with you both on content. Konig, you’ll start with me, and then we’ll switch. Your stylists will collect you at the end to get you dressed, and then we’ll head to stage. Sound good?”

There’s a pause before Konig clears his throat, speaking for the both of you when Ruby’s words go ignored, “Yes. Thank you, Ruby.”

She gives him a proud smile, and swirls a glass in her hands, “Such a polite young man you are. It’s surprising someone with as much decorum as you is district.”

You roll your eyes at your plate when you feel her stare.

Ruby’s unsubtle dig at you, casting a light on Konig to make you stand further in his shadow, the way she speaks of the districts as if you’re all just ravenous animals in the jungle - it all sparks a simmering heat under your skin, your eye twitching and lips warping into a snarl.

It makes you want to prove her right. Show her just how ravenous the districts can be.

Your grip on your fork is tight, white knuckles shaking around pure silver.

The mood at the table shifts when Price gives a hearty snort, amused by the snide remark and particularly, your rage.

You don’t contribute to the conversation, angrily stabbing into roasted potatoes, the metal of the fork roughly grating along your teeth with each furious bite.

You get it, okay? Konig is superior in every way. You can’t even beat him at being nice.

You know your place.

He’s their golden boy, their favorite, their victor.

And you are the rude little brat from District Nine who will be dead and forgotten in less than a week.

You don’t speak for the rest of the meal, ignoring the small talk and Konig’s periodic stares in your direction.

Once breakfast is cleared away, the group splits up, Ruby disappearing with her golden boy while Price leads you to the sitting room.

Price sits with a grunt and begins to wordlessly study you.

“What?” You ask, already defensive.

“I’m trying to figure out how to put this,” He sighs, “So far in the competition, you have flown under the radar. And I advise that during this interview, you do the same.”

“Be forgettable,” You say dryly, slicing through to the point he was dancing around with a roll of your eyes, “Got it.”

He sighs again, looking to the ceiling, “You didn’t make an impression at the reaping, the opening ceremony, or with your score. It helps that Konig has been taking the heat off your back.”

“Oh, it helps that I’m overshadowed and forgettable in every way?”

“Yes, it does,” He shoots back impatiently. He rubs his temple before he speaks again, forcing himself to lower his voice, “I want them to underestimate you.”

“I have not been underestimated,” You say with an exasperating swing of your arm, “I have been estimated! I have nothing to offer!”

“Kid, I need you to trust me on this one.”

“So what do you expect me to do, go out there and flop?”

“No,” he says, “You don’t flop, you don’t shine. You will answer the questions honestly, nicely, and humbly.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes, “That’s not going to get me sponsors.”

“Neither will the attitude you’re currently peddling,” He stands with a grunt, “I’m not going to bother going over the interview questions with you. In this case - the less preparation the better.”

You raise a brow and suck in an air of superiority, “You really think that’s a good idea?”

You’re met with a shrug, “Probably not.”

“Fine. I’ll wing it. But don’t come crying to me if you don’t like my spontaneous answers.”

He sighs in defeat, “Just be good, will you?”

You narrow your eyes at him, “I’ll be better than good. I’ll be forgettable.”

“Atta girl,” He says, and heads for his quarters, “Enjoy the next three hours and fifty-five minutes of free time.”

“Wait,” You say, too eagerly.

He stops and turns to you, and you immediately shrink in on yourself, eyes darting to the side.

“How’s Konig going to play it?”

The corner of his lip perks up ever so slightly, “Does it matter?”

You look to the floor.

No, it doesn’t.

Konig could spit in Caesar's face and condemn the Capitol entirely and still have sponsors lining up to send him gifts.

Price saunters off, and you stare into the intricate pattern of the carpet long after his door clicks shut.

You wish you hadn’t asked.

You take the opportunity to try and nap, but you can’t. You’re too nervous about the interview. Even more nervous that you have no answers prepared, no idea what the interviewer, Caesar Flickerman, is going to throw at you. You wish you could have pushed back on Price’s lack of preparation, too flared up by his suggestion that you’re forgettable to get your priorities straight at the time. You linger on the thought that maybe Price didn’t prep you for your benefit, but for his own. Spare him the trouble of dealing with his insolent, weak, pitiful tribute.

You’re still embarrassed about him seeing you cry. Bleeding where you shouldn’t, once again.

Ruby comes to collect you once she’s done with Konig, ready to train you for stage manners.

It mostly consists of Ruby having you practice walking in heels and a gown, shredding you on every one of your imperfections.

“Smile - oh, not like that!”

“They’re just high heels, dear, everyone wears them!”

“Shoulders back!”

“Don’t scratch yourself in front of the audience.”

“Don’t sit like that! You look like a shrimp.”

“Keep your legs crossed! It’s unladylike.”

“Stop fidgeting so much.”

“You’re slouching again!”

It’s grueling work, and she’s not as lenient with the free time as Price. You’re suddenly thankful he dismissed you early.

Your lack of stage manners only doubles the weights of inadequacy strapped to your ankles, which is making it difficult to have a confident posture and be agreeable, but you grit your teeth and get through it.

You wonder how Konig’s session with Ruby went.

Probably better than yours.

Once she’s done with you, clearly not happy with the final result, you find yourself face down on your bed again.

Ruby collects you once more to usher you to Mauve and her prep team, who will be completely transforming you for the interview.

Mauve offers little reassurance as she gets you dressed, does your makeup, and styles your hair. She doesn’t look as bored today, much more attentive as she puts on any final touches. You have the feeling her silence is derived from focus more than it is indifference.

Your stomach is bubbling, your insides knotted up and underarms pouring buckets of sweat.

When she pulls away from you, she has you stand, only a slight wobble as you move to the mirror.

Once again, Mauve has transformed you into an entirely new person.

The dress is stunning. A baby blue a-line that brushes against the bottom of your thigh. Layers of tulle gently puff out at the skirt like rolling blue clouds. The bust is decorated with intricate patterns of sparkling silver lace that resemble leaves climbing up your ribcage. Matching baby blue flowers bloom along the dress, each with their own perfect blue pearl stitched directly in the center. The petals sit in patches of the shimmering lace, mostly on the bust of the dress and up the see-through straps that rest delicately on your shoulders, but a few sprout in rare patches along the tulle skirt and on your matching shoes.

Mauve has attached matching jewels to your body, and smaller, daintier flowers that appear to have climbed from the dress and propagated onto your skin. One side of your face is dotted with the blue blossoms in the shape of a crescent, starting just above the end of your brow and curving around your eye, the flowers stopping just below the height of your cheek. They sit in a cloud of sparkling silver glitter that reflect like early morning dew in the moonlight.

A string of blue pearls adorns your neck. Your hair is simple and girlish, but still elegant. Soft curls with more flowers pinned into stands of your hair. Heavy, fluttering eyelashes that partially obscure your vision, accented with a soft peach lip and sparkling silver eyelids.

You look beautiful, no doubt about it. But it’s so soft, so gentle. It seems almost too innocent and pure for you to be wearing it.

While the sensation of jewels and flowers glued to your skin is unusual, it’s a big step up from the wheat dress in terms of comfort.

Mauve arranges your curls, repositioning some of the flowers as she sees fit.

“Thank you, Mauve,” you say, still staring into your own reflection.

She sucks in an audible breath, meeting your eyes in the mirror. This might actually be the first time she’s made eye contact with you other than to evaluate her makeup.

She gives you a shaky nod, and then returns her attention to arranging the tulle on the skirt of your dress.

You’re led backstage, where you’re met with the tributes, waiting impatiently in their refined dresses and sharp suits. Your stomach does somersaults at the sound of the audience, already boisterous before the interviews have even started.

It’s all too real, all too fast, having to be interviewed with every last citizen of Panem hanging on your every word.

You want to run, run and run far but there’s nowhere to go. You shift anxiously on your high heels instead, sweaty hands fidgeting at your sides, trying to quell the nausea.

And then you see him.

Konig was already staring at you when you met his eyes. In his baby blue suit, a silver tie with steel-colored glitter sparkling in the pattern of leaves. Pinned on the lapel of his suit is a boutonniere, perfect blue pearls stitched into the center of each baby blue flower. They’re arranged in a bundle that sits in a tuft of smaller, soft white flowers.

You’re both stunned, lips parted and eyes blown as you soak each other in.

You are the only two tributes dawning matching outfits.

What were they thinking?

Are you supposed to be continuing this act that you and Konig are going to be allies in the arena?

Because that would have been nice to know before, instead of having this strategy sprung on you at the last minute before going live in front of the entire country.

Konig blinks his wide eyes a few times in rapid succession and then looks away to find his dress shoes.

You look away from him quickly, eyes darting around the ceiling as you take a dry swallow.

The rock that’s been sitting in your stomach since you woke up this morning has seemed to double in weight. You’re sweating under layers of makeup and tulle, rubbing the moisture on your dress.

Ruby corrals you both together, giving last minute pointers. You can barely hear her, your heartbeat pumping loudly in your ears. She tells you to stop chewing on your fresh set of nails, which Mauve transformed with strokes of baby blue, accented silver swirls and flower designs.

You’re shaking with fear, your breath catching on each exhale.

A stage crew member claps his hands and announces that the show will be starting soon. He has you line up in order of district, so you’re standing in between the terrifying boy from eight and Konig, both doing little to make you feel better.

You try not to acknowledge him, but his presence is a burning heat behind you. He’s impossible to ignore, towering over you only a few inches behind.

You want to look at him, to share this moment of terror with him, to talk to him.

But you are done with the boy from your district.

You pinch your exaggerated eyelashes shut, thoughts swirling. The frustration of yearning for his comfort but denying yourself the satisfaction, the frustration of even yearning for his comfort in the first place, it makes your cheeks burn and your fists clench.

Caesar Flickerman warms up the crowd, and each cheer that vibrates beneath your feet threatens to make you gag.

The districts tick by one by one.

The girl from one, Sapphire, with District One’s standard blonde hair and eyes that pair with her name. She’s more than charming, but there’s a hint of intensity to her words, a sense of determination.

The words coming from a perfect smile and dimpled cheeks turns your stomach. She is not a competitor to mess with.

The boy from two, Titan, seems to match her charm and determination, but there’s a layer of humor, of thick, chaotic irreverence that projects from him. He punctuates his sick jokes with his killer smile, showing off those canines as he laughs through his own brutality. He’s huge, no doubt one of the monsters in the competition.

The boy from three is awkward, the girl from four a wild card, the boy from six stoic, the girl from seven high-spirited.

The girl from eight is afraid. Terrified.

Not even Caesar’s impressive skill of putting his tributes at ease could relax her, she looked like she was about to throw up during the entirety of her interview.

The boy from eight does not answer any of Caesar's questions, a painful three minutes that offers little to distract you as you shuffle nervously on deck.

You take a deep swallow, looking to your shoes.

“Up next,” Caesar starts, “We have a lovely young lady from District Nine!”

He announces your presence, your name, and the audience screams in anticipation.

A stagehand ushers you onto the stage in front of the crowd.

Dizzy, blinded and sweating, you stumble forward, your own breathy pants deafening you with each step.

Caesar grabs your wet hand once you’re in his range, cupping it in both of his. You’re back to reaping day, standing in front of the crowd with a blank mind, shaking with fear.

“Wow, don’t you look just stunning!” Caesar says, using both his hands to make a dramatic gesture in your direction. “Like a princess!” He adds, eyeing your intricate dress.

You give a shaky laugh with a sheepish, “Thank you, Caesar.”

You blindly reach behind you, not so gracefully sitting on the ornate chair as you eye the crowd, but you do remember to cross your legs.

“So, tell me, are you enjoying your stay at the Capitol?”

You take a deep breath, voice choppy and hitched, barely over a whisper, “It’s certainly extravagant.”

The audience gives a far too generous laugh.

“My dear, I’ve been meaning to ask you, are there any special skills you’re hiding from us that might give you an edge in the arena?”

You look over to the crowd again.

“Um,” You swallow, your mouth dry as you look to Price, “Well, my mentor thinks I’m feisty?”

“Feisty! I love it!” He looks out to the crowd, “Don’t you just love that?”

The crowd gives a cheer, and Caesar continues, “We love a passionate tribute, don’t we folks?”

You give a small smile at his reassurance, eyes genuinely lightening and shoulders relaxing as he works his magic. You know it’s just for show, but Caesar is skilled at instilling confidence in his guests and putting them at ease.

He crosses his legs, using his cue cards to loosely point in your direction, “Speaking of your mentor, I was actually chatting with him backstage earlier, and he shared with me some very eye-opening things about you.”

You don’t even have the sense to hide your blatant confusion and worry at what he’s going to say next.

“You did? Oh no,” Both Caesar and the audience seem to find this funny, though.

“That’s right!” He says with a knowing, cheeky grin. Caesar leans forward in his chair, and his voice goes serious, as if he’s sharing a secret with you.

“He says that you’re a very bright young lady,”

You let out a breath of relief as Caesar continues,

“-and he also shared with me your nickname.”

You let out a laugh, looking down at your lap.

“Would you tell us about that?”

You nod, an embarrassed smile on your face.

“Price calls me Plucky,” Your eyes find Caesar again, who’s listening very intently, “He probably told you it’s because I’m determined, but I think it’s just his way of saying I’m a huge pain in his ass.”

The room explodes into laughter. Caesar’s arm darts out to grab your shoulder when he leans forward, as if you’ve made him nearly fall out of his seat from laughter and he needs you to help him up.

You can’t help the smile that spreads on your face, bunching your cheeks at the audience you’ve put in stitches. The camera cuts to Price, who gives a long, drawn out nod to confirm your statement.

“Language! Language!” Caesar tuts when he’s caught his breath, but it’s clear he’s not the slightest bit serious, “All of Panem is watching, my dear!”

Your hand comes up to cover your mouth, eyes wide and looking around like you’ve been busted. You’re both still giggling like school children, though.

“It’ll be our secret folks,” He says with a wink, “But it’s certainly a nickname you’ve earned, I see.”

He gives you a sly side-eye, and before you can respond he softly hits his cue cards against your arm, “Oh you know I’m just teasing, I’m just teasing.”

“Price isn’t,” You say dryly, and the crowd loses it again.

When they finally lull, Caesar’s shaking his head, pleased, “Very funny! He was right about you being a bright young lady.”

You shrug modestly, “And a pain in the ass.”

He thwaps you with his cue cards again, shaking his head as he joins the chorus of laughter, “You are bad, you are bad!”

You give him a wave of your hand, a cheeky smile on your face, “I hear that a lot, actually.”

“I’m sure!” He gives a quick laugh before his next question, “Do you think your wit will translate well in the arena?”

You think on this a moment, your voice not exactly conveying confidence, “I hope so. Maybe if I make the other tribute’s laugh they’ll be distracted long enough for me to get away.”

The audience responds well to this, another hearty laugh filling the room.

Soft crowd.

He settles the rambunctious crowd with his palms, “Alright, alright we’ve got time for one more question folks.”

He leans close to you, his face serious as he cups both of your sweaty palms in his, “Do you think you’re feisty enough to have what it takes to win this thing?”

You don’t.

You absolutely don’t think you have what it takes to win this thing. You’re not even sure you want to win this thing, let alone have the means to actually do it.

Your stare finds Price, who gives you one more nod, this one nearly indistinguishable.

You find Caesar again, gnawing slightly at your bottom lip. When you speak, your voice is low, serious.

“I do, Caesar.”

He gives the top of your hand a firm pat.

“I think so too,” He says, and gives a slow nod.

He stands, guiding you from your seat. He drops one of your hands and lifts the other up for the crowd, “Give it up for District Nine!”

The crowd goes crazy at the second announcement of your name, whooping and hollering and clapping in a thunderous applause that goes on long after you’ve left the stage.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding after you’ve disappeared behind the curtain. You put a palm to your forehead as you laugh in disbelief. Not only that it was finally over with, but it actually went sort of well.

You hear Ruby before you see her, presence announced by a squeal fit to break glass. “That. Was. Amazing!”

She unclips your mic from your dress, “They loved you, dear, they absolutely loved you. You were fantastic!”

“Thank you,” You’re practically heaving breaths of relief, hands shaking out what remains of your nerves, “Thank you.”

Caesar finishes his segue and announces, “We have another very fierce tribute up next, a young man from District Nine, Konig!”

As the audience erupts, your head swivels over your shoulder to get a look at him. He’s shooting you one last nervous glance before he steps off the stage. You find a screen backstage showing the broadcast and Ruby pokes her nose over your shoulder.

“Woah-ha-ho! You’re even taller in person!” Caesar’s starts with a laugh.

He makes Konig stand back to back so the audience can compare their size, which they adore. Konig gives a polite smile, but he is clearly nervous.

“Haha, alright,” Caesar says when he’s had his fix, prompting them both to settle onto the chairs.

“Tall, handsome guy like you. The girls must throw themselves at you in your district!”

Konig shakes his head, a one-note breathy laugh leaving him, “My district doesn’t care for me much.”

You frown, and you hear the audience give an ‘Awhhh.’

“And why ever not?” Caesar asks with a tightness in his brow, suggesting the very notion is ridiculous.

“They don’t seem to care for my size,” He answers with a shrug.

“Well, it’s a good thing we love that here in the Capitol!” Caesar’s voice gets louder to fight the escalating cheer of the crowd, “A big, strong tribute like him? Isn’t that right? We love it!”

The crowd erupts, and Konig gives a smile, noticeably untensing. Caesar really does try to help the tributes out, he knows how to defuse your anxiety like no other.

“You go out there, you win this thing, and your district will have to change their minds!”

The audience clearly agrees, their shrieks overlapping.

Konig offers a humble smile and a coy nod, and Caesar gives him an encouraging pat on the shoulder.

“I think we’re all very eager to talk about this ten you got in training,” Caesar starts as the crowd settles, “A score that high is uncommon for someone in an outlying district. Can you give us some idea of what helped you earn a ten?”

Konig’s arm crosses over his chest to rub out his opposing shoulder, “I guess the gamemakers like a big strong tribute, too.”

Big laugh from the audience, from Caesar as well.

“District Nine seems to have given us a pair of comedians this year!” Caesar says to the audience with a big smile, “C’mon, give us a flex, would you? Let’s see it!”

Konig’s face turns pink, and after a moment he hesitantly obliges, lifting his arms to flex his biceps to the crowd.

He gets more confident as the crowd roars in approval, whooping and blowing kisses in his direction.

You find yourself smiling at the screen, amused huffs of air blowing from your nose.

“Stand up! Stand up!” Caesar hollers.

Konig laughs as he stands, switching up his poses for the crowd. Every time he moves the audience goes nuts. He’s picking up an air of confidence, arrogance almost.

It’s a good look on him.

“Careful now! Careful now! Wouldn’t want that suit to tear at the seams!” Caesar exclaims.

The crowd roars at the very idea. Konig bows his head to the crowd and graciously takes his seat, but he still carries a proud smile.

“Alright, alright,” Caesar says, swinging one of his legs over the other, “I know you’re much more than a nice hunk of meat.”

This brings on another round of cheering and whistles from the audience, and Konig plasters a genuine, cheesy smile on his face.

Caesar waits for the crowd to settle, “I’ve been meaning to ask you about the opening ceremony.”

You such in a sharp inhale through parted lips, eyes wide as your stare locks on to the screen.

He continues, “I think we were all very touched to see you comforting your fellow tribute.”

Your face immediately drops, and suddenly you’re too aware of your breathing. Your stomach triples in weight, its demanding presence dropping low in your abdomen.

They are talking about you.

“I think that speaks to your character, wouldn’t you say?”

The question, directed at the audience, earns overlapping landslide approval.

“Tell us, is there a teddy bear under that grizzly bear exterior?” Caesar asks him, brow raised, his head tilted slightly to the side, and a cheeky smile plastered on his face.

Konig looks as panicked as you, frozen in his chair and muscles stiff.

“I- Well,” He gives a nervous laugh pointed at his lap, “I do what I can.”

“And you do it well! Were you two friends in the districts?” He asks casually.

Your teeth are grit in unease, fists clenched as you swallow each word. Why is Caesar using Konig’s time to talk about you?

Konig’s palms rest on his knees, his fingers tightening around his dress pants. He stumbles through the start of a few sentences, turning pink.

He seems just as caught off guard as you are.

Did Price not prepare either of you for the interview?

Did Price think that’s what was best for you both or did he just want to drink alone in his room, away from the two brats he’s forced to mentor?!

Did he not even bother to know what questions you were going to be asked?!

Konig doesn’t know what to say. The silence has stretched on far too long, your nails are digging into your palms so tight it’s leaving behind crescent-shaped indents on your skin.

“It's okay,” Caesar says with a laugh, “Even I get nervous from time to time.”

He gives a shaky nod, “Äh, no, we weren’t. I knew of her, though.”

You blink in rapid succession as you try to make sense of what’s unfolding before you. You can’t help but feel stunned. It must be a joke, a prank, a dream, because none of this seems real.

“There’s been buzz in the Capitol about a possible alliance,” Caesar says, enunciating carefully, “Are you planning on going at the competition alone, or will we be seeing some teamwork from you?”

“Äh,” His eyes linger backstage before he returns his gaze to Caesar, “It’s up in the air.”

Konig’s fingers are searching for a loose thread to pull, but his suit is brand new and too high in quality to have loose threads.

“I see,” Caesar says, moving on.

“Do you think you’re ready for this competition?”

You look to your shoes and let out a breath of relief that the subject has passed.

He asks a few more questions about his skill, about his strategy to stay alive.

Konig keeps it surface, with minimal fumbling through his answers, but his cheeks remain noticeably flushed, and unease stitches into each sentence.

The crowd doesn’t seem to notice, showering him with adoration.

You’re less jealous. Maybe because you’re still riding the high of doing well enough on your interview.

Caesar has him give one last parting flex to the crowd before he leaves the stage. The moment he’s off screen his hand finds his head, letting out deep exhales through parted lips.

For a moment his wide eyes find you before they flit down to his dress shoes.

Your hands stop shaking somewhere around District Eleven’s tributes, and you’re all dismissed once Caesar closes out the show.

When the elevator deposits the tributes from District Six, you and Konig are left alone in the elevator.

“What the fuck was that?!” You ask, more panicked than angry. He knows it’s not directed at him.

“I- I- I don’t even know,” His hands raise, “Price didn’t tell me they were going to ask that.”

He seems just as frantic as you, but his is swirled with nervousness while yours is engulfed with anger.

“He made us look stupid!” You hiss.

“I froze,” He says, using his palm to rub his face, “I looked weak.”

“Wha-“

You cut yourself off, brows furrowing.

Konig is worried about looking weak? He’s the biggest, strongest tribute out of all twenty-four of you. Looking weak should be the least of his concerns.

Does he regret offering you his comfort on the chariot, now that a spotlight has been placed on it?

You don’t ask.

“You didn’t look weak,” You say, low and quiet to the floor.

You can see him tense from the corner of your eye. After a moment his shoulders relax.

“You didn’t look stupid,” He says, matching your cadence.

Your eyes find him, and for a moment you stare at each other. Caught in this awkward moment as you try to dissect what the other would stand to gain from complimenting an opponent.

The elevator doors parting breaks the stare, and you both make your way into the suite, finding it empty.

You grunt upon the absence of the people who hold the answers you’re looking for.

“Why did they match us?!”

He shrugs when your eyes meet his, palms raised.

You let out another frustrated noise, stepping over to the decanter and helping yourself to a glass.

After the day you’ve had, you’ve earned it.

The metal tray clunks unhappily as you replace the bottle, taking a hearty, painful sip.

Konig hesitantly steps closer, pulling out a chair for himself and sitting at the dining table.

You let out a noise of disgust at the repulsive taste, and then your eyes find Konig. His forearms rest on the table, his fingers stitched together and thumbs circling around each other, watching you intently.

“You want some?” You ask, gesturing the glass in his direction.

He shakes his head, and you go in for another sip. You pace for a while, fuming and dissecting as you nurse your drink.

When the elevator doors open, you don’t hesitate.

“What the hell was that?! What happened to being forgettable?!”

“I could ask you the same thing. You did a little too well, if you ask me,” Price says evenly, unfazed by your outburst.

“Maybe I could have done what you wanted if I’d actually gotten some coaching.”

“It went perfect. You both acted how you needed to,” Price says evenly.

“You call that perfect? Why would Caesar bring attention to me when the whole point was to keep me under the radar?! And why didn’t you tell either of us about it?! We looked stupid!”

“Kid!” Price finally bursts, “I’ve been doing this my whole life, will you just trust me?”

You scoff.

“Oh yeah, how many victors have you mentored again? Because last I checked every last tribute you’ve coached is six feet under!”

It is clear immediately that you went too far.

The room draws a collective sharp inhale, the air gone ice cold.

You can see it, the pain he usually hides behind a generous amount of whiskey and a gruff exterior flooding his features. For a moment he is stunned, his constant squint loosening as he combs through every tribute he’s mentored, all of their faces flashing in front of those sad blue eyes.

He gives a heavy sigh.

His voice is low when he speaks, solemn, pained even, a bit of a crack to it.

“Kid, I did you a favor. If you can’t see that, then, well, I’m sorry.”

Your heart immediately sinks, and you wish you could stuff the words back into your big mouth.

You realize in this moment you have been seeking out a fight. Ever since you got here, all you have wanted to do is let out your anger. To not have your energy matched, to have hurt instead of riled, it wracks you with guilt. It weighs on your shoulders, in your stomach, in the sore ache of your chest.

You pinch your eyes shut, fists clenching at your sides.

“I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.”

You meant the apology, but the words feel foreign in your mouth, having to coax them up with force.

His eyes lower back into his signature squint, and he nods slow.

After a beat, a small, sad smile appears on his face, and he offers a wink.

“It’s okay, Plucky.”

You huff through your nose, a faint smile on your face.

A pain in his ass.

Dinner is stiff and awkward, but the room has relaxed by the time you settle in to watch the interview replay.

You have to block it out, you can’t stand to watch yourself being interviewed. It’s too embarrassing, your body folding in on itself at the sound of your own voice.

You’re relieved when your interview is over, and shortly after Konig is announced.

He seems to be having the same problem you did, unable to watch his own interview, staring at the floor as he slips further into the couch’s cushions.

You find yourself pinching back another smile at Caesar and Konig’s bit at the start.

When Konig is asked about you, your face drops when the shot cuts to you. You hadn’t realized there had been a camera trained on you. On screen you can see your genuine stunned reaction, face slack. Your wide eyes glued to the stationary shot of Caesar and Konig, hanging on to every word.

You can feel Price’s stare out of the corner of your eyes, dawning that sly, knowing grin.

The camera cuts back to Konig, flustered and stained pink.

The whole interaction, it just feels off. Uncomfortable, awkward, tripping Konig up on tough questions instead of building on his confidence.

“You both did so well!” Ruby chimes as Konig is dismissed from the stage and Caesar introduces the next tribute.

Neither you nor Konig bother to respond, eyes fixated on the screen but not paying it a lick of attention.

You’re still lingering on Konig’s interview. It’s bothering you, like the interview is implying there’s something between you and Konig. His response, his lack of definitive answer, the shocked features, the lack of preparation, the cut to you.

There’s something so slimy about it all, and your stomach can’t seem to digest it.

When Caesar closes out the show, Price switches the TV off and Ruby skips off to check in with the stylists.

“Tomorrow,” Price starts, “They’ll wake you early. We can’t accompany you to the arena, it’ll just be the stylists.”

You almost managed to make it the entire day without thinking about tomorrow. The interview was a huge distraction, but now there is nothing to worry about except for the games.

“Listen closely,” He snaps his fingers, demanding eye contact from you both, “Do not step off your pedestal until the sixty seconds are up. Do not even think about going into the cornucopia. Turn and run, you understand?”

You press your lips together, pinching your eyes shut, trying to block out his words.

You don’t want to think about this.

After a pause, he drops the stern voice, rubbing the back of his neck, “Look, uh, kids. I’ll be with the other mentors. I’ll still be there for you, every step of the way.”

Your stomach twists in knots. You hate this, you hate how Price is dropping his tough guy act, letting his pity pour out and slosh against your shoes.

“I, uh,” He trails off, clearing his throat, “I know you can do this.”

He goes to say more, but the inhale saved for his words gets freed with a heavy sigh.

“Just-“ He cuts himself off, sitting back from his lean and ripping his hands apart. His feet squirm against the rug, “Be good, kids.”

There’s a million snarky things you think of to say, but you have the sense to hold them back, because it’s not his fault, and he is trying.

You nod, stiff but genuine.

Price stands with a grunt, and points his finger back at you, “I’ll see you tomorrow for breakfast. Go to bed.”

He heads back for his room, but stops without turning around.

“Now.”

He’s trying to execute his authority with a stern tone, but his voice breaks on the word. He waits, back still turned to you both, until he hears you and Konig rise from the couch and move to follow his instruction. Price disappears to his room without looking over his shoulder.

Before Konig and you open your doors, hands lingering on the doorknobs, you share a worried, unsure look.

You give him a forced, assured nod, and you both part.

Being alone in your room, alone with your own thoughts the night before the games, it’s torture.

It’s swallowing you again - the fear, the anger. The thoughts tearing over one another, a hurricane of anxiety meeting a tornado of rage that only strengthen and enable each other.

Mumbling unintelligibly to yourself, trying to deflate the anger, to expel some of the racing thoughts so that they’re not clouding your mind. It’s useless, shoveling out buckets of water from a ship that’s already half submerged.

You pace your room, fists clenched at your sides, fuming to the air. Your hands press to your ears to stop the overwhelming and overlapped trains of thought that barrel at you from any direction.

The tears flow mercilessly and without warning.

Price must be punishing you for your nasty comment by sending you to bed early, because this is unbearable. He had to have known you wouldn’t have been able to sleep tonight regardless.

Long after the tears have stopped, you find yourself sprawled on the bed, the back of your hand supporting your head as you stare at the wall. A knuckle lightly sheened with your spit absentmindedly plays with your lips. You’ve boiled yourself out, exhausted from crying and working yourself into a frenzy.

Numb.

Your eye catches on the line of light shining from underneath your door, interrupted by two evenly sized streaks of darkness.

You instinctively roll your eyes, a movement that makes the space behind your sore eyes ache, waiting for Ruby or Price to call out.

You anticipate the knock, the shout through the thick wood of your door, but it doesn’t come.

The shoes make a light shuffle outside your door, and after the pause goes from awkward to uncomfortable you stand, wiping your spit on your shirt and stepping towards the door.

When you pull the door open, hand still clasped on the doorknob, it’s not Ruby or Price on the other side.

It’s Konig, half-turned like he was just about to leave without making his presence known. At the sight of you his hands pull up with a slight stumble, clearly startled by you.

You raise your brow at him.

“Ach, I-” He looks away, his fingertips rubbing together at his side. He takes a breath, closing his eyes tightly before finding your stare. His mouth is open, primed to say something, but the words won’t come out.

“It’s okay,” You say, giving him permission to relax. Konig doesn’t need to explain himself. It’s the night before the games, and that is the golden excuse for any unusual behavior.

For not wanting to be alone.

You open the door so it’s fully gaped, turning your back to him and crawling into your spot on the bed.

He lingers in the doorway, a slight sway as he watches you.

“You coming in?”

He finally accepts the invitation, stepping a few paces into your room and softly clicking the door shut behind him. He doesn’t dare move closer, standing stiff in his spot a few paces from the door.

The corner of your lip perks up ever so slightly.

“You can sit,” You say, voice both nasally from crying, and somehow still bordering on patronizing. You give a pat toward the other end of the massive bed.

His hand pulls up to his chest again, flicking his gaze between you and the empty space of mattress. It’s the same look he had given you when Price gave him the whiskey on reaping day. As if you were setting a trap for him.

You give him a nod and a roll of your eyes, your ghost of a smirk blooming into a half grin at his coy reservations.

You don’t even feel the bed shift under his weight when he sits down on the Capitol’s extravagant mattress.

You both sit in solemn but comfortable silence, each of you staking your claim on a point in the room to unfocus your eyes, mulling over what tomorrow will look like.

“I wanted to thank you,” He says after a long pause, breaking through the silence with his blurted words to admit the reason for his visit.

“For?” You ask evenly.

“That day,” His eyes quickly shift to the side, “In District Nine.”

You immediately cringe at the memory, “Oh, don’t- I was having a really bad day that day. It was - I’m not usually like that. I can be mean but, not- Not like that

“I needed to say that,” He blurts out over top of your words, “Before tomorrow.”

Your gaze flicks down to the bed.

He continues, his words coming out smushed together, like one long word, “I think about that everyday. You were the only person back home that ever stood up for me.”

You look to him, face soaked in confusion, almost horrified. He thinks of that memory you’re ashamed of everyday? And he thinks fondly of it?

“I’m sorry,” You say with a dry mouth, “For how they treated you. You didn’t deserve it,”

You pause, swallowing hard as you pick at a loose thread on the pulled back covers, “And I’m sorry for now. You don’t deserve this either.”

“Neither do you,” he says.

Another round of silence follows before he rubs the back of his neck, clearing his throat, “I also, äh,”

He pauses for a moment, and you stare at him expectantly.

He gives a shaky laugh, “It’s dumb, sorry.”

“Go on,” You goad with a flick of your hand.

He’s gone pink, features flushed and eyes averted as he retrieves something from the pocket of his lounge pants and shoves it into your hand.

“A token,” He mumbles, “For your sanity.”

You sit up from your sprawled position on the bed, hand sliding along the sheets as you rise.

He’s purposefully avoiding your gaze, worry plastered on his features as he looks to the covers.

Your brows relax as you inspect his gift. It’s a golden locket, a shiny clasped rectangle, about the size of the nail on your thumb. You rub your thumb over the front as you inspect it. It reminds you of a small, thin book. The metal is slightly warmed from living in Konig’s pocket. Your nails pry open the locket, and inside reveals a dried wheat florette, cut from his opening ceremony suit, curled up and sloppily pressed inside.

For a moment you stare blankly into the locket’s insides, even breaths as you process the gift, the intentions behind it, and the cozy warmth that’s blooming throughout your chest.

When you look to him, lips parted in shock and stars in your eyes, he’s shifted his gaze to his fidgeting hands.

“Ruby helped me,” He mumbles, “She let me borrow it.”

You blink at him, looking down to the gift that sits so delicately in your palm.

“This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

Your words come out a lot breathier than you intended.

He finally meets your eyes, both of you wearing matching, stunned expressions.

There’s a tense pause before you utter, “Thank you.”

He scans your face and nods, looking away.

You stare down at the golden token in your hands, trying to figure out why. Why Konig would go out of his way to bring you comfort in the arena. Why Konig would give you such an extravagant and thoughtful gift.

This game you’re playing, it’s killing you. Trying to dissect the underlying strategy in every interaction you have. The bittersweet taste of getting the comfort you crave, while knowing you’re being lured further and further into his trap.

You want to accept it. You want to believe everything. You want to take him at face value, because the act he’s playing is uniquely tailored to your needs, and never in your life have you ever needed so badly.

He knows exactly where to apply pressure, rooting for weak spots and pressing generously. He knows where to slice you to get you bleeding freely, to get you to stop resisting the temptation.

“We could stick together,” Konig says, “In the arena.”

Your head shakes, in the same way it did when you heard his voice for the first time. Taken aback and with an almost horrified look on your face.

“What?”

“We could look out for each other,” He says, a little more sure, a little less lost.

This.

This is why.

He thinks he can buy your trust so that he can trick you with the promise of allyship, only to stab you in the back the moment you turn around.

“I would just hold you back,” you say carefully.

“No. Not at all.”

“What could you possibly gain from teaming up with me?” You gesture at yourself, top to bottom, clearly referencing the lack of athleticism and survival skills.

“We can keep watch for each other, share supplies. You- you’ve always been smarter than me. Braver than me. You can make the plans, and I can be the muscle.”

“I am not brave! You-“ When he recoils, you realize you’re speaking too aggressively, and cut yourself off with a breath before continuing with a softer volume, “You don’t know anything about me.”

He primes to say something but stops himself.

He lets the moment pass, and after another round of mutual brooding he tries again, his words whispered and unsure, “We could still help each other.”

A faint yet dangerous scoff leaves you.

“You- You understand why I can’t do that, right?”

He looks confused, so you continue, one hand moving to emphasize your words.

“Imagine you’re in my shoes. How could you trust someone so much stronger than you, so much bigger than you? As soon as you decide the truce is up you could snap my spine like a twig. I wouldn’t stand a chance against you.”

His face sinks, his body deflates on itself, and instantly you understand your fuck up. That you were counting him out for the exact same reason everyone at home did.

Your fist clenches, and you let out a grunt at yourself, “No, Konig, I didn’t mean- It’s just-” You trail off, searching for the right words but coming up empty, another frustrated grunt leaving you instead.

“I wouldn’t do that to you,” He says, in his harsh voice that’s spread thin and quiet, as fragile as glass.

You start over with a hard blink, repositioning yourself so you’re facing him with your legs crossed in front of you, “Okay, try this- What’s the best case scenario, Konig? We manage to protect each other until the end - until it’s just us? And then w

He stays silent, shoulders slumped and gaze finding the stretch of mattress that sits between you.

You press forward, “Have you ever thought about what happens? After the win?”

He doesn’t say anything, but he looks at you with pessimistic expectance.

“The guilt? The memories of gruesome death? Knowing twenty-three have sacrificed themselves so that you could live?”

You sigh again, your voice dropping to a sharp, cold whisper.

“The best case scenario would be for me to die in that bloodbath. Quick and done.”

His muscles tense at your words that fill the room with a chill, but he remains silent.

There’s another long pause, and then you whisper again, your voice devoid of its edge.

“I don’t think I can do it,” You swallow, looking up from the inch of bed you had fixated on, “Kill someone, I mean. I don’t think I’d be able to live with it.”

“Hopefully you won’t have to.”

“Yeah,” You say breathily.

You don’t push back. You don’t remind him that no one wins the games without killing. That refraining from killing ensures your death.

“I could do it for you,” He offers, another bid to get you to be his ally.

You shake your head slowly, eyes weakly half-lidded. Your voice drops to a strained whisper.

“I can’t. I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t push, just gives a disappointed nod towards the sheets. You hope that means he understands. Understands that teaming up with someone so powerful is a risk a weakling couldn’t afford. Understands that being allies is an agreement that can only ever be temporary.

There’s another long pause. Your thoughts feel so loud you’re sure Konig could hear them.

“Should I go?” He asks, voice low and broken.

“No,” You say, too quickly.

That ‘No’ is heavy with the weight of many things unsaid.

Please don’t leave me.

I can’t be alone right now.

I am terrified, I am lost, and I am going to die.

I need someone by my side tonight.

Someone just as unsure and just as lost.

He rubs the pads of his fingers together.

You look to him, eyes swelled in a pathetic, desperate plea.

“Would you stay here tonight?”

His brows raise, a sharp inhale as his posture straightens out. He looks surprised, as if that was the last thing he expected to hear from you.

“Of course.”

You wonder if his words are held down by the weight of things unsaid, too.

You slowly lay back down on your side, letting your head rest on the pillow this time.

Konig very gently lays himself down in your wake. He keeps himself right up to the edge of the bed, leaving as much space between you two as possible. He nestles into a pillow, lying with his back flush to the mattress, hands folded over his waist.

You’re not sure how long you lay like that for. Hours maybe, Konig staring up at the ceiling while you switch between the wall on the other side of Konig and the back of your eyelids.

“Do you think you could kill someone? And live with it?” You ask softly.

He thinks on this a moment.

“I’m not sure about living with it, but I would kill if I need to.”

You don’t see the point in telling him he will need to. You’re sure he knows.

“You could win,” You whisper into your pillow.

He doesn’t say anything. Just shakes his head.

Maybe it’s the exhaustion, maybe it’s Konig’s broken eyes, maybe it’s the imminent death - but you find your arm dragging across silk, fingers inching over the sheets and towards Konig. Your eyes flutter shut again, and after a long painful pause, a large hand tentatively cups yours.

A spark ignites at your fingertips and shoots up your arm at once, a dizzy heat blooming in your chest and making its way to your cheeks. You don’t dare open your eyes, hoping Konig is oblivious to the warmth.

You’re both still, neither of you daring to move in fear of scaring the other away.

His hand is so warm, his palms and fingers fully encompassing yours. It makes you feel dainty, his hands being nearly twice the size. You don’t pull away when you start to reflect each other’s body heat, a thin layer of sweat forming on laced fingers and palms.

It‘s like he’s grounding you, that if he were to let go you might float away or slip into a dark oblivion.

When you finally dare to open your eyes, you see Konig staring up at the ceiling with blown eyes. You lift your head a couple inches from the pillow and give his hand a light, reassuring squeeze.

Konig tilts his head to you, meeting your gaze as his cheek nestles into his pillow. He looks nervous, more nervous than usual on this night before the games. You’re sure it read on your face, too.

He squeezes back, and even though his strength is unmatched you can tell he’s trying to be as gentle as he can.

Your eyes flutter shut again, a ghost of a smile on your face.

It’s a dizzy warmth. Cozy, but also electric? Exciting but relaxing.

It’s weird, how a simple gesture can feel so contradicting, so extreme.

Maybe it’s because you’re chasing the feeling, or maybe because it’s the night before the games, or maybe it’s because you‘re already in too deep, but without thinking, you slowly pull your intertwined hands closer to you, and give the slightest tug on his arm.

You hear him suck in a taught breath.

He hesitates, and you’re worried you’ve pushed it too far. That you’ve hit the boundary of the level of comfort he was willing to offer, and he was going to withdraw it entirely.

You don’t dare open your eyes, you can’t bear to see his expression.

And then he inches closer. His hand squeezing yours a little tighter as he scoots across the mattress, arm tensing as he slowly makes his way to you.

He stops when there’s only six inches of mattress between you.

The silence in this room is loud, the only thing cutting through is uneasy breaths, the rise and fall of chests on otherwise still bodies.

Minutes pass and you work up the courage to slink closer, resting your head on a strong shoulder. He sucks in another shallow breath but doesn’t object. If he gives you a look, you can’t see it through shut eyes.

Your mouth goes dry, nervous about being so close to a boy like this. His body is radiating an intoxicating heat, you can smell his scent, the remnant of his shower, the laundry detergent used to clean his shirt.

Your head nuzzles into his shoulder, finding a comfortable groove in hard muscles to lay your cheek. Your nose presses right against him, inhaling his scent with each breath. It’s rousing and soothing all in the same, a wave of drowsy euphoria washing over you.

When his shoulder flexes and shifts underneath you and his fingers slip away from yours, you spring up, instantly sobering. Your eyes immediately search Konig’s expression, worried you’ve sufficiently made him uncomfortable.

His face stays even, only a slight plea in his brows as his arm raises and presses against the pillows, inviting you to nuzzle into his side.

You hesitantly accept, closing what little gap remained between you, carefully resting your head on his chest. You don’t put weight on him right away, worried he might pull back and tell you you’ve misunderstood his gestur

When he doesn’t, you let yourself melt into him, let his breaths gently rock you. You can hear his heartbeat under your ear, rapid with nerves this night before the games.

The rest of your body follows shortly after, shifting closer to him and curling up into his side.

When he accepts this, and enough time has passed, a limp, closed fist moves from the tangle of your own limbs, resting on his side. It follows the billows of his ribcage on each breath.

You’re pushing it, you know that, but your arm still snakes over his torso, tentatively resting a forearm over his firm waist.

You gnaw on your bottom lip, waiting for him to scoot away to the other side of the bed. After a careful pause he responds by intertwining his fingers with yours.

His arm brushes against the height of your shoulder before you feel the ghost of fingers, and then a light hand tentatively rests on the middle of your back.

An hour must have passed, from the initial hand holding to now, each of you taking turns deepening the embrace, pressing your bodies closer and closer together.

Long after your eyes have fluttered shut and breathing evened, the hand on your back slowly trails upwards, between your shoulder blades, the pads of his fingers just barely grazing you over your shirt. It sends electricity up your spine and raises goosebumps on your arms, and you have to suppress a shiver.

You can’t help the content hum that leaves you at the light, imperfect but mesmerizing circles he traces over the back of your shirt.

Konig’s scent, his heartbeat, his steady breathing, his gentle touches, it all lulls you into the purgatory between sleep and wake, disconnected from the world but still aware enough to feel him slink his fingers higher, soft touches getting lost in your hair. Combing through the locks, letting strands slide through the gaps in his fingers and sending tingles up your scalp.

You’re already in over your head. Might as well squeeze him for all the comfort he’s worth tonight.

Because tomorrow, all bets are off.

NEXT CHAPTER | CHAPTER NAVIGATION

[augustinbluex]

shoplifter

Pairings: Step Dad Mark x Security Guard Jeno x afab Reader

Summary: when you got caught stealing in a sex shop, you thought you'd earn another lecture from your stepdad. however, the lesson was not what you’d excepted

Genre: smut

Warnings: noncon elements, unprotected sex (be safe!), anal sex, rough sex, threesome, stepcest, double penetration, face slapping, pussy slapping, humiliation, degradation, fingering, dirty talk, spanking, squirting, creampie, overstimulation.

Word count: 3k+

THIS IS NOT YOUR TYPICAL GIRL DINNER. READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION

You sat there, your gaze fixated on the ticking clock, the anticipation clawing at your nerves. The wait was killing you—you’d been caught in this stupid fucking store, having maybe tried to leave without paying. The rent-a-cop had seized you, dragging you into the dimly lit backroom, but you managed to pull the name of Mark Lee out of your pocket like a desperate trump card. A way to escape the clutches of this predicament. The guard had glowered at you, reluctantly agreeing to make the call.

Mark would undoubtedly give you hell for this, yet he would also ensure that this embarrassing incident remained hidden from prying eyes. He wouldn't want the world to know that his step-daughter had been caught in the act of petty larceny within the confines of a sex shop.

So, all you had to do was wait.

The guard had given you a hard time when you dropped Mark's name. As if your father—no, your stepfather, you had corrected him—being who you claimed, he was automatically invalidated any suspicion. According to the guard, if your lineage held true, you could afford those tantalizing toys and bottles of lubricant. And perhaps, on some level, the thrill of doing something forbidden excited you. You had made sure to emphasize that point, emphasizing both the ‘naughty’ and the ‘excited’.

Too bad your criminal career apparently went bust on your first heist.

Voices echoed outside the closed door. There was an edge to Mark's voice, a tone that sent a shiver down your spine. The guard, on the other hand, seemed to find immense amusement. Telling the rich and powerful that their children got busted stealing sex toys probably was the highlight of this guy’s week.

"Hi, Mark," you greeted him, mustering a demure smile as the door swung open.

"You have no idea how disappointed I am in you," he responded, his gaze cold and piercing. Gesturing towards the desk, he continued, his voice laced with disdain, "I've already had a chat with Jeno here... but I'd like to hear it from you. Did you steal these items?"

His eyes settled upon the incriminating evidence displayed on the desk—the dildo and the bottle of lube, silent witnesses to your foolishness. You merely shrugged, a nonchalant gesture that seemed to catch him off guard.

He sucked in a sharp breath. "You've been acting out, breaking rules since..."

"Since my mother died," you finished his unspoken words with a bitter edge.

The truth was, you had been defying rules long before that tragic event shattered your world. It was just that Mark had finally taken notice of your rebellious streak, particularly after he started sending you to that exclusive, expensive school and footing the bill for your reckless driving tickets. It had hurt, realizing that he only seemed to experience distant emotions—distant disappointment, distant pride, distant everything. But it wasn't you who had changed when the loss struck.

Still, you couldn't help but resent his attempt to guilt trip you using your mother's death. "Save the 'since your mom died' lecture for the drive home," you said sharply.

Mark scowled, a realization dawning upon you that you had never seen him truly angry. He had always kept his emotions at arm's length—detached disappointment, detached pride—those were the only versions of him you had witnessed lately. "Why did you do this?" he demanded, his voice laced with frustration.

"Because I wanted the damn dildo," you replied matter-of-factly. Your words hung in the air, unapologetic and unyielding. It didn't faze Mark. You even contemplated mentioning how lonely this summer would be since he had forbidden you from seeing those he deemed "bad influences."

"I understand, you know," Mark said, his voice devoid of its usual robotic tone. “And you could’ve paid for it, you have the money. I wouldn’t have judged you. We all need a release.”

You maintained your stance, reiterating and emphasizing your reasons. He just simply nodded. As you prepared to urge him forward, his hand landed firmly on your shoulder, and Jeno, the guard, promptly shut the door. 

“Mark, wha–”

Confusion tinged your voice as you questioned what was happening, but the air in the room suddenly grew colder, the atmosphere thick with tension.

"As I mentioned, I spoke to Jeno," he began, his voice chillingly detached. "He won't pursue legal charges, and I've taken care of the stolen merchandise. However..." He paused, his words hanging ominously in the air, "I believe it's time for you to learn a lesson."

In an instant, the fabric of your shirt was torn away, leaving you gasping in surprise. Before you could react, Mark forcefully maneuvered you across the room, bending you over the edge of the desk. Shock and fear coursed through your veins as you struggled to comprehend his actions.

"What are you doing?" You exclaimed, your voice trembling with a mixture of confusion and fear.

He leaned in close, his grip tightening on a fistful of your hair. "Sweetheart, we all have to control our desires and restrain our darker impulses," he whispered, his words laced with an unsettling intensity.

Your voice quivered as you registered the pressure against you, feeling something hard pressing into you. "What?!" you managed to utter, your mind reeling from the sudden turn of events.

“I’ve watched you prance around, debasing yourself, and I tried to reign myself in, thinking you just needed time. Time’s up.” With a forceful grip, he tore your skirt away, leaving you exposed and vulnerable. "You've continued to defy me, and now it's time for you to understand the consequences of letting others have their way."

You tried to twist and strike him, but the guard grabbed your arms, wrestled them behind your back, and cuffed them. “Your daddy paid for some more toys as well.”

You struggled in vain, yelled your head off, and screamed when a hand dipped underneath your underwear and rubbed your pussy. It was only when Jeno cut you off by forcing a cloth into your mouth that you realized that it was Mark’s. You thrashed and moaned when a finger entered you. Your body shuddered, going very still when the next one entered, stroking inside.

“I wonder if this will be an effective punishment. She seems to be enjoying it.”

You shook your head and let out a furious growl until Mark pulled you up, working you over with his fingers. “You’re already wet, huh?” He asked, though it didn’t feel like a question. It felt like an observation, like he’s commenting on the weather and not your obvious arousal. “Jeno, come look at her. She’s so needy.”

“Fuck, she’s so turned on by this.” Jeno said, licking his lips as he looked down at you. He grabbed your bra and tugged, straps biting into your skin until they gave way. You squealed when he pinched a nipple. Sobbed when, while fondling that breast, he put his mouth on the other.

You shook your head. This was not happening. Your stepfather and some rent-a-cop were not raping you in a backroom at a sex shop. You were not, despite Mark’s assertions, ‘dripping wet’. You did not like being manhandled by two guys who knew what they were doing.

This was not happening.

You looked up, seeing Jeno pull his shirt over his head and toss it aside. Your eyes immediately went back to the odd stains in the ground when they landed on Mark. You were certainly not intimidated by seeing your stepdad’s cock.

“This is your place of business, Jeno. So I’ll let you pick, which hole do you want?”

Okay, he had humiliated you, fondled you, but your stepdad wasn’t going to fuck you. He wasn’t going to team with some random asshole to fuck you.

“Ass.”

“Grease her up.”

You stiffened at that. Jeno tossed a bottle—that lubricant you stole, over to Mark, who had managed to wrestle your panties off you as while warding off your attempts to kick him. You tried thrashing and wriggling when they held you down and two slick fingers pressed into your ass. You never let anyone there before, and you were not going to let it happen now. You tensed, clenched, and let out a cry as the man forced his fingers inside you. Someone slapped your ass hard.

“It’ll hurt more if you keep being a stubborn bitch.” Jeno growled.

An angry, forced cough from Mark, and he corrected himself. “It’ll hurt more if you keep being stubborn.”

Apparently his stepdaughter was not a bitch, even if he was going to rape you. That was almost funny. Then your ass was slapped again and again. Mark fingered you roughly, forcing his digits in and twisting. Eventually, you yielded, relaxing your muscles. It did not go unnoticed.

“See, baby? You can be a good girl.”

Jeno stood up and walked over to the chair, sitting down and motioning towards himself. With a grunt, Mark hoisted you over his shoulder—damn, he was in shape—and approached. As much as you tried to break free, you couldn’t. Then Mark positioned you, and Jeno put one his hands on your hip. Something much thicker than those fingers pressed against your ass. You let out a muffled attempt at a “no” as you were pulled down.

He was big.

You yowled, planted your feet on the floor and tried to stand; only for Jeno’s arms to loop around your waist and pull you back down.

”Goddamn… Relax your stiff little body, you bitch… My cock won’t fit if you are so tight.” Jeno grunted into your ear and then moved his hand to your chin, taking out the gag. His thumb slipped inside your mouth, pressing at the back of your throat.

Somewhere in the back of your head as you were lifted up and down, you were thankful for that—hopefully he wouldn’t last long.

You didn’t think you could last if he didn’t finish right quick.

“Tell me how good I’m fucking your greedy little ass.” Jeno growled into your ear, a hand flicking down to rub your clit.

Your legs were struggling to stay wrapped around his, and you whimpered against his neck. Getting no response, his hand that was rubbing your clit now slapped you across the face, and his thrusts slowed yet got harder as he slapped you once more.

“What the fuck did I say? Tell me how good I’m fucking your ass!” He yelled, grabbing you by the chin to look up at him.

Your eyes stung with hot tears from the pleasure, already feeling the all too familiar knot in your stomach forming. “Please! It feels so good! M’want more!” You said through gritted teeth, whining in pleasure as he slapped you across the face once more.

“You dirty fucking whore, giving you my cock and you still want more, hmm?” Jeno knew you were close, he could tell from the way you tightened around him and from your breathing pattern. Your eyes flicked over to Mark, who now was walking over to you.

“Oh? Seems like our little whore’s enjoying this better than I thought.” He said, “I had a feeling you had the makings of a true anal slut here.”

You heard a loud ‘smack’ followed by a sharp stinging sensation exploding all over your pussy as you were  suddenly spanked. Causing it to clench around nothing.

“Shit. You were right man, she’s so fucking tight. She really might be an anal slut by the end of this.” Jeno grunted, laughing. His hips never stopped moving.

“Really now,” Mark chuckled as he cupped your chin, “Anything you want to say to that, baby?” 

“Th-That’s not-” You knew you were full of shit, but your pride didn’t want to admit to something embarrassing like that. With a gasp, you found yourself in a headlock. Your back was pressed against Jeno’s front, his forearm applied pressure on your windpipe.

“Now, now, it’s not good to lie like that.” He licked your face, gnawing at your earlobe. “Bad girls like you should be punished.” 

“I-I’m… N-Not a bad…” You tried to deny it, but the harsh grip around your neck made it hard to get the words out. Yet in some ways, you could only think about how good this was feeling. Causing your pussy to quiver and your ass coiling around.

Mark smirked with an amused brow, “I’m sorry, don’t think we caught that.’

“I-I’m…” 

The man leaned in closer, “Hm?” 

“I’m… bad… girl..” You uttered. 

They glanced at each other and grinned while Jeno grabbed and groped at your breasts, giving your chest a nice fondle. 

“Speak up slut,” he twisted a nipple causing you to moan, “So that we could hear you.” 

You looked up, tears started falling down your face. “I’m… a bad… girl…”

“That’s our girl,” The two cheered, laughing loudly at how cock-drunken you were. “Glad to see you’re finally realizing your true calling.” One of them said. 

“With that said, I think it’s high time I gave you a little reward.” An evil smirk curled Mark’s lips. You wriggled, trying to get off as he traced his fingers against your pussy. “Just as a curiosity, have you ever taken two cocks before?”

“No,” you said, out of breath.

“Yeah, thought so.” He grabbed onto your hips lining his cock up to your cunt, while Jeno leaned you back a little.  

Fuck. Mark smirked and watched as your face twisted into something horrified. 

“Look at that, your old man is coming to join in. You gonna behave for him? Hmm, princess?”

With those words leaving Jeno’s mouth, it sent you over the edge completely, nearly screaming as you came right when Mark shoved his cock in your pussy. He hissed with how tightly you were clenching around him. Your back arched high, and Jeno continued to pound into your ass. You choked and gasped for air, the pleasure became too much for you to handle.

“P-please… S-stop!” you stuttered pathetically, squeezing your eyes shut and trying to push Mark away with your legs. 

You were stuffed past the point you thought you would burst. They started out uncoordinated, being bounced up and down the big guy’s cock while the other slammed in awkwardly. But they soon found a rhythm, each withdrawing at the same time, and slamming you down on their cocks tougher. Over and over.

It was overwhelming.

“Look at your slutty fucking stepdaughter, Mark. Such a little whore,” Jeno laughed, continuing to abuse your ass with his cock.

Mark smirked as he flicked your nipple, “Does your daddy’s cock feel good inside you, princess?” then gave it a painful twist. “Wanna be a little cumslut?”

You just moaned in response, unable to form coherent words.

“I think,” Jeno reached up and pinched at your other nipple, “your daddy asked you a question.”

“Yes! Yes, I wanna be your little cumslut, please.”

Everything happening all at once was making you lose your breath. You could feel the coil tightening in your stomach. Both of the cocks hitting that sweet spot inside you. Before you even had time to react, you saw white. Your whole body lunged forward as you came around both of their cocks again, soaking them. Words couldn’t even leave your open mouth, your brain not working properly.

“Jesus Christ,” a voice said, and you couldn’t register whose. “Did you see that?”

“Yeah,” another one came. “She squirted with two cocks fucking her. Such a dirty slut, aren't you?” Several slaps landed onto your face. You assumed it’s Mark because of his position.

You couldn’t think straight anymore, body shaking pathetically under him.

“T-too… much,” you whimpered through gritted teeth, your knees moving to try and push Jeno away.

Mark roughly forced his cock back in your pussy, his own orgasm so close. With sporadic quick thrusts, Jeno bottomed out inside your ass, and you could feel it all, warm and coating every inch of your walls. You were screaming, and he held his cock inside you for a few moments before slowly pulling out of you, grunting and panting as he regained himself. 

Mark’s hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing hard and grunting as you clawed at his hands. “Gonna fill you up with my cum, and you’re gonna take it all, right princess? Gonna be stuffed full of our cum?” He growled into your ear, before straightening again.

You couldn’t think straight anymore, sobs and moans escaping your lips as he fucked your sensitive cunt. Within seconds, Mark thrusted one last time into you before you felt his thick load spurting inside of you. He let out an animalistic growl as he came, grinding his hips slowly against you.

When he finished, he paused a while, nipping at your neck. Then he pulled out, and you were shoved off Jeno, sent sprawling into your stepfather. He gently laid you on your side. You laid there, face pressed against the filthy floor as clothes rustled.

“Again, thank you for calling me in on this, fuckface.” Mark said. The hell? He knew the fucking rent-a-cop.

“No worries. I didn’t believe her when she dropped your name—the picture you showed didn't quite match up.”

Picture? You forced yourself to look at the two, both half-dressed.

Mark had opened his wallet. “It is a few years old. She started dying her hair shortly after it was taken. Started wearing contacts, too.”

“What?”

“Ah, baby. Yes, me and Jeno go fairly far back.” Mark said, nodding. “I have a lot of business interests, and that means a lot of varied social circles.”

“So… about her…” Jeno said, trailing off.

Mark shrugged, contemplating the situation. "I'll leave her in your hands while I head home to fetch a change of clothes for her. Once that's done, we can make a few calls to ensure the lesson continues."

A whimper escaped your lips, particularly as Mark referred to leaving you in Jeno's "care." As if on cue, he dumped a bag containing chains and clamps onto the desk, casting a wicked grin in your direction. You instinctively tried to edge away, but Mark leaned in closely, lowering himself to one knee.

"Luckily for you, summer vacation has just begun, so you won't miss any school while you're grounded," he stated firmly, his tone holding an unusual warmth. You shook your head, refusing to accept what was unfolding before you.

"Baby," he continued, "it's crucial for you to learn that actions come with consequences. However, you're a smart girl, and with proper guidance, I'm confident we can improve your behavior."

[shotmrmiller]

Sensual Domination

Pairing: Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick x F!Reader

TW: dommy attitude, unprotected p in v, explicit smut, 18+ mdni

WC: 1.8k

You lightly knocked on Kyle’s door, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. He opens it, and before you even get to greet him, he holds his hand out in a stopping gesture. “Wait a moment.” Shutting the door behind him, he stands straight, head and shoulders above you, quietly appraising. 

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet the woman who’s got Johnny and Simon wrapped around her finger,” his eyes slowly travel from your toes up, lingering on your lips. “You’re as lovely as Johnny said you were.” Oh?

With a mischievous smile, you ask, “Only Johnny? Does Simon’s opinion differ?” and Kyle chuckles. 

“No, love. Simon is tight-lipped when it comes to you, the possessive bastard. But enough of that,” his tone turns professional, countenance beguiling, “From the moment you step into my flat until we close the scene, you are to address me as sir, understand?” 

You feel a thrill of anticipation at his command. “Yes, sir.” The smile he gives you in response is absolutely mesmerizing.

“Good girl,” he purrs. 

Fucking hell.

You find yourself on Kyle’s soft, plush carpet in only a silken, short robe waiting for him to address you as he walks around your kneeled form. “Tell me what’s your safeword, love.” It appears that he catches on to your embarrassment, as he carries on with the conversation.

“Recognize that I will not continue until we establish the safety processes within the scene. So let’s try again, shall we?” Stopping his orbiting, he stands directly in front of you— his large, warm hand petting your hair. “Safe word?” 

A rosy hue spreads across your face as you whisper, “Pelican, sir.”

“Good. Y’know,” and he bends at the waist to cup your face, “I love it when your cheeks turn that color. Do you want to know why?” He waits for you to nod before answering, “Because I imagine what color your other cheeks would turn under my hand.” 

Kyle straightens and reaches out a hand to help you up, his gaze fixed upon you, taking in every detail. “How lucky am I, to have such a beautiful woman offering herself to me.” His hands cradle your face, thumbs caressing your jaw. The way he slowly leans in as your eyes slide shut, molding his lips to yours feels almost cliche, but you love it. Your hands grasp at his arms, and let out a mewl when his tongue comes in contact with yours, swirling against yours. He’s consuming you, sweeping you away. His lips were soft, in contrast to the stubble of his chin. Pulling away, he leaves you breathless as he starts peppering a trail of kisses from the corner of your mouth down to the column of your throat, suckling a love bite on your delicate skin. “Open your eyes,” he murmurs against your neck, “and look at what you do to me.” 

Slowly, you open your eyes, tilt your head down, and notice the prominent tent in his trousers. Your heart slams into your ribcage in anxious delight, anticipation dancing in your veins. “How does it feel to know you have my full and undivided attention?” and with that, he begins to lead you towards the bedroom. He gestures for you to perch on the edge of his lofty mattress, gently guiding your hands to rest on your lap.

“I want you to picture this robe,” his fingertips skim on the neckline of the garment, “as your self-doubt, your fear.” Taking a step back, he fixates on you. “I want you to feel, that as you take it off, you are letting go of the fear that stands in the way of your pleasure.” With unsteady movements and shallow breaths, you undo the knot at your waist and begin to slip the fabric off of your shoulders when he covers your hands in his, a comforting touch.

“I need you to take a deep breath for me. In,” a pause, “out. Good girl. You’re safe here. I’m here to help you feel more. To breathe is to feel, and to limit breathing is to limit feeling. So take one more deep breath for me, baby, because I want you to feel everything.”

You take a moment to steady your breathing, allowing serenity to settle over you. He releases your hands, and you continue to strip until the robe is crumpled around your naked hips on the bed. Kyle’s eyes gleam as he takes you in, head tipping to the side, mouth curling into a soft smile. “You are so beautiful without your fear.” 

He approaches you and kneels, his face eye level with your cunt, slit glistening with your desire. His warm breath fanned over your lips, sending liquid fire through your veins, causing you to move your hips in a silent plea. “Look at me,” he commands and you meet his gaze, “If you close your eyes, I stop.” And he dove head first. 

Every tortuous swipe of his tongue tested your willpower. He flicks your clit with a pointed tip, broad strokes teasing your entrance, deliciously thick fingers pushing and curling at your gummy, squishy walls. His mouth and chin are slippery with his saliva and your arousal, your thighs shake at your impending climax, and your throat is dry from the stream of broken whimpers that have escaped your lips. The unexpected twinge from his tongue catching your bud, pressing it against the edge of his teeth is what tosses you over your peak. Your vision is blurry, muddling Kyle’s features as your walls convulse around his fingers. He must be pleased with you and your obedience because he smiles against your cunt as he helps you ride out your climax to the point of overstimulation.

With one last kiss directly on your sensitive clit, he pulls away and licks at sweet nectar around his lips. “Good fucking girl.” Kyle instructs you to get on the bed as he sheds his clothes. Crawling to you, he situates himself in between your spread thighs, pressing his thick girth against your puffy, soaked lips. “You with me, love?” Bobbing your head, a mewl slips out of your mouth when the flared head of his cock pushes into your snug, clenching channel. “Take a breath because now your only job is to feel.” He sinks inch by demanding inch, your muscles fluttering as they struggle to accommodate him. Through gritted teeth, he hisses, “Relax, sweetheart. Let me in,” he gives a couple of sampling thrusts and kisses you hungrily, swallowing your moans when he hits the right spot a few times. Hooking your right leg on the crook of his elbow, he whispers against your lips, “Surrender.” 

Your vision goes white at the pace he sets, firm and solid. Air is knocked out of your lungs with every thrust, your nails dig into his arms when he grinds down on your clit and he groans, “There are those claws.” He is unrelenting in his chase for your orgasm, clever fingers circling your swollen bud, and continues to shower you with praise. “You look so pretty taking me,” he coos.

Kyle grunts at the feel of your walls tightening around him and ups the tempo— the sound of skin slapping resounds in the room, along with the obscene squelch of your pussy as he fills you to the brim, and then some. “Let go, princess, I got you,” and the drag of his sizable length as he pants in your ear sends you tumbling over the edge. Your legs tense, and toes curl as your crest crashes into you, wave after wave of almost agonizing bliss. He growls at how tight your gooey walls squeeze him, like a silken fist, but continues to fuck you through your orgasm. Once he feels the rhythmic pulsing abate, Kyle snarls and pulls out, letting out pained gasps. 

“You almost had me there, love. On your knees.” He assists, of course, because you’ve been reduced to a puddle of flesh. “If you need me to stop, use your safe word. And just in case you go nonverbal,” he deposits his watch in your dainty hand, “you drop that, and that’s my cue to stop. Understand?” You sluggishly nod and then feel the heel of his palm meet the base of your skull, squeeze firmly, and grip slowly at the hairs closest to your scalp. “I’m taking full control, sweetheart. Brace yourself.”

The words barely slipped past his lips before setting a brutal pace, arse rippling with the sheer force of his thrusts. He’s yanking your head back with the firm grip on your hair, arching your spine at an angle that has him going deeper, and you think you feel him in your lungs, your throat. 

“Take it for me, love, I know you can.” The tip is ruthlessly pushing against the entrance of your womb, but the grip holding his watch is steady. He moans, and you feel his cock swelling to what feels to be an impossible size and gives you six more back-breaking thrusts, then stills, cock twitching and coating your insides with his essence.

He lets go of your hair and leans his weight on his hands by your shoulders as he catches his breath, and you can feel the drops of sweat dripping from him onto your overheated skin. Kyle gently pulls out, taking great care to not hurt you. He nudges you to turn around, and kisses your neck, adding another lovebite. “You did so good for me, love. How do you feel?” 

“I— uh,” you can’t form words, much less a sentence since your brain’s been turned to mush.

Kyle chuckles, “That good, huh?” He rests his forehead on yours, breaths mingling. “Let me show you off, yeah? And then after I can draw you a bath, scented candles and all.” 

“Er, okay,” a gentle exhale, “alright.” 

Price’s phone vibrates in his pocket, and he excuses himself from his client. His chest rumbles with a low laugh as he looks at his screen. It’s a photo of Kyle holding you by the neck in front of a mirror, your back to his front. Your skin is glistening with sweat, cheeks pink, and neck peppered with tiny bruises. 

She said she should be the one getting paid, at this point. 

Oh? Shameless little minx. 

Tell her I want to see her in two weeks, I’ll send as much as she wants. It’s high time I met Simon’s girl.

Pocketing his cell, he clenches his hands into a fist once, then twice, in an attempt to calm his exhilaration. He can’t wait to sink his teeth into you next.

A/N: kyle is king. period.

taglist: @rookiesbookies @waves-against-a-cliff

[writethrough]

A Place to Land

(Billy Hargrove x Female Reader)

Synopsis: You told Billy you love him. And he knows it's time to break up with you.

Warnings: Minor language (I don't think I use the F word), angst to fluff, insecure Billy, drunk Billy

Word Count: 3495

A/N: I'm actually really proud of this one. I think I fixed what was bugging me about it a few weeks ago. Please let me know what you think! I also recognize this is not one of the requests I have in my ask box. I will get to those, but I am weak to the little gremlins controlling my hyper-fixations.

The day Billy realized he loved you, he knew he had to leave. It was only a matter of time before you broke up with him. He felt it when he woke up from nightmares, and you held him.

He felt it if he wanted to leave a party early because the crowds reminded him of how claustrophobic his mind felt under the Mind Flayer’s influence—he thought your frown was annoyance.

Your look of pity each time he didn’t answer you because he flashed back to that time killed him.

Before the Mind Flayer, he wondered why you agreed to that initial date with him. He was an asshole—so angry at everything. Angry at himself. What did you even see in him?

Your date had to be one of his favorite memories. He took you to see The Goonies, bought popcorn to share, and when he took your chin and turned you to kiss him, you waved him off after the third one. He would’ve been irritated; any other girl and he’d have considered the night a bust, but you were so invested in the screen that he couldn’t help his lips turning up. He wasn’t sure you realized you grabbed his hand at one point in your excitement at the film. Neither of you pulled away until it was over to gather your things. He had thrown an arm around your shoulders and tugged you into his side. And when you asked if he wanted to go to the diner down the street, a little jump in his stomach made him say “yes.”

It felt…nice…that someone wanted to spend time with him. Maybe he was interesting enough without sex.

He’d never laughed as hard as he did that night. You were funny and kind, sweet and smart—and dammit—the way you smiled at him? You were so goddamn beautiful. He was hooked.

Now, after the Mind Flayer—after he found out this wasn’t your first time dealing with that creature—he knew he loved you. He felt the beginning of it that first night. And that meant you would hurt him. That meant you would leave.

Exactly like his mom had.

But Billy was a coward.

The day he had decided to end it, he kept pushing it back. He had picked you up, and you smiled, and he thought, “Tomorrow.”

You were in the middle of a date, sitting across from one another, and he had imagined that smile turning into a sneer. He had been so close to blurting it out. Then, you giggled and intertwined your fingers with his.

Then, Steve invited everyone over for a BBQ. He had tackled you into the pool, and when you both emerged, you laughed and splashed him. He warned you with the biggest smile, and you started swimming to the other end of the pool.

Billy watched it all. And he felt sick.

It wasn’t jealousy. It wasn’t angry enough to be jealousy. It was like confirmation. One day, you could have this when you were no longer tied to him. If it was happening now, then it’d happen in the future.

He had to break up with you.

No matter how much it’d kill him.

—

He pulled in front of your house, barely getting out of the car before you were bounding toward him.

You were so excited to see him that you couldn’t even wait for him to reach the door.

He shook his head slightly. He had to do this, had to beat you to the punch.

“Hey, Billy! How are—”

“We need to talk,” he said, avoiding your eyes.

“Oh? What about?” You tilted your head, scanning over his tense posture.

He let out a slow breath. Just rip the bandaid off.

“I’m breaking up with you.”

“What?” Had you heard him correctly?

“I’m breaking up with you,” he repeated, jaw clenched.

You took a tentative step forward.

“Billy, I—what do you mean? Are you okay?”

It didn’t make sense. You were attached at the hip yesterday; Billy couldn’t keep his hands off you, and now he wanted to break up?

What the hell was going on?

He shoved his hands in his jacket pockets to hide his whitening knuckles. He didn’t trust himself to not grab hold of you.

“I mean, it’s over. I don’t love you.”

You furrowed your brow, inhaling shakily. “I love you, Billy. I’ve been telling you for weeks now. I know you haven’t said it yet, but that’s okay! I’d never pressure you into—”

He had to cut you off if he was gonna get through this.

“And I’ve realized I don’t love you. What? You gonna make me stay with you?” He wished he could get through this without looking at you, but then you wouldn’t believe him.

You’d be okay. You may hate him now, but you’d move on. And he’d never have to know the pain of you leaving him—of you having an everlasting disdain for him. This hate would only be temporary.

“...You know I won’t,” you whispered. “I’d never force you to do anything.”

He'd had enough of that his entire life.

He nodded. “Then I guess we’re over.”

He turned to walk back to the driver’s side, pulling the door open with more force than needed.

“I don’t believe you.” You managed to get out before he got in.

He stopped. His hand was on the car's roof but didn’t look up.

It gave you a bit of hope.

“I don’t believe that you don’t love me. I see it every time you look at me.” You sniffled. “I know you, Billy. You never would’ve been with me for this long—through all this shit—if you didn’t love me.” You wiped at your tears. “But if this is what you need to do, then I guess you have to do it. And I’ll still love you. That’s never going to change.” You took in a shaky breath. “So, when you’re ready, I’ll be here. You’ll never lose me. I promise.”

He didn’t know how you could read his mind. But it had always been like that. You could anticipate what he needed before even he knew.

He wanted to run to you, to scoop you into his arms and apologize, but that nagging in his head wouldn’t stop. The image of you and Steve smiling and laughing. That phone call with his mother—Billy begging her to take him, too.

It felt like you confessed to him just yesterday—that warm feeling in his chest froze over.

You’d leave him eventually. Even if you didn’t think you would, he’d do something to change that. He’d ruin the best relationship he ever had, and then you’d be gone.

He blinked rapidly, getting into his car and speeding away. But not before glancing in his rearview to see the tear tracks streaming down your face.

—

It had been three weeks since Billy broke up with you, and every day your chest seemed to hurt worse. You had spent the first few days hopeful, convincing yourself Billy would be at your door any moment to apologize and explain why he did what he did. It didn’t fully sink in until the fourth day that he was serious.

You had arguments, of course, but Billy was always quick to remedy the situation. He didn’t like when you were angry with him. He said it put a pit in his gut because it reminded him of his anger toward his father. Even if it wasn’t nearly the same thing, Billy still hated the idea that you could ever loathe him that much.

But you didn’t hate him—could never hate him. You just wanted him back, but you didn’t know how to do that. You had called but either gotten Max or nothing at all. You had driven by several times, but Max and Billy weren't home, or he ignored you because—of course—he could tell it was you by your knock.

By week two, you were almost positive you had done something to him. However, you had no idea what. You played through every moment you spent with Billy, and the closest thing you could come up with was that you were a bit clingy. And even when you asked Billy about it, he said he liked it!

That was a few months ago, and he wasn't one to hold his tongue if something bothered him. It was one thing you loved about him. Even though it may come off as harsh—which he was working on—nothing ever festered with him. There was no chance of growing regrets.

You had barely gotten any sleep the past few weeks.

Lying in bed in one of Billy’s shirts, you tried to take your mind off everything with a book when the phone rang.

You sighed but got up to answer anyway. At this hour, it was either Robin or Steve.

“Hello?”

You waited a moment, no one speaking, and then a deep breath came through.

“(Y/N)?”

“Max?” You furrowed your brow. “Is everything okay?”

You’d spoken to her plenty since your break up, but she had never called you after ten. You gripped the phone tighter, ready to listen to anything she had to say, and hoped she was alright.

“I don’t…It’s Billy.” She waited for your response, and when you didn’t give one because of your surprise, she continued, “He’s been drinking a lot since your…since you know…and I’m worried. This is the worst it’s ever been, and I…I don’t know what to do.” She let out a shaky breath. “Can you please come over? I think he needs you.”

Your heart was in your throat. Part of you wanted to refuse. Billy ended things. There was no way he wanted to see you.

But the selfish part of you wanted to see him, to make sure he was okay, to maybe get some answers out of his inebriated state. Even if you didn’t want to hear them. So, you told her you’d be over soon. Not bothering to change, you threw on shorts and shoes and grabbed your keys.

—

You didn’t know what to expect when you arrived. Billy could hold his alcohol, but you didn’t know what frame of mind he was in. The fact that Max called you to begin with set you on edge.

You barely knocked on the door before Max ripped it open.

“Hey.” Her mouth pinched. “He’s in his room. He was…He turned off the music ten minutes ago. I’m not sure what he’s doing.”

You nodded. “...You said he’s been doing this since we…since he—”

“Yeah, I’m not sure what to do anymore,” she said.

You placed a hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay. I’ll try to figure out what’s going on.”

You weren’t sure if you knocked or not on Billy’s door. The thumping of your heart drowned out the taps.

His slurred “go ‘way, Max” made it nearly stop. Just how long had he been like this?

“It’s me, Billy.”

He opened the door faster than Max, eyes wide as he took you in, almost as if he couldn’t believe you were here.

“(Y/N)?”

The glassiness of his eyes made you want to pull him close and tell him everything would be okay. That whatever was going on in his head, you could face together.

“Is s’tha’ really you?” His knuckles brushed your cheek, testing to see if this was another daydream. And when he made contact, he breathed, “I miss s’you.”

Your nose tingled. “I miss you, too, Billy.”

A singular tear slipped down his face as he cupped yours.

“Hey,” you cooed. “It’s okay.” You wiped it away. “Everything’s okay.”

He shook his head adamantly. “I’m sorry. M'sorry…sorry…”

His shoulders shook, and he could no longer look at you, head hanging low.

You hushed him softly as you led him back into his room and closed the door. His apologies continued until you sat on his bed and pulled his head into your neck.

You brushed through his curls and blinked back your own tears. Never had you seen Billy like this.

He had gotten better at telling you what he felt but still kept a lot to himself. This…This was a sadness you couldn’t handle seeing in him. You wanted nothing more than to take it away—fix it—so you could see that brilliant smile again.

“I lo’you.” He burrowed further into you. “Love you.”

They were quiet confessions, but they held so much conflict.

You were relieved, almost ecstatic, but he was drunk. It might just be because you were here, comforting him.

In any other scenario, you’d be the happiest person alive. However, with every “I love you,” a knife seemed to lodge into your heart.

“I love you, too,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “Everything’s okay. I forgive you.”

He squeezed you tighter in response. All he wanted was to be closer to you. Like that could erase what he had done.

With another kiss, you gently guided him away so you could meet his gaze.

“Let’s get you ready for bed, okay?” You tucked a stray curl behind his ear, and he nodded. It seemed he was content to do whatever you said.

You helped switch his shirt to a clean one and handed him a pair of boxers, covering your eyes when he didn’t hesitate to remove the ones he wore.

“How’s that feel? A little better,” you asked, combing through his hair with your fingers.

He hummed, leaning in.

“Good,” you said. “I’m gonna get you some water and aspirin for tomorrow.”

When you went to pull away, his hand shot up to grip yours.

“Please,” his eyes were near watery, “please, don’t leave me.”

Maybe you were imagining it, but his plea felt like it held so much weight.

He was asking you to stay with him, to sleep beside him so he wouldn’t feel so vulnerable in an already vulnerable state. But it also felt like he was asking you to not walk away from him. That even though he broke up with you, he regretted it. And hoped you would want him back, accept him and all his mistakes. All his flaws.

Either way, the answer was the same.

“I’ll always be right here, Billy.” You squeezed his hand. “You get settled, and I’ll be right back.”

He slowly nodded, letting your hand slip from his.

And when you came back, Billy was on his side, facing the door, a space for you wide open.

Once you got in, he nuzzled into your chest, arms securely around you.

“Love you,” he mumbled, already half asleep.

“Love you, too,” you whispered, heart in your throat.

—

There were three blissful seconds of peace, of the comfort of an arm wrapped around your waist when you woke up. Then last night flooded back.

Billy drunk.

Him crying.

And saying he loved you.

And you had said it back even though you were afraid the next day would bring you more hurt.

He might not remember.

Or worse, he might not have meant it.

Looking up at the peaceful expression on his face pushed those thoughts to the back of your mind.

He’d feel like shit today, so the least you could do was make him breakfast and ensure he was alright.

You had managed to switch positions throughout the night. He had held you like always.

You carefully slipped out and into the kitchen. And as you worked, you prepared for the worst.

—

The ache in his chest might’ve been worse than the one in his head. The sun hurt his eyes, and the cold spot beside him bit at his torso.

You had been there.

He couldn’t remember all of last night. But you had been standing outside his door. And the smell of your shampoo clung to his sheets anew. Back where it belonged. The day it had worn off, he had buried his face in his pillow, desperate for one part of you to still be with him.

But you weren’t here anymore.

He swallowed the aspirin, wondering if Max had put it there. Maybe she took pity on him and was making him breakfast.

The bacon made his mouth water. He just hoped she wouldn’t want him to open up about last night. He didn’t want to relive it, especially when you had left before he woke up.

He dragged his feet in the hallway, one hand grazing the wall with the other rubbing his eyes.

He would've plopped down at the table. He would’ve tucked his head in his arms and maybe drifted in and out until Max nudged him. Instead, he stopped and stared.

You were still here.

His heavy steps must have alerted you because you glanced over your shoulder and gave him a small smile.

“Morning,” you said softly.

“Hi,” he said, blinking once, then again.

You motioned for him to sit at the table, and he did without another word.

You hadn’t left him.

After placing some food down, you sat across from him.

He wasn’t sure what to say. He wasn’t even sure he was awake right now. After everything he put you through, you stayed.

His mind was still foggy. Add that to the thoughts racing through it, and he didn’t know where to start. Thankfully, you spoke first.

“I miss you,” you whispered, hands folded atop the table.

He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. “I miss you, too.”

Without his notice, his hand had sought yours out, his fingers sneaking underneath to trace your palm. “I miss you so much.”

Your answering squeeze was like a switch—it made things brighter.

“I’m right here,” you said.

He nodded, not even trying to keep the smile at bay.

He believed you. Last night was proof. He was at one of his lowest points, and you had shown up—you had stayed.

Still, the smallest part of him had to hear you say it.

“Promise?” He locked eyes with you, pleading.

You took his hand in both of yours. “I promise,” you said. “I love you.”

He let out a disbelieving laugh. “I love you, too.”

You brought his hand up to kiss his knuckles, and he could feel your smile against his skin.

He needed you closer.

Tugging at you, he muttered a “come here,” guiding you onto his lap and pushing his nose into your neck, breathing into you. “I love you so much.”

You said it back, running a hand through his messy curls, then trailing your thumbs around his ears down to his jaw, holding him gently so you could kiss him. You wanted to savor every second of this. You had a lot to discuss, but right now? You just wanted to be with him.

His grip tightened as he returned the kiss.

He wanted to apologize again, to tell you how much he regretted what he said. Before he could, you looked at him as if you couldn't get enough.

“As much as I would love to continue kissing you, I’m starving. And you need to eat.”

He laughed, a genuine, full-fledged laugh, something he hadn’t done in weeks.

You tried pushing off his lap, but he wouldn’t let you budge.

“I’m just gonna get my own plate,” you said, giving him a quizzical look.

He shook his head. “Eat off mine.”

And with the contentment and hope on his face, you couldn’t argue. So, you swiped a piece of bacon, taking a bite as he kissed your shoulder.

"This mine?" he asked, pulling at the hem of your shirt.

"Yeah. I've kinda been cycling through all the ones in my closet," you said.

He hummed, a sullen look crossing his features.

"Been wearing your ring," he muttered, fishing out his Saint Christopher to show you the ring hanging on it.

You toyed with both pieces, rubbing your thumb over the face of the original, then set it back to his chest. You pressed your palm against his heart, and he placed his hand over it.

You leaned your forehead against his, closing your eyes.

He took a sharp breath, then relaxed.

When you finally looked into his eyes, they held security. He trusted you. And he would continue to trust you with something he didn't trust anyone with.

As you ate, one of your arms stayed around his shoulders, sometimes playing with his hair or rubbing his neck. His stayed firmly around your waist, his fingertips grazing up and down your side, trailing further to your thigh.

It was perfect, this moment. Every laugh Billy brought out of you, every kiss you gave him, every word said; it was all a balm. He wasn’t completely healed, he knew that, but he also knew you.

You had reassured him, given him a place to land when he never thought that place existed. You loved him. And that meant you weren’t going anywhere.