#application huddles

[6thdrink]

Heard back from the first university, and it's a rejection letter...

[kneelingshadowsalome]

i love your writings so much! i need you to write about könig with maid!reader like i need air and water. könig who needs someone to take care of his house while he‘s gone, returning from his deployment only to find reader huddled up in a soft blanket on the couch, the house smelling of freshly baked cinnamon bread and lavender while she sleeps peacefully. he‘s so touch starved and the domesticity makes his heart and cock stir, he‘s never had any woman cook for him since his Oma passed away. poor reader is oblivious to her boss‘s infatuation until she‘s not, he‘s so awkward around her she thinks he just doesn‘t wanna be disturbed, but she doesn‘t know he uses her conditioner to stroke his cock every night, and now he can‘t help but get a raging boner everytime she passes by and he smells her hair :((((

Banner picture credit: @661ave

possession

noun

the state of having, owning, or controlling something.

Word count: 7 k Tags/warnings: 18+ only DARK FIC. Perv!König masturbating to thoughts of you + your stolen panties. Jealous & possessive behaviour. Dubious consent to having unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, cunnilingus, size kink, breeding kink, implied age difference. Some fluff if you squint.  A/N: First of all, I'm sorry if you expected something sweet & fluffy anon… This thing just came out of me. Also, @gremlingottoosilly wrote the best thing EVER for this trope so please if you haven’t read it yet go give it a read (dark content there too though so be warned!)

He’s good at repairing things. He prides himself in that.

And he keeps his house neat and clean: that’s not a problem. His papers are in order, his office is in order. His home is in order too, and so is his whole life – love life included because there is none. 

He always ensured he’s not dependent on anyone, he never seeked a mother from a partner. Just for self-reliance's sake, he knows how to do his own laundry and meal prep for weeks. He learned to fold his t-shirts with an orderliness fit for the military when he was ten years old, just so that no one would have the chance to say he needed a wife.

He always vacuums the entire house before deployment, does the dishes, takes out the trash. And he doesn’t hate house chores… but he doesn’t like them either. His house is a sad, lifeless, gloomy place to spend time in. It’s big enough for a family, it has everything he needs to host a night for friends, but he doesn’t have any. 

Family, or friends, that is.

When he hears that his co-worker – the one with a frigid wife and five unruly kids – hired a maid to do the cleaning in the house, he pauses to think. He doesn’t have a chaos in his home, but he’s got enough money to make life a tad easier. Besides, it’s only expected of a man of his position to hire an assistant of some sort, is it not?

It’s just that he didn’t expect housemaids to be this… cute. 

There are quite a few applications, and he’s a sick bastard for choosing the maid solely based on the picture attached to the CV. He told himself it was also because it looked like this lady needed the money the most. He's a generous man, so why not help a woman in need? 

Another thing he didn’t expect is how his house would start to smell so nice and look so cozy. It’s the small details, the tiny little things that make his chest burn. The way she uses softener on his shirts and folds not only his shirts but his boxers, too, or places a scented candle on the table when the weather turns cold. It’s clearly for his delight because it’s not one of those overly sweet apple or caramel things but something fresh, maybe spruce or fir. 

She even bakes for him on the days when he comes back. The fact that a beautiful young woman bakes for him stirs something unwanted and long-forgotten in his chest. The sweet scent of home baked buns makes his cock stir, too. His place has never seen a woman’s touch, no one has ever baked anything here…

And he certainly doesn’t expect to find his maid sleeping on his sofa when he arrives home one evening.

She stirs immediately, and apologizes profusely for making herself at home like this. She starts to stutter and explain how she’s had a busy week and difficulty with sleeping, how she simply dozed off while waiting for the rolls to bake in the oven. 

He stops her in the middle of her flustered excuses: she can take a nap here any time, it’s not like the furniture is going to wear and tear from use anytime soon. He’s barely even home, so it’s good that someone enjoys the sofa, right? She can use his bed too if she wants. More convenient that way, ja?

He realizes he went a little too far when she looks at him like he just offered to fuck her on the kitchen table. Which he has thought about, to be honest, for a good long while now. In fact, he’s thought about it ever since she started in this position a month ago. 

It's her fault for being so unsuspecting and lovely, and she's playing with fire when she takes more dangerous liberties by showering at his house. He finds a women’s conditioner bottle in the bathroom and once, he even catches her doing her laundry here too. There’s a pair of women’s underwear in the pile of clothes she politely informs he’d have to fold himself this time because she’s in a hurry to catch her bus. 

He’s far more intrigued by the innocent, blush pink strings greeting him from amidst his black and dark green clothes than by the fact that his maid is breaking the rules. Other employers would give her a warning or simply say she no longer has to come and work here ever again. Showering at his place, washing her clothes in his washing machine and taking a nap on his sofa border on violating the terms of their agreement, but he couldn’t care less. He would carve a hole in his chest if that would make her happy. 

When he finds out she’s busy because she has to work two jobs, he raises her pay, despite the fact that she’s sometimes late and at times, leaves a little too early. She does her job well enough, so there’s no reason to complain. He would simply like it if they saw each other more... Which is ridiculous, he knows, because the point of having a maid is that she cleans his house when he’s away. 

It just feels so nice to arrive home now that she's here. He’s never looked forward to getting back to his bleak modern mansion, but now he’s pining for his leaves like a young recruit who's got a girl waiting for him back home. 

Even if she’s not there when he gets back, he can savour her lingering scent. He sniffs the dark woolen spread she might’ve slept under just moments ago, he eats whatever freshly baked goodies she has made for him. He sleeps with her underwear tucked under his pillow, and reaches for them before sleep. Or then he grabs them in the morning when he wakes up, already hard. 

It’s nice to have an unhurried fap at home than to relieve his needs in some small grey room of a boring military base. It's far more enjoyable to stroke his cock with her tiny, cute underwear spread over his face. Sometimes he wraps it around his cock and jerks himself off to a quick, groan-filled release, adoring the way his cum stains her blushing strings.

His showers last for about 15 minutes nowadays.

It’s unheard of for a soldier, and he read somewhere that lonely and depressed people take longer showers because the warm water is supposed to make up for the lack of human touch and intimacy, and that may very well be true… But he also wants to take his sweet time stroking himself while using her conditioner as lube. 

Coconut or peach, vanilla or argan oil, he lathers it all over his cock and imagines her hot, wet pussy. His hand is too calloused to give him any illusions of softness, but the mind-numbingly sweet scent takes him immediately back to her. Her eyes, her soft smile. The dreamy sway of her hips, the elegance of her wrists as she moves some item out of the way to sweep or scrub or clean a surface.

He faps with slick urgency, wondering if her eyes would go wide if she saw his cock. He wonders if she’s noisy in bed – is she a screamer, or a moaner? Would she claw at his back or simply cling to him if he fucked her? 

And god, how he would fuck her… 

Slowly at first, draw moans out of that soft mouth until she begs him to fuck her hard. He would drag her shirt up and her bra down until her breasts are exposed, then watch how they bounce as he starts to fuck her with purpose. She begins to tighten around him, looking so fucking desperate as her cunt starts to throb and pull him in. The first moan of surrender is needy and tight when she cums around his shaft…

He never gets any further than that because his cock spills with a violent jerk. He cums, long and hard across the tiles. Loads and loads of hot seed go to waste as he groans loudly, not giving a shit about making so much noise. Feeling hollow and deprived for not being able to shoot his cum inside her and then stay there, snug and safe and warm inside her cunt, he allows himself just one single sob. 

He just wants to know how it would feel to cover her whole body with his as he slowly pumps the last drops into her. Sigh afterwards, breathe together, hold her close... Search for her eyes, check if she's in rapture too. Watch her come down from it while still squeezing him down there. Perhaps she’d give him a pleased giggle and a cute, weary smile.

"Scheisse–"

He leans on the wall, knowing that he's lonely, filthy, sick and obsessed. He lives in a dream world, and the thick conditioner takes ages to wash off. The withdrawal phase is worse every time he indulges in his dark fantasies and then has to live without her for weeks and weeks.  

She's just his maid, a hired employee. She’s just an innocent woman with her whole future ahead of her.

He's just a colonel at a notorious private military company… He's just an old, horny, depraved soldier. Calloused, fucked up, depressed. Girls like her don't want anything to do with a man like him.

…

She asks if he wants his house decorated for Christmas.

She asks it with bright eyes and such a lovely smile that he tells her he doesn't own such junk, but he can pay her if she goes to choose him some and then comes back to decorate his place. Their unusual agreement gets more unusual still as she nods with shining eyes, then goes to the city to choose his Christmas decorations for him. He even lets her use his car, which is unheard of. 

Soon, his windows are filled with lights and there are mistletoes hanging from the ceiling. She puts fancy little elves in the window, places Christmas flowers and candles everywhere she possibly can. He walks around the house with a coffee mug in his hand, suddenly awkward and shy when watching his maid put up the most sophisticated, elegant and adorable Christmas decorations he has ever had or seen.

Is this what a home should look like…? Warm, and light, and pretty, filled with cozy, useless things? 

But it's not the items she got him that make a home, no. Home now equals rich, home-cooked meals, or the mouthwatering scent of cinnamon rolls greeting him at the door. Home is a cute girl, returning his obsessive stare with a small smile and telling him to stay safe before he leaves to kill people. Home is a woman who's the perfect wife material, so fuckable and sweet, who's fussing over the fact that he doesn't even have a Christmas tree.

He gets it before her next visit – meaning, her next shift – and decorates it himself. It looks clumsy and uneven and a bit sparse, but she compliments him on it when she arrives. The looks she gives him are so warm and playful that he starts to have some hope – hell, a full surge of it – and he also starts to miss his hood. He's feeling awkward as it is around her, he doesn't need to be blushing in front of his suddenly flirtatious maid... Men don’t fucking blush when a woman flirts with them; they fuck them until their knees give in.

With no small amount of hidden guilt, he finally confronts her with her underwear, telling her she forgot something and that he found these in his laundry pile. Taking sick satisfaction from seeing how she's the one who's flustered now, he forgives her for washing laundry in his place. He's a merciful man, after all. 

There's still some cum on the lace as he returns her possession to her, and he hopes he's just imagining the shock in her eyes when she takes them back. It's his way of saying that he likes her a lot, but the flirting ends immediately, the playful smiles stop, and he knows he fucked up big time. The warm, lively woman is gone, she suddenly resembles an ice sculpture who's about to flee his apartment at any given moment, and he could hit himself in the head with a big metal bat.

What the fuck was he even thinking? That a woman would appreciate it if he returned her panties covered in old, dried cum?

He's a fucked up pervert, and he has lived in a dream world, and now reality awaits.

He shuts down and shuts up after that, keeps the connection pure, pristine and professional. She's just here to do her job. 

The holidays approach, and he's sulking, knowing that he won't see her again in at least six weeks. He'll have to make do without a maid, and he'll have to numb his whole soul to get through yet another lonely Christmas.

Well, not lonely: this time he spends it with the decorations she got him. They can keep him company during the lonely masturbation sessions. They can watch him live on takeout food and remind him what a horny, sad loser he is.

So his last attempt, his last minor sin is that he gets her a Christmas present. She's about to leave, hurrying to some place where she's loved and cherished, or then about to get fucked because she has her hair and make-up done. The jealousy creeps up his spine like a viper as he watches her get all dolled up. 

She's so very grateful to him for allowing her to get ready here and use his bathroom, and he plays the generous, kind gentleman while gritting his teeth, trying to ignore another demanding erection telling him to dick her down and make her stay down. Make her bake for him and sit on his knee as he squeezes her tits and watches her stare turn dumb. Tell her to douse the lights and light the candles, tell her to undress in front of that stupid Christmas tree, order her to lie down on the mat and spread her pretty legs for him…

She's standing at the door, a cute girl turned into a seductive goddess, while he's about to enter into another lonely brain fog. She grabs her coat and grants him one of those warmer smiles as he walks to her with an envelope in hand.

"I got you something... Merry Christmas."

"Aw… You shouldn't have…"

She accepts his gift delicately with both hands, clearly surprised and pleased. When she opens the gift, she laughs and then covers her mouth with her hand. It's a gift card to Victoria's Secret, and with a relatively large sum on it, too.

"Oh god... Ahah, okay. I like your humour," she laughs again, then gives him a wink and an exceptionally gorgeous smile. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." 

He's fully aware that he sounds like an ominous, threatening robot. His voice has an effect on women; most flee, some get curious. She's one of the few who don't know what's good for them at all.

He never had a gift with females, and even with his position, experience and age, he still feels like he’s trying to court a breathtaking alien species whose native language he can’t quite understand or speak. The silence stretches on, and her smile slowly fades, making him perfectly aware of the fact that he should say or do something assertive, something charming, instead of just standing here, looming over her. When the playful stare then turns into a helpless, pitying one, the kind his mother used to wear when she discovered he had been bullied again at school, his hands start to go numb. 

Jerk off and kill, those are the only things he ever was good for… 

"Mm... I'm afraid I have nothing for you," she says apologetically. 

Ach so… She’s ashamed for not getting him a present. 

Well, shit. Fuck.

"Don't worry about it."

"No, I mean… I thought about it. You're the kindest employer I've ever had. I really appreciate it... and I love working for you."

"That’s nice to hear." 

"I just didn't know what to get you. I don't know what you like."

He's trying to ignore the pull of his chest, the sick burning in his loins. His cock is stirring just from the way she's looking at him. Inviting, adoring, waiting.

"You already got me Christmas decorations."

"Yeah, but… You paid for them."

"Aber... You baked for me. No one's ever–"

He shuts his mouth before making a complete fool of himself.

"Well, I'm glad you liked my buns," she laughs, then bites her lip, realizing what she just said could be taken in many ways. 

"I truly did."

She guides her stare to the floor and smiles, and the electricity between them… it just can't be only a fabric of his imagination.

"Take care of yourself. Ok?" He says, then swallows a lump in his throat, but it never quite goes down. She’s still waiting for something; the tension between them is petrifying. 

"I will," she says, her voice a bit frail, and far too sweet. "You too. Take care."

She gives her last smile to him; it’s sad and somewhat disappointed as she turns around and reaches for the door.

"Wait," he calls, purely from the hard instinct that tells him to fucking do something about this heavy, sickening tension. She immediately turns with hope in her eyes.

"Yes?"

"I… Ah, glückliches neues Jahr."

"...What does that mean?" 

"It means 'Happy New Year'."

"Oh," she laughs, "I thought it was something naughty…"

Shit.

Shit.

Shit…

"Ich möchte deine Muschi lecken."

She freezes with her hand still on the doorknob. That fucking sentence was so dark it left little or nothing to the imagination... It was thick enough to make it clear that he’s not a kind, generous employer, nor is he a gentleman.

"What's that?" She asks, her pretty voice barely a whisper.

"Something naughty."

Her hand lets go, it falls to the side. She even tilts her head before her voice turns thick and suggestive too. 

"Really…?"

"Yes."

"Well don't be shy. Tell me what it means."

Playful, naughty, dirty. 

She wants to fuck. She wants to fuck.

Is this a filthy dream or is this really happening? 

"I want to lick your pussy."

There's an intake of air, just a soft gasp. Batting of long, dark lashes, just before the stars in her eyes start to shine in full.

"Oh," she breathes. "Is that so?"

"Ja."

It wouldn't be the first time someone offers him cunt just out of spontaneous pity. It wouldn’t be the first time he accepts it. A man like him takes whatever he can get.

Pity is apparently what's happening now, because his maid starts to undress. 

With a victorious shine in her eyes, she drops her coat to the floor, then unbuttons her jeans. Takes away her shirt and bra with shaky hands while maintaining that seductive, downright filthy eye contact. More and more of her skin is exposed as she quickly strips in front of him, finally slipping out of her black, see-through underwear while he's trying not to shake from dark urges and lust.

When she's naked, flush and bare, her fingers start to slide up her thigh. The other hand is pressed against her side as if shy. She’s either offering him a Christmas present in the most elegant way, or then she’s concerned about getting licked and fucked sore. It's like throwing a dog a meaty bone and then putting the hound in a loose chain, just an inch away from the mouthwatering sight and scent. She steals one look at his erection, currently trying to rip its way through his pants. The gross tent is pointed at her, and she knows it: she knows she has him on a leash, but only barely.

"Go ahead then," she whispers.

He falls straight to his knees, and presses his whole face against her softly trimmed hair. When he opens his mouth, she shudders, clearly not ready for someone this starved trying to devour her whole.

She doesn't know she's about to sleep with the devil… If she knew, she would be out the door by now.

It's too late now: he engulfs her, locks her in place by wrapping his arms around her hips. 

Mein.

Mein.

Mein…

He could rub his face in her sweet cunt forever, but that won't do: she said he could lick her, so that’s what he’s going to do. After a few bites and nibs, after inhaling the sweet scent of her and squeezing her long and hard in his embrace, he finally rises and carries her to his den. There’s only loneliness there in his bedroom, just stale sweat and old musk staining the sheets, but she softens on the linens when he goes down on her.

Her pussy is already throbbing and wet when he gives her the first, fat lick. Next up, soft little laps to make her thighs drift apart. Some long, teasing circles on her clit, and she starts to sigh - he’s not an expert, but he knows she won’t find a more enthusiastic cunt licker in this city. Or this whole country… Perhaps the entire world.

And she's not a screamer, she’s a moaner. She also whimpers a lot. He switches between giving fast attention to her clit, then slow tongue fucking to her hole. The scent of pussy fills his room: they only talk to each other through moans and whines and groans. He breathes into her like a panting dog: she whimpers under torture like she actually likes it, and likes him. Like she actually prefers his bed to any other place in this world.

He fucks her with his mouth, sloppy and hungry; he could french kiss her pussy forever like this. He could spend every evening licking her to ruin. 

"Just like that… Just like that… Don't stop…"

He's as hard as can be; he's about to lose his fucking mind. If she doesn't cum soon, he might just die from having to listen to those unhinged cries. 

To help her out – because he's a generous, generous man – he slips a finger inside, earning another spill of filthy moans.

"Oh god ohgod oh fuck–!"

She sounds dumb and helpless as he eats her out like she’s his last meal. His chin is drenched and his cock is hard as the poor girl leaks all over her ass and on his bedding. He adds another finger, starts to fuck her slow and steady. She's more than prepared for his cock, and when he starts to do the alphabet on her clit, she whimpers, whines, and finally, screams. 

The feel-good hormones flood his brain when she cums. He kisses her through it and slows down the torture gradually, gives her some space to pulse and throb and leak against his chin. 

Women need a lot of stimulation; that’s what he has learned. It’s a marathon, not a sprint, and he doesn’t want to ruin the explosion by overriding her senses. When he rises from a job well done, he sees how some of her makeup is ruined. 

Yeah. Fuck... A screamer, a moaner, and a crier.

And he's only about to fuck her…

"Das war gut. Good pussy," he mutters and licks his lips, high above his pretty little prize.

"Oh–oh god…"

Poor thing is so flushed, desperate and helpless; she jerks as he taps her clit with his cock, whines when he forces the fat, leaking tip into her folds. 

"Wait–"

"I will fuck you now."

"Sir… Please, could we use a condom? Please…"

She's still calling him sir like she's at work. Like he's her superior, or worse yet, an officer, a colonel she's not supposed to flirt with, let alone spread her weak little legs for. 

"Hm. I don't have any."

"I do," she's panting heavy on the bed, clearly reluctant to get away from his cock, too weak to get up after his thigh-shaking treatment. It would give him a year’s worth of confidence to witness her in this state, if she would only let him finish the job. Right here, right now. Dip it in raw and blow a load inside that sweet, aching cunt. She might just end up with his child... 

But the moment is ruined: he hates condoms, and he hates it that she has them with her. Jealousy starts to eat his mind like there's a can of worms poured inside his brain.

Who does she carry condoms for? Does she get fucked often...? 

How many does she have, one, two, three? A whole pack?

She rises to get the darned piece of plastic, and the thick thunder in his head is making him seriously consider locking her up and throwing away the key. Women shouldn't be running around like that, hungry and desperate for a dick. She should stay at home, his home, and go crazy when he returns from war. The rage is the only thing keeping his cock from growing soft. 

"It's too small," he laments when the condom is finally in place but barely reaches the base of his shaft. It's going to roll off if he fucks her like he intended to… Good, long, deep and hard.

She bites her lip as she stares at the sad little wrapping trying to render his cock harmless. Surely she can see how stupid and useless this is… Either he gets her a morning after pill tomorrow or then he pulls out, but the condom has to fucking go. 

"It's… okay," she swallows. "It's okay. Let's just… If you're clean?"

"I am."

He doesn't tell her he hasn't had a woman in months. Almost over a year.

And he’s clean; he keeps everything…in ordnung.

He rolls the cursed plastic off, and his cock immediately bounces back up: hard, demanding and ready. He throws the condom away, just somewhere, anywhere, as long as it's out of his sight. Wasting no time, he's back at her cunt, and bullies himself in.

"Ah ja… Das ist schön… Sehr schön."

Nothing compares to the feel of a real cunt, hugging him tight. And fuck… He can actually fit fully inside her. He fits like a glove. 

"Oh ja. Das ist... I'm not going to pull out. It's not an option. Ok?"

It's not a warning, it's a simple, honest statement. She looks at him with a fearful, desperate stare as his balls arrive to press against her flesh. Yes... nothing beats a wet pussy and a frightened stare.

"Ok…" 

"It's better this way," he promises, wondering if it would make him a bad person if he disposed of her condoms first thing in the morning. "Ja?"

"Yes," she sighs. "Feels so good…"

The tightness in his chest falls down, all the way to his stomach and forms a bittersweet knot there. Why does she keep looking at him like that…? He's not hurting her, she's not exactly afraid, it's something else that's making her give him those dumb doe eyes.

"You're pretty," he rasps while trying not to start a complete fuckfest in every meaning of the word.

"O‐oh…?"

"Ja… It's illegal to be that pretty. Someone might want to fuck you..."

"Please do," she almost chokes on the words while looking up at him. "Please…"

If this is a dream, it’s the best dream he’s ever had. She's so perfect, far more needy and helpless than he ever imagined. He moves before he drives them both to madness. 

"I'll fuck you, Liebling. As many times as you want. As hard as you want."

He can't remember when was the last time he sounded so soft. Or reassuring... He can't remember the last time a woman was so responsive to his cock. But he fucks her. He fucks his own sorrow into oblivion, too. He pauses only to take a good look at her and remind himself that he’s truly inside the sweetest pussy he’s ever had. 

He even whispers lies to her ear about how she doesn't have to worry: he'll get her a plan B after this. The girl turns a bit wild now that it's somewhat safe to be fucked by an animal. She lets him lick and bite her breasts, and thoroughly abuse her cunt. At some point she grabs his face with both hands and kisses him, hungry and sweet. Squeals into his mouth as his balls slap against her ass, hugs him like a drowning person when he picks up the pace and starts to lose himself in her pussy. The feel of a woman's hands around his middle is a sensation he's forgotten completely. 

"You like that?" He starts to talk nonsense between her sloppy kisses, pleased with his own soft voice, with her, with everything in his life right now. "You like my cock? Hm?"

"Yes… Oh fuck, I'm…"

Fuck, she's about to cum again... He's in heaven, no, he's somewhere near Eden. She suddenly goes still, and sinks her nails in his back, just before a cry cuts through the air. It reminds him of the aftermath of a grenade detonating; her moans pierce the air, and he can’t get enough of it. He wants to swim in those screams.

He was supposed to make love to her for hours, but it's crystal clear now that this won’t be a long session. He's a selfish asshole for chasing his own peak next by fucking her through her second orgasm like a rabid dog. 

"Oh das ist sehr schön, das ist gut… Ach für–scheisse—"

He sounds a bit too pathetic, and quickly buries his face into her neck to escape her lovely, adoring stare. He fucks himself into a big, fat, blinding explosion, he can barely hear the thundering roar that meets her sweaty neck. 

She's scared silent by his despair, poor little thing. And he just fapped this morning… But the orgasm compares to the first time he came, it's violent, abrupt and rough. Sadly, the descent is too heady, and too quick. Nuzzling deeper into her hair, he tries to listen to her heartbeat but only hears his own beastlike panting.

"Ok… Ok. I guess we both really needed that, huh?"

She's laughing and out of breath as she gathers their pieces and constructs some kind of a new reality out of them. He rumbles in agreement and refuses to pull out – now that he's inside her, he'll never fucking leave.

"Will you stay? For the night…?"

His question is met by complete silence. She just breathes, then buries her fingers in his hair. He feels like melting chocolate; for the first time in his life, he's somewhat relaxed and content. 

"I… I'd really like to but… I can't. I have a party to attend.”

She gives him a quick kiss on the head, then ruffles his hair. She fucking pets him while he’s plunging into some deep recess with the raw, post-nut clarity. 

She just needed a fuck… She just needed some cock. And a gift card, so she can buy nice things for the men she allows to lick her to ruin. Fuck… She's even worse than him.

“I'm sorry..."

"It's ok," he hears himself say. She’s too fucking gentle as she drags her fingertips across his scalp. Her other hand comes to trace his jawline, and her thighs hug his waist so good that he would have no trouble making love to her again. Just start another round with a slow roll of hips. Fuck her until they're both sweaty and crying, fuck her full of his cum and chain her to the bed, for safekeeping as he goes and gets himself a beer in between the sessions.

For some reason, he can't quite bring himself to act on this wish. Not when she just cried from how good he was, not when she's petting him like he's a good dog who's earned his rest.

He gives himself a minute before pulling out, and she leaves his bed in silence, tiptoeing into the bathroom in a hurry. Trust a maid to not want to stain the floor with cum when she just scrubbed everything clean…

She takes a quick shower and fixes her makeup, then picks her clothes from the floor. His heart is hammering in his chest, but his breaths remain even as he watches her get dressed. He even offers her a ride to the party, which she accepts with apologetic gratitude. It’s held at someone's home: a house party is a sight he has only ever seen from outside.

She gives him an uneasy, distant smile and a quick kiss before thanking him for the evening and the ride. Then she half walks, half runs across the pavement and up towards the door to be let in by her already drunken friends. Some man embraces her, and the white rage inside his skull is telling him to grab a gun, rise from the car and start a good old mass shooting. Instead, he guides his stare to the asphalt and drives off.

He goes home and has a beer, the rage and longing giving his insides a good stab every five or ten minutes. He watches some TV, then mulls over whether to sleep on the couch because her scent is still on the sheets.

It starts to rain outside, and reality kicks in. When it rains, it pours… He decides he actually hates Christmas, and he also can't stand the smell of freshly baked cinnamon rolls. Too tired to dump them in the trash, his feet carry him to the bed, cold and soiled and wrinkled from past love that never was.

The clock is only half past ten, and the doorbell rings just before he takes his shirt off. For the umptieth time this day, his heart starts to race, reminding him that it's not wars that are cruel, but women. 

When he opens the door, she's standing there in the rain. Utterly soaked, dripping wet, sad like a stray cat, lower lip trembling from cold.

"Sir?" she declares, "I'm afraid to fall in love."

There’s a spread of wings inside his chest, catching wind like a soaring eagle. It’s a fell swoop and a heady high at the same time, a burning pain right there over his heart as he looks at her, lonely and sad and so adorably lost. Beautiful and wet, like a trampled little flower after a summer storm. She's perfect, just perfect.

And has she walked all the way back here…? There’s no sign of a taxi, no sounds of a car or a bus, and she looks like she's wetter than a wet dog.

"You’re afraid to fall in love…?"

She nods, then bursts into tears. Her tiny shoulders rise and fall with sobs, the rain makes long, wet strings of her hair. He takes a step and tries to pull her in, but she won't come. Stubborn, incredible little thing…

"Liebling... Me too."

"Really?” she raises her sad stare to meet him while trying to wipe her ruined mascara in the midst of falling rain. “You seem like the kind of man who fears nothing..."

"Oh I fear a lot of things."

"Like what?"

"Like… flying, for example."

"But you fly all the time?"

"Exactly."

She's sniffling and pouting and sobbing, like a princess who always got everything she wanted. He wonders if she's the kind of girl who would've laughed at him in high school, or looked him down her nose. If she would've joined the bullies and been the one to say she’d never sleep with a freak like him…

"Let's get you inside. Hmm? You must be cold."

She won’t come, no matter how hard he tries to coax her to come inside his dry, warm house. The rain falls in mats behind her as the city sleeps, vibrant and vigilant. He thought he already broke his heart to the point it couldn’t get more broken anymore, but the look she gives him as he tries to pull her inside is making it burst and shatter into pieces again.

If she's a princess, she must be a battered, broken one. 

"Come on. I'll give you a bath," he tries to entice her. "And then we’ll tuck you in. That sound gut?"

"Yes," her shoulders drop as she finally accepts his asylum. "Thank you, sir…"

"And don't call me sir unless you want to make me hard."

She breaks into a fragile, shy smile while looking down at the tips of her drenched ballerinas. Then she allows him to drag her in. 

He helps her out of her coat and hangs it to dry while his pretty little kitten gets out of her clothes for the second time this evening. A strong, powerful possessiveness settles in his chest as he guides her to the bathroom and draws her a bath. Then he pulls her shivering, naked body against him so that she wouldn’t feel cold while they wait for the tub to fill with water.

What happens next is soft and gentle, the kind of unhurried exploration he never had time to do because the few females he was with were always in a hurry to get away from him and his needs. 

This pretty thing just eases herself into the bath. A timid but trusting little creature, who allows him to study her body like it’s already a possession for him to play with. She lets him rub her tits and tease her clit, caress her neck and face and waist. She does so with patience, love and hope. He’s been extremely tender and extremely slow with her; perhaps that’s why she doesn’t run away from him. 

"You're too good for me," she whispers when his hand comes to rest on her stomach, just below her tits.

"...What?" 

He barely hears what she’s saying, he can hardly hear her speaking at all because he’s there in the water with her, submerged in the hot, soothing liquid, even if he’s crouching next to the tub in reality.

"Oh please... You're everything a woman could want," she complains softly.

"What do you mean.”

She sighs and looks up to the ceiling, as if begging for help. Then she starts to list things.

"You're… Rich? And powerful, and strong. Kind and considerate. Mysterious... With a great body and a big dick, and still wanting to go down on a woman... It's insane."

He tries to remember how to breathe, but she’s not done yet.

"I'm sorry but… No one's ever eaten me out like that. You must be so experienced."

Her praise eclipses everything, even the thoughts of wanting to kill everyone who's had a taste of her.

So, the boys she's been with don't know how to please her… Stupid arschlochs don't understand what true devotion means. Even a fucker like him knows it's better to make a woman cry out of pleasure than out of fear. Although he always had a talent to do the latter…

And he's not experienced, he's just fucking horny. He just likes to eat pussy. 

But that's not something she has to know. Better to have her keep the illusion that he's a dream catch, a rich cosmopolitan of some sort. What a joke…

"You’re literally perfect," she moans from the bath like the princess that she is. "How are you even single?"

"I'm not… right in the head, I guess."

"Well, neither am I."

He can’t look at her. Not when she’s open and trustful and sweet like this. But her hand comes to rest over his, under the water, under the safety of the surface.

"No one is."

"No. Wirklich, I’m a bit sick. Always was. I jerked off to your…" He leaves the rest of the sentence unsaid, risking a look into her eyes. 

"I know," she smiles. "I don't mind… Actually I think that's hot."

"Liebling…"

"I think I’ve had enough now. Can we go to bed…?"

"Of course."

She giggles when he lifts her from the water, smiles as he dries him with his towel like she's a wet little kitten he rescued from rain. And perhaps he did... She caresses his chin when he carries her to bed, and reaches for him as he accompanies her under the sad, steel-blue sheets. 

He doesn’t need to fuck her, not right now. It’s enough that she’s here: soft, trapped, and tame. His, just his. 

Not another lonely Christmas for him ever again…

And she latches herself onto him like he’s the saviour she’s been waiting for all her life. Poor thing doesn’t know that he may be rich and powerful and strong, but he’s not kind. He’s not considerate, and he’s not perfect. He’s her worst nightmare, he's everything a woman would despise. 

He’s single because no one ever stayed. No one stayed after they saw who he really was... Some even had to flee the country.

But he knows she’ll stay. He’ll make sure that this cute one never leaves. No, this one is not safe from him, even if she tried to escape him to space.

"Are you still afraid?"

He caresses her head, pressed against his chest. She’s unsuspecting and lovely, the perfect woman, hugs him so tight and sighs from simple, lamblike happiness. 

"No," she smiles softly. "Not at all... I know you'll treat me right."

[zyonsay]

Begrijp je me? JOOST KLEIN

Summary: You get home to discover an upset Joost.

Reader: Genderneutral

Warnings: Mention of struggling with mental health, sadness BUT theres comfort!

Now playing: 'Antwoord" by Joost Klein

AN: Hi guys! I had this idea a few days ago, never got around to writing it tho. Assignments are kicking my ass and im knee deep in a psychiosis. This one is relatively short (1k words) but more self indulgent! Love yall, take care <3

#Justice for Joost

A dark, heavy blanket was already draped over the city. Your job often required you to work late evenings, which was unfortunate but in your current situation not avoidable. Together with the support of a good friend, you had already sent out a few job applications some time ago, but nothing has come out of that yet.

Ik moest wachten, wachten, wachten op een antwoord

Your shoes quietly clacked on the wet sidewalk. The stars shone brightly but were also accompanied by heavy rain. Sighing tiredly, you pulled your hood further over your head, as if it would do anything against the water drops being catapulted right into your visage. Maybe it was time to take out your bike from the garage again.

Keek in de spiegel, zag de vraag en het antwoord

The water crawled up your jeans slowly but surely, having reached your calves already. The wet fabric slapping against your leg was a sensory nightmare, you were cursing every single inch you’d have to walk till arriving at your apartment building.

Ik moest wachten, wachten, wachten op een antwoord

With hurried steps you raced up the staircase. Number 2.06, Number 2.06. A content and slightly exhausted huff escaped you as the three black numbers finally graced your field of view.

Dans met de duivel, die heeft mij allang door

Your keys rattled as you locked the door. Usually there’d be a salt lamp lit on the coffee table in the living room, but this evening everything was dark and quiet. Not that it was usually loud, but it felt almost like the life was drained out of the apartment.

Maar we blijven grinden tot het einde

That was until you heard a quiet sniffling sound. You discarded your soaking wet shoes along with your equally wet socks at the front door. Like a bloodhound you tracked down where the source of the noises came from. But you barely had to walk out from the hallway to find a huddled up Joost on the sofa.

Ik woonde in Katwijk, dat was lijden

You quickly rushed to his side, slinging your arms around the heap of blankets, under which there was a man hidden. Somewhere. With gentle hands you stripped down the blankets, revealing your teary-eyed boyfriend. His eyes were reddened and glossed over with tears. As much as he tried hiding it, you picked up on the light quiver of his lips and the sniffling from his nose.

Ze willen niet kijken naar de feiten, spijtig

“Come here.” His arms slid around your torso, holding you close. You nestled your face into the mess of blonde hair atop his head. “I’m here.”, you pressed a sweet peck against his forehead, while holding him in your arms.

Maar ik blijf mezelf te allen tijde, begrijp je me?

Joost had been struggling with his mental health for a while now. From time to time, he’d get really bad. In moments like this he needed you the most. Your embrace for sure didn’t fix his problems, but they sure made it feel more conquerable. You knew how helpless one can feel, how you want to be isolated while craving love, how you hate everything but don’t want to.

Begrijp je me?

Joost pressed closer to you, tears now flowing again. You squeezed him, letting him hold onto you for as long as he needs to. “How about I make us some tea?”, you rubbed his back in smooth, slow motions. His hum was muffled by your own figure. Joost loosened his hold on you, his blue eyes searching yours. Your hands cupped his face while you left sweet kisses along his forehead, cheeks and finally the tip of his nose. “I’ll need to get those pants off first though.” He looked down at the soaked jeans and grimaced in a disgusted manner. A sigh of relief left you as you slipped the fabric off, leaving you in your underpants. Joost tangled his fingers in yours and you pull him towards the kitchen.

Begrijp je me?

The kettle whistled a distant song, while you once again wrapped Joost in an embrace against the counter. Two cups stood on the surface, both with a tea bag inside. One of them had one sugar cube, the other had two and a half.

Begrijp je me of begrijp je me niet ?

The blonds heart seemed to beat with yours, he inhaled your scent. Besides your usual cologne you smelled like… you. He huffed contently. The light on the kettle died down and you broke the hug to pour the steaming water into the cups. While your front was turned towards the cups, Joost had found the opportunity to cling to your back. Your warmth, your scent, everything about you was calming to him. Some people need etheric oils to feel at ease, but you were like his own substance. He was addicted to you, your emotions and your words.

Begrijp je me?

You turned around in his arms, smiling at him. God, how he loved that smile. “Wanna talk about it?” He shook his head, “I’m too exhausted. Maybe tomorrow.” He lazily smiled at you, inching closer to your face and then pressing a sweet, short peck to your lips.

Begrijp je me?

“Alright.”, you offered him another loving kiss. “Let’s just enjoy this tea and then head to bed, sounds like a plan?” He still had his signature smile all over his face, his dimples showing and his eyes lighting up again. He loves how you get him, how you understand him in every way.

Begrijp je me of begrijp je me niet?

[beomcharms]

moths to a flame ✧.*

pairings : beomgyu x reader

genre : childhood friends to lovers (idiots to lovers mostly)

warnings: a little bit of kissing but mostly just fluff, suggestive

wc : 1.6k

a/n : this is just a short and sweet fic for beomgyu because i miss talk x today :)

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

“And you thought this would be a good idea ?!” you huff out pulling on one end of the tent.

“Shut up” Beomgyu mutters from somewhere on the other side. “Tiktok made me believe it was a good idea to go camping with your friends”

The sun sat on top of your heads and the heat was unbearable. Beomgyu had picked you up today morning for a surprise hangout. Little did you know, he was trying to grill you alive.

“Gyu are you really pitching it back there ?” You shout at him.

“Yes you- ahhh” you hear him shout and you rush out to the other side, letting the tent collapse.

“What- what is it?” You ask frantically while Beomgyu jumps about.

“A big fucking giant ass bug just flew in- THERE IT IS” he screams hiding behind you. You look carefully and you notice a beetle making its way towards your boot. You give it a stomp and kick it away. Now, you were not one to kill insects but you knew Beomgyu wouldn’t calm down unless he was sure it was gone.

“There, it’s gone” you sigh while he continues to hover behind your shoulder.

“My saviour” he says and looks at you with such admiration that you feel less annoyed with him.

“Let’s watch that YouTube video again” you tell him and huddle over his phone together.

Somehow it’s always been like this. Beomgyu and you had been best friends since, god knows how long. You knew his fears and likes like the back of your hand. He was loud and obnoxious and annoyed you to no end, but Beomgyu had a sensitive side to him, which was why you stuck with him. Once Beomgyu liked you, he stuck to you like gum.

-.-

It’s almost evening by the time you set up the tent and you both sit outside completely exhausted.

“I can’t believe we will have to take it all down in a couple of hours” you mutter.

“Shh… let’s not talk about that and honestly I think it might actually collapse before we have to dismantle it” Beomgyu tells you placing a finger on your lips and you look at him.

Sometimes it hurts to see how beautiful he is, inside out. But Beomgyu always looked like he had no clue about it which irritated you. He could have girls and guys swooning over him and yet be completely oblivious to it.

College began in a week and the summer break was almost coming to its end.

Your friends would often joke about how Beomgyu and you would ‘breakup’ once college starts and sometimes it would get to you, you couldn’t imagine a life without him.

Beomgyu had surprised you with his college application though. He didn’t tell you but he had applied to your same college and had got in, for which you felt extremely grateful for. College in itself would be a scary experience, and you thank god you’d have Beomgyu by your side.

-.-

“What would you do without me ?” Beomgyu laughs as he grills the meat. You patiently wait for it beside him, your only job being cooking the ramen. You were a terrible chef and ramen was your only saving grace.

“Hey! I have all the other talents just not cooking” you huff out. “Besides I have you to grill my meat Chef Choi”

“Hmm” he murmurs “I’m going to ignore the inuendos there” and you slap his shoulder.

“Think about it, you can do the cooking and I’ll keep the bugs away” you tell him and Beomgyu smiles.

The sun was setting and despite your complaints you had a great view of the sunset. It was pretty and healing and you felt drunk in coziness.

“Have you talked to your roommate yet ?” Beomgyu asks you. You had gotten separate dorms and Beomgyu had already taken a liking to his roommate. You on the other hand was terrified of reaching out.

“I’ll figure it out” you mutter at him. You had seen her photo and she looked pretty intimidating.

“I’ll text her for you, hand me your phone” he tells you holding out his gloved hand.

“Fuck no” you say. You were a coward, not a loser. “Gyu don’t worry about it, I do much better in real life, than online” you tell him.

“Alright” he tells you going back to the grilling, “I don’t get it” he says.

“What ?” You ask him, opening the ramen pot. It was close to being done.

“You are shy around everyone else but me” he huffs out.

“That’s because I’ve known you since I was three” you remind him. It was true. Beomgyu was the only person around whom you could breathe easy and let yourself be. You had terrible social anxiety and if it weren’t for him you are pretty sure you wouldn’t have any friends.

Beomgyu cuts up the pieces of meat while you turn off the stove and pour the ramen into the bowls. You hand Beomgyu the chopsticks before sitting down beside him.

There is a few moments of comfortable silence as you slurp down your noodles. Beomgyu seems lost in thought and you let him be.

-.-

It’s almost 7 by the time you wrap up the dishes. You wait outside your tent, which had collapsed only once before you managed to put it up again, with your coffee.

“This was fun” you tell Beomgyu softly.

“Yeah” he says. He’s been awfully quiet since dinner and you wondered what happened.

“What’s wrong ?” you finally ask him nudging his shoulder so that he’d look at you.

“Nothings wrong” he tells you but you continue looking at him and he rolls his eyes. “Well, don’t I ever make you nervous?” he huffs out.

You blink back in surprise. He was still thinking about that ? Beomgyu didn’t make you nervous… he made you flustered.

“Uh… not really” you tell him, trying to diffuse the growing tension.

Beomgyu leans in closer and you look away, “Not even a little ?” he whispers and you shiver a bit.

“No” you tell him pushing him away but he doesn’t budge. Beomgyu leans closer still and you have no option but to look at him.

“Not even when I do this ?” He asks you cupping your cheeks and squishing them, making your lips pout while you shake your head in disagreement. You can feel the heat on your face.

“You can’t lie to save your own life” Beomgyu grins and you hide your face in embarrassment. Beomgyu pulls your hands away from your face, holding it in his own and you look down.

Beomgyu tips up your chin to make you look at him and he has the widest grin. “You are cute” he tells you before leaning away and you try to steady your rising heart rate.

“And I like you” he adds. “Maybe even disgustingly L word you”

“What?” You ask in surprise.

“I thought it was pretty obvious” he tells you in his own casual way, while you try to figure out what just happened.

“Wait” you tell him, turning his face so he’d look at you. “You like me?”

“Duh” he replies, trying to look calm and collected but you can tell he is nervous taking note of his pink ears. You smile at him and then nod your head.

“Aren’t you going to say it back ?” Beomgyu whines and you shrug your shoulder.

“Well if it’s so obvious, why should I ?” You tease and Beomgyu pouts at you, “Come on, just say it” Beomgyu huffs and you almost laugh.

Beomgyu turns away in annoyance and the sight is so familiar to you, that it fills you with warmth. Even when you were kids, Beomgyu would pout and turn away to not look at you when you fought. Sulky boy.

“Hey” you call him tapping his shoulder, but he refuses to look at you.

“Beomgyuu” you whine pulling on his jacket, “Ofcourse I like you too” you tell him shaking his shoulder.

“You are just saying that” he mutters looking at the trees.

“Come on look at me” you tell him pulling on his arm and he finally turns to you.

“I like you too you dork” you tell him, holding his face and the tiniest of smiles play on his lips.

“And do I make you nervous ?” Beomgyu asks you.

“You make me wild” you tell him, leaning in giving him a soft kiss on his cheeks.

Beomgyu turns your head to capture your lips. The kiss is so soft and gentle and Beomgyu cradles your head and holds you like you are the most precious thing ever.

You lean away and look at Beomgyu again. He is full on smiling and his whisker dimples are so cute that you can’t help but kiss his cheeks again.

There is a sound of a crash and you both turn around. The tent had managed to collapse again.

So much for a romantic ending to your day.

-.-

EPILOGUE-

A day ago,

Beomgyu sits in his room, scrolling through TikTok’s. College started in a week and he thinks this would be the perfect time to confess to you. He just doesn’t know how.

Beomgyu knew you would hate it if he did something big. And he doesn’t want to do something clichè. He had asked his friends and all of them gave ideas which got progressively more worse.

Beomgyu sighs and continues scrolling. He passes a few when he comes across a TikTok of a couple on their camping trip and a bulb turns on in his head.

Camping. Sounds perfect. Except he didn’t have any equipment. Maybe Kai would have something.

And maybe, just maybe things would work out.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

🎧 i really hope you enjoyed reading this fic, if you did please leave a like/reblog or leave a comment it helps me out a lot, xoxo 🎧

[strwbwrrybunny]

Can you please write a Armin x reader smut where we’re at camp and we go skinny dipping

𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐨𝐲!𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧 𝐱 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐩 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐩…𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭? 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠!

★

when your friend bianca suggested you two apply for summer camp this summer for college credits you had scrunched your nose up at her.she claimed it would look good on applications when you guys began applying to schools and could even help to secure a job after the summer. you sighed when you realized she actually had a point, you two had just graduated highschool and being the professional procrastinators you were you two still hadn’t applied to a single school.

being surrounded by bugs that lurked around every corner and snotty nosed kids didn’t really fit your summer agenda, but bianca was right.it would look excellent on your resume.so a week before school let out for the children you hopped in your pink jeep with your bestfriend and made your way to the camp.

you had to admit,the place was beautiful.small wooden brown cabins dotted the landscape,each with two windows on the left side and a dark wooden door with a ‘welcome campers’ sign hung onto the door with a bright yellow smiley face.the lake view was almost like something out of a painting the water was an iridescent blue and in the reflection of the water lay wisps of clouds and towering tress.

the first three days consisted of you getting to know the other counselors better, there was eren who you called man-bun because his messy hair was always pulled in a bun.he was funny and had the prettiest emerald eyes you’d ever seen but you didn’t see much of him because he was always in his cabin sleeping.then there was ony, definition of tall dark and handsome.you were pretty sure he’d been flirting with you since you got here but bianca had made it crystal clear she wanted him and you were not gonna break girl code for some summer fling.

then there was armin,his blonde hair always seemed to be in his face as if he was trying to hide.he always seemed to wear some type of sleeveless shirt and you would be lying if you said you didn’t gawk at his figure each time.

every part of him was toned and covered in tattoos and you found it kind of ironic how his appearance screamed extrovert,yet he was the total opposite.he was soft spoken,gentle,kind and often kept his head down.you had complimented his tattoos and you could’ve sworn you saw his cheeks flush red as he mustered a’thanks’.

it was a day before the kids arrived at the camp and the five of you were huddled around the campfire,light flickering upon your faces as each of you took turns telling scary stories.right now it was eren’s turn and although his story was the farthest thing from scary bianca took that as an excuse to cuddle into ony’s arms,you bit your cheek to stop from smiling as bianca locked eyes with you and winked.

you sat beside armin who had his hair pulled back in a black bandana,this had been the first time you’d seen him without his hair in his face and he was fucking sexy.jaw clenched and tense,doe eyes,an array of freckles littered across his face,plump pink lips that you so desperately wanted to run your thumb across. there had definitely been some tension between the two of you as the days passed.you guys had all been swimming in the lake the other day and you hadn’t noticed your bra had completely untied itself and armin had been quick to help you,hands gently finding the straps and tying it.

then there was the time when you guys had had a movie night in the boys cabin and you fell asleep on armin’s chest in his bed,you hadn’t meant to fall asleep but star-wars was so fucking boring.

armin couldn’t stop himself as his dick hardened underneath you,your leg thrown over his as you slept soundly.he just hoped you didn’t wake up as he slid out from underneath you,his dick was practically twitching as he lay there with you and he had to let his frustrations out.he’d lazily made some excuse about going to the bathroom and no one batted an eye,it was dark only the tv emitting light into the room.bianca was making out with ony on the top bunk and eren was obnoxiously chewing popcorn on the beanbag he’d pulled in front of the television.

“f-fuck y/n.” armin whimpered out as he stroked his dick,the thought of you wrapping around his dick making his head lull back.soft cries left his mouth and he had to steady his hand on the bathroom stall as his legs shook,precum dripping down his dick with each stroke.his mind flickered to thoughts of you,your smile,the way you always smelled like cocoa butter,the way you always stood up for him when eren and ony joked on him.

“a-ah.” armin rocked his hips into his hands,a few more pumps and his warm cum filled his hand.a small whine flowing from his lips as he stroked the rest of the cum from his dick.

“we should ditch,right?”

your voice broke armin from his thoughts, his hands fiddling around with the rings that barely fit his large fingers.he looked at you with a puzzled look and before he could say anything you were pulling him from his chair, a couple of ooooo’s coming from the group.you smiled and flipped them off, hands still interlocked with armin’s you walked off to a nearby trail that had a view of the water.

it looked magnificent this time of night, stars mirrored in the still water, moonlight bouncing off and emitting light throughout the night air.you began making your way down the trail to the dock,hand still holding armin’s as he willingly followed.

“w-where are we going? we aren’t supposed to get in the water after ten.” armin stuttered and you giggled looking over your shoulder at him.

“do you always follow the rules? c’mon don’t be boring.” you said softly as you two finally made it to the wooden dock.armin nervously bit his lip, here you were just holding his hand and he was hard as a rock, he felt like a teenage boy hitting puberty all over again.

“no of course not.” he lied through his teeth not wanting to seem like a loser.

you giggled,tucking a piece of hair behind your ear and he wanted to desperately kiss you. you looked so pretty to him and if he wasn’t such a coward he’d pull you into him.

“you know i saw you that night right?”

armin froze,no…you couldn’t have you were asleep.

he gulped and scratched his frizzy blonde hair sheepishly.

“w-what i really don’t know-“

you cut him off immediately,”don’t be coy armin.i heard you in the bathroom whimpering my name.” you’d woken up a couple minutes after armin had left,rubbing your eyes groggily as you looked for the man.eren had stated he’d went to the bathroom and you decided to go see if he was okay,but to your surprise when you reached the door you could hear armin calling out your name in pleasure.

“well that’s embarrassing…i’m mortified.i promise i’m not a creep okay?” armin said quickly as he panicked.he was ataken back when you pressed your soft lips against his,a small moan emitting from his throat as he wrapped his hands around you.

you pulled back from his lips,a string of saliva followed and you swiped your thumb across his lips.you swore you could see his pupils dilate as you did that.

“have you ever had your dick sucked?” you questioned softly and armin shifted in embarrassment, he’d never so much as seen a pair of boobs besides in magazines nevertheless had his dick sucked.you took his non answer as a no and you slowly got your knees,hands fumbling with the belt on his jeans.his heart was racing in his chest, was this really happening? was a pretty girl really about to give him head? was this a set up?

he heard your fingers unlatch the belt and your hands pull down his pants,fingers playing with the hem of his gray calvin klein boxers.you bit your lip as you looked up at him through your lashes,his bright blue eyes meeting yours.

“what happens at summer camp stays at summer camp, okay armin?”

he nodded anxiously.

“i’m gonna make you feel good,okay?”

“o-okay.” he whispered so low you almost hadn’t heard it.you pulled his boxers down and grabbed his throbbing dick,his tip was leaking precum and you couldn’t help but swipe it up with your tongue.a cry emitted from armin’s lips as a shiver ran up his back, hands digging into your hair.

you relaxed your jaw and began bobbing your head on his dick,hands placed on each of his thighs as you took his full length down your throat.armin’s dick was bigger then you imagined,a whooping seven and a half inches with a thick girth.

“o-oh y/n!” armin gasped as your mouth moved over him so deliciously,the wet sounds of you slurping on his dick filled the night air.armin had never felt anything like this in his entire life and he was in bliss,your mouth was tight and warm around his swollen cock and his head fell back as he felt himself hit the back of your throat.

you moaned on his dick,pulling him out of your mouth and stroking him with both your hands while your lips wrapped around his tip.armin was on cloud fucking nine,your hands tugged his dick so gently it drove him nuts.he still couldnt believe a nice pretty girl like you was here sucking him off.

this was way better than his hand.

he couldn’t help but innocently buck his hips in your hands,mewls of pleasure spilling from his lips.his stomach was tight and he knew he was about to cum,he was embarrassed that he was close this fast but the way you worked his dick had his legs shaking.

a loud sob filled the air as armin bucked his hips faster,shaking in pleasure as he chased his orgasm.with one last thrust his salty cum filled your mouth, a bit of it leaking down your chin as you swallowed.

“i-uh, i’m sorry.”

you giggled and wiped your mouth with the back of your hand.

“are you apologizing for cumming in my mouth?”

armin’s eyes shifted nervously from you to his pants pooled around his ankles.

“um yeah? i guess i am.”

you smiled at his innocence,beginning to pull your clothes off.you peered over your shoulder with a raised eyebrow, a scream of excitement left your lips, quiet water rippling as you did a cannonball.when your head popped back above the surface you could see armin standing in the same spot,you smoothed your wet curls back and motioned for him to join you.

“it’s just a little skinny dipping arminnn.” you dragged out his name teasingly,his cheeks turning a light pink.armin slowly pulled his shirt off and your breath hitched, you could see each muscle flex.

you smiled as he walked to the edge of the deck,naked,he looked like a greek god from this angle.you swam back a little as he jumped in with a laugh,finally loosening up.the two of you swam for what seemed like hours,splashing water, telling old childhood stories,stealing small kissess from each other.

armin could hear you talk forever.

you and armin were now in the shallow part of the lake and not being able to take the sexual tension anymore you pressed a kiss against his lips.a gasp falling from your mouth as armin grabbed your thighs and lifted you up,your legs automatically wrapping around his waist.your lips never let his and you could feel him lining himself up with your entrance, moans in the same cadence as his when he finally pushed into you.

he stretched you so fucking deliciously you wanted to cry, his hands cupping your ass as he used it to lift you up and down his dick.you’d stolen armin’s virginity and he was pussy whipped, he never wanted to leave your wet cunt.you were so tight and warm around him it made him dizzy.

“o-oh armin,you’re doing so good pretty boy.” you whined, pussy convulsing around his thick length everytime he pushed back into you.his thrust were gentle yet constant, each as deep and leg shaking as the last.his head hung back in pleasure at your words of reassurance, your pussy making the most unholy sounds as he rocked his hips into you a bit faster.

“you feel so good.” armin squeaked out, a deep groan falling from his lips.he was fucking you so good, his tip grazing against that spot that drove you crazy.

it seemed like hours of blissful pleasure as armin fucked you,he fucked you through your orgasm.then another,then another and then you lost count.he had pumped your pussy full of cum multiple times and you were a creamy mess,becoming a cum bucket wasn’t on your list this summer but you didn’t mind it.

the rest of the summer had been a blast,you actually enjoyed having the children around.and you and armin had gotten extremely close,sneaking out of your cabins almost every night to hookup.he was still the shy boy you knew but now you could actually get a conversation out of him.

it had been three weeks since summer had ended and you said goodbye to all your summer buddies. you’d notice you’d skipped a couple periods, which wasn’t unusual seeing as you were irregular.but you began to worry when your stomach began growing rounder and harder.

so now here you were on the toilet, leg bouncing anxiously as you awaited the pregnancy test results.a wave of nausea almost consumed you as you saw the pregnant + reading on the stick.

what happens at summer camp stays at summer camp…right?

wrong.

“fuck.”

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭🖤

@ CINNN4MON ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.DO NOT STEAL OR MODIFY. MWAH, BYE

request are open!

[starry-eyedblog]

HI LAURY (≧ω≦。) I CAN FINALLY SEND YOU AN ASK AGAIN!!

okay ahem i was thinking about roomates!soap and gaz !! they are like very overly touchy and obsessed with you, literally can't keep their hands off you while you three are on the couch watching a movie. a bit insane and gross sometimes too BUT i love them very much. DO YOU SEE MY VISION HERE!! i don't think i am explaining it well BUT YEAH >:3

ruru!! i'm so happy yer free from jail, vry glad to have you back<3

and omg i'm actually frothing at the MOUTH i see your vision so clearly. why is this so hot?? i actually need them so badly. hope i do the idea justice !! (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

warnings/tags: roommate! soap x roommate! gaz x reader, non con/dub con, groping, pervy/creepy behaviour, slight manipulation/guilt tripping, mentions of panty sniffing

you had moved into a new flat a few weeks ago, managing to snag a pretty big place for a cheap price. when you saw the amount on the post advertising it online, your eyes almost bulged out of your head and you rushed to contact the owners, which turned out to be two handsome men a few years older than you.

what was not to love of the place? close commute to your work, cheap, spacious and two very good looking men living there too. honestly it felt like a setup but you didn't question it, and your application was immediately accepted.

so in no time flat you were moving in, setting up all your own furniture with the help of both your roommates. and after a week of getting comfortable and your roommates keeping a good distance from you while you settled in, they finally asked you to join in with them on their activities that have always been just for the two of them. the first, was film night.

"every friday night, we have film night. snacks, drinks, shitty films. it's our routine, and now you're here, we thought you should be included." gaz had told you on thursday morning, an easy smile on his face as he stood leaning on the kitchen counter, eating toast in just his plaid pyjama trousers hanging low on his waist with everything else on show. it was very difficult to avoid oogling at his chest as you responded. "so-sounds great, i'll uhm pick up some snacks after work tomorrow." you ushered out.

it's now friday night at half nine and the three of you are huddled up under soft blankets on the pretty spacious couch with you squished in the middle of them. there wasn't any need for them to have their bodies so close to you, but you didn't say anything. gaz had his arm resting on the back of the couch, around your head which made you blush slightly, even though it was just for his own comfort.

you're only fifteen minutes into the film, some popcorn in your hand with eyes glued to the tv when you feel the first touch. it's a big, warm hand pressing at your thigh. you jump, head whipping round to soap who smiles innocently at you. his hand grips your thigh and you whine, stumbling out a response.

"soap, wh-what-?" you try to ask but soap shushes you up quickly, "shh hen, tryna watch the film." he points to the tv with his free hand, no longer looking at you. not even a minute later, another hand coming from the other side of you is now squeezing at the inside of your thigh.

your head whips round to face gaz instead, your eyebrows scrunching up in confusion. "why are y-" before you can get another word out, gaz is also shushing you and instead facing the tv - just like soap.

you try not to think about it too much, as they both seem to be enamoured with the film playing in front of them and uncaring of the fact both of their hands are gripping at your thighs that borderlines on just a wee bit too tight.

as the film continues, you start to forget about the weight of their hands on your thighs but that doesn't last long until both hands are moving again, one going to your front while the other slides back to rest on your arse.

your cheeks instantly flare pink as you sputter out words, trying to ask what they are doing. "ain't doing anythin', you're jus' too sensitive love. keep watchin' the film alright? me and johnny really want you to take movie night serious, can you do that for us?" gaz asks with a pout, guilt tripping you with his adorable puppy face that will soon become a recurring issue for you.

you find your head nodding slowly, eyes turning back to the tv once again as their hands start to fondle you. soap's hand teases at your cunt through your joggers, cupping it every now and then while gaz grabs and almost kneads at the soft skin of your arse, fingers slipping the joggers down enough that he can touch warm flesh.

it doesn't take long for you to be a whimpering mess on the couch, trapped between the two burly men who give you no respite, rough overworked hands fondling you so meanly and roughly, without care for your sensitive body.

"gu-guys the film, i thought you wan-hghh wanted to watch it." you splutter, head rolling back onto the shoulder of gaz who's on your left. "aye we do, so quit yer yapping quien." soap grumbles, leaving a sloppy wet kiss on your neck, eyes not even looking at the tv.

it doesn't take long for gaz's fingers to work their way down your joggers and push aside your flimsy underwear, a dry thumb pressing against your asshole that has you squirming, hips bucking to get away. gaz's other hand keeps you pinned down firmly with no issue, watching the way your mouth falls open to let out confused sounds of pleasure and pain.

as gaz does this at the back of your body, soap fondles with the front of you, hand slipping down your underwear to press at your clit which makes you moan out-loud, eyes fluttering shut. "dove, please. we haven't seen this film before, been waiting awhile." gaz complains, nibbling at your ear and you feel as if all your nerves have been set on fire. the guilt and pleasure swirls through your turned on body, mind starting to become foggy as they continue their groping.

you bite down on your bottom lip harshly, teeth digging into the skin and causing little tears. tiny droplets of blood stain your bottom lip as you sit there like a doll for them, your fuzzy brain desperately trying to focus on the film but at this point any ideas you had about the plot or characters has left you and replaced with the way your body is being groped at by your two new roommates.

soon soap's fingers are slipping past your folds and caressing your hole that seems to grow wet from the touch, even though it's a natural human body instinct, soap takes it that you're enjoying his and gaz's caressing which just feeds into his gross mindset.

"fuck gaz, should feel how wet they are. fuckin' turns em on being groped." soap moans deeply, one thick finger slipping into your wet hole that immediately clenches down on the intrusion. "that so? we picked the right one tav." gaz smirks at his friend, pulling his hands out of your joggers to then shove his dry thumb into your mouth roughly.

"suck lovie." he stated, watching the way your teary eyes didn't move away once from the tv while your mouth gently sucked on the digit. soon he slipped his thumb out and pressed it against your hole once again, but this time he gently started to edge his spit soaked finger inside which had your body flinching. you had never experimented back there, so this was a very new sensation.

"never had anyone back here, eh?" gaz jokes with a mean chuckle which soap joins while thrusting one finger meanly into your tight cunt that leaks around his hand. another finger is soon added, thumb pressing against your clit. you feel absolutely ashamed, your body enjoying the touch while your mind is conflicted.

before you can think much more about how wrong this is, how your roommates have ganged up on you to touch you without any consent, your stomach tightens and your cunt clenches down on soap's two fingers. your asshole pulses around gaz's thumb as your orgasm washes through you and your eyesight blurs from the intensity.

as you whimper and gasp on the couch, hips bucking and writhing to try get away, both men watch in awe as you cum. the film is long forgotten now, playing quietly in the background as it illuminates the room. once your orgasm finally comes to an end, your body slumps back into the couch, eyes half lidded and body limp while your roommates remove their hands out of you.

soap is the first to taste your sweet nectar, long tongue wrapping around his middle finger and sucking off your juices. he moans and pants like a dog in heat as he tastes you on his tongue, and it isn't long before gaz is whining for his turn. soap reluctantly pulls off and rests his ring finger on gaz's plump lips, watching the younger man slowly open his mouth and welcome his finger inside. his tongue laps up the wetness, hips bucking up from need as he drinks down everything he can just off soap's finger.

after a minute, soap is pushing gaz off with a chuckle. "alright calm yersel gaz." he says, and gaz rolls his eyes. "you're just the same." he grumbles quietly before turning to you, smiling at how out of it you are, still limp against the couch.

thankfully both men pull your underwear back up and clean you up, but not without leaving messy hickeys all over your neck and shoulders to claim you as theirs.

and no one needs to know, certainly not you, that through this week of you settling in - where they kept their distance so you were comfortable, they weren't actually keeping faithful to that promise. they already managed to slip a few dirty pants out of your bedroom to sniff and huff at while jerking the other off at late hours into the night, as well as spying on you when showering.

but this was just the start of their creeping on their new pretty roommate.

@bjornthebearguy

@iciclesses

@mothymunson

[ddejavvu]

I’m such a simp for jealous!reader and jealous!hotch lmaooooo

What if reader and Hotch were married and had other kiddos so they had to split off for sports activities (jack at soccer and other kiddos at basketball or something). Then like either jack or other kiddos thing gets done early and then either hotch or reader sees their spouse getting hit in repeatedly and becomes jealous and territorial?

Soccer is different than baseball in that there are soccer moms, but baseball dads. The moms that happen to be there take a backseat on the bleachers while the dads huddle around the fence, shouting instructions in on their trembling kids scared to bat.

It means that while Aaron has to deal with women in form-fitting workout gear when he picks Jack up from soccer practice, you have to deal with dads in baseball caps, jeans, and shitty sunglasses.

Your daughter is getting good at baseball, something you're insanely proud of while you cheer along from the bleachers. Aaron would be proud, too, if he were here to see it. But he's on Jack duty today, because you wanted to catch this game. You're hoping the boys make it to the field in time to see her close out the game, but you're nearing the halfway point and there's no sign of them.

"Alright, Sophie!" You cheer, watching her strike an opposing batter out, "Good throw, baby!"

"Ah, she's yours?" A voice comes from your left, and you see a man backing away from the fence to approach you.

"She is," You beam, eyes fixated once more on your daughter, "Which one's yours?"

"Number 15," He points to one of the girls on the bench, She.. tries her best."

You recognize the brunette ponytail on the girl, remembering that she's been having a hard time with batting. When she's able to hit the ball, it's always a good shot, but more often than not she misses.

"I'm sure she'll get better the more she plays!" You promise her dad, and he nods, perching on the end of the bench just below you, "That's what happened with Sophie, before we did at-home practices she was really struggling."

The man's face twists into intrigue, something deeper than that rooted in his eyes as he stares you down, "Oh, you practiced with her? Maybe Angel could use that, too. Are you, uh, taking applications?"

"Oh," You laugh, "No, that's- I'm not a coach or anything. In fact- uh, my husband and son were probably more helpful than I was."

It's like you've cut the power to the man's megawatt smile. The light in his face dims, and his face sours as he stands to walk away, "Oh. Understood."

It's then that you come to the disheartening realization that he was flirting with you. Not only that, but he'd only played nice when he thought he had a shot. Now that he knows you're spoken for, he's hooked back over the fence, shouting at the players.

A hand drapes itself over your collarbones from behind, and you startle before you realize that Aaron is hugging you from the other side of the bleachers.

"Oh!" You gush, letting Jack clamor into your lap to hug you while Aaron walks around to sit beside you, 'You scared me, Aaron."

"Sorry," He grins bashfully, scanning the field and seeing Sophie talking to the coach, "How is she doing?"

"Good," You grin, smoothing out Jack's sweaty post-soccer hair, "She just struck that little brat from the other team out, the one who got mud on her popsicle last time."

"Good girl," Aaron chuckles, watching Jack rush off to play with a few other kids by the trunk of a big tree, "Who were you talking to?"

"Angel's dad," You recall uneasily, "Uh- number fifteen. He was-"

"Flirting with you," Aaron concludes, "I know."

"You saw?" You ask warily, eyes apologetic, "Aaron, I'm sorry, I- I didn't realize until he left, and then you got there, so I just forgot about it, but if you want I can avoid him next time, or-"

"Hey," Aaron sets a hand on your thigh, leaning in to kiss you softly, "It's alright. Don't worry about it, I'm not angry."

"You're not?" Your brows furrow, and he leans in to kiss you again, wiping the expression from your face.

"No," He shakes his head, forehead leaned against yours briefly, "Well- I was, but he totally just saw me kiss you. Twice. So..."

"Oh," You laugh bashfully, leaning over to tuck your face against his shoulder, "Well, that's good. Hopefully he leaves me alone."

"Hopefully," Aaron agrees, squeezing you closer with his arm around your shoulder, "Oh, don't look now, but he's talking to Jia's mom."

"Which one?" You retort, something smug lining your features as you wonder how she'll break the news to him.

"Gloria," He tries not to stare, ducking his gaze back down to your face instead, "Hey, perfect place to tell someone you bat for the other team."

[writeonwhiskey]

the skz house: ch 1

a/n: As of 10/25/24 this fic is complete. If you’re finding this after that date, please read and enjoy. And don’t be shy, share your thoughts along this wild ride 💜 HAVE FUN & BUCKLE UP!

Summary: Welcome to Sigma Kappa Zeta, the most popular fraternity on campus. When you, down on your luck and looking for a place to live, see their ad for ‘IN-HOUSE STAY’, you decide to check it out. 

Chapter One: Of Breakups and New Housing

You’re sitting on the curb next to several suitcases and trash bags full of your belongings, feeling humiliated as cars pass by. You can’t fucking believe you thought it would be a good idea to rent an off campus apartment with your boyfriend—well, now ex-boyfriend, of three years. It’s not even a full two months into the semester and you both already decided to call it quits. Things had been rocky over the summer to begin with, but you hoped living together would fix it. 

You were wrong. And stupid for letting him put only his name on the lease.

So what are you gonna do now? You can’t call your parents, they told you this was a bad idea from the start. You can’t give them the satisfaction of knowing they were right. Your friends are all in the dorms and, sure, you can crash with them for a couple nights but you need to find something for the remainder of the year. 

You take out your phone, wiping the tears that fall from your eyes as you start looking for somewhere to live. A one bedroom apartment by yourself is completely out of the monthly budget your parents send. You’ll have to settle on a room or some sort of shared living environment. 

Your scrolling stops when you see a post that says ‘FREE IN-HOUSE STAY’. You click on it to read more. 

FREE IN-HOUSE STAY

It’s that time of year again. The members of Sigma Kappa Zeta (SKZ) have beds to fill. Stay will be free of charge, however there are stipulations. Further details will be provided in person. Send a direct message if you’re interested and we will provide the interview date.

You’ve heard of the SKZ fraternity in passing, but never participated much in Greek life on campus. The post feels a little sketchy, if you’re being honest with yourself, but you send the email anyways. If you can pocket the money your parents are sending and stay somewhere for free, maybe you can turn this shitty situation around in your favor. 

You receive an email the following day that advises you to fill out an NDA and an application complete with a picture of yourself. You also go to a nearby clinic to complete a drug test and various other checks. Your interest in the ad is piqued, but the night spent on the floor of your friends dorm encourages you to pursue it.   

Two days later you find yourself standing outside of the SKZ house with ten other women. The house is in a gated community and sits on a pretty large lot, enough room between it and the next that neighbors probably didn’t mind a bunch of college students staying there. It’s a three-story home and not too far from campus, maybe a thirty minute walk. 

At 1:00pm the door opens and a tall, kinda lanky boy with a slender face greets you all. His eyebrows and most of his eyes are hidden behind his bangs, but he dons a welcoming smile. He’s wearing jeans and a black shirt with ΣΚΖ written across the chest in green letters. 

“Please, come in,” he says, gesturing for you all to enter. 

You all huddle in the foyer and he closes the door when the last girl enters before leading you into the living room. There’s a large, navy blue sectional where you all sit. When he exits the room, you fold your hands in your lap and cross your legs, shaking your nerves out through your foot. as you wait for whatever is about to happen.

You hear footsteps coming down the hall and eight men enter the room. If your life were a movie (it most definitely isn’t, you’re sleeping on a floor, remember?), this scene would play out in slow motion. They exude an air of confidence and nonchalance all at the same time. They’re all of similar heights, with hair color ranging from black to blonde, some are lanky, some are muscular—one is flat-out buff, and they’re all Korean. They’re…handsome? The word doesn’t feel like it suffices, though. Each and every one of them are breathtaking in a way that feels completely unfair and makes you question why you’re even there. 

They spread out in a line in front of the TV mounted on the wall opposite the sectional. They’re all wearing the same thing—jeans and the black shirt with their fraternity initial across the front. 

“Thank you for coming here today, ladies,” one of them starts to speak with a light Australian accent. 

As your eyes focus on him, he looks familiar. He’s in one of your classes. He seemed rather quiet and reserved in class, but here he’s easily taking charge and leading the situation. His eyes meet yours for a brief moment and he offers a tight-lipped half-smile and nod. 

“I’m Chan,” he continues. “The is Lee Know, Changbin, Hyunjin, Han, Felix, Seungmin and Jeongin.”

Each member waves as he gestures to them and says their name. Seungmin is the one who had opened the door. 

“We’re sure you’re curious as to what our post entails…let me explain.” Chan begins. “Here at Sigma Kappa Zeta, we strongly pursue the strongest version of ourselves. We work hard, study hard, and play hard. We want all of our members to be at their best at all times. We cannot achieve the goals and dreams we have if we are weak in any area. Which brings us to having you here today.”

Your eyes dart to the other men standing in the line, but it’s impossible to read their expressions. 

“We are looking for four women to reside in our home. Your duties will be cooking and cleaning for the household, and pleasing the members you are assigned to.” 

You can only blink as you stare at him. Assigned to? And did he say please the members? Does he mean fuck?

“We believe that with these essential needs met,” he continues without missing a beat. As if he hasn’t just uttered something completely scandalous. “Our members will be free to flourish and earn our spots next to our SKZ predecessors.” 

He stops for a moment and steps forward from the others.

 “I know how this sounds. Misogynistic. Throughout the many years of this tradition, it has proved to work in our Stays’ favor as well, though. You’ll have your needs met, less stress and many Stays have reported a boost in their overall happiness and confidence.” He says. “We know you are students, too, and we don’t want to impede on your education or your own personal goals. That being said, it’s not a position suitable for everyone, we know that. We also know, that should you choose to participate, you will have an invaluable sense of community throughout your time here. You will have free room and board, and be allowed time to focus on your own success. Any resources we have access to can be yours as well.”

He claps his hands together.

“Now that you know what this entails, please remain seated if you’re still interested. If not, kindly exit—but we would like to remind you of the NDA you signed.”

He pauses for a beat. Two girls stand and promptly exits the home. You stay rooted in your seat. You’re a decent cook. You can clean. You think you could be a good fit for the position. You’ve also been with the same guy since your freshman year, so the prospect of experiencing something new in any capacity intrigues you. And honestly, right now, a free bed sounds more tantalizing than the floor, doesn’t it? You subconsciously roll out the kink in your neck at the thought. 

“Eight of you still here,” he says with a nod. “We’ll call each of you up, you’ll introduce yourself, walk past each member, then take your seat. We will then leave to deliberate. When we come back, we’ll let you know which of you are staying and who you’re assigned to.”

You shift around in your seat and nod your head. Chan steps back in line and calls the first name. You watch as each girl walks in front of the men, wondering what’s going through their head—what are they looking for exactly? 

When you hear your name called, your heart begins to race. You stand and announce your name, your major, and year in school. You then walk towards Jeongin and slowly make your way to Chan. It’s quick, but not painless. It’s fucking nerve-racking as they each stand there, stone faced. 

When all the girls are seated on the couch again, the men exit the room. You’re all quiet as you wait for them to come back. It takes nearly half an hour. 

Chan announces the names. The first girl called is assigned to Jeongin and Han. The second is assigned to Felix and Lee Know. The third goes to Seungmin and Changbin. 

There are five of you left on the couch. You begin to feel nervous that you may not be chosen, but the next name that falls from Chan’s lips is yours. 

Your try your best to hide your surprise as you stand and step forward, hearing that you’re with Chan and Hyunjin. 

“Thank you, ladies, for coming today. If you haven’t graduated next year, we welcome you to come back again.” Chan says to the others on the couch before showing them to the door. 

When he returns, the eight of them shift around to stand in front of their assignee.

In front of you is Chan. You can’t help but notice the way the sleeves fit tightly around his biceps, and the veins protruding from his arms. Hyunjin is standing next to him—he’s taller than Chan, but a little more thin. His overall presence is softer. You try not to stare too much. 

“We’ll give you a tour of the place, show you where you’re staying and then you may retrieve your belongings and return by 5:00pm to prepare dinner. You will cook for whoever you’re assigned to, and get to know each other over dinner.” Chan continues to take charge. 

You’re then led on a tour of the house. The first floor has the living room, kitchen, and a bathroom. The kitchen has two separate stoves, a huge pantry and a ton of cabinet space. There’s even an island with bar stools along one side of it. They then take you all down to the basement where there’s a pool table, an old keg, a bar, TV, and beer pong table. 

On the second floor is four bedrooms. They tell you who resides on each floor, but do not allow you into the rooms unless it’s someone you’re assigned to. Hyunjin is on the second floor. 

He opens the door to the room and you peek inside. You see that there’s a Queen sized bed, dresser, and desk covered in art supplies. Next to his bed is a twin sized bed, bare of any sheets. Is that where you’ll sleep? You wonder. 

“The bathroom at the end of the hall on the second floor is strictly for you all to use,” Chan announces as you all make your way up to the next floor.

On the third floor, you’re allowed to see Chan’s room. It’s significantly larger than Hyunjin’s, with it’s own bathroom. He also has a queen bed, nightstands, a dresser and desk. However, the twin sized bed is further from his own, against the opposite wall. It, too, is bare of any sheets. 

After the tour, everyone breaks off into groups of whomever their paired with. You’re in the kitchen with Hyunjin and Chan standing on either side of you. You exchange numbers with both of them. 

“So you’re majoring in Biology?” Hyunjin speaks to you for the first time. 

You nod, unable to find your voice. Still somewhat in shock of what the hell is even happening.

“She’s nervous,” Chan says, easily able to read you.  

“Don’t be,” Hyunjin says with softened eyes. “It sounds more intimidating than it really is. This is a mutual thing, okay? We help each other.”

“Okay,” you reply quietly.

“Do something simple for dinner tonight,” Hyunjin continues. “Pasta? With shrimp?”

He looks over to Chan who shrugs and nods in response. 

“We’re not as demanding as the others—we won’t be expecting full course meals.”

“You got lucky,” Chan adds. 

Got lucky? Did you? Or did you just get yourself into an inexplicable situation? They didn’t mention anything about what should happen if you change your mind. Are you even allowed to? Perhaps you should have read through the NDA a little better. First the lease, now this…you’re not the best with contracts, are you? 

Chan produces a credit card from his wallet and hands it to you. 

“Return with your things by 5:00pm. You can get groceries and bedding with this. Two twin-sized sets.”

You take the card from him and put it in your pocket. 

“We’ll see you soon,” Hyunjin says in a sing-songy voice with a smile. 

“See you,” you say lightly and try to return the smile. 

You’re still feeling awkward about the entire ordeal, but you’re somewhat at ease at how respectful they all seem. You’re not sure if you’ll be forced to do anything you don’t want to…but as you think about how handsome every single man in the house is…will you eventually want to?

After going to get groceries and bedding (two sets), you get your belongings from your friends dorm then take an Uber back to SKZ house. 

You’re a little early, but the door is open. You place your personal things to the side and go to the kitchen to start on dinner. You’re thankful they chose an easy meal, but go the extra mile to make the Alfredo sauce from scratch. It’s one of the few recipes you remember by heart from your mother. You season the shrimp and cook it up with butter and garlic. 

The other girls start to arrive and space in the kitchen becomes severely limited, even with two stoves for you all to use. You start to wonder if they’ll all have dinner at the same time every day because that may prove to be quite a challenge. You all move around each other easily enough, but you don’t really say much. 

When the food is done and plated, you send Hyunjin and Chan a text that dinner is ready. 

They come into the kitchen moments later, grab their plates, then lead you down to the basement for the second time today. 

It’s definitely not a fancy or romantic environment. Sitting at a beer pong table and seated on fold out chairs, but you’re not uncomfortable. Nervous as shit. But not uncomfortable. 

You wait for them to eat first. They both nod appreciatively after taking their fist bite. 

“You must have a lot of questions,” Chan says, twirling pasta around his fork. 

“Ask us anything,” Hyunjin prompts. 

You’re silent for a moment, chewing your food. You have what feels like a million questions, and want to get the most important one out of the way first.

“Am I gonna be fucking you both?”

Hyunjin coughs on the food he’s eating and Chan let’s out a soft chuckle. He hands Hyunjin his glass of water.

“Well…yes,” is Chan’s blatant reply. 

You expect him to say more, but he doesn’t. 

“Like…at the same time or is there some sort of schedule or…?” You trail off.

Hyunjin, finally recovered from his coughing fit replies, “It’s really up to the three of us to decide specifics. You’ll be in either of our rooms, on a rotating schedule. We could do every three nights. Monday-Wednesday and Thursday-Saturday? Sunday will be your choice.”

You nod slowly, more in understanding than agreement at this particular moment. 

“This tradition works best when it operates like a well oiled machine,” Chan says. “Always be honest with us. Let us know if you aren’t feeling well, if you have your period—anything.”

“There’s actually an app we can all access if you’re uncomfortable telling us, we can use that.” Hyunjin adds. 

“And when it comes to cooking and cleaning, you and the other girls can work out whatever kind of schedule works best for all of you.” Chan continues. 

The absurdity of the arrangement starts to feel less worrisome as they talk. The situation itself is still quite insane, but they speak about it so casually that it seems normal. 

They allow you to pester them with questions as you finish up the meal. They’re all business majors, Hyunjin’s minor is Art and Chan’s is music. They’re all legacies at Sigma Kappa Zeta—meaning their fathers, and grandfathers for some, had been members too. They have all been on a certain career track since they were born to father’s that are successful business owners in Korea and Australia. They each came to the states in high school, studied at a prestigious boarding school and now here they all are, in college, together. 

You can’t fathom having your entire life planned out that way. Perhaps it would take out some of the things you stress about regarding your future, though. Clearly, their parents all want what’s best for them. 

They explain a few other rules like—you’re not allowed to date or have sex with anyone outside of the members, and that’s a rule everyone in the house follows. Failure to adhere will result in immediate removal from the home. 

After you’ve asked all your questions, you all head back up stairs. The others are scattered throughout the house, some at the dining room table, some in the living room. Through the sliding glass door leading to the backyard, you see a few of them out there too. 

“We’ll handle the dishes for tonight,” Hyunjin tells you, taking the plate and glass from your hands. 

“Take your things upstairs, make up your bed in each of our rooms. There’s some closet and drawer space in each for you.” Chan says. 

“Where am I sleeping tonight?” You ask. 

“It's Sunday. Your choice,” replies Hyunjin. “Don’t make a big deal out of it. It’s really just where you’ll sleep. It’s not like you won’t be able to interact with the other person or anyone else in the house based on where you sleep, okay?”

You nod. 

They take off towards the kitchen. You retrieve your belongings and head up stairs. In Hyunjin’s room you make the bed with the dark blue bedding set—it’s adorned with different flower types and feels fitting. You recalled seeing the flowers he was painting on his desk when you made this choice. You’re not sure how to divide up your clothing but decide to place a bit of everything in both rooms. 

When you make it up to Chan’s room, you put away the rest of your clothes then make up the bed here too. The set you chose for his room is black with teal and purple nebula on it. He has LED lights lining all four walls, near the ceiling. You thought it might look nice when they’re turned on. 

After making the bed, you sit down and allow yourself a break to think.

You now have to decide whose room you’ll be sleeping in tonight. 

[ read chapter two here ]

a/n: yeah, this was a random idea that i'm just gonna roll with. no idea where its gonna go yet, but this will be fun to write. have to set the scene with this first chapter, the smut is coming, don't worry :)

[theemporium]

i saw this friends to lovers prompt that reminded me of nico:

“cuddling for comfort in a Very Platonic manner”

like they’re pretending it’s totally platonic and doesn’t mean anything, no, but also, like, come closer

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

.

It felt like an inside joke whenever you and Nico would insist you were just friends—a joke that everyone except the two of you were in on.

Because you weren’t dating. And you totally didn’t have feelings for each other. And Nico definitely didn’t look at you like you had hung the damn moon. And you definitely didn’t become the personification of the heart eyes emoji the second he was in your vicinity. 

You were just friends—very close friends. And colleagues too. 

There was absolutely and positively nothing remotely romantic going on between you, the Devils’ social media manager, and Nico Hischier.

Not in a million years. 

Except there was, it was just a goddamn tragedy—and painful watch for the team—that neither you nor the captain had the balls to do something about it. Truthfully, it had just never crossed your mind that Nico would even look at you in that way. 

Hockey had been a constant in your life. At every major event in your life, every single milestone, you could remember a hockey game being played in the background. You could remember watching games with your family, you could remember the way your parents cheered when your family’s favourite team won, you could remember the first time you attended a playoff game. 

It had always been a part of your life, and you knew you wanted it to be a part of your future too. 

Your father had been the one to send you the application form. You were fresh out of university, a degree in hand you weren’t totally sure what to do with and a resume that most people turned down due to a lack of experience. When he had sent you the intern application form for the New Jersey Devils, you laughed and joked that it would at least be a good story to tell years down the line. 

You hadn’t expected to actually get the position. 

And you definitely hadn’t expected to befriend the newly appointed captain of the team but the universe worked in funny ways. 

And despite your best attempts to remind yourself these boys were your colleagues—that you were just a part of the social media team, just a part of the bigger Devils team that they bantered with—you found your friendship with Nico bubbling into something akin to a crush. 

You thought you hid it well, but the teasing remarks from Jack said otherwise.

What you failed to realise—or believe when Jack started talking your ear off about acting upon your crush—was that Nico felt the exact same way. 

But even if a small part of you yearned to believe as much, you knew you would never risk your friendship with Nico. Never in a million years. Not even if your friendship was hardly a friendship these days, now something far more. 

“And oh! That looks like a broken stick from Hischier who doesn’t look happy at the final score.” 

You winced as you watched him hit his stick across the goal post, as it snapped in half before he skated towards the tunnel without even a second glance. His head was down, but you could see the frown and furrow in his brows in your head clear enough. 

You knew he would be beating himself up for the loss. You knew he would be blaming himself for the last goal slipping through. But unfortunately for you, you wouldn’t be able to see him until long after the post-game interviews and debriefs were over. 

You didn’t get the chance to actually see the boy until the team found themselves huddled in the bar fifteen minutes from the stadium, each player eager to drink away the memory and pain of their freshest loss in what seemed to be a streak of losses. 

It was almost like your body was pulled towards him the second he stepped into the bar, looking as though he had a heavy weight on his shoulders. His eyes found yours in an instant and he was moving through the bar before anyone could even greet him. 

It was like an unspoken language shared between you when you saw the look in his eyes, when you opened your arms and let him just fall into your embrace and hide his face in your neck. 

“You played the best you could,” you whispered to him, your fingers threading through his hair before you felt him sink further into you. 

“But it wasn’t enough,” he muttered, and you could hear the self-loathing in his voice. “Nothing seems to be enough these days.”

“You’ll break the streak soon,” you assured him, nothing but confidence in your voice because maybe that was just what he needed to hear. To know that someone still believed in him and the team when he didn’t. 

“I’m just sick of being asked the same question, of being asked what I can do to help the team win,” Nico whispered, a hint of vulnerability and doubt in his voice that he would never let the boys hear. “I feel like I’m disappointing them.”

“You’re not,” you said to him, your voice a little stern as you clung onto him tighter. “Nobody blames you, Nico, except maybe yourself.”

He huffed out a laugh, though it felt a bit self-deprecating and bitter.

“You’re in no mood to drink,” you murmured as you tugged his head back, letting his red-rimmed eyes meet yours. “Do you wanna go?”

He nodded. 

You paused for a moment before continuing. “Do…do you want me to come with?”

“Please,” he whispered softly, his voice cracking a little when he did. 

You gave him a shy smile, and something in his chest eased a little at the sight. “Let’s go then.”

His hand fell down to take yours, intertwining your fingers together without a second thought—almost like it was a bodily instinct more than a choice. He pulled you behind him as he made his way towards the exit, pushing through the crowd and glancing over his shoulder to make sure you were okay. And just before you reached the door, your eyes found Jack’s from across the bar, that knowing look in his eyes. 

But tonight wasn’t the night to test his theory or let your feelings take over, so you pushed them down like you always did and followed Nico out of the bar.

.

[verspia]

—𝐢 𝐠𝐢𝐟𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭

You frown in thought as you cradle a warm cup of hot chocolate in your hands, huddling a little close to the heat emanating from the fire place, which you’re seated in front of.

Christmas is one of your favorite holidays of, and this year, you celebrate it with your boyfriend, Oscar. Normally, with the end of the season, he would be in Australia with his family, spending the holiday under the blazing sun, not under frosted snowflakes and the biting cold of London with you.

The thought makes you pout a little, guilt eating at you for keeping him away from his family during the holidays, as if he isn’t apart from them for most of the year anyway.

Originally, you both were meant to go together, but with christmas being near, the visa application process had taken a lot longer than you’d both expected and that meant that you were only eligible to travel to down under after New Years.

You had insisted that Oscar leave without you, urging him to spend the christmas holiday with his parents and sisters, but he had resisted, arguing that he would make it up to them and it was far too late to book a flight, what with the rush that came during winter break, and you had reluctantly agreed.

That didn’t stop you from feeling guilty though, but you refrained from thinking about it more, knowing that there wasn’t much you could do about it.

Instead you wondered what you could gift your boyfriend for your first christmas together.

You knew that Oscar wasn’t much of a material person, and that he was happy with anything you would give him, but you wanted to do something meaningful.

Given the fact that gifts were your love language, both giving and receiving, it was important to you that you find the perfect gift for Oscar.

You worried your lip between your teeth as you pondered, when your eyes lit up with an epiphany, and you stood up abruptly, abandoning your hot chocolate on the kitchen top, grabbing your keys and heading out to the store immediately.

You payed no mind to the snow that nipped at your face, staining your cheeks a rosy red as you hurried out, charged with excitement for the gift that you had in mind.

When Oscar awakes on Christmas morning, you are not where you’re supposed to be, cuddled up in his arms, and the loss of your presence next to him startles him awake.

He steps into the living room, rubbing away any trace of bleariness from his eyes and finds you there, still in your pyjamas and with one of his hoodies on, Home Alone playing on the tv screen.

Your smile is radiant, and your zealousness for christmas is almost childlike. His heart warms at the sight of you and he smiles widely, trudging over to you.

“Why aren’t you in bed, love”

You turn around at the his voice, beaming impossibly wider, and your eyes sparkle with delight as you spot him.

“Oscar!” His name on your lips always makes him giddy, but the exhilaration in your tone today is tremendous, and vastly contagious, to the extent that Oscar begins to wear the same excitement you do.

“It’s Christmas! I was waiting for you,” You grab Oscar, pulling him on to couch with you, “We gotta open the gifts, Oh you’ll love what i’ve gotten you!”

Oscar stares fondly at you, “I’m happy with anything you give me, baby, you know that.”

You nod at him, not really paying attention, as you stand up and pull him along towards the direction of the christmas tree that you both had decorated together, weeks prior.

He happily lets you drag him along, and soon, both of you have unraveled the presents from your friends and family.

You open the gift that Oscar has gotten you, and gasp in elation, throwing yourself at Oscar, Thank you’s and I love you’s falling from your mouth as you pepper his face with kisses.

He laughs as he holds on to your waist, and then finally, both of you turn to the last present, that is inside a conspicuous bag, glittered golden.

You move over a little, eyes fixed on Oscar as he opens the bag, pulling out a cardboard box that is too, shimmering golden, with a red ribbon holding it together.

He unwraps it, and the sides of the box fall flat in five sections, each have attached a packet of Tim Tams on it, and another box stands proud in the middle.

Oscar uncovers the lid, and another lid appears, the words Merry Christmas on it and much like the first time, the sides fall into sections, each holding polaroids of you and Oscar.

The pictures are of monumental moments of your relationship, His first sprint win and you congratulating him with a kiss, his first podium as he smiles brightly, you wrapped up in his arms, smiling equally as bright. There’s photos of Oscar surprising you at your graduation ceremony, and kissing you when you win a debate’s competition, as well as a few pictures of your first date, and first kiss.

He pulls away the last lid, and finds a heart shaped letter inside, which he picks up and discovers a keychain for his car.

The keychain is shaped as a heart, and he examines it closely, accidentally clicking it open and finds both his and your initials together in a smaller heart inside.

He breathes softly, a little baffled at the thoughtfulness of the gift, and looks up at you, adoration clear in his eyes.

He’s a little breathless as he whispers I love you to you, and you smile shyly at him.

“Do you like it?”

Your eyes glimmer with hope and a little uncertainty, and Oscar pulls you into his lap, kissing you softly.

He’s not good with words, so he hopes to show to you just how happy you make him, pulling you closer than you’d ever thought possible, kissing you deeper to convey his appreciation to you.

You both are enveloped in a warmth that contrasts the dreary weather outside, but it’s clear that you both have a jolly christmas, under the shimmering pine tree.

This was inspired by this

didn’t proofread so pls don’t mind any errors

[6thdrink]

back to square one trying to compile a list of unis

[the-californicationist]

Guile & Guilt (Ch. 07)

Soap/Reader

TW: sex

MDNI/18+

AO3 LINK

I'm so sorry for the wait!! I hope this long chap made up for it. I really appreciate all the comments and reblogs. It really keeps me going. The next chapter is gonna be rough. Hope you're ready for it. I'm not!

CHRISTMAS EVE

The lecture hall slowly began to fill with graduate students and professors. A gaggle of undergrads huddled to the side with their notebooks, surely attending by someone else’s command and not of their own volition. They were all dressed in various layers of warmth. Anoraks and sweaters rustled and stretched in the cloth seats, the odd peacoat was hung carefully over the edge of a chair. It was nice to have a small crowd, but you were sure everyone had somewhere better to be. The only people that would show up to the long-standing tradition of a Christmas Eve colloquium were the die-hard academics and those desperately needing extra credit in their year-long lab classes.

You liked this lecture room the best. The big arching stadium seating made you feel like a surgeon in her theatre, carving up your poems and displaying their abnormalities, arguing in favor of their spectacular forms, illustrating your skills with grace and ease. It was all well and good not to be the patient on the table. Today’s victim would be Sonnet 91. 

The projector light blinded you in an unnatural blue, making you turn away from its lens, and you pretended to busy yourself with your notes as you waited for it to warm up. You shuffled the papers again, and you had a sip of water. Just fidgeting. If you stopped moving, you’d think about him, and you didn’t want to think about him. 

He’d gotten your message from Gaz, that much was clear. You knew because you started receiving sunrise texts again — just the pictures, though — and when he needed to go out on a mission, you’d get your little promises. You sent him back what you received. If he sent a sunrise picture, you returned it with your own. If he said that he promised, you said it, too. You wanted him to call. You wanted to drag it out, to gut it like a fish, to see all the entrails of your feelings and the bloody evidence of your battle to be together, all of its innards smeared across a cutting board, sterile and measurable. 

But, for some reason, you couldn’t do it. You tried to type out what you’d wanted to say, but none of it made sense. It was all just begging and pleading and wishing for things you couldn’t have. So, you stopped. You kept up the replies. You matched his energy. It wasn’t until he sent you a screenshot of his flight itinerary that you started to realize the other shoe was dropping on you very soon. 

He was supposed to fly in sometime this very afternoon, but it wouldn’t be only him. You’d heard from Pidge that his whole team was coming with him, eager to meet her and Hamish, apparently. You didn’t know what emotion you felt about that, but its anonymity didn’t stop you from feeling it. 

You’d sent him back a Google Maps screenshot of your apartment, since he was supposed to be your ride up to Old Kilpatrick, and he sent you back the thumbs up emoji. 

It was embarrassing to you that the slight change in send-reply patterning made your heart race. You felt like your brain could benefit from a hard reset, like an iPhone that had chosen to get stuck on the same application, unable to move forward to the next task. 

So, you’d tried to put him out of your mind. When your labmate begged you to take her place at this colloquium, you jumped at the chance. A presentation would take up so much time and energy; surely it would cure you of your obsessive behavior. Unfortunately, Sonnet 91 felt all too timely. 

You watched it populate the screen, the first four lines occupying the cold, unembellished center of your slide, professionally stark:  

Some glory in their birth, some in their skill,Some in their wealth, some in their body's force,Some in their garments though new-fangled ill;Some in their hawks and hounds, some in their horse;

You wondered where your glory would come from, if you ever had any. Then, as if to answer your question, the hall door opened and he walked through it, carefully propping it open behind him and letting his three enormous friends through. Johnny was freshly shaven, and his mohawk was back, trimmed on the sides and groomed to stand in a tall, brown shock. You could see the prominent scar on the side of his head, a sharp cross where the hair could no longer grow. 

There was an observable air of confidence to his movements, as if this was his hundredth colloquium, as if he attended them every week. His surety silenced you, and you stood staring, rapt. 

He met your eyes. The bright, glassy blues found you, set in a pleased way, fully at peace. It was the face made when something lost had been found, when a gift was unwrapped. A knowing gleam. 

If you didn’t start talking, people were going to ask you if you were alright. So, you introduced yourself, shakily but smoothing it out as you went,

“Good evening, and thank you for joining us at the 2023 Christmas Eve Colloquium tonight. I love this tradition, and I really appreciate you all being here. If you didn’t get the, uh… the handouts,” you pushed the stack across the desk toward the undergrads who all crowded around them like seagulls with an old French fry, “Okay...”

You pointed up to the sprawling slide,

“In looking at Sonnet 91, most would argue that it is a confession of love. But, it is a tentative one, at best. The speaker claims that despite whatever glory others may have, his glory is found in his lover. We don’t learn until the couplet that his affections are at risk of not being returned.”

You flipped the slide, showing the next four lines:

And every humour hath his adjunct pleasure,Wherein it finds a joy above the rest:But these particulars are not my measure,All these I better in one general best.

It was all very simple. This was an easy sonnet, and there was no real mystery, but as you came to the end, you tried to reiterate your thoughts quickly, feeling the pressure to let people get on with their lives,

“The speaker makes quite a substantial claim here, so much so that the audience may be led to believe that he is being intentionally facetious, especially if one were to consider the content of Sonnet 92.”

“No,” a deep voice from high in the back protested, “I mean, I think I disagree with you, lass.”

The whole room woke up. Everyone turned quietly in their seats, generating a symphony of creaking and rustling of chairs and coats, craning their necks to look at Johnny who, for some reason, had stood up in his aisle.

“Oh, how so?” You said politely, trying to be deferential. 

It was more than a little uncomfortable in the room. No one ever asked questions during the colloquium, even though that was its intended purpose, and certainly no one ever stood up when they asked it. Everyone usually just allowed the speaker to drone on and on about whatever topic they were into that week, and there would be polite applause at the end so you could all go home early. Ironically, Johnny had committed an act of rebellion a mere five minutes into your talk. 

“Well,” he crossed his huge arms over his chest, shoving his muscles against each other. Amongst the mostly lithe, soft-bodied academic crowd, he and his friends looked out of place. He raised his voice, sending it arching down to you like an arrow, “I’m pretty sure he’s genuine. Look at the next four lines.”

He pointed to the glowing screen. You sighed, flipping slides.

Thy love is better than high birth to me,Richer than wealth, prouder than garments' cost,Of more delight than hawks and horses be;And having thee, of all men's pride I boast:

“Look, bonnie,” Johnny chuckled, “I dunno about you, but if I’m boastin’ about a wee hen who’s more than all that — more than wealth, more than all men’s pride? She must actually be somethin’ to boast about.”

You countered, trying to get the talk back under your control, flipping to the next slide: 

Wretched in this alone, that thou mayst takeAll this away, and me most wretched make.

“Then what of his lamentation in the couplet?” You asked pointedly, listening to the sounds of creaking chairs again as everyone turned back to look at you as you responded, “Surely he has some reason to doubt this uniquely prideful love.”

Johnny shrugged,

“He doesnae doubt the love; his life cannae be separated from his love. Love is all there is. Ye ken it from Sonnet 92 when he asks: But what’s so blessed-fair that knows no blot?”

You smiled, slowly, knowingly, and then finished the couplet for him,

“Thou mayst be false, and yet I know it not.”

You were aware of the implication you were wielding like a knife down there in your theatre, staining your hands and hurling your scalpel at him, accusing him through verse of the same sin you’d thrown in his face the last time you spoke to him: of being false, of betraying Pidge. 

Johnny shifted his weight, frustrated, but standing his ground,

“It’s not… he doesnae think it’s false, hen. Tha’s not it.”

Were you still arguing about the poem? You couldn’t tell. His face had become serious and a little pleading. So, you responded in verse since it would fit the conversation either way, 

“How like Eve’s apple doth thy beauty grow, if thy sweet virtue answer not thy show.”

“And I would bloody eat it anyway, thief. False or no.”

There was an awkward silence and then a short, if a bit unsettled, polite applause. People began to shuffle out, standing, stretching, and chatting with each other as they made their way back into the hallway. A few of your labmates waved at you, and a friend from your cohort wished you a happy Christmas. 

Johnny sauntered down the stairs toward you, leaving his friends lounging in their seats, and as he came closer and closer, you felt like you were the one on the slab of your own theatre, open and vulnerable to the empty room, fully at the mercy of your operator. 

You thought he might pause, that he may stop walking and stand a few paces away, ready to talk things out, but he didn’t. He didn’t even slow his pace. Johnny grabbed you around your jaw with his enormous hand, his wide palm hot against your chin, and he pulled you into him, your lips sliding into his, pressing together like the last piece of a puzzle, completing a picture. 

His body was so warm as you crashed into his arms, and he held you down, pinning you like you would fall away from him if he let go. You couldn’t do much else other than submit to his strength; you didn’t want to do much else. You grabbed him around his waist, feeling him through the thin cotton of his shirt, tumbling into him as he forced your mouth to take his tongue. 

Johnny let go of a low moan, a sigh that couldn’t escape, and the hand that had been holding your face was now fisting your hair and running thick fingers through your soft strands. 

He pulled back without warning, gasping as he whispered to you, speaking with his forehead resting on yours and his eyes pinched closed,

“Did you mean it, what you told Gaz? Am I right? Is this right?”

You took a deep breath, smelling his soap and his cologne, the scent of his skin so familiar to you it seemed like home. His eyes remained closed, and he wore a mask of pain, holding himself back from truly letting go. You nodded, whispering back to him,

“You were right.”

Then, his eyes shot open, finding yours immediately, looking back and forth to peer into both of them at once, searching for even the slightest hint of deception,

“Are you fallin’ for me, mèirleach? ‘Cause I’m… I cannae go halfway. I’m in, or I’m out.”

“I’m in,” you smiled, laughing a little at your confession. He kissed you again, softly petting your hair, holding you close. But, you paused and looked up at him with a warning glare in your eye, “But, look, she cannot know. Maybe after the wedding, but… she cannot find out.”

“She won’t,” he was smiling back at you, making it look like it would be on his face forever, “I’m a professional spy, lass, or did you forget my wee entourage back there.”

He nodded up to his friends. The captain was asleep with his hat over his eyes, snoring in long, regular rhythms. Ghost was using a datapad, staring intently at the screen, and Gaz was using two hands on his cell phone, tapping vigorously, engrossed in some sort of game.

Johnny whistled, quick and shrill. The men stirred, peering down at him and making their way toward you. When they reached the bottom, they all towered over you, ready for polite introductions.

“John,” the scruffy, bearded one shook your hand first. His fingers were dangerously strong, and it shocked you to feel it against your own palm.

A young man was next. You knew it was Gaz, but you hadn’t seen a photo of him yet.

“I’m Kyle,” he smiled. He was even nicer in person, “We texted, before.”

You nodded, smiling back, and introducing yourself.

Then, it was the big one.

“Simon,” the tall blond shook your hand for a brief moment, just enough to squeeze and release. 

“It’s really nice to meet you all,” you said, “I’m glad you made it for the holiday.”

“We try to stick together ‘round this time of year,” Price explained, but you weren’t sure you fully understood his meaning. You just smiled and nodded. 

“You ready to head out?” Johnny asked you.

“Yeah, just need to head back to my place and get my bag.”

“Alright, hen,” Johnny smiled, “Lead the way.”

You led them up and out of the building and into the cold night air. Your apartment was only a short walk from this side of campus, so you decided to forego the bus ride. 

Johnny had your hand clasped in his so tightly that you wondered if he was alright. You looked up at him, and he smiled. You didn’t know how to say all the things you wanted to say, so you just commented on the most obvious one first,

“Where did you learn Sonnet 91? Or 92 and 93 for that matter?”

Gaz interrupted you, turning his head to talk over his shoulder as you walked behind him,

“Bloody stuck in his Kindle for months, he was. I think he read them all, and then he read them all to us. We’ve had more of the Bard than fuckin’ Lizzy the first.”

You gasped and made a face at Johnny, waiting for him to answer for his actions. He just shrugged, his cheeks flushed either from the embarrassment or the cold. 

Price walked up beside him and knocked him a bit on his shoulder, ribbing him along with Gaz,

“Especially that one. What number?”

“Fuckin’ 145,” Ghost groaned.

Then, in unison, the three soldiers all started reciting it aloud, their voices sing-song and purposefully annoying, 

“Those lips that Love’s own hand did make breathed forth the sound that said “I hate” to me that languished for her sake…”

Johnny shoved Gaz back to the front of the group with his free hand, laughing it off,

“Alright, alright, you bastards. I may have read it two or three times…”

“Two or three hundred, Sergeant,” Price rolled his eyes. 

You grinned up at Johnny, humming your pleasure,

“Wow! I’m impressed. Didn’t know you were such a Shakespeare fan.”

Gaz scoffed, 

“It’s not the poems he’s a fan of!”

Price smacked him on his arm, stopping Gaz from being too mean in his playfulness, aware that Johnny had his limits of what he would allow to be said in front of you.

“Mmm,” you answered noncommittally, squeezing Johnny’s hand as it held yours, clutching at you like the end of a rope, holding you like an anchor to his hull.

As you made it to your apartment, you pointed to the small coffee shop on the corner of your block,

“Do you wanna wait somewhere warm? I’ll only be a minute.”

Price snorted, grinning as if he had just remembered a private joke, 

“Go help her with her bags, Sergeant. C’mon, lads.”

The trio left you together, and Johnny waited for you to open the door to the lobby. You buzzed in and waited for the elevator in the quiet foyer. 

He was silent the whole ride up to your floor. You thought he’d have more to say, especially after just getting back from a tour. You wondered what was keeping him so quiet. 

You jiggled your key into the lock and pushed your way inside. Marlowe was on the futon, lounging in her favorite position, but when she saw the strange man in her house, she bristled and fled beneath your bed. 

“Marlowe,” Johnny said, recognizing her. 

“Yeah,” you smiled, grabbing your vitamins from the kitchen cabinet to put in your bag, “Sorry, she’s afraid of strangers.”

“It’s alright, hen. I love your place. Look at that view. You can see the river and everything. That’s class.”

He was being polite. Johnny was way too big for your apartment. With him in the space, it felt like you may as well have lived in a tent. It was such close quarters that you spent most of the time edging around him to get to your stuff. 

“Can I…?” He was pointing down at your bed, asking to sit. 

Recognizing your rudeness, you nodded,

“Yes, of course. I’m sorry. Can I get you a water or something? Tea?”

“No, I’m good,” he sat and smiled, still looking around the space, taking it in. To be fair, there wasn’t much to see.

You continued to pack, trying to hurry knowing his friends were downstairs waiting for you. 

“Okay, toothbrush… I think I’m all set. Are you ready?”

“No,” he was looking down at the floor, and his tone was so soft that it made you stop your packing whirlwind to listen to him. 

The silence deepened between you, and you tried to be patient. Neither of you dared to move, but he met your eyes. 

“What is it, Johnny?” You asked, still waiting. 

He stood and walked the half step it took to stand before you. His huge shoulders blocked out the light, and you could tell he was chewing on his words, working them over and over to make sure they were right. 

“I need to know…” he said quietly, running his fingers through your hair again, “I need to know if you are havin’ any doubts about this, lass. I dinnae want to pressure you, and I know I shouldnae be asking you to lie to her, but I need you, mèirleach. I need to know you’re not still havin’ doubts about the way I feel about you.”

Were you? You weren’t sure. You knew he cared about you, and you didn’t have any evidence that he was playing you, but Pidge’s warning still raged in the back of your mind. 

You sighed,

“I don’t doubt that you have feelings for me.”

“But, you think they willnae last?”

“I don’t know, but I want to find out. It’s just hard to have confidence in a secret.”

He furrowed his brow,

“I’d call her and tell her now, if you’d let me. You wanna wait, hen. And I’m fine with that. I am. But, how am I supposed to show you who I am when I’m not supposed to be showin’ you anything at all?”

You didn’t know what to say to him, and it made you feel discouraged. Maybe you were wrong. Perhaps you should have kept your promise after all, and this was just too complicated. 

Johnny watched the guilt spread across your face and chased you down with his eyes, his tone laced with dark suggestion,

“Unless you want me to show you now, thief.”

You did. You wanted him to show you everything he was. And, you understood what he was asking you for. The nerves between your legs pulsed, and blood rushed down your arms, excited for whatever he was threatening you with. You wanted him to fuck you right here in your apartment. But, you hesitated, very aware that if you said yes, if you let him show you what he wanted you to see, you wouldn’t be able to come back from that. The guilt would eat you alive. 

“Your… friends…” you picked at the zipper of his thick coat, stepping close enough to him that you could feel his heat radiating from inside the fleece lining of it. 

“My friends can wait, thief. I can’t.”

“Then don’t.”

The same way a bear trap snapped shut, its teeth digging into the writhing flesh of the creature inside its metal maw, that was how he caught you in that moment. You looked up at him, eyes wide and expectant, and you were greeted with a hunter’s smile. He knew he had you, and he went for the kill, putting you out of your misery. His arms wrapped around your body as he kissed you with a high fever, moving from your mouth to your neck as quickly as he could, devouring your soft flesh there, nipping and sucking at you frenzied and harsh. All of his gentle reservedness was gone, pushed aside in favor of sating his wild craving. 

You were on the bed in a second, your back flat, pressed into the mattress by his heavy weight. He didn’t readjust. He allowed his body to pin you down, crushing you beneath him. You tried to rid him of his jacket; there were so many layers between you, and you were eager for there to be none. 

He helped you, shucking off his coat and shirt layers quickly before returning to your mouth and throat, breathlessly panting as he kissed and licked your throat. His chest was bare to you then, and the cold metal of his tags stung your chest as they jingled out of his clothes, falling onto you like two silver coins. You rubbed his body down, pressing into the muscles of his neck and back, feeling them jerk and lunge as he moved above you. He kissed your mouth again, moaning through his nose. 

Then, he was peeling you apart, taking your clothes and tossing them away, pulling off the tissue from a coveted gift. Johnny didn’t even take time to pause at your bra; he just yanked it over your head with the rest of your clothes, unceremoniously. While you were sucking on his tongue and kissing down the scruff of his jaw, you heard his boots thump onto the floor, one after the other. 

All that remained between you were your slacks and his jeans, and he was forced to leave your mouth to deal with the barriers. He made his way to your breasts, sucking on them hungrily, but not playing. He was done playing with you, it seemed. 

He popped the button on your pants and tucked both of his hands into the waistband, grabbing your panties along with it, and ripped them down your legs with a deep grunt. You were naked, and the denim of his jeans raked against your sensitive skin. He was grinding his body against you as you were trapped beneath him, and you felt his hips rock back and forth as he rubbed his cock against your core, trying to use the friction inside of his jeans to find some pleasure, returning to your nipples to lick them into stiff peaks. 

You wrapped your legs around his hips, your thighs halfway between the skin of his ribs and the bite of his belt, letting him thrust against you. 

“Johnny,” you whispered, “Take them off.”

“Not yet, hen.”

You moaned, feeling his crotch pressing hard against yours, but not being able to find any sort of consistency in the texture. 

“Why not?” You asked and begged at the same time.

“Because…” He kissed his way down your belly, settling his face between your thighs, “As soon as I do, I’m gonna fuck you, mèirleach. And I’ve not tasted you, yet.”

His mouth was wet and hot and just what you wanted. Johnny ate you like he was on a mission. There was no careful exploration like the first time. It felt like he was eating you to satisfy his own craving, and your enjoyment was merely a fringe benefit. 

You keened as loudly as you dared, crying out for him as he lapped at your folds, hunting down your flavor. 

Then, he began to speak to you as he sucked on your clit, pausing to say his words before returning to his font to swallow more of you down into his throat. 

“Do y’know how long I’ve waited for this, hen?”

Suck, lick, kiss…

“How many nights…”

Suck.

“...in the sand…”

Lick.

“...in the bloody dark…”

Kiss.

“...waiting to have you in my mouth like this.”

Lick. Lick. Liiiickkkk…

“Oh, fuck, Johnny!” You bit down on the back of your hand, reeling from the pressure building in your center, feeling chills on your arms and chest, “Please…”

“And when Gaz told me…”

Suck.

“...I didnae believe him.”

Lick.

“But, I wanted to. I wanted to believe…”

Kiss.

“...that you were really mine…” 

Suuuuckkkk.

“...mo mèirleach…” 

Liiickkkk.

“...mo ghràdh.” 

You started to come, your hips vaulting into his strong jaws, and his eyes found yours, bright and clear, staring at you, watching you fall apart in his mouth. At the last moment, just before you fell over the peak, he wrenched his eyes shut and sucked even harder, yanking you into a furious, crashing orgasm. 

Then, desperately scrambling to taste the result, he thrust his tongue deep into your hole, his entire mouth suctioned to your pussy, reaping his soaking reward. 

“Johnny,” you sobbed, overwhelmed by the power you felt growing inside of you, bursting across your body like hundreds of little fireworks.

He was back up by your face in a moment, cradling you and kissing you with your come smeared all over his lips and cheeks,

“Shh, shh… it’s alright, lass. I know what you need. It’s what I need, too.”

You heard his zipper and watched him slide out of his jeans, kicking his socks off with them, naked with you once more, and now with full intent. His cock was drooling onto your belly, the precome leaving long, sticky trails as his swollen shaft traced its way up and down through your folds. Johnny’s cock was so hard that it felt like a warm, iron pipe was pressing into you, threatening and dangerous. 

You must have worn the concern on your face because he chuckled down at you, kissing your forehead sweetly as he humped himself against you,

“Too much for you, thief?”

You let your hands meet in the middle, holding his dick with one on top of the other, effectively jacking him off as he thrust forward and back, wetting him with his own lubrication, and you watched him throw his head back in sharp need. You smiled up at him,

“Not yet.”

“Jesus Christ,” he paused, holding his position, poised like a viper. Then, he looked down at you, suddenly serene, “Do you need a condom?”

“No, do you?”

“Fuck, no,” he said, and he immediately sank his head into your softness, melting into you with a slick slide, trusting you implicitly, believing you like a disciple. 

Your body hadn’t experienced a cock as thick and as hard as his. It wasn’t uncomfortably long, but its upward curve was particularly cruel. It was built to torture the soft pleasure-ladden spot inside of your walls, dragging across it as he fit himself inside of you. It took a few thrusts until you felt his hilt, but you were wet enough that your pussy didn’t need much coaxing. He was sighing above you, audibly and full of relief, his face bent and twisted in a perfect torment. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck… thief, holy fuck. Oh, Christ. I cannae… oh…”

His thrusts were audible. Flesh pounded into flesh, and the wet noises coming from you seemed unreal. Each and every time he entered you, pressing through you and molding you to his shape, you felt sparks of bliss within your belly, expectant and eager. 

“Johnny… it feels so good. You feel…” 

“You alright, mo ghràdh? Do you… mmmph, fuck… do you need me to slow down?”

You imagined what that would be like, and your pussy railed against it, feral and wanton, fighting any semblance of gentility with sharpened teeth and greedy claws. 

“No, please… don’t.” you kissed his cheek as he lay his head into your shoulder, deep in concentration, rolling in his passion.

Your kiss made him turn to face you, kissing your mouth so softly, with loose, relaxed lips, gently sliding his cheek across yours like a huge cat, rubbing himself all over you. He didn’t stop, but he spoke to you darkly, 

“I’ll do whatever you want, lass. Tell me, and it’s yours.”

“This,” you sighed, moaning as another wave of pleasure made you clench down around him, gripping him from within you with a fluttering squeeze, “You. Just you, mo chridhe.”

You tested out the nickname you’d used before, hoping to encourage him. You may as well have poured kerosene on a fire. He narrowed his eyes at you in disbelief, obviously hearing it and using it like war paint, covering his body in it, staining himself in it, changing himself from the inside out to fit its definition. He lay his head next to yours as he worked his cock within you, grunting through gritted teeth with each heavy thrust. His body started to tremble, shaking with his need to come, and the low, long whine that came from his throat made it sound like he was boiling over with blinding pleasure. 

He took both of his arms and crossed them behind your back, grasping your shoulders from behind in a painfully tight hold. Then, pressed to his chest, he lifted you, settling you in his lap in the lotus position, keeping his cock sheathed deep inside of you. You grabbed onto his neck instinctively, holding him like a lifeline, rocking your hips into him to chase that friction. 

Johnny sighed, pressing his forehead to yours, 

“Yes, yes, yes, thief. Take it. Fuck yourself on me, hen. Use me. I wanna feel you come, mèirleach…” 

He begged so sweetly, and you were happy to oblige. You used his shoulders to brace yourself while you pushed your body down onto him, spearing yourself over and over. At this new angle, his cockhead hit your g-spot every single goddamn time, and you were dizzy from his menacing shape. He snaked his hand between you to press on your clit, not even rubbing it but applying force, giving you something to grind against. The combination of his hand and his cock and his growling whines of struggling for control were enough to do the trick, and you saw white behind your eyes as you fell into a chaotic, plunging orgasm once again. 

“Fuuuuckkkk…” He groaned loudly, his voice turning vicious, “You are mine.”

Your body fell back to the bed and he shoved your legs onto one of his shoulders, fucking you as deep as he could go, stretching you as he did, throwing himself into you as you came down from your high. He was shouting, curses and praises, all in a filthy, animalistic snarl. Johnny just kept repeating the same phrase in a cultish chant, mindless and recursive, completely beyond himself, past reality. 

“You’re mine, thief. Mine.”

As he came, he searched for your eyes, staring into them, showing you his elation. You ran a hand across his scalp, your fingernails dragging through his mohawk, and you saw the whites of his eyes as he rolled them back into his head involuntarily. You held onto his hair and gave it a little pressure, holding his skull in your hands as he filled you with his spent pleasure, his cock throbbing, pulsing rope after rope of hot come into your belly, frothing and foaming around the base of his shaft as he fucked you through it. 

20 MINUTES LATER

You were so worried that his friends would make some sort of comment. As you walked back to the coffee shop, tucked under his heavy arm, you prepared for the playful banter and the jeering. His mohawk was destroyed, and you were both glowing with a sheen of sweat, matching in your states. You knew that they knew. You could also tell that Johnny was bracing himself for the worst, steeling his resolve before entering the cafe. And you thought you would get, at the very least, some mention of how long it had taken to get your bags. But, when you made it to the coffee shop, they didn’t say a word. They smiled, and although they smiled knowingly, there was more affection in it than mischief. It shocked you. After all the ribbing from before, to have none now seemed like some kind of gift. When Johnny realized they were going to let him keep his prize for himself, uncontested, he began to glow with pride as much as pleasure. 

The ride was not quiet, though. All of their stories from Urzikstan and its many dangers started to come out. Price told you about how Gaz and Ghost were almost incinerated in a cobalt mine, and Johnny was showing off his newest badge - a retro SAS pin Price had given him for rescuing the other two from said mine. The blue wings and the motto surrounded a bright sword.

“Who dares, wins?” You asked, trying to see the words in the dark backseat. 

Ghost, who had needed to sit in the front with Johnny because of his height, nodded, taking the pin back from you to admire it.

“Well deserved,” Price commented beside you. 

“Sounds like it,” you agreed. 

Johnny had been so sweet to you after his ferocious lovemaking, you thought all the medals in the world might not be enough to thank the man. No one had ever been so kind nor so attentive. Most of the time, you and whatever lad would clean up separately, maybe watch a show or two and then say your goodbyes. Not Johnny. He spent most of his time admiring your body, making sure you were intact and unharmed. Then, after covering you up with your softest throw, he came back with a hot towel and cleaned you up meticulously. He lay beside you until you felt good enough to get dressed, and still as you were putting your hair up, he made you a tea and finished packing your bag with the things you’d forgotten; your vitamins on the counter and your phone charger. 

When you came out of the bathroom, he had stripped your sheets and put them in the hamper, and Marlowe’s food timer had been set. Her litter box was clean, and the automated litter keeper was reset. You wondered fleetingly if he had wiped down the counters as well. 

The drive felt shorter than usual, especially since your thoughts were on other things. But, when you pulled into Old Kilpatrick, Johnny spoke up to the whole car,

“Look, no one says a fuckin’ thing about us to my sister. To anyone, alright? She’ll find out when she’s bloody meant to.”

The men agreed to keep quiet, but Gaz mouthed off beside you, 

“Sure we can keep a secret, Soap, but what about you? I wouldn’t give you a medal for impulse control, mate.”

Johnny eyed him in the rear-view mirror with a stern glare,

“Aye, but then that’s my problem, you daft bastard.”

 Gaz rolled his eyes, grinning all the while. 

By the time you’d arrived, the only open spot to sleep was a big pallet on the floor of the living room. Hamish was the only one awake to welcome you, and he set you up with pillows and blankets to camp out like a row of sardines. 

“Hey, lass,” Hamish told you, “Go sleep with Pigeon. She’d murder me for leaving you on the ground.”

He looked worn out, and although you didn’t mind sleeping on the floor, you didn’t have any real reason to insist. So, you hugged all the boys good night, making sure not to take too long on Johnny’s turn, and retreated to your post. 

Pidge was snoring softly as you entered the room, and you got ready for bed as quietly as you could, plugging in your phone to the nightstand. It buzzed, and you saw his message flash up on the screen:

Mo Chridhe: miss you 

You: i miss you too

Mo Chridhe: im still in a wee shock

You: why

Mo Chridhe: you. cannae believe youre mine

You: i am. and youre mine johnny mactavish.

Mo Chridhe: promise

You: promise

CHRISTMAS MORNING

Waking up with Johnny and sitting around the tree together with your coffee was every bit like Christmas morning as when you were a child. Instead of presents, you were content to sit as close to him as you dared, pretending to be making room for others by finding spots on the floor beside the gifts and stockings. 

All together, it was Johnny, his three soldiers, you, Pidge, Hamish, Hamish’s mum and dad, and Roger. Rodger had crashed on the couch last night, the Hamiltons had taken Johnny’s room, and now you were all crowded up in the small den, passing gifts around and chatting as you opened your presents. There weren’t many, but it was enough to feel like a holiday. 

Roger got the Playstation he’d been begging for from his brother, and his parents had bought him the games. Pidge had given Johnny a new set of headphones since his had melted in the cobalt mining fire. She also got him a pound of her shortbread cookies, which he was stuffing into his mouth with absolute abandon. He’d bought her a tea set off her wedding registry, and Hamish had landed a very aggressive knife from him. The professor was already being given a tutorial by Captain Price, and you tried not to laugh as he practiced stabbing the air with him in the kitchen. Price was scary when he did it, but Hamish looked downright silly. 

“Okay, alright. My turn. Here,” you gave out your cards to everyone in attendance, but pulled out a box for Pidge. 

“What did you do! I told you not to, hen. I am going to give you a laldy, and you’d deserve it!” She hugged you around the neck and jiggled the box. 

Satisfied with the rattle, she tore into the paper and gingerly lifted off the lid. Inside, she saw the MacTavish tartan, woven into a full shawl, embroidered with a tiny pigeon in the corner, just for her. She inspected it with wonder, her breath fully stolen away. 

“Did you… You made this? Are you doin’ your weavin’ again, babe? I thought you gave it up.”

You shrugged,

“I found a reason to give it one last shot.”

Pidge started to cry real, honest tears, and she reached out for you, clutching the shawl to her chest, sobbing, 

“Thank you, hen. Thank you so much. After they buried mum in hers, and I didn’t… I couldn’t touch it anymore, I just…”

You held her and rocked her back and forth, smiling at her outpouring of love,

“I know, babe. I remember you saying so. But, now you’ve got one of your own.”

For a moment, you stole a glance at Johnny. The whole room was a little moved by your gesture, but he looked… unwell. He was standing behind everyone, and you were the only one looking at him. His hand was clasped over his mouth, and he had tears coming from his eyes, unblinking, letting them roll down his cheeks one after the other, staring at you, frozen in place. He was so unsettled that, for a moment, you thought you’d made some error. But, as Pidge recovered, so did he, and he wiped his face to return to normal; putting on a mask of an expression, hiding whatever he had just shown you. 

“You’re the best damn friend I’ve ever had, hen. And I love you. Dearly.”

“I love you too, Pidge.”

“Here, here, open mine! It’s not as braw as all tha’ you did, but still.”

You were handed a gift bag, and you peeked inside. You found a book of poetry with some incredible illustrations inside, and a charm necklace with a silver boar hanging from it. 

“It’s our wee clan beastie. You may as well be a MacTavish by now, hen. So, I thought you should have it.”

You smiled, letting her put it on you. Then, you hugged her tight, 

“You don’t know what that means to me, Pidge.”

Pidge laughed through dried tears, still emotional,

“Ha! Says you, miss weaver. Honestly.”

You let her gush over it a little more before you retreated back to your position beside Johnny. You pulled out the four smaller boxes from your bag and handed them to the soldiers, indiscriminately since they were all alike. 

“What did you do, thief?” Johnny’s voice was low, and he was grinning up at you, staring at you through those dark lashes.

“Open them,” you urged him. 

They did, and one by one they all pulled out small compasses, made with built-in flint strikers, hanging from tied paracord. It was the most tactical practical thing you could find on such short notice, but they all seemed pleased. Gaz shook it at Price, 

“This would’ve been bloody helpful in South Tobraka!”

You laughed, 

“Well, I’m sure it’s a little too low-tech for you, but Merry Christmas anyway.”

“It’s bloody perfect,” Gaz smiled, clapping you on the back. Ghost nodded, and Price hooked it to his lanyard without questioning it. 

Johnny bent over to whisper to you as discreetly as he could, 

“Gotta sneak off to give you mine, lass.”

You smacked him on the arm, whispering back, watching Pidge like a hawk as you did so to make sure she couldn’t see you,

“Don’t be naughty.”

Johnny laughed, 

“No, no. I’m serious.”

“Alright!” Hamish clapped his hands, causing you to jump out of your skin, “Who’s ready for crackers?”

CHRISTMAS NIGHT

You and Johnny were curled up on the couch with a steaming cup of sweet wassail, scrolling through the photos you’d taken that night. You popped two crackers together, pulling out your paper crowns, your gold and his blue, snapping selfies and reading the jokes to each other. Everyone was in their crowns by the end of the night, and while Price smoked cigars on the porch with Gaz and Ghost, Pidge and Hamish had driven his parents and brother home. 

You were finally alone after having such a full house, and your gift for him was burning a hole in your bag. You were dying to give it to him, but he beat you to the punch.

“Alright, mèirleach, are you ready for your wee gift? It’s probably gonna earn me extra PT for a few months, but it’s worth it.”

“Why?” You asked, setting your cup down on the end table and turning your body towards him. 

“‘Cause I’m not even supposed to have these off-duty, much less hand them over to my American lassie.”

Johnny dug into the neckline of his shirt and pulled out the dog tags that you had encountered last night when he took you to bed. The coin jangled on the chain as he pulled it over his head, and like a medal for an award you had not won, he looped it behind your neck, letting the coin fall between your breasts, still warm from his body and now warm from yours. 

You pulled it up to read its stamp, staring at the words:

O POS 2073521 MACTAVISH SAS RC

“Wanted you to have it, lass. A wee piece of me to keep safe, if you will.”

It was hard to know why you started crying, but you felt the searing tears fall down your cheeks as you stared at the tag. His blood type was what started it all, and you began to imagine all of the times that this thin coin would have warranted such a label. 

“It’s alright, mèirleach, if you dinnae —”

“No,” you raised your hand to his face, closing your other hand around the coin and pulling it in to your chest, eager to keep it safe just as he had asked, “Thank you, Johnny. I love it.”

He turned his face toward your hand as you caressed his scruffy jaw, and kissed your palm, holding your hand with his so you couldn’t escape. 

“I got you something, too. But, it’s small, and now I’m afraid you won’t have anything to hang it on.”

You dug in your bag and pulled out a small cardboard box with a thin red string tied around it. There was no card, there was no name printed on it, but he knew it was him nonetheless. He took it from you, almost snatching it, excited and surprised, not waiting for it to be given. 

“Thief! You didnae have to do that,” he was grinning, and his eyes gleamed, full of sudden joy. 

You’d found an old locket at the charity shop, and your gift had fit inside perfectly. When he opened the clasp, he froze. You’d use a scrap of the shawl that you’d woven for Pidge and cut a little circle from it, embroidering a tiny map of Scotland over the threads, planting a little red heart over what was almost Glasgow. 

“Mo mèirleach…”

“Mo chridhe.”

As soon as you said his name, his eyes found yours and he leaned in to kiss you, clutching the locket in his fist, tight, tight, tight. 

BEFORE DAWN

That night, in his bed, smelling his oranges and cloves, his scent filling your nose, covering you with his sheets, you lay buried in his chest where his tags used to lie, your cheek now warming the skin beneath. You imagined the compasses that dangled from the four sets of keys strewn across the kitchen counter. You thought about the shawl that was wrapped around his sister as she slept in her bed. Holding his locket in your hand, you ran your fingertips over its tartan, borne of the same threads as hers. You wondered about tomorrow, and the day after that, and the year ahead of you, and you felt a tightness in your own chest as you considered the timeline stretching out before you, woven from the choices you and your lover had made together. It was as if you had altered fate’s plan somehow, shunning your intended path and forging one of your own making. What future had you created? Did you have the guile to craft the right course? You held his hand, his fingers laced between yours, and whichever way you went, you hoped that he would be braving it with you.

[flammingnachos]

“𝘱𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘴“ 𝗄𝖺𝗍𝗌𝗎𝗄𝗂 𝖻𝖺𝗄𝗎𝗀𝗈𝗎 𝗑 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 （𝘔）

𝖲𝗒𝗇𝗈𝗉𝗌𝗂𝗌；Katsuki Bakugou is your teacher - and maybe a little more. You push his buttons just a LITTLE too hard one day. Remember to stay quiet, this is a library after all．．．

．

Sighing to yourself as your foot lightly tapped the metal leg of your desk, your thoughts pondered on what you could do at lunch.

You could wander around the grounds and find a nice spot under a tree and advance your quirk? Maybe you could huddle into the food court with the other UA students? or lastly, there was the library. You still had a paper to write for Mr Kirishima, which was due in 2 days, so that option deemed most wise. Yay.

You had completely zoned out now and unaware of the imposing presence towering you, until a cough broke your chain of thought.

"Miss [ l /n ], my class really that boring huh?" The gruff voice of your homeroom teacher spoke.

A little surprised, you looked up at him and mustered an apologetic smile.

"Sorry Mr Bakugou. I... Er..."

He looked pissed. Not full on angry, but pissed enough that his lips pouted slightly. Wow, he really did seem like a child at times, you thought.

"Lunch, be here." was all he said before making his way back to the front. "Anybody else want to not fucking pay attention whilst I speak?" his dark eyes scanned the class, and everyone hushed. No one dared even breathe too hard when he almost scrutinized everyone like this.

"Good." He said firmly and carried on with the discussion you had not been tuned into earlier; although now, since his overpowering aura still lingered around you, he had your full attention.

* * *

The bell rang out for lunch, and Mrs Izuku smiled warmly before dismissing the class, and reminded everybody to fill out their sidekick applications. As third years, now was the time to think about becoming a sidekick. Everybody would be scrambling for the top 10, and you had your eyes on a particular hot headed pro; Katsuki Bakugou.

It was rumoured he was leaving UA after you graduated to keep up his pro status. After pro heros Deku and Shoto dommed the top two spots, The explosive pro hero Bakugou took time out to help the up coming stars. It didn't seem like something of his character, but it was also rumoured he had been bribed by an old time hero, Eraserhead.

Either way, you had your sights set. He was exceptionally powerful, he had morals and knew how to get a job done; albeit he was a little rough around the edges, he noticed your quirk and even made a point of saying how strong you are. He said you had potential to be great, and since that encounter, you've wanted nothing but to be along side him. So, his retirement from teaching after only 3 years was a blessing.

You'd sat back at your desk and was waiting for Mr Bakugou to return for your...detention? He didn't explicitly say that, but it seemed to be what he was aiming at.

The classroom door opened, and as if he'd just been reading your mind, in walked Mr grumpy pants himself. His crimson eyes looked over at you, and he stood at the front, shoulders back and almost looking down his nose at you. Why was he so attractive?

"So, zoning out in my class is more fun for you, huh?" He spoke, his booming voice bouncing off the walls and causing you to flinch in your seat. He wasn't exactly scary to you, just, his aura screamed power, and when his moods were foul, he could be intimidating.

"N-no sir. Unfortunately being seated next to the window causes my mind to wonder. I'm kinda hopeless..." You rubbed the back of your neck and smiled at him, hoping he'd take it.

"Not good enough." he barked, walking toward you. He stopped a couple feet in front of your desk. Hands sunk into his trouser pockets, an arch on his brow as his top lip curled. "I expect your undivided attention, and as you want to become my sidekick, I expected more from you."

That stung.

"Hey, that's not fair!" you protested. You had a lot on your mind with the end of the year not too far away, exams, and project papers to hand in. Besides, it was him who told you to advance your quirk.

"Don't bullshit me [f/n]. Are you serious about becoming my sidekick?" He was frowning now, and boy did it look good from this angle.

"Of course!"

"Then fucking act like it!"

You huffed, turning to face out of the window. You knew he was your teacher, and that he had no choice but to ride your ass every once in a while, but he was also your (sort of) boyfriend, and this was cutting close.

"Katsuki.... you're not being fair." You spoke softly, and he knew just by the tone that you were upset.

His demeanor softened, and he looked around to make sure no one was looking, even if the classroom was empty aside from you two. Sighing, he sat himself on your desk, and looked down at you.

"I'm sorry..." It almost sounded like a struggle for him to say, but came out in one piece none the less; definitely an improvement from the first time he had to apologise for upsetting you.

"I'm not hard on you, not compared to others. I want you as my fucking sidekick, but you have to give it your all in classes too. I used to think I knew it all, but fuck, once I stepped out into the real world, it bit my ass." He reached out, and gently cupped your cheek, forcing you to look up at him. "I don't want you to get out there and fuck it up. You have to be good on paper too."

"I know..." Your voice was soft. Too soft in fact, and his expression was void of all anger from just moments ago. You rubbed your face against his open palm. There was nothing more attractive than a bad boy, who was only good to you.

"I want to be your sidekick, it's just, the last year is tough.... I know I'm getting distracted, but I will not let my grades slip. I made you a promise..." Your eyes locked on his, and it seemed like he was searching them for a flicker of regret in your words.

The corner of his mouth twitched into a lopsided grin, and he leaned closer to you. Your heart squeezed; his more gentle side was deadly.

"Then focus in my class, dumb ass." His breath ghosted against your lips as he spoke, and you couldn't wait any longer. He was teasing you, and you had to bite back.

Closing the inch gap, you pressed your lips to his and kissed him slowly. He shifted a little from where he sat, and his other hand came up to grip the back of your hair. Mr Bakugou was rough at many things, and kissing was certainly one of them. He dominated over you, and forced his tongue into your mouth. You moaned, allowing him all the access he desired, and attempted to lift yourself in your seat, curling your fingers in his shirt, and pulling him closer. Closer. I want him closer.

Katsuki noticed your need, and broke away from the kiss, his forehead pressed against yours.

"Later." he panted, his voice husk with arousal. "Now get out of here before I forget where we are, and fuck you."

You moaned at the thought, but knew better. He had a job he needed to keep, and also a reputation. Pecking his lips, you got up from your seat and placed your bag strap on your shoulder.

"See you later." You faked innocence, and before you could get away from him, he reached over and spanked you. You let out a small yelp and your face flamed. He was wearing his fuckable half grin, and you struggled to walk out of that classroom without pouncing on him

You had opted to go to the cafeteria instead of the library to do your paper. You had 30 minutes to eat, no thanks to a certain someone, and there was the option of getting on with Mr Kirishima's work during free period later on.

You managed to get something to eat and spotted your friends at a table. During the time of you lining up and getting to your seat, Mr Bakugou had entered the lunch hall, and your eyes immediately locked. You had given him a small smile, and he gave a subtle nod. It was a modest exchange considering you'd just almost been dry humping.

Now seated with your friends, you had began eating whilst they talked. They had finished before you even sat down, but that didn't bother them or you much.

Yumi, the lively brunette to your left, was nit picking at her crush, a raven haired boy named Hiroshi, sat facing her. They bickered back and forth, which caused you to giggle. Atsushi, the pale blue haired male to your right leaned in closer to you.

"They're like an old married couple, aren't they?" His voice hushed just for you to hear. You turned to face him and nodded, laughing as you did.

"I don't get how they can't see it themselves." You shrugged, turning your back on the practically married duo.

Atsushi was fairly tall, and a kind person. His quirk was Giant, and his dream was to become a sidekick to depend on. You had talked in length with him about him becoming pro, but it just wasn't in his stars, or atleast that's what he would say. You got along well, and it dawned on you after Katsuki had pointed it out, that he had a crush on you. But that didn't stop your friendship, much to the fiery blondes dismay. Plus, you enjoyed how jealous the older man got over it.

"So Kirishima's paper, have you started that yet?" Atsushi quizzed, knowing the answer already of course.

"Well, you see, it's a working progress." You laughed, and he shook his head. Reaching out his hand, he ruffled your hair and sighed, feigning frustration.

"Whatever will we do with you." He poked your nose and you let out a small giggle. Then you felt the need to look over past Hiroshi, and Katsuki's ruby eyes bore into you. Knowing full well the reason, you were more than relieved when the bell rang to call everyone into their classes. He tore his gaze away, got to his feet and left the mess hall. Your heart sank a little; he didn't smirk or give a 'I'll-make-you-pay-for-that' look like he usually would. Maybe you had over stepped the mark this time?

You said your goodbyes to Yumi, Hiroshi and Atsushi, promising to meet up after school to walk home together. The trio belonged to class 3-C , whilst you homed class 3-B. It sucked being the only one left out, but there was nothing you could do about that. Besides, he was your teacher next period, and your gut felt heavy with a bad feeling.

You entered the room, Katsuki was at his desk leaning on his hand, calling out names of the class to check everyone was present. He didn't bother even looking in your direction as you crossed the room to your seat at the window, and set yourself up.

Finishing the attendance register, he got to his feet and walked to stand before the class, again not even looking in your direction once. This was bad. He began his lesson, he spoke and acted like normal, only he avoided choosing you to answer when you had put up your hand, and also didn't pick you to answer any on the spot questions.

You grew agitated; how could he be acting so childish? he is a teacher for crying out loud.

"Sir!" You said a little too loudly, and everyone, including Katuski, looked at you confused.

"What?" He replied with his usual bluntness.

Shrinking back into your chair, you shook your head and looked away from him and around at the other students still watching you. A couple girls at the back started to laugh, and you'd never felt so embarrassed.

"I aint got all day [l/n], wanna get on with it?" his tone was assertive and you flushed from it.

"Sorry sir. I've forgot." You managed, still sunken into your chair.

Katuski tsk'd and then carried on, ignoring you once again.

"Thanks for today, and don't forget to actually do something fucking productive with your free period.." Mr Bakugou stated, his deep voice sounding almost lazily when he spoke.

"Yes sir!" The class unitedly exclaimed, and with that he went to sit back at his desk.

You watched him, and when he looked up at you, you quickly turned away. Two can play that game, sir.

You heard him tsk as you left, but honestly, at this point you didn't care. He had no right to get so annoyed, and even though you admittedly enjoyed his petty jealous side, ignoring you was another level.

* * *

The library was quiet considering it was a free period, but with it being a beautiful summer day, people likely opted to study outside, or go home. Sighing, you wished you had that kind of self control. If you were to leave early, there was no way this paper would get done, and you'd have to spend lunch time tomorrow starting it. No, this had to get done. That way you could submit it early, and Katsuki would know how determined you are to keep getting better.

You had become engrossed with your writing, and hardly realised almost an hour had passed. Stretching, you groaned lazily at the tingling feeling, and slumped over the mass of paper spread all over the desk. You were actually half way through and found it surprisingly easy. Mr Kirishima wasn't a devil, so his assignments never took too long to complete. You just had a hard time getting started was all.

The door for the library suddenly opened and closed, and you turned to see if you could see someone through the shelves. There was only you and the lady way back at the front desk, it would be nice if one of your friends came in to keep you company - but you saw no body, which wasn't a shocker considering you were pretty much buried in the middle of the monstrous room. Facing your paper again, you decided to read over it before calling it a day and going home.

Absorbed in your homework, you didn't even sense the person coming behind you, and didn't realise until a hand was cupping your face and turning you to look upward.

You almost screamed and fought, but then caught ruby red eyes and a smug smirk.

"What the fu-" You began protesting, before Katsuki quickly closed the gap and pressed his lips to yours.

"Shh, or the hag at the front will hear you and think you're under attack." He let go of your face, but still remained imposingly over you. You narrowed your eyes at him, and pushed his hand away.

"Now you want to speak to me, hmm." You challenged.

"What are you talking about? You're the one flirting with a giant toothpick!" He countered, and you pressed a finger to your lips signalling him to hush. He huffed at that and rolled his eyes, clearly exasperated, but you wouldn't budge on this, he was acting a tool. Crossing your arms defensively over your chest, you stuck up your chin and raised an eyebrow.

"You're acting like a jealous child."

"Yeah, fucking sue me." He scoffed, his usual pissed off pout on his face and his eyes narrowed dangerously at you. "I'll go flirt with hag lady at the desk, how about that."

You gave him a once over and got up out of your chair, forcing him to take a step back and slammed your book shut, then huddled the scattered pieces of papers together.

"Y'know what Katsuki, I'm not doing this. Go take a damn chill pill, and then come speak to me." You said, trying to gather your stuff together. His hand then came in contact with the book you were about to pick up, keeping it firmly on the table.

"Don't piss me off." He warned, but you had had enough of his shit for today.

"Or what?"

With your threat came a punishment; but an extremely satisfying one.

Katsuki had you pinned against a ceiling high bookcase in a matter of seconds, his tongue hungrily wanting access to your mouth. You denied him, until his hand came up to clasp firmly around your throat, squeezing just enough for you to open your mouth for him. He smirked into the kiss, as arousal churned in your stomach.

Was he really going to do this here?! The answer to your unasked question, yes, yes he was.

His free hand roamed down your back and to your butt. He worked under your skirt and grabbed a handful of your ass. You moaned softly against his mouth, which earned you another slight squeeze from the hand around your throat, like he was making sure you stayed quiet. You felt a finger gently start to stroke you from under your skirt; your eyes shot open to look at the older man, who was already staring down at you. He pulled away from your lips, his mouth hanging open just a little as he whispered 'shh'.

Nodding your understanding, he had moved his fingers into your panties from behind, shifting so he could get easier access when needed. You arched forward, hand gripping onto his shirt and fisting into the fabric. All that could be heard was your slick wetness as his fingers picked up speed rubbing your clit, and your hushed gasps of pleasure.

"Fuck. You're pretty dirty huh [f/n], getting excited in a place like this." You could hear the smug smile in his voice, but the sensation kept you from biting at him. You nodded, biting your lip and placed a hand on his arm for support. How're you this worked up already from just being stroked by him?

He gave a satisfied hum, and slid a finger inside of you, which in addition caused you to gasp a little louder. Your mouth now hanging open, he grinned and pecked your cheek.

"Shh, baby." The husk of his voice made you wetter.

The closed in area, the heat, the pleasure, everything about this situation was filthy in the best way imaginable. You'd never have pegged him for an exhibitionist either.

Your head dropped to hang, and you reached out to place your hand on the bookcase in front of you. He'd added another finger as you'd been in your thoughts, and the sound of him pushing in and out of you grew louder as his pace quickened. Staying quiet was a struggle now, the pleasure growing more intense. The mere smell of his cologne was making you horny.

"Kat-suu-ki.." You managed between breaths, in an attempt to not be louder that necessary.

"What?" Same bluntness as always, even in moments like these.

"I want y-you now..." Your voice was meek, but demanding. If he didn't take you now, you'd go insane.

His fingers still working you, curling and lightly rubbing at that blissful spot inside you, he thoughtfully hummed. You moaned shakily, giving a small whine as you did to edge on his decision.

"P-please." You begged, the knot growing in your abdomen.

With that, he pulled out his fingers without warning, and ripped down your skirt, your panties following. He was on his knee's now, his hands running up and down your sides, inner thighs, your ass; he bit and sucked against the skin of your hip, groaning his approval of your slickness as his fingers ghosted your vagina.

He got to his feet, unbuttoning his shirt, as you helped with his pants. You left them hanging open, and he lowered you at the waist, face pressing against the cooling surface of the wooden library table. He looked around, making sure to check through the gaps and up and down the isle. Clear. He readied his cock in his hand, and ran the other up your back, causing you to arch at the touch. Once meeting your neck, he grabbed a fistful of your hair and slowly pushed himself in. He didn't edge, he just slowly went straight to the hilt. You inhaled deeply, feeling the delicious type of full you loved, and gripped onto the table edge with your left hand, the other palm down next to your face.

He let you get used to him for a moment, then began thrusting punishingly into you. The table creaked under the weight of you both, and the forcefullness of him. You almost swore he wanted you to get caught. You could feel the soft fabric of his trousers against your bare ass, and for some reason it turned you on more; he'd never fucked you with clothes on before. It was hot as hell.

Katsuki buried himself inside you repeatedly, with as much power as his explosive fire blasts. He wasn't just an animal when it came to his quirk. You became neglectful of your surroundings, and a moan escaped as you tried to lift yourself slightly from the table, arching your back as Katsuki pulled on your hair. He leaned over, his top half still clad in his shirt, and pressed against your back, causing you to yet again use the table as a pillow. He groaned breathlessly against your ear,

"Quiet. This is a library after all." He growled lowly, and still mercilessly thrust into you.

At this point, you wondered if it mattered. There was no one here, and even if there was, they would certainly know what was going on by now. The lewd slapping of skin against skin, the creaking of the table, the hushed breaths and odd muffled moan from being held down. For good measure though, you brought your hand over to cover your own mouth, and closed your eyes tight as the knot tightened inside of you. Mr Bakugou hit the sweet spot inside of you and your legs buckled; thank god for that table.

You bit down on your lip and a smothered moan left your wracked body. You breathlessly tried to gather yourself as Katsuki fucked you through your orgasm, and then his own. He had withdrawn from leaning against you and was stood straight, shoulders back as he brusingly gripped your waist. He gave one last thrust then came to a halt, panting heavily.

You had fixed yourself and watched the handsome blonde man as he did too. He ran his fingers through his hair to give it his signature spikiness; it had dampened to his head in the front from your session, which you quietly thought looked adorable. Katsuki stood in front of you, looking down at his hand as he opened then clenched it into a fist, you tilted your head questioningly at him.

"Just aches from, that." He stated simply, and you nodded. Sometimes during your intimate moments he would release his quirk, but since he almost burned you that one time, he now has to fight not to. It hurt him sometimes, but he'd go blow off some steam in the gym after school.

Mr Bakugou leaned over and pressed a kiss to your forehead, and with a half smile, shoved his hands into his pockets and turned to walk away.

"Get home safe. I'll see you tomorrow in class."

"User!" You yelled at him playfully, which earned you the middle finger as he took a turn heading out of the library. You giggled to yourself then jumped off the table; bad move. Your legs still shaky, you quickly looked at the clock. SHIT. Yumi, Hiroshi and Atsushi were likely waiting for you at the gates. There was no choice, you had to persevere.

* * *

"Hey [f/n], you're late?" Yumi questioned, whilst both her and Hiroshi looked you over quizzically. "Why're you so red?"

"Fever?" Atsushi pitched in, to which you gave a nod.

"I fell asleep in the library and woke up like this. It's nothing to worry over though!" You said, waving your hands in front of your face to fan yourself. That seemed to stow them. Yumi latched onto your arm and began dragging you along, your Bambi like legs still unsteady, it took all your might not to fall.

You had started walking off of the school premisis, and turned to look over your shoulder. You caught Mr Bakugou getting into his car, he lifted his head up and you gave him a smile, which he returned in a ridicuously handsome fashion. Your attention turning back to your friends, and you thought about how if they knew what you had been up to just a few moments earlier, they would definitely have heart attacks.

You could feel the heat of a bruise blossoming on your hips from his vice like grip, and your insides tingled at the memory. You knew having a relationship with your teacher wasn't exactly good, but like Katsuki had told you once before; when you become his sidekick, everything will be fine and you could be together openly.

Your heart swelled at the thought, and you then went on to enjoy the rest of your evening with your friends; even if you had jelly legs.

[fictoculus]

౨ৎ they find you crying...

send a request!┊masterlist┊taglist applications

FEAT... venti, cyno, itto, tighnari

A/N... i just wanted to put in a little message to say how greatful i am for all the love and support! it genuinely brings a smile to my face reading what you guys write when you repost one of my works. also, please don't be shy and send me some requests! i want to make sure i'm making content that people will enjoy and am struggling to think of interesting concepts ♡

WARNINGS... references to low mental health (venti)

✧ venti.

♪ you'd been feeling low for a while now, spending your days alone at stormbearer point, losing yourself in you thoughts as you gaze absentmindedly at the scenery below you

♪ venti would be more than just concerned, though he may be completely oblivious at first; it takes him a while to notice how you're truly feeling

♪ when he does, he feels an ache in his heart, he scolds himself for not noticing sooner

♪ he's sure to shower you in gifts, whether they be big or small, and always make sure to spend quality time with you, refusing to leave until he sees that beautiful smile of yours

stormbearer point was... somewhat comforting. the soft, gentle breeze brushing against you as you dangle your feet off the edge, though you weren't swinging you legs in joy as you usually would. instead, they dangled freely off the edge, swaying only when the wind willed them to. contrary to the environment around you, your life for the past few weeks had been anything but pretty. it felt as if the flowers of your mind had wilted, leaving you with the shrivelled stems as you desperately buried them over and over, praying to the gods that some miracle would make them sprout once more.

your beloved, venti, had been completely oblivious to your state of mind, thanks to your ability to mask your emotions; though you'd hoped that, even then, he would've been able to see past your facade. only now, 3 weeks later, does he finally notice the dullness in your eyes as he gazes into them, holding your cheeks in his hands to stop you from turning away.

while you had been completely lost in your thoughts, he had seen you perched upon the edge, slowly lowering himself down to sit beside you and snaking an arm around your waist. his eyebrows furrow as he feels your body tremble against him, followed by shallow sobs and quiet sniffles; his heart shattered. how hadn't he noticed that you, the love of his life, hadn't truly been feeling the joy he had falsely seen in your broken smile?

from that point onwards, the bard made sure to keep his eye on you, watching you from afar as you spent time alone, making sure to take you to your favourite cafe atleast once a week. he'd also shower you in gifts, whether it be a dandelion he had found on his adventures, or a hat he'd bought from a merchant that he thought would compliment you perfectly (though he thinks you look simply stunning in anything and everything).

✧ cyno.

♪ cyno being cyno, he'd most likely tell you the "best" jokes he can think of, knowing they always make you smile (mostly for the wrong reasons...)

♪ as soon as he finds you huddled up in the corner, sobbing into your knees as you cradle them into your chest, he instantly questions you; wondering who would dare hurt his beloved, he is the general mahamatra after all...

♪ naturally, his immediate thought is to track down the perpatrator and administer judgement just like he would with any other criminal, but it comes to his realisation that this isn't just any old criminal, it's someone that had hurt you

life can be... overwhelming sometimes, something cyno knows well. yes, administering judgement does bring a sense of pride, but being face-to-face with so many wrong-doers can really be damaging. that's why his level of understanding is so deep, he can really empathise with what your feeling, though sometimes he struggles to comfort others.

so, when he finds you curled up in the corner, trembling as you pull your knees closer to your chest, he finds himself frozen to the spot.

"did they hear me come in? i don't think they did... how am i suppossed to announce myself without scaring them?"

he ends up making a fool of himself.

his first idea is to clear his throat, but because he didn't want to frighten you (worried that you'd jump and hit your head on the wall you were propped up against), his coughs ended up being far too quiet to overpower your sobs. his "back-up plan" was to simply walk over and hug you, placing a hand behind your head and pulling you into his chest, shushing every so often and rocking the two of you from side to side.

you sat their for a good 5 minutes, not saying a word to each other but basking in the comfortable silence. being wrapped in his arms alone is more than enough comfort; his warmth lulling you to sleep as your eyes flutter shut.

crying can take a lot of energy, and so it's only natural for you to dose off once the stress that's been bothering you all day finally leaves you in peace.

the general feels your head fall limp on his shoulder, your sniffling eventually silencing as you relax against him. gently, he lifts you up from the floor, carrying you to the bed and carefully setting you down before climbing in beside you.

"goodnight, my love, we'll talk about it tomorrow, ok?"

✧ itto.

♪ itto is very energetic, and thrilled at the idea of adventure (and beetles). so, when he hears you sniffling behind the door of your shared bedroom, he assumes you've come down with a cold and bursts into the room with boxes upon boxes of tissues and cold medicine

♪ only when he sees your face wet with tears does he realise, you're crying

♪ call him overdramatic, but he literally drops everything and rushes over to you, tackling you backwards onto the bed and squeezing the sadness out of you

"3... 2... 1..."

with a loud thud, your shared bedroom door is flung open and an eager oni jumps through, arms full of sickness necessities (including a mountain of snacks to fulfill any and all possible cravings).

"[name]! i heard you sniffling soooo... i brought tissues and cold medicine and chocolate and- babe?"

your scans your face, staring at you longingly until he finally catches your eyes, red and puffy. you can see the way his heart shattered just by the way he looks at you; a small, almost unnoticeable, crease between his eyebrows expressing his concern.

"c'mere..."

despite asking you to hug him, he charges right at you, the shock briefly stopping your tears as his tackles you backwards and onto the bed. as soon as he's comfortably ontop of you, he kisses your face all over, slightly rougher on your cheeks but feather-light on your eyelids, which were squeezed shut. satisfied, he gives you one final kiss on the lips before burying his face in the crook of your neck and hugging you tight; as if he was trying to squeeze the sadness out of you.

"what's got you all upset, hm? wanna talk about it?"

and so you talk, explaining how everything had gone wrong that day, impersonating the vendor you had "argued" with as itto listens carefully, refraining himself from interrupting you no matter how tempting it may be. only once you had finished does he share his input, reassuring you that you weren't in the wrong and practically yelling in frustration at how unprofessional and rude the vendor had been.

he even offered to cook for the two of you, though you ended up ordering becaue this man cannot cook to save his life. that's ok though, it's the thought that counts.

✧ tighnari.

♪ tighnari, being a forest ranger, is not often home during the day, meaning collei would be the one to find you crying

♪ she would rush off to find tighnari almost immediately, who, conventiantly, is only a minutes walk outside gandharva ville, observing the wellbeing of the flora and fauna of sumeru

♪ the two of them would come running within minutes, tighnari panting as he bursts into your shared home with look of pure worry plastered onto his face

♪ simply talking with eachother provided you with more than enough comfort, hence why the two of you spent hours just talking, snuggled up close under the cover and discussing whatever came to mind

you try your best to muffle your sobs, hands clasping over your mouth as you squeeze your eyes shut in an attempt to stop the tears from falling. tighnari wasn't home, and the last thing you'd want is for collei to hear you (since you're a somewhat parental figure to her).

however, things don't always go to plan.

as if fate itself was against you, a rhythmic knock echoes throughout yours and tighnari's shared home, one you know far too well. you curse under your breath, rubbing your face down messily with your hands before scrambling to the door. you take a deep breath before pulling it open, greeting collei with a warm smile, like you always do. you do everything in your power to keep your composure, to stop your voice from wavering as you spoke, but your attempts were proven futile.

"[name]? a- are you doing ok? your eyes are all red..."

that was all it took for you to break down.

poor collei is strucken with pure panic; she has never seen you like this before and genuinely doesn't know how to help you. there's only one solution she can come up with: tighnari.

before you could even attempt to mutter an apology, the greenette is practically sprinting towards the forest, yelling over her shoulder:

"i'll be right back!"

tighnari, thankfully, was only a couple minute's walk outside of gandharva ville, studying the wellbeing of the sumeru's flora and fauna. attatched to his satchel is a small drawstring pouch, where he collects fallen petals or damaged flowers, later drying or pressing them and gifting them to you as a substitute for the traditional bouquet.

"collei?"

his ears perk up at the sound of collei barging past the dense bushes and shrubbery, only to immediately drop down as collei explains how you'd burst into tears, panting heavily from the long run.

without hesitation, the ranger messily packs his belongings before sprinting in the village's direction, wasting no time before bursting through the front door and throwing himself onto you, enveloping you in his comforting warmth. the two of you would just stand in the doorway for a few minutes, holding onto eachother tightly. you gripped onto the back of his shirt as if he was your lifeline. in a way, he was.

"i'm so sorry i wasn't here, sweetheart. next time this happens, you come find me, ok?"

he peppers you with kisses, mainly on your forehead and nose, eventually dragging you to the bedroom where the two of you cuddle until the sun sets, not wanting to fall asleep but instead just talk about anything and everything.

"we only need to talk about it if you want to, okay? i love you, [name], i will always be here"

thanks for reading ♡ want to read more? would you like a part II? let me know! my requests are OPEN, so please feel free to let me know what you'd like me to write next!

© FICTOCULUS 2023; please do not steal, translate, or repost my works as your own

[garagepaperback]

fulfilment

“Do you think it’s worth it?”

“Do I think what's worth it?” Malfoy is in the middle of the bed like it’s a pedestal built just for him, lean and still spread out. He’s twenty-two minutes into a thirty-eight minute process involving his fingernails. Harry’s got his feet propped up on the desk but the apathy of the pose doesn't seem to be taking. 

He gestures.

“You do this, you know.” Draco says, not having bothered to look up.

“Do what?” Harry asks. He leans back, the chair protesting.

“Go back to the dregs of a conversation from three days ago as though it’s a perfectly normal tendency.”

Harry bites his lip, considering, but not about that. "It felt unfinished.”

“You stopped talking.” Draco replies, smooth. He's doing the whole nail thing all by hand. The blunt tip of a wand isn’t sensitive enough, he'd explained the first time. Funny to think of magic not being sensitive, of Draco being so acutely careful about something Harry sees as mostly pointless. Though that's being eroded recently along with a few other things - he's not ever going to be concerned with the application of varnish on his own keratin, but he's at least recently stopped being annoyed to even know the word. Maybe if an instrument is held softly enough it becomes something else, gets to grow deeper than blunt usefulness.

Harry hums and then says the thing he avoided saying days ago.

“I don’t know if it will work.”

And, what a misleadingly uncomplicated term - only two lean lines huddled together. Do the mean jab and the quick strike sustain a distance between the i and the t? Will that always be part of it?

It eclipses, blocking out an enormity. Standing for. Heavy and redolent and Harry still doesn’t look directly even though he returns to the bedrock day after day, greedy about the unreal warmth, wanting wanting wanting. Cock-struck, Ron says, but the past month even the frown’s been starting to dissolve, he says it laughing almost. And it's more than that. He's sitting here watching the boring nail thing, for instance.

“What point is there in talking about this.” Malfoy says, holding up the thumb on his left hand for inspection.

Malfoy has this while Harry has it, which Harry thinks means nothing, or means Malfoy keeps the qualifier a little nearer to himself than Harry does, close enough to point at. Under the same sky, at least.

“I don’t know.” Harry rearranges himself, elbows on his knees, holding up his chin. “What if we cock it up?”

Draco’s lip curls up, which Harry suspects is more about the coarse spotlight turned toward the thing between them and not as much a strummed fear of loss, the one that's on of a constant low broil in the moment suspended between Harry's chest and gut. “We probably will.”

“So what’s the point?”

“Come here.” Draco says, glancing up then. He's so handsome there's sort of an ache to look at him, weird and ethereal in the middle of a boring afternoon. He’s pale enough that it makes the world along his edges seem vicious in vividness by comparison. “Let me do yours.”

Up on the bed, Harry lets him. He doesn’t give a shit about fingernails, but supine and barely moving like this, both of them breathing steadily and Draco with his hands over and under and having Harry’s - he thinks maybe here is the holding, this, it, whatever.

“What’s the point of any of it?” Sometimes Harry thinks Draco talks just to linger under the plush shield of his own voice, sometimes Harry thinks he’s really saying something. “Even you don't get to restrain a living thing and demand it stay perfectly still so you can make some notations about the distance from the nose down to the tail. If it's minute or a nice day or a nice few years - a hundred, I don’t know.” Harry looks at him, surprised and Draco hurries past, busily staring at the hand he’s holding. “Not a hundred. Probably two at best.”

Harry laughs.

“But it’s the-” Draco bites his lip, Harry is listening very much. “It’s not about how much. If you’re busy trying to calculate that you’re missing the entire rest of it, the real thing. Isn’t there a phrase? Seeing the eggshell and missing the yolk?”

Harry’s laughing so hard Draco swats his hand to still it. “Oh, definitely not.”

A small, true grin is dawning. “Seeing the skin and missing the organs?”

“You’re disgusting.” Harry’s smiles, too.

“The ineffable stuff, then. I don’t know." Draco’s eyelashes are nearly flush with his cheek, he's talking to the bend of Harry's wrist, the soft curl of his fingers. “Can’t it just be something worthy of awe? Why does it have to be enough?”

“Are you high?" Harry asks, laughing. "Where the fuck did this come from?”

Draco shrugs, Harry's hand still in his. Outside, it’s a really beautiful day, but he’s been forgetting about that, lately. He's finding it increasingly difficult to remind himself of anything else when it feels like the horizon has inverted and lives inside his chest.

Maybe, awe. It seems conceited to demand to know the quantity of a miracle. And who is he to decide a landscape is worth more than a glimpse? 

for day 31 of @microficmay

[karniss-bg3]

i know you usually don't tackle female!tav x kar'niss but if you had to give it a shot... just something wholesome maybe? esp since the Absolute is feminine-coded all throughout the game, the overtones could be there for kar'niss to see a kind good-aligned femme!tav as a goddess to worship all for himself. maybe just a scene of her tending to his wounds or arachnid peculiarities as a drider—i.e: maybe he molts and the process is painful but she helps him through it with comfort and grace?

[Music]

Where had he gone? Morning light had broke and there were no signs of her eight-legged companion. Tav crawled out of her sleeping bag to survey the area with mild concern etched over her face.

“Kar’niss?”

She surveyed the area, her ears coming to perk as she caught the sound of shuffling from a nearby cave. Unafraid she advanced toward the noise, casting the light cantrip in an effort to shoo away the darkness. She’d come to find a figure huddled at the back of the cavern, curled in tight against the rock face in an effort to make himself as small as possible. She frowned while she carefully stepped closer, willing the lights nearer to get a better look at him. She noticed signs of damage along the abdomen of his lower half, the flesh knotting and bunching up unnaturally over the carapace.

“Gods, what’s happening? Are you alright?” She’d ask while trying to wander closer.

“Don’t!” He retreated tighter against the wall wanting to maintain the greatest distance between them. “This is not for you. Go away.”

She could sense the fear in him, the pain. His leg at the far back of his body lifted and curled in a vain attempt to scrape over his molting mound with pathetic results. He snarled in frustration, planting his hands against the wall, his torso slumped. She wouldn’t be intimidated able to see he was in need.

“I’ll be back,” she said, darting off.

In a few moments she returned with pack in hand, placing it down nearby to root around for supplies. Kar’niss’ eyes narrowed as he watched, a deep reverberating trill vibrating within his throat akin to a growl. Tav heard the sound for what it really was, cries from a wounded animal who didn’t know how to ask for aid. She pulled a bottle of light gray paste from her bag, unscrewing the lid and giving it a sniff to make sure the contents were still good. It smelled medicinal, a sharp tang of bitter roots and sap combined to make a potent salve. Satisfied with her test she rose and approached Kar’niss once more.

The drider reared up in response, his pedipalps rising and extending outward in a threatening manner while his two front most legs stamped into the ground with defiance.

“S-Stay away…!” Kar’niss panted, a panic starting to bubble within him. Every woman he’d ever trusted had inevitably hurt him, betrayed him in some way. Used, abused, and discarded when his usefulness had run out, why would Tav be any different?

But Tav was different, even if he could not yet see it. She held up the jar so he could get a better look. The contents were boring, bland and unimpressive in appearance, hardly what one would think could fell a drider.

“It’s medicine, Kar’niss. It will help ease the pain, allow you to heal faster. See?” She used two fingers to scoop up a dollop of the paste, applying the portion onto her own arm and rubbed it in like lotion. Once done she extended her arm so he could see for himself. It looked perfectly normal. Her flesh didn’t melt away, bubble or boil from the application, nor did it turn any unusual colors. The scent was so strong that he got a whiff and his head jerked back in response to how it tickled the inside of his nostrils.

He still seemed hesitant about what was on offer. That is until another pang of pain ripped through his body, his entire frame quaking in response. His expression twisted and teeth grit in anguish.

“Hnnng!” He tried to turn and reach back to touch the pained segment but he couldn’t reach, his spine unable to twist at such an angle. His brows furrowed, his attention returning to Tav who tried so hard to offer him help. With his lips pressed into a thin line a slow sigh spilled from his lips. “You may...apply this medicine. But do not linger!”

She smiled at him. “Thank you. It...might sting a little, but far less so than what you’re enduring now.”

Tav approached his side to get a better look at the damage. It did seem he was molting and only midway through, suggesting this would be a long day. The carapace that had fallen away left tender pink flesh behind, exposed and vulnerable during this stage of the process. She’d first snap away the dead skin that still clung to him, knowing better than to peel beyond that. This process couldn’t be hurried it needed to continue at the pace it was destined to go. Still, she could at least be rid of the excess and provide him relief from the weight.

Kar’niss was on edge throughout, watching over his shoulder at the ready for the flash of a dagger, the buzz of threatening magic, anything she could do to strike at him. None of that would come to pass. Instead with the removal of the discarded carapace she now had access to the fresh skin below. Her fingered dabbled into the salve and applied a coating over the surface. Despite her warning about the inevitable sting, Kar’niss scrambled and backed up into the corner, a monstrous screech echoing throughout the cave.

Tav backed up quickly and held up her hands. “Easy, easy now. Shh it’s alright.” She cooed, her voice maintaining a delicate hum to keep things calm.

A sheen of sweat trickled over Kar’niss’ face along with the threat of tears in his eyes, heavy exhales of breath pushed between his clenched teeth. He was on the verge of snapping at Tav once more until he felt something unexpected; Relief. The salve started to work it’s magic over the affected area. A cooling sensation crept over the sensitive skin leaving behind a pleasant tingle, effectively numbing the nerves from further assault. He blinked in stunned silence. Her method not only worked but it stopped the pain rather than enhancing it. He glanced at his rounded back-end with a firm look of contemplation, his abdomen lifted and issued a cursory wiggle. His gaze then darted back to her, his savior, the anger steadily fading away.

“That’s better, isn’t it?” Tav smiled and screwed the lid back onto the jar. “It should stave off the pain for at least a few hours, I’ll need to apply more after that. At least now you know what to expect. We can remain here until the process finishes. I’ll keep an eye out, guard the cave and bring you something to eat. How does that sound?”

Kar’niss bobbed his head in a quick nod, still a little taken back by this new revelation. He rubbed at one of his arms to self soothe, struck by a new wave of thoughts he didn’t know how to process yet.

“...Thank you,” he whispered.

Tav stepped closer and rested her fingertips on one of his pedipalps, another gesture that brought him great shock. “You’re welcome. Remember I am here for you, okay?” Their eyes met briefly which made something inside his chest flutter, wild and free. His lips trembled enough to where he jerked his gaze away, worrying his lower lip between his teeth.

“I won’t be gone long. Let me know if the pain returns,” Tav said. She’d then slip away to give the drider his space, smiling at him over her shoulder until her silhouette faded from the cave entrance.

Kar’niss looked on in an effort to process it all. He lowered himself to the ground to rest while the pain was quelled, glancing back from time to time where the medicine had been applied. Steadily a slow, lopsided smile tugged at his scarred lips, a warmth growing inside of him unlike any he’d known before. He looked to the cave entrance, watching and waiting, for her to return.

“My Queen.”