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bloompompom · 2 days

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Always the Quiet Ones*

*this is a revamped reupload of my previous fic

✽ summary: eren mistakenly took his new lab partner for being quiet, only to discover she was so much more than that. ✽ content: ~12.5k word count. eren jaeger x female reader, college au, one shot, mutual pining, smut, fluff, casual sex, praise, light spanking, explicit consent, alcohol, explicit language, explicit sexual content, reader discretion advised. 18+ ✽ a/n: i just really missed this fic </3

It was the honest-to-God truth when Eren said he wasn’t looking to catch feelings for anyone. But then you came along.

You were harmless enough—nothing more than his quiet lab partner in anatomy. He didn’t know what to think of you, other than you had a tendency to keep to yourself. On the rare occasion you spoke up, your words were always brief, pertinent to whatever assignment was at hand. But more often than not, you’d only address Eren with a cursory nod when he’d take his assigned seat beside you.

The class was awful enough, with two-hour labs being the worst part of Eren’s week because he spent them in a fumbling and awkward silence. But if you wouldn’t bother to glance up from your book when you talked to him, then he would treat you the same. He brought the bare minimum to conversations. He gave one-word answers; a specific grunt for yes, another for no, each you had to learn.

He couldn’t help but wonder why you were, for lack of better words, like that. Quiet. Standoffish. Withdrawn. He had a few theories on the matter—only because lectures were just that boring. His most probable theory was that you were shy. That would make the most sense, wouldn’t it?

Perhaps you were the type of student who took her classes way too seriously. He guessed you to be in your third year, like him. Maybe you were trying to get into a competitive graduate program. Or maybe you really liked anatomy. You seemed to like the textbook an awful lot, always reading far too closely in the way nerds do in cartoons. But other times, it was almost as if you were avoiding looking him in the eye.

Then there were the days—usually when Eren felt particularly disgruntled—that your quietness irked him to no end. He knew it was irrational to care so much, but damn it, why were you like that? And all the time, too. You must be stuck up. What else could he blame your perpetually cold shoulder on? He wasn’t proud of it, but sometimes he believed you were a bitch. Simple as that.

Eren’s theories could go on and on, but they all skirted the truth. At least, you didn’t think yourself a bitch. No, the reason behind your reserved demeanor was much more straightforward than that.

You had a stupid crush on Eren.

A girlish, twirling-your-hair-around-your-finger middle school crush. That made your stomach feel hollow and full, somehow at once, and had you gushing to your roommate despite knowing you’d never act on it.

It’d been like this since last semester, though you weren’t even sure Eren knew of your existence until Professor Hange partnered up the two of you.

God. Thinking about it now still riddled you with anxiety. You swore up and down that you were going to die that day. Like actually keel over from a heart attack in the middle of class and die.

In another universe, perhaps this forced proximity would have excited you. Maybe he would have given you his phone number to text about homework, and in that universe, you would have been giddy over it.

Unfortunately for you, in this universe, anatomy was far from your strongest subject. Very, very far.

You drove yourself mad over all the ways you’d inevitably embarrass yourself in front of Eren, lab after lab. It terrified you to where you wouldn’t dare ask him a question. What if you sounded dumb? So you’d press on without having him repeat himself and only scribble down what little you could manage.

It was despicable. It was despicable, and you knew it, and you still didn’t change a thing because it was much easier to pretend Eren wasn’t there to begin with. Even if it meant you’d started seeing your grade slip.

You hoped to keep that—and your crush—a secret, but there was one day he got a bit too nosy for your liking.

Professor Hange handed your lab report back, face down, like always. You knew professors did that for everyone, no matter the grade, but sometimes the rule felt targeted at you.

You didn’t want to, but you forced yourself to peel back the corner and take a peek. Unsurprisingly, a lousy grade met you on the other side. Again.

For someone wanting to hide their score, you weren’t as careful as you should have been when sliding the paper into your folder. Eren leaned back in his seat, just far enough to steal a glimpse from over your shoulder. For research, obviously. If you liked anatomy so much, then you must be pretty good at the subject.

But what he saw surprised him, especially when thought about his grade in the class. It slipped out on a chuckle when he said, “Wow. Are you even writing anything down?”

You startled, slamming your folder shut. “Huh?”

You couldn’t tell if Eren was joking or not. He was, but it didn’t come across as lighthearted as he had hoped. He often let his thoughts carelessly spill into words, but you didn’t know about that nasty habit of his. All you could think was shit, because he had finally figured out that you had no idea what you were doing.

Admittedly, Eren felt a little guilty once he saw the panic wash over your face. He cracked a smile at you, maybe for the first time. Still, his eyebrows furrowed in pity, like he couldn’t hold it back.

“The lab,” Eren clarified. He pointed to the crumpled paper, half in the folder, half poking out. “We do them together every week. How are you screwing up that badly?”

What kind of question was that? You gave him a hard frown and regretted thinking he’d be anything more than curt with you. Pity brows or not, you weren’t feeling much sympathy from him.

You didn’t reply, just stared past him blankly as you imagined how this horrible moment would torment you as you tried to fall asleep that night. You only snapped from it when you heard his chair drag against the tile. He sighed—a bit too loudly for you to consider natural—then started putting his belongings into his backpack.

“Look,” Eren began. He glanced up at you once he’d zipped his bag shut. His eyes made you flighty. “You don’t have to get stuck with a shitty grade. I bet I can help.”

His voice was flat, and you didn’t like his delivery much, but beneath it, there was a glint of kindness. You weren’t sure where it came from, and frankly, neither did Eren. He attributed it to his guilt for speaking so thoughtlessly. It was hard not to, what with the way your face—always so stoic that he’d think you were made of marble—turned sullen. He didn’t like how it made him feel. More than that, he disliked knowing you could pull such a reaction from him.

“You still have my number, yeah?” Eren asked.

You nodded. You did, in fact, still have his phone number. It was in the top corner of the first page of your notebook. He wrote it down after your first class together like you hoped he would. You decided not to do anything with it. You didn’t even save it, too worried about the possibility of drunk texting him.

“Good,” he said. “We can meet up sometime to study together.”

“Okay, yeah. Thanks,” you said, quietly at first, but your confidence grew with each word when you realized this might not have to become one of your top ten most embarrassing memories.

“Sure.” Eren stood up and swung his backpack over his shoulder. He smiled at you again. It was real this time, big enough to make your stomach flip. “I can’t let my lab partner flunk out on me.”

So that was where everything began. And by ‘everything,’ you meant how you and Eren would study together occasionally. Nothing more. Definitely not the fun sort of studying—you know, like having him study your anatomy rather than the pictures in his textbook. Oh, well. You could still dream.

It took two study dates (your term for them) before you didn’t sit on the edge of your seat around Eren. As lame as it sounded, he made you incredibly nervous, more nervous than you felt around him in class. And like in class, you tried your hardest to keep your eyes on your text. You knew if you looked at him, you’d turn into a pile of goo before you could even look away.

It was shameful to admit, but you’d catch yourself stealing glances at him, but only when you were certain he wouldn’t notice. The times when he was jotting down notes because you liked how he looked when he was pensive. His dark brows would sit low over his eyes, and his bottom lip would jut out ever so slightly. And sometimes, only when truly stumped, he’d run his fingers through his hair in thought. You liked that, too.

By the time midterms had come and gone, you started seeing Eren more and more, meeting outside of class twice a week—a third if you had a report due. By then, it was impossible to allow your heart to flutter every time you were around him, otherwise it was bound to give out.

What you wanted to call study dates quickly became what felt like tutoring lessons. And just to be clear, you were not the tutor. But after Eren had you convinced his willingness to help was genuine, you didn’t worry as much about sounding dumb. He never seemed bothered when he had to explain a topic, even if you went overboard with the questions.

It was nice to not have to think so hard around him. He’d poke fun at you because you always mixed up dorsal and ventral, and you never let him live down spelling ‘brain’ as ‘brian.’ “It was one time,” he’d always complain back to you.

After getting scolded one too many times in the library for goofing off, other spots around campus had to make do. Then that turned into you going to Eren’s place, just a five-minute walk from your lab building.

Eren lived in a house with three other boys. Jean, Connie, and Armin. You found Jean and Connie to be nice enough based on the handful of conversations you had with them. But Eren blamed them for the reason you didn’t study at the house often, accusing them of being too distracting to think straight.

Eren wouldn’t ever tell you this—hell, he couldn’t think of anyone he’d confess this to—but the real reason he didn’t like to study at his place was Armin.

Armin. Eren’s blonde best friend for the last ten years. His roommate that you would describe as cute as a button and sharp as a tack. He knew much more about anatomy than you and Eren. When Armin was bored, he’d join you on the couch and answer the questions Eren couldn’t.

He couldn’t pinpoint why it bothered him so much. He always knew Armin was smarter than him; it had never been a problem before, but now it irked him ceaselessly. Instead of trying to sort it out, he decided going to your apartment was the better solution. Your roommate, Hitch, was more tolerable.

It was near final exam week when it hit you, a smack-across-the-face reminder that you still had a crush on Eren. It happened when your study dates became less of a one-on-one thing and more like a group hangout.

You were friendly, something between classmates and acquaintances, with the peers sitting around you. One girl, Mina, told you she, Thomas, and Samuel were getting together to prepare for the upcoming final. She insisted you and Eren should join.

You didn’t respond right away. You couldn’t, not with the way your stomach churned when Eren answered for you.

“She needs all the help she can get,” he said, giving you a playful pay on the shoulder. He was only joking, but you wished he didn’t sound so eager. You especially wished his hand, innocently placed on your back, didn’t make your face burn.

You got over it quickly. It was difficult to stay bitter at people you got along well with, so much so that you’d accomplish more chatting than studying. Luckily for the rest of you, Eren and Thomas knew enough to help you skate by.

But when Eren began texting in the new group chat more than he’d text you, you weren’t afraid to say you noticed a sting. It felt like you’d let your chances with him slip by because, next semester, you wouldn’t be his lab partner anymore.

You left the exam feeling okay at best. You walked out with your head down, not paying any attention as Mina caught up to you. She invited you to come by her place that Friday night, that some of your classmates would be there to celebrate the end of Professor Hange’s pop quizzes. You thought little about it when you said yes.

You were at the get-together for an hour, maybe longer, when someone was drunk enough to start a game of Never Have I Ever. After your second beer, you felt just adventurous enough to play.

Mina’s living room was on the smaller side for hosting, but it was nice enough. She had everyone crowd around, sitting where they could, whether it was on the sofa or the floor, and in the center was an old beer. It’d warmed from sitting out for a few hours, according to Samuel, and chugging it would serve as punishment for putting the last of your fingers down. And while you were tipsy, you certainly hadn’t drunk enough for that.

You would, of course. But you didn’t know it then.

You sat on the floor, legs folded to your chest, with your hand growing tired in the air. Only your index finger remained standing when Mina shouted it was her turn.

“Never have I ever had a body count higher than five,” she announced.

A few people put a finger down, but it didn’t matter. You let your forehead drop to your knees in defeat. Everyone started laughing, hounding you to drink the beer when you whined, “Do I have to?”

If you weren’t busy downing that lukewarm can, pouting as you went, and your audience wasn’t too busy heckling you, maybe someone would have noticed how Eren went quiet, how a firm crease formed just between his unsettled brows.

He couldn’t articulate the feeling, but it reminded him of the one he got when he saw you laugh with Armin. Some strange burning, uncomfortably deep in his stomach. It made him not want to look at you any longer.

Your body count didn’t offend him. After all, he had to put a finger down for the same reason. Though you surprised him, he had to admit, but that wasn’t new. The more he learned about you, the more he realized his assumptions about you couldn’t have been more off—specifically the ones about you being a bitch and good at anatomy.

Eren studied you from across the room. Your nose crinkled; giggles spilled from you as you tried, for the second time, to finish the rest of the beer. Eren had heard you laugh—many times, actually—but something about it always made his chest go tight.

His thoughts ventured further, wandering, wondering if you crinkle your nose the same way when you come.

He could see you beneath him, naked. Brows pinched together cutely, teeth dipped into your swollen bottom lip. He could feel your thighs under his hands, soft and giving under his palms as he slipped between—

It was so wrong of him. To be in a room full of people and pretend as if you were the only two people there. The only two people to exist.

That swarming in his gut burned hotter. He took another sip of his beer like it would dull it.

There was a moment of doubt. Almost like a hangnail, he could pick and pick at it until he created a wound of his own making. What was so wrong with him that made you uninterested?

He could deny naming the sick feeling as much as he wanted, but Eren knew what it was: insecurity. He was jealous of people he didn’t even know, for no other reason than they had the chance to be with you in all the ways he craved.

He felt fucking pathetic for it.

Eren didn’t stay at the party long after that. You left Mina’s just before midnight and didn’t think of much of that night, or Eren, for the rest of the weekend. On Monday, you checked your final grade for anatomy, and by some miracle, you passed the class.

It was well into winter break when you saw Eren again. You bumped into him at a house party, when there was about a week left until classes started and everyone was trickling back to campus to celebrate the new year.

You didn’t expect to see him this soon—actually, you weren’t so sure you’d ever see him again. Anatomy was the only glue holding you together. You wished you could say you had more faith in the friendship, in him, but he hadn’t talked to you since Mina’s party. You thought he would have at least been curious to know how you did in the class.

It was probably better this way, you told yourself, considering you nearly failed the class because of him. Well, you technically passed because of him too, but you wouldn’t have needed to worry about failing if he wasn’t your lab partner.

All that for a silly crush.

You stumbled into Eren toward the end of the night, the time when parties turn spacey and liminal; the limbo dividing night and day. A few lights were on now, and whoever was in charge of the music had clearly given up a while ago. Everything was a not-so-subtle sign pointing toward the exit.

Believe it or not, you wanted nothing more than to go home. You would have been out of there thirty minutes ago if it weren’t for Hitch. Your loveable, yet self-proclaimed ditzy roommate had disappeared.

By the time you thought to search for her, you had already drunk past your limit. You were dizzy, starving, and having poked your head into every room and around every corner. No Hitch, but you walked in on a lot of dry humping.

The last time you saw her, she was one of those dry humpers. She was all over some guy you guessed to be the reason she wanted to come to the party. Anyway, you were sure you’d catch his name tomorrow morning.

You were too distracted, too bubbly from the leftover New Year’s champagne, to see what was in front of you—even if he was rather tall, broad, and hard to miss. You didn’t even look twice as you walked past Eren. He’d only grabbed your attention once you heard your name, disappointed that the voice was too deep to belong to Hitch.

You spun around and the floor tilted with you. It took you a few steps to straighten back out, but once you did, your vision settled on Eren.

He gave you a lop-sided smile, serving as nothing more than a hesitant greeting. He only made it more awkward by throwing in a cheeky, “Long time, no see.”

You offered a chuckle that was only half-forced, the other half genuine simply because it was easy to impress anyone after they’d spent the night drinking.

And because you’d spent the night drinking, you felt all weird when you looked at Eren. You weren’t upset with him—maybe disappointed. Not disappointed in him exactly, he never owed you his kindness, but disappointed by what could have been.

But now that he was here, getting shoved closer and closer with each passerby, you didn’t know what to think other than you should’ve skipped that last drink. You’d hoped to feel more like yourself the next time you saw Eren. The last thing you wanted was to get tangled up in him again; you weren’t sure you’d be able to unravel yourself a second time.

Eren took a willing pace toward you. Your gaze was boozy, eyes hazy and distant. He recognized the look and had a feeling you wouldn’t speak first, so he asked, “Were you looking for someone?”

“Hitch,” you said. There was a pause. You weren’t sure if he remembered he’d met her. “My roommate.”

“I know.”

“We were supposed to leave to get food, but I think she took a guy home,” you told him, for no reason in particular. “Last time this happened, I walked in on them doing it on the counter.”

Eren laughed, harder once your face winced at the memory, a sight seared into your brain, for sure. “You should really consider finding a new roommate.”

“And in the meantime?”

“You come back to my place,” he said, so casually that you were positive you didn’t hear him right. Your face must have given you away, and he tried to play it off with a shrug. “What’s the big deal? You’ve slept on my couch before.”

He was right. You’d fallen asleep on his couch while studying once. Okay, twice. He teased you about it, saying you got drool everywhere.

“That’s different,” you said sheepishly. “That was an accident.”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have fallen asleep in the first place,” he teased.

“Maybe you shouldn’t make your flashcards so boring!”

Eren liked his simple flashcards. He actually preferred them. Not everyone needed to spend more time color-coding and highlighting their flashcards than studying them.

He tilted his head with the sort of look that said, stop being so stubborn. "Fine. Then how about you tell me how to make them look nicer on the way to my place? I was just about to leave, anyway.”

He took a step backward, daring you to follow, and then another, until he turned on one foot and headed for the front door. He knew you’d follow him, and thoughtlessly, you did, trailing right behind.

You called out to him, “You don’t really need them now, do you? The class is over.”

“I just thought you might need ‘em.” Eren bounded down the porch steps, tossing a glance over his shoulder, ready to catch the expression you’d make when he said, “Figured you had to retake the class.”

You wished you had shoved him down the steps, but he had already crossed the lawn. He walked with longer strides than you and didn’t seem concerned about whether you could keep up.

“Thanks for that,” you replied begrudgingly.

“Anytime.”

It didn’t take long for you to near campus. You walked along the main drag, lined with various bars and late-night bites that thrived in the college town’s nightlife. It made it impossible to tell the time, what with every club still playing music loud enough to thrum in your chest, its beat perfectly in tempo with your every step—those of which were still struggling to match Eren’s.

“Did you still want to get food?” he asked.

“Hm?” You couldn’t hear him over your shuffling, your feet dragging against the sidewalk. They’d started hurting hours ago, and this jaunt certainly wasn’t making it better. You really shouldn’t have worn the new shoes you received over the holidays.

“You never listen, do you?” Eren didn’t say it with annoyance but with a laugh. “I’m surprised you’ve made it this far.”

“No, you just mumble a lot,” you defended. “And for your information, I’m not retaking anatomy. I passed with a C.”

“A C-plus or a C-minus?”

“Plus,” you said with inflated, drunken confidence.

“I’ll alert the media,” Eren replied. You stuck your tongue out at him, though you knew he wouldn’t see it. “Now tell me, did you still want to get food or not?”

“I didn’t think it was still an option.”

“‘Course it is.” He finally looked back at you from over his shoulder, just in time to watch you stumble over a crack in the sidewalk. “I think you could use something to eat.”

Eren rounded the next corner, a block short of the street he lived on, and led you a few doors down to a diner, breakfast served 24 hours. You expected to flag down a street vendor over sitting down to eat, but you couldn’t complain about some drunk pancakes.

Eren chose the booth in the back after the hostess instructed you to seat yourselves. The place was small and smelled of stale coffee—just as any diner would at this hour. And stale or not, you knew you’d need to down a mug or two if you wanted to sober up.

The server flipped your ceramic mug over and filled it to the brim. If it were nine in the morning, steam would pour out like it did in the movies, but you didn’t want to know how long this coffee had sat out.

You took it with cream, then dumped some sugar in, too. Reaching for a second packet, you caught Eren staring as you tore it open, hands folded around his mug.

“Something the matter?” you asked.

“Want any coffee with your sugar?”

“Ha-ha.” You added the sugar, now out of spite. When you took your first sip, it tasted as bitter as you expected.

Now that you were off your feet, the pain gnawed at you. You wiggled your shoes down, just enough for your heels to slip free from the backs. But it wasn’t enough. You couldn’t bear to keep them on another second—the diner was empty anyway. Once they were off, your feet pulsed as if they had their own heartbeat.

The server took your order before disappearing again, only making rounds to offer a warm-up here or there, one of which you accepted. This time, when you added another packet of sugar, Eren kept his comments to himself. There was a lapse in conversation, one you spent fiddling with the paper scraps.

“You know,” he started. You peered up from the wad you’d rolled between your thumb and forefinger. He sat back in the booth, looking out the window with a quiet sort of chuckle. “I thought you hated me when we first met.”

You matched the laugh, yours more disbelieving. “Hated you? I don’t think I knew you enough to hate you.”

As if he were thinking aloud, he said, “You were always so quiet.”

“Being quiet doesn’t mean you hate someone.”

Eren’s eyes flashed from the window to you. “Then what does it mean?”

It was easier to talk to him when he wasn’t looking at you. His gaze felt smothering. You avoided him, your attention retreating down to the spoon you twirled anxiously around your mug. The clanging of ceramic was the only sound between you because you still hadn’t responded.

“I don’t know,” you said, hoping you would have come up with a more profound answer by now. “It just means you’re quiet, I guess.”

A short stack of pancakes interrupted Eren, slid right between the two of you and decorated with a gooey scoop of butter. He’d only ordered a coffee, even after you insisted on paying as a thank-you for tonight, so once the server left, Eren was quick to jump back into the conversation, much to your dismay.

“But you’re not quiet, and you’re not all that shy either,” he told you like he’d caught you in a lie. You urged him on with a raised brow. He scoffed. “Don’t give me that. I know that’s not you. I saw you dancing tonight.”

Your hand stalled as you reached for the syrup. “You saw me dancing?”

He played it off with, “Well, yeah. My so-called quiet lab partner actually knows how to dance? It just surprised me, that’s all.”

“If you saw me earlier,” you said, forking a slice of pancake, “why didn’t you come and say hi?”

Strike that—Eren almost played it off. He couldn’t hide his shifty eyes, or how long it took him to excuse it away. “Oh, I think someone grabbed me for a game of beer pong or something. I don’t remember.”

That never happened. Eren knew it, and it looked like you knew it, too. The truth was he didn’t go up and talk to you because he’d spent the last two weeks convincing himself he wasn’t into you. The party turned out to be the ultimate test of willpower, which he so evidently failed.

Eren even went as far as reinstalling all the dating apps he’d long sworn off. He dumbly assumed if he went on a date, maybe even brought a girl home, then he’d be in the clear; he wouldn’t think about you anymore. But by the time dinner was over, Eren knew there wasn’t any use in taking things further. He’d spent the evening comparing her to you, finding himself every time she laughed because it didn’t sound like yours.

Then he saw you tonight. Of course, he had to see you tonight. And of all the things you could have been doing, you were dancing. Having fun, enjoying yourself. He favored you like that, when you were carefree. You were nothing like the girl he thought he met in class.

And when Eren heard your laugh—strangely more remarkable than any other, like he’d gone deaf to anything but you—he couldn’t even remember why he tried to stay away from you.

But here you were, seated across the booth from him, cheeks stuffed with pancakes, and he had no clue what he was supposed to do next. He’d spent the entire walk wrangling with himself, scared that if he had you, even in the most innocent of ways, he wouldn’t be able to get enough.

Eren knew he shouldn’t be thinking like this, not yet, because—fuck, what if you still didn’t want him back?

Eren only lied about beer pong because he couldn’t outright confess to needing a drink before talking to you. He was so close to getting away with it, too. If you’d gone for another bite a second earlier, if he’d thought to take a sip of coffee to cover his face, maybe you wouldn’t have spotted the flushed bridge of his nose. So subtle yet telling enough that you had to bite your inner lip to prevent a smile.

You held your fork before your face, inspecting the square of pancake as a string of syrup dripped onto the plate. You were rather flippant about it when you finally told Eren, “It’s because I had a crush on you.”

“Huh?”

You plopped the pancake into your mouth, chewing so slowly that it nearly killed Eren. Once you swallowed, you finally said, “I had a crush on you. That’s why I was so quiet.”

Eren said nothing in return, even with you staring him straight in the face, expectant. You waited—for what felt like an eternity but was more like a second—until you couldn’t take the ambivalence any longer.

Your half-laugh fell flat as you went on to explain, “That, and you always got better grades than me. I didn’t want you to think I was dumb.”

Almost as if he didn’t hear it, still fixed on what you’d said before, he asked, “Do you still?”

It was a simple question, just three words, yet he said so much more than intended.

You knew what he was asking, but you played dumb. “Still what?”

“Have a crush on me.”

You thought it over while you took another bite, eyes on him like he already had the answer. He did. You both did. Still, you let the question hang heavy between you for another moment. You weren’t entirely ready to lay your cards on the table. Yet.

You tossed him a small smile as you answered, “To be determined.”

Eren nodded once, lips folded together in a similar sort of grin. “Got it.”

That didn’t mean your answer satisfied him, though. He watched as you took another sip of coffee, then immediately reached for another sugar packet. Before you could pour it in, he shielded the mug.

“But you better figure it out before all that sugar kills you.”

You swatted him away. “Yeah, it’ll definitely be the sugar that kills me, not the keg stand I started the night with.”

“You did a keg stand?”

He said it like he didn’t believe you. You giggled, “Only because Hitch talked me into it.”

Eren laughed with you despite shaking his head. “See, what did I say? You surprise me.”

You had only taken a few hobbles out of the diner before your heels started hurting again. The pain intensified with every step, and you sucked your teeth sharply. You noticed two fresh blisters, one on each heel, when you put your shoes back on before leaving, but thought you could handle the short walk to Eren’s house. But now, you wished you were still drunk enough to ignore the burn.

“Everything okay back there?” Eren asked.

You were behind him again, but not because of his long strides. “Yeah.”

He thought it sounded unconvincing. He looked back to confirm his hunch just in time to see you stumble.

“It’s my shoes,” you said. “I’m sorry.”

He stopped walking, turning to you. “Why are you apologizing?”

You stammered, “I don’t know.”

“Just take ‘em off.”

“I’m not going to walk around barefoot.”

“Didn’t say you had to.”

You didn’t get what he was saying, even less when he turned his back to you. Then, when he bent slightly at the knee, it made sense.

He couldn’t be serious right now.

“My house isn’t that far. I’ll carry you there.”

Okay. He was being serious. He was ready and willing to give you a piggyback ride.

You didn’t intend to laugh, but it was only because this situation was so ridiculous—and partly because of your own anxiety, fizzling at the thought alone.

Eren took it differently, shooting you a playfully offended look when he said, “What? You think I can’t carry you?” He straightened out, shoved his hands into his pockets, and began walking away. “Fine. Suit yourself.”

“Wait!”

You wanted to blame it on your feet or because you didn’t want to slow him down, but you had to be honest with yourself—aching feet or not, were you really going to pass on this opportunity?

Eren flashed a smile over his shoulder. “That’s what I thought.”

Ignoring his boasting, you ripped off your shoes. He took them from you in one hand, and then let you hop onto his back. His body didn’t give like you would expect, and his arms felt sturdy as they looped around your thighs.

You hadn’t had a piggyback ride since you were probably eleven years old, but you didn’t remember them feeling anything like this. Eren’s neck was warm against your arms, exceptionally so in the crisp night air. His hands were even hotter, having you convinced they’d sear themselves into the backs of your thighs.

He jostled you forward, higher onto his back. “Hold on tighter or else you’re gonna fall off.”

You hugged him, pressing your chest against his back. You’d never been this close to him before, close enough that his hair, only loosely tied back, brushed against your face. Faint notes of his cologne—warm like amber, but there was something you found refreshing about it—tickled your nose. You drew in closer, inhaling the scent, him.

Eren worried you might have felt the roll of his throat when your breath broke over the nape of his neck. How embarrassing that something as innocent as a piggyback ride could send his heart racing. As if suddenly, he was back in junior high, and it was his first time holding a girl’s hand all over again.

If this was all he’d have of you tonight, or ever, he’d be happy with just that. Even if it meant he’d wake up with a sore back. He wanted to earn your heart, even if he wasn’t so sure your crush had ever gone away.

The house was too dark for you to make out a thing. You stilled in the entryway, just behind Eren, and waited for him to walk ahead.

Not a second later, he flipped a light on from the kitchen. Your eyes adjusted after a few blinks, and he appeared again from around the corner. He wore a look of trepidation, staring at you like you were a lost puppy he’d taken in and didn’t know what to do with.

“Can I get you some water?”

“Sure,” you replied. “Thank you.”

He waved a hand toward the sofa, saying, “Make yourself at home,” before disappearing again.

You’d hardly made yourself comfortable by the time he returned. You didn’t even realize how rigid your arms were until you uncrossed them to reach for the water bottle Eren handed you.

He sat on the other side of the old couch and it squeaked beneath his weight.

“I imagine you wouldn’t want to sleep on the couch in a house full of guys,” he started, settling into the couch. “Take my room, if you want. I can sleep out here.”

You almost choked on your water, immediately shaking your head. “I’m not going to take your bed.” You couldn’t, possibly. You’d never even been in his room before. “You didn’t even need to go to the trouble of letting me stay the night.”

“Out of all my troubles,” Eren said with a certain warmth to his face, “you staying the night is the least of them.”

You smiled at him. You smiled at him, and you had no clue how it pulled at his heart. It was shy, no greater than a curl of the very corner of your mouth, yet he craved nothing more than to feel the shape of it under his lips and memorize the taste.

“Okay.” You finally gave in. You could have ended it there, and you probably should have, but you nervously rambled on, “But, really, if it’s too much—if you want me to go, I can call a—”

“I don’t want you to go.”

You stammered, opening and closing your mouth as you pretended you had any clue what you’d say next. Something changed; you didn’t know what. An energy shift, a new glint in his eyes—that look he was giving you.

Maybe it was more accurate to say that everything had changed.

There wasn’t much air to your voice when you said, “I don’t want to go either.”

Your admission was barely a whisper. So delicate that Eren wasn’t even sure you intended to say it aloud. Your eyes were big and genuine, like you had revealed some vulnerable part of you. He couldn’t look away, risking losing what little composure you hadn’t stolen from him yet.

You liked him like that—getting to witness such an unguarded look on a face that was always hardened. Soft and electric, all at once. You never thought he’d look at you in such a way, only in your dreams, and you didn’t want it to end.

Now or never.

“Eren?”

“Yeah?” His voice was just as taken as yours.

You knew yourself as anything but bold, but right then, you were. Purring your words when you asked him, “Why are you always so nice to me?”

The distant light from the kitchen cast shadows along the angles of his jaw, highlighting how it tensed.

“Am I?” Eren asked. His voice had gained a new rasp.

You nodded.

“How so?”

“You know,” you said slowly, knowingly, leaning into him. “You walk me home when I’m drunk. Carry me when my feet hurt.” You tucked your legs beneath you, sitting back on your calves, knees bumping up against his thigh. “You let me spend the night, even offer me your bed.”

Eren thought you might kiss him right then, but you only giggled. “Not to mention, you tutored me in anatomy for an entire semester without complaining once.”

You rested a daring hand on his leg. He looked from it to you before teasing, “I think I might’ve complained once.”

He moved with you, at your pace. He cupped your cheek, and you tried not to melt into him.

“But I can’t help myself.” His thumb traced over your skin. “You’re very cute when you’re drunk and when you’re proud of yourself for passing a quiz.” He unexpectedly grins. “And when you hold your book too close to your face when you read.”

“I don’t do that.”

“Yes, you do.”

You didn’t press the subject any further because it didn’t matter; you were so close that the tips of your noses were nearly brushing against each other. With your face still in his hand, he swiped his thumb along your bottom lip. Unwittingly, you wetted them like you wanted a taste.

Neither of you wanted to be the first to crumble the wall, the one you spent a semester building together, so tall that there were times you couldn’t see over it.

You might have been feeling courageous, but you knew you’d regret it the next time you saw Eren on campus. You could see it now, the smug smile he’d give you from across the hall, or the far side of the green—wherever you’d inevitably bump into him again. He’d turn you into a puddle right on the spot.

That didn’t concern you. Not after you heard the needful groan he stifled from the very back of his throat, and you desperately wanted to hear it again.

Eren caressed your face. You tilted into him until your forehead pressed against his, and you could feel his breath on your lips.

“I still have a crush on you,” you whispered.

“Yeah, I know.” He wasn’t cocky about it, but soft. He sounded relieved.

Your hand left his thigh, traveling higher until you had it splayed against his chest. The muscles twitched beneath your touch. Eren couldn’t help but wonder if you knew what you were doing to him, how insane you’d driven him. You had to.

“So,” you said, long and drawn-out.

Your fingers toyed with the fabric of his shirt, the tips of them grazing and pinching like you wanted to yank him to you.

“Are you going to do something about it?”

Spoken like a true temptress, like a lioness playing with her food. You let your gaze linger intentionally long before locking onto his eyes.

Eren nearly gulped. “Fuck—c’mere.”

The hand he had on your face slipped higher. His fingers wrapped around the back of your head to pull you to him.

What you thought would be a crash of lips was much more affectionate. Instead of kissing you as if he believed he could make up for lost time, he kissed you softly, thoughtfully, like he knew he had all the time in the world with you now.

Your lips parted to invite his tongue in, hot and licking against your own. Your head spun, but not because of the alcohol. Attempting to ground yourself, you snatched a fistful of his shirt with a trembling hand. But the longer he made out with you, taking his time with seemingly no destination in mind, the more helpless you became.

“Eren.” It left you in a gasp, swallowed up before it had the chance to meet the air.

He angled your head slightly, exposing your neck for him to explore. He kissed the corner of your mouth, then your cheek. Then you felt his lips at the hollow below your ear, gasping as his teeth skimmed lower.

“Hm?” he hummed, unbothered. Like he was oblivious to how turned on you were, how just his breath against your skin had your thighs clenching.

“That’s why you didn’t want me to leave, right?” Your voice warbled as you spoke, eyes fluttering shut as he began mouthing along your neck, sucking like he wanted to leave a bruise.

You palmed lower, over the front of his jeans. He was hard, straining against them, and you massaged over his length a few times. You waited and listened for his breath to falter before reaching for his zipper.

“Because you’ve thought about this before,” you murmured. With his jeans undone, you snuck your hand inside his boxer, wrapping your fingers around his cock. You nuzzled your face just below his jaw, peppering kisses, noting his quickening pulse as you began stroking him, base to tip. “Because you were hoping this would happen.”

“Yes,” Eren groaned. He would have tried to hold it back, but he was already staving off his urge to rut into your hand.

“I was, too,” you confessed.

That broke him. Before he knew it, he had you pinned between him and the couch.

Your back hit the cushion with another whine from the springs, louder and more obnoxious than before. When Eren kissed you this time, he didn’t want to take his time with you anymore. Not after hearing that you wanted him in the same ways he needed you.

The couch quickly became too cramped for your liking, with limbs slipping and spilling until you thought you might fall to the floor. Only when your kiss broke—because your head was dangling over the edge of the sofa—did you have a moment to catch your breath, or at least try to.

“You said,” you panted, collecting yourself. “You said I could sleep in your room.” Eren nodded, eyes hazy as he looked down at you. “Maybe you should show me to it now…”

He stalled, his brain short-circuiting for the obvious reason before he picked up on your heavy-handed implication.

“Yeah, okay.”

Eren helped you upright before you untangled yourselves from one another. You climbed the stairs in a hurry, tripping over your feet because you couldn’t imagine keeping your hands off each other. You followed just behind him, your hand in his, as he led you to his bedroom.

His hands were reckless as they pawed over your body, anywhere they could. Yet his touch maintained a certain firmness that had you weak in the knees, struggling to suppress your whimpers. Each tiny sound seemed to encourage him, riling him until he had you braced against the door, slamming it shut with your combined weight.

Eren caged you in place, with forearms planted on either side of your head. But you would have stayed there, willingly. Forever, if you could.

You almost hated yourself for how submissive you felt to him. He kissed you commandingly, yet gently enough that he could take you anywhere he pleased.

You hated yourself more for getting turned on at just the thought.

Taking his loose, unzipped jeans between your fingers, you tugged him close, hooking a leg around his waist. You felt his cock pressing between your legs, ground against it because if you didn’t, you thought you might explode; you were only human, after all.

Eren’s hands gripped your ass, helping you roll against him a few times before mumbling, “Bed?”

His voice was shallow, all breathless, like his lungs were running on empty. You liked this version of him—when he was needy for you.

“Bed,” you affirmed with a bob of your head.

That was all it took before Eren scooped you into his arms, whirling you around until he had you collapsed onto the bed.

You sprawled out with a stretch of your back. It felt so good to lie amongst the billowy comforter, off your feet. You nestled around, almost like you could have lulled off right then—almost.

Eren turned on his bedside lamp, and though the light was dim, you felt keenly aware of his gaze on you as you peeled off your shirt. It bunched as you snaked it over your head, its slinky fabric hugging your body, revealing your bra with a subtle bounce of your tits. Every part of it, of you, was so shamefully sexy, Eren couldn’t get enough.

His hands closed over yours when you reached for the button of your jeans as if to tell you, let me do it. You allowed it, watching as he opened the front of them. His fingers glided along your stomach until he reached your hips. From there, he pulled the fitted denim down your legs. You kicked them to the side once they’d reached your ankles.

The sight of you, ready and beneath him, had him overwhelmed, to say the least. He didn’t know where to look—he didn’t even know where to start.

His fingertips, though lightly calloused, felt exceedingly gentle as he trailed them over your bare skin. So softly that if you closed your eyes, you might not even know he was there. He started just beneath the underwire of your bra, then down the length of your stomach. At your hip, his touch tickled, and you squirmed so cutely beneath him.

Eren wanted to say something witty, but the sight of you stirring below him had him spacey, leaving him quiet. Even the chuckle he gave was practically inaudible, just a huff through his nose.

Despite the fog, Eren had a fleeting moment of lucidity. He blinked, hard, like it would clear his head. You struggled to read him, staring at you like you’d given him reason to be suspicious.

Then he asked, “How are you?”

You mirrored his suspicion, eyebrows knitting together. “I’m good. Um, how are you?”

His face scrunched like he was about to say, not good. It made you nervous.

You perched on your elbows, interested, waiting on him. He ran his fingers through his hair, the same way he always did when he was trying to concentrate.

“We’re a little past exchanging pleasantries, don’t you think?” you joked, mainly because you didn’t know what else you were supposed to say.

“No, that’s not what I meant.” Eren brought his hand to his forehead like he could capture his thoughts before they slipped away. “Like, I mean—” Coherency was hard, especially with you laid out before him, head tilted with curiosity, staring up at him through pretty, heavy lashes. Had they always been that long?

Finally, he blurted out, “Are you still drunk?”

You were relieved to learn nothing was wrong. You thought over your answer, taking inventory of your body, every fiber of your being only wanting him.

“Not really,” you said with a slight shrug. “Those pancakes were a real lifesaver.”

He still looked hesitant. You took his hand, giving it a small squeeze before smiling at him. “I want this. Like really, really want this.”

Eren let out a short laugh that softened you up even more. With your assurance, his fingers began dancing along your skin again, pulling lightly at the band of your underwear. He played with it, his once-boyish expression turning more brazen as he asked, “Then is it okay for me to touch you here?”

His voice was gruff, the timbre of it still ringing between your ears. You couldn’t help the sound it pulled from you. A sweet little moan, so delicious that Eren felt his cock twitch before he could even remove your underwear.

“Yes,” you murmured, eyes fixed on him, on his fingers. They pushed beneath your panties despite your hope that he’d simply take them off.

That single, breathy word gave Eren the go-ahead. He crawled over you, holding himself up with his free hand. Propped on your elbows, your face was inches away from his. So close that with just the tilt of your head, you were kissing him again.

Eren’s fingers ventured lower, sweeping between you teasingly, but it was as if he was teasing himself.

"You’re so wet,” he groaned, still playing with you. He’d circle your clit until your jaw went slack, then remove the pressure just to trace your entrance. “All for me?”

“Mhm.” You exhaled indulgently when his fingers returned to your clit, rubbing languidly. When you lifted your hips for more, his circles became tighter, quicker, giving you exactly what you needed. You let go then, allowing your wobbly elbows to give out.

Eren chased after you, nipping down your neck until he found the spot he’d learned you liked best, especially when he sucked on it. He yanked a sharp whine from you, another as he continued leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses along your throat.

Eren, Eren, Eren. You were consumed by thoughts of him, only him. Consumed by how good he made you feel and every place you wanted him.

And when you cried out, “Ah—all for you,” you certainly weren’t thinking about how desperate you sounded for a guy who’d been nothing more than your lab partner until tonight.

That did it for him. In one impulsive motion, Eren stood up straight, hooked his fingers around the band of your panties, and tore them off with ease. Once they were out of his way, lost amongst your other garments, his hand was rightfully back between your legs.

He pumped his middle finger inside you first, curling it just right to have your back arching, your breath already hitching in your throat.

You thought he’d be arrogant about it, how he already had you, quite literally, bending to his will. But he’d already lost himself in you, every bit of you. Your tiny gasps, spilling from kiss-swollen lips. Your bra and the way its straps had limply started falling down your shoulder, exposing the supple skin of your chest. How pretty your cunt looked, taking his finger.

His pace ignited that familiar feeling within you, but as quickly as it started burning in your stomach, you’d lost it just as fast.

With a frustrated sob, you opened your eyes to see why he’d rudely edged you like that.

Eren yanked his shirt over his head and threw it aside. “I wanna go down on you.”

You felt his words hot at the back of your neck—either that or it was the sight of his deceivingly toned stomach. Whatever it was, you couldn’t decide before Eren started stripping from his jeans. And if you were still unsure why you’d clammed up, the tent in his boxers, large and threatening to undo you, was most certainly it.

You tried your best to look at his face when you asked, “Don’t you think we should be fast? All of your roommates are home.”

That was the last thing Eren wanted. He wanted to have you, all to himself, for as long as you’d allow. But that was easy for him to say now; his willpower had already started waning.

“They’re sleeping. Don’t worry about them.” Eren thumbed circles against your inner thigh encouragingly, making it difficult to say no to him. At least until he cracked his usual devilish smile. “I thought you said you were quiet.”

The daggers you shot him said enough. You had only started to quip something back when Eren shut you up. He leaned over you, encasing you in his warmth. You felt his lips, his tongue, at your neck, running along the silky skin.

He sucked at the lobe of your ear, and the airy giggle you gave traveled straight to his cock. He kissed your collarbone as he tugged down the cups of your bra. Though his breath was warm, it sent goosebumps scattering across your chest. His tongue flicked over one of your perked nipples, and you rewarded him with a moan—even louder once he took it into his mouth.

You were so, so sensitive. All for him, too. Eren craved to discover every nook on your body he could kiss and every sound you’d make in response. He wanted to learn every last part of you, especially the ones that would have you wrecked.

He continued kissing down your stomach, with him lowering to his knees on the ground. Taking your legs, one in each hand, he pulled them back to make room to settle between. He placed them over his shoulders, bringing you in until your bottom half hung off the side of the bed.

Eren palmed over your thighs. He left kisses there, too, his lips so close to where you wanted him the most.

“Let me taste you.” His voice was a quiet plead. He pressed a kiss against your inner thigh, then another, with his eyes fluttering shut like he wanted to savor you. “Please.”

You’d lost your voice somewhere in your throat. You could only nod in response—a bit too eagerly, perhaps. Eren gleamed up at you. He clearly wanted to smirk but was smart enough not to risk it this time.

You’d felt only his breath at first. It quelled the chill bedroom air. Next, it was the very tip of his tongue. Pointed, it ran through you, painfully slow but still enough for you to suck in a breath between your teeth.

“Spread your legs wider for me.” You did as you were told, completely at his mercy. It must have pleased him because you swore you felt him grin against you as he praised, “Good girl.”

You made an embarrassing sound at that. One you didn’t expect. Eren surely didn’t expect it either, but it excited him, knowing how you were weak to his words, to his voice. To him.

With you now fully on display for him, he couldn’t resist burying his face into you, even if he had fully intended to tease you longer. His tongue flicked your clit, sending pulses of electricity shooting up your spine.

You shifted your hips, raising them to meet his mouth. His tongue was steady, never slowing once as he leaned into a rhythm you liked, that had your fingers laced in his hair and undoing his bun. With just a little more, angling and guiding his tongue to just the right spot, it was like you suddenly saw sparks of white behind your eyelids.

“Eren—ah,” you panted frantically, “right there.”

He had the flat of his tongue against your clit, lapping in tandem with your rocking hips until your thighs began shaking.

“I got you,” he said, wrapping his arms around your legs and locking you into place. “Just relax for me.”

Eren continued having you feverishly, filling the bedroom with a mixture of your wispy cries and groans of his own. It was as if he was just as desperate for you to come as you felt, worshipping every squeak and squirm he could get from you.

“I-I’m—”

His eyes meet yours. You looked breathless, your mouth hanging open in a vain attempt at pulling in tattered breaths. When he let go of your thighs, they dropped to his shoulders.

Not breaking his pace, his thumb replaced his tongue so he could ask, “You need more?”

You swallowed hard and nodded.

“You want my fingers?” His thumb left your clit. You mourned the loss only for him to trace a finger down your entrance before dipping it inside you.

“Oh, fuck.” You writhed in response. “Yes.”

He used two fingers this time, collecting his spit and your slick before pushing them inside you. There was little resistance as he worked his fingers in and out of you. He returned to tonguing your clit, giving it a few kitten licks before picking up right where he left off.

You were getting close, so close, and if time could allow for it, you would have stayed like that forever, just shy of becoming entirely undone.

There were many times, admittedly, when you imagined Eren having his way with you, wondering what it’d feel like for him to finger and fuck you. But never did you think he’d beg to have you like this, nor did you imagine the sight to absolutely ruin you.

Eren’s face flushed a blossomy pink, spanning across his cheeks. You were so wet; he was so wet. Soaked, actually, in your arousal—a mess you might have cared more about if you weren’t about to come.

His green eyes, darkened like you’d never seen before, found yours, and he moaned. He felt pathetic for it, but what had him feeling even more pathetic was how he couldn’t stop himself from shoving his boxers down his thighs. He took hold of himself, seeking any semblance of relief because you were possibly the hottest thing he’d ever seen. But he knew you’d look even better coming on his tongue.

You whimpered when you saw him fisting his cock, nice and fast. He was so hard for you, and you weren’t shy about staring. You couldn’t even fake it, too curious to see exactly how he liked it, watching him fuck his fist with quick breaks to give extra attention to his sensitive tip. You thought about how he’d fuck you, how he’d like it then, and it sent you over the edge.

Your cries came out choppy and strained until your voice cut out entirely. You sobbed silently, carelessly, rolling your hips over Eren’s tongue and using him. You wanted to drag out the feeling for as long as you could. By the end, you were quivering, exhausted, and could no longer keep your eyes open.

Eren had to stop pumping himself, or else he would have come from that alone. He sat back onto his calves, one of his hands palming over your thigh while the other soothed your clit, just to ease you back down. You looked like you needed it, all wrecked, legs limply spread for him, just like he hoped.

God, he annoyed himself for pretending he never wanted you because you—you were a dream.

The only thing that could wake him from such a dream was your voice.

“Eren?”

He loved it when you said his name.

You sat up to look at him properly, but it felt like there were a ton of bricks on your chest. Eren appeared quite the opposite, entirely unfazed. He had his cheek smushed against your thigh, staring unabashedly at the finger he lazily pushed back inside you. You jolted at the intrusion, still sensitive; he could tell by the way your muscles spasmed around his finger.

The feeling mesmerized him: you sucking him in for more. He didn’t even look at you when he replied, “Hm?”

You would’ve thought knowing his eyes were on you would embarrass you, but you were still so touchy from your orgasm that the winding feeling had already returned. It coiled in your stomach, begging to be snapped again.

“I want you to fuck me.”

Eren loved hearing that even more.

He finally looked at you then, and you imagined that if he were a dog, his ears would have perked up like you said the magic words.

“What was that?” he asked, more playfully than you expected. You didn’t like it, not with the grin he wore to match. “I couldn’t hear you. You were mumbling.”

“You heard me the first time.”

He ran his finger teasingly up the crease of your thigh. “Say it again.”

It tickled. You fussed, “Eren, come on—”

“No, I don’t think that was it. I think you said something else.”

“Just—” You sighed dramatically before giving in. “I want you to fuck me. Please fuck me, Eren.”

He beamed at you, proud of both you and himself. He grabbed his boxers, still sitting mid-thigh, and removed them entirely.

“Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Eren stood up and didn’t give you the chance to respond before flipping you onto your stomach. You felt his hand on your shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. His fingers skated lower, down to your bra before undoing its clasp. When you pushed yourself to your forearms, you felt your bra fall, its straps hanging loosely around your arms.

“You look so pretty like this,” he told you as he grabbed your hips, raising you to your knees. He stroked himself a few more times with one hand and smacked your ass with the other.

“Eren!” you yelped. “Roommates!”

“I thought I told you not to worry about them,” he said, punctuated with another smack.

The print of his hand still stung when you heard rustling behind you. You peered over your shoulder to see him tearing open a condom. He rolled it over his cock, and all the while, his eyes kept you—naked and with your ass in the air for him—pinned to the bed.

He flattened a hand against your lower back, putting an arch in it. With the other, he spread you, aligning the tip of his cock with your entrance.

Eren guided himself in more slowly than he wanted to, listening to you whine as you adjusted to his length. It was a bit of a stretch, but it was easy enough for him to push inside, having already prepped you with his fingers, leaving you aching for him to fill you with more.

When his pelvis was flush against you, he felt your walls flutter around him, squeezing his cock so perfectly he thought you must be made for him. A groan bubbled in his throat, low enough that it was nearly a growl. The sound made your heart skip, right between your lungs, so you clenched again to encourage another.

“You’re gonna make me come if you keep doing that,” Eren hissed.

“Doing what?” you asked innocently. Then you did it again.

Despite the warning, he didn’t protest it. Instead, he started moving, thrusting into you leisurely. He was self-indulgent about it too, spreading you with his hands so he could admire how well your cunt looked with his cock in it.

“God, you feel so fucking good,” he muttered, quiet enough that it was as if he were talking to himself. “So fucking good.”

“Eren.” The whine in your voice drove him crazy.

His hands, large and demanding, curved over your hips. The blunt end of his nails dug into the fat of them as he pulled you back to meet every snap of his hips. The indecent smacking of skin-on-skin bounced off the bedroom walls. You didn’t complain this time, only let your head drop between your shoulders. Your eyes screwed shut as you became lost in the throes of pleasure all over again.

“Eren,” you cried again.

He didn’t stop fucking you to ask, “What is it?”

He folded over you, his hand snaking up to your neck and taking hold of your chin. He turned your face to look at him, so he could see what you wanted. You couldn’t form anything other than wimpy chants of ah, ah, ah, sounding mangled as he squished your cheeks.

“Tell me how you want it.”

His words alone made you bite back a moan.

Finally, you managed to say, “Harder.”

Eren smiled, all slack-jawed and toothy. You would have found it irresistible, yet totally ill-fitting if you could have seen it. But how else was he to react?

He placed a kiss on the back of your neck, then another on your shoulder. It was unexpectedly doting, until you felt his fingers curve around your throat. Though you knew what was coming, you still squealed when he hoisted you upright, with your back sealed against his chest.

Eren held you there, fucking up into you, harder, like you asked him. Your flimsy bra flopped around your arms with each of his thrusts. He groped at your breast, taking your nipple between his fingers, rolling and pinching at it until you were mewling.

He continued taking you as if you’d always been his, and you let him have you. You let him use you like you only existed for his pleasure, with your head feeling heavy as it lolled back against him.

But you were so much more than that, and Eren was determined to make you come again. He wanted to feel it.

“Touch yourself,” Eren breathed, right into your ear. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up. “I want to hear you when you come this time.”

Your hand slithered between your legs. The very tips of your fingers bumped into Eren’s cock as you got yourself off. Legs wavering at the added pressure, you were practically vibrating when you came, your heart pounding in your ears. There was no doubt he heard you this time around.

It was difficult to remain upright. You fell from Eren’s hold, landing on the bed forcefully with him toppling right over you. You were still riding out the aftershocks of your orgasm as he fucked you into the mattress, and it had your thighs squeezing together so nicely for him.

“I’m—ah, fuck—I’m close,” Eren grunted.

It surprised you when he pulled out, but it didn’t take long before you realized he was rolling you onto your back. Eren manhandled you like you were weightless; he had your arms tossed above your head, pinned in place with a single hand around your wrist. He pushed back inside you, hard and fast, with a bead of sweat rolling down his forehead.

“I need to see you.”

Your stomach flipped at his words like they were poetry. Fuck. He had you so irrevocably wrapped around his finger. And maybe you were merely lovelorn and looking for something that wasn’t there, but you swore he looked as though he were just as ensnared as you.

Your mouth sought out his in a sloppy kiss. It was suckling lips and colliding teeth, smothered grunts and groans as you ground against one another, but you didn’t care; you enjoyed every messy, frantic minute of it.

You wanted to touch him, wriggling until he released his hold on your wrists. You took his face between your hands. His eyes were moony and heavy-lidded and had you swooning.

“Fuck, Eren—I want you to come,” you gasped.

Easy enough.

He came hard. As perverted as it sounded, you wished you had a camera. You wanted to remember how his eyes snapped shut, to record every sound. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his hips stuttering against you as if he could reach any deeper.

His breath was hot against your already sweltering skin. It was hard to breathe, especially under his weight, but you wanted to hold him for a little longer.

Neither of you spoke for a while. You didn’t realize you’d been grazing your fingers up and down the back of his neck until he lifted himself off you. He let his gaze linger on your face, like he wanted one last look, then nudged his nose against yours before getting up.

You laid still, only watching while Eren straightened out and disposed of the condom. Your legs felt too soft and lazy to move, so you only let your eyes follow him as he stepped into a pair of sweatpants.

"The invitation to stay the night still stands, right?” you lightly sassed.

“No, I was actually going to call you an Uber home.” Eren rolled his eyes. “Of course it does. What kind of guy do you think I am?”

You giggled as you pushed yourself up. “Where’s your bathroom?”

“Down the hallway, last door on the right.” He took one look at you, then started digging around in his dresser. He tossed something at you, aiming it at your head by the looks of it. You snatched it just in time. It was one of his T-shirts. “You can wear that.”

You held it by the sleeves, inspecting it. “Is that weird?”

“It wasn’t until you asked that.”

You pulled the tee over your head before adjusting it. Your underwear came next, but you felt more hesitant about the jeans.

Eren noticed, assuring you, “They’re sleeping, I promise,” as he put on a shirt of his own. “Just be quick.”

“Okay.” You left, but poked your head back in to say, “I’m leaving the door cracked so I know which room is yours.”

He laughed. “All right.”

You followed his instructions, even trying to be quick about it, too. You peed, washed your hands, and only stared at your bruising collarbone for ten seconds before rushing back down the hall.

Eren was in bed when he saw the door swing open. “Look at you, Ms. C-plus, not getting lost.”

You pulled a face. “Whatever, Brian.”

Right on cue, he complained, “It was one time.” You mouthed it along with him.

For whatever reason, you didn’t crawl into bed with him right away. You felt a bit like a deer in headlights, blinking at Eren as you waited for something. You didn’t know what. He looked sleepy, with his hair still unkempt from your fingers. Seeing him like this, with you dressed in his shirt, about to curl up under his sheets—were you supposed to go along with this like it was normal?

When you finally thought of something to say, Eren cut in first. “You can’t seriously try to take the couch after that.”

That was exactly what you were about to do. He chuckled, knowing he was right by the purse of your lips. He lifted the blanket for you—once again, like this was entirely normal for you—and said, “Get over here already. I’m cold.”

Eren was extremely difficult to say no to, but you knew that already. You got into his bed with no contest and let him lay the comforter over you.

Either his pillows were just that soft or you felt that exhausted because your eyes went heavy almost immediately. Eren reached over you to turn out the light, but let his arm fall on top of you. He hugged your waist, not hesitating to pull you into him.

He nuzzled into the back of your neck, pulling a giggle from you. “Are you always this clingy after sex?”

Eren hummed an affirmative sound, tickling you again.He was most definitely never this clingy after sex. But there was no way he could keep his hands to himself, not with how good you looked in his shirt, just barely long enough to cover anything. Maybe his intentions in lending you a shirt weren’t entirely pure—so sue him. You wearing his clothes was a sight he could get used to. One he had a feeling he’d get to see much more often.

#eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren smut #eren fluff #aot x reader #attack on titan x reader

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onelittlespiral · 1 day

Text

FML: Sealed

The plan was simple, if time consuming. Rent some apartments out, and wait. Of course, there were some preparation required. First, buy an old apartment building, something not too expensive and not too flashy. Make some small changes to the central air system and temperature control. Bring the whole thing up to code and install a beautiful, in building gym. Hire a team of savvy young women to help manage the apartments. Then, carefully and selectively rent out the one bed, one bath apartments to single, young men who showed promise. Some were just graduated 20-somethings, with a bright future ahead in STEM careers. Some were trust fund kids moving to the city for the first time, drawn to the quickly gentrifying downtown. Some were just personal pet projects that I wanted to see grow into their potential. Like this fellow:

I wanted to see what would happen on a bit more of a bear-ish body type. We set him up in Unit 514. Or this bro:

He was already pretty close to what we wanted our final results to look like. But I wanted to see how much we could push him. Unit 112, low and close to the gym. Good eye candy for some of the twinks we set up on the sixth floor. After about 3 months, every unit in the building had been filled, all eight floors. It was the first of June, around 4 a.m. when we had verified all residents were home. The overnight receptionist was sent home early for the day as upstairs, all door locks were remotely engaged, power was cut, and the new air conditioners kicked in. All subjects were sealed in their experiment chambers.

Slowly but surely, a thick fog billowed from each bedroom’s vents. It was a thick, sticky vapor, smelling like sandalwood and cool like peppermint. Subjects’ rooms were soon filled as they began breathing it in deeply. Some began to toss in their sleep, subconsciously fighting the mist, while others just huffed away and began the absorption process. One fellow on the second floor managed to toss himself awake, but was quickly sedated by an extra pump of vaporized melatonin added to his room.

As the men all settled down and opened up, the mist began absorbing into their bodies through any gap available: mouth, nose, pores, cocks, and asses. Within thirty minutes, the last of the gas has been administered, and all subjects were once more peacefully at rest. Bodies began twitching and pulsing as faint moans emitted from some of the smaller men’s mouths. The experiment had began.

The first to wake up in the morning was a subject in apartment 211. His transformation was among the more subtle. The lanky guy had put on a few pounds of muscle as his beard thickened and some hair grew in. He immediately began to sense something was off, as he felt his body and now bushy beard. He tried to check his phone. Dead. He gets up and tries to walk out into the apartment. Locked. A look of confusion sets in as he sits and tries to think of what to try next. That is when it catches him. With the power out and the sun rising, temperatures were rising. And as he began to sweat, he began to smell:

The gasses that seeped in last night were slowly beginning to seep back out, causing more radical changes. But this second exposure is different. It is coming from inside him, and carries his unique pheromones with it. This gas is heroin to him, designed to addict his body to its presence and slowly bring out the best in him. And as the smell fills his nostrils for a second time, he is fighting the urge to give in. Give into himself and what he is becoming. He knows that the smell is rancid, musky and earthy with notes of spice that burn his nostrils. But it is a lost cause. As he huffs away at his own funk, he glides his free hand down his chest, feeling thick, matted hair and slick abs. He takes a moment to feel his muscles twitching and stretching as his skin becomes sensitive to the touch. He wraps his sweaty, calloused hand around his cock, and begins to pump.

Once he begins to pleasure himself, there is very minimal risk of a reversal. The changes are rapid and extensive his body grows to match the smell that now saturates the air around him. Muscles swell, bones crack and reshape, feet stretch, and his eyes roll in the back of his head as he starts to drool. The fog settling into his brain leaves no room for inhibitions as he starts to self worships his pit, devouring his own sweat. Our scanners also begin to detect deterioration in brain activity. The pleasure center is growing, eating into non-essential regions like memory and comprehension. No part of the original subject is left unchanged as he continues to evolve into a sweaty, smelly, hairy beast of a man. And as he reaches climax, he lets out a deep roar as all inhibitions about his new form are shot out the swollen mushroom tip of his cock. He rolls his foreskin back up and shoves his filthy cock into a pair of sweatpants.

He stares at his body, flexing and feeling up his muscles. Experiment 211 has been a success, able to turn a scrawny nerd into a horny, sweaty, smelly gym bro with an insatiable need to fuck. Now we just need to test how powerful his sperm and scent are. He hears a click as his chamber is unlocked. We pulse the lights in the room with a code his mind will understand. He now knows his mission is to go over to Apartment 212 and begin round two of testing…

It is a bit later in the morning now and subjects all around are beginning to wake up and face their new reality. Through our camera network we watch as their transformations are slowly taking place, as muscle, fat, and fur are packed on and a cloud of musk begins to cloud the room.

And slowly as men finish their first rounds, their chambers are unsealed. They begin to wander and find their neighbors, mixing musks to help each other grow and change even more.

The experiment will run sealed off from the general public, at least until new subjects are needed to collect additional data points. Interested parties are encouraged to apply now to our waitlist. Otherwise, we expect to host an open house next month, with all subjects free to leave the complex and continue experimenting as they see fit. I can already tell that our friend we started with in Unit 514 will be popular.

Thank you for your time today. We expect to see you again very soon.

#male transformation #musk #straight to gay #jockification #reality change #jock #fml #mass tf #transformation

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11rosebunny · 3 days

Text

┆彡 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋

Chapter two

HAJIME UMEMIYA X READER

Upon landing his eyes on yours, it took him a few seconds to breathe in again until the guy he came with started marching his way to where you stood with the first-year boys.

"You little SHITS!"

Your eyes widened as you followed the image of a hotheaded male with sharp features and short spiky hair that seemed to be withering away from a shade of blonde.

His shark-like teeth grew wide when a scowl appeared on his face and grabbed Sakura's head with steam coming from his ears. You backed away in shock at the scene before you.

"What the hell I tell you about followin' my orders?!" Spit flew out from his mouth hitting the poor boy's face. Nirei's face bellowed into fear while Sugishita and Suo looked away feeling sweat drop from their foreheads.

"Gross! You're spitting on me again!" The black and white-haired boy shouted back.

You stood there watching the two argue back and forth since nobody else dared to intervene, otherwise if they did, the third-year male would've torn their heads' off.

Then soon after, footsteps approached the table.

"Calm down Hiragi." An easygoing voice spoke over the fight in front of you.

The grey-haired man walked up to where his friend was practically mauling Sakura's face. Then, he placed his hand on the punk's shoulder making him snap at him.

"What?!"

A smile went on his face, "We can deal with them later. You do realize we have a guest with us?"

Hiragi's grip on Sakura loosened as he turned to look at the newcomer, his expression softening slightly. His eyes flickered to you, and for a moment, you caught a glimpse of vulnerability beneath his tough exterior.

The grey-haired man nodded towards you with a friendly smile, his demeanor calming the tense atmosphere. "Let's not ruin our guest's impression of us, Hiragi. We can handle this later."

The four other boys twisted their head's at the sudden tone their older classmate had put on.

"Haah—? What's up with you now?" Sakura nudged at the boy. It was odd seeing how his president acted towards the stranger he didn't know of while the only background noises was the spiky-haired boy yelling at Sugishita. You stood their awkwardly as the grey-haired man spoke to you.

"May I ask who you are? I don't mean to come off as rude. It's just that I haven't seen you around here before." He smiled sweetly catching you off guard at how friendly he was.

The both of you stared at each other taking in your features. He never recalls meeting anyone like you before—never bumped into you on the Main Street, or during weekend days. Generally, the grey-haired boy knew nearly everyone in the town he's grown up in even since he was a middle schooler. So when he comes across somebody he's never bumped into, he's stumped and almost intrigued on who you were.

"[Last name] [First Name]."

You answered after a couple of seconds from silence. You started blinking away, not understanding why he had gotten quiet all of a sudden. Had you said something off?

But then, the weirdest thing happened. He laughed.

"Wh—"

"That's amazing! I've never met you before can you believe it?!" His hand reached to the top of your head. Was he, patting it?

From the sidelines, Nirei sweat dropped before mumbling to himself, "Well obviously. Isn't this their first interaction?" He whispered to Suo. The other boy nodded finding the older man's response a bit stupid.

Instantly, your hands flayed around in the air, feeling nervous that a random man you've never met began to pat your head continuously. "Uhhh."

Shortly after, he let out a sigh and removed his hand. Your face was now startled as you looked back at him with an unsure smile. He was acting way too easygoing than anyone you've ever encountered before (although not many).

"Anyways, what brings you here? I can see that the younger ones are already aware of you." He asked as the spiky-haired male in the background finally stopped arguing with Sugishita.

"I found Kyotaro unconscious in an alleyway?" You answered a little quiet. All 6 of them stopped speaking.

"Ah."

"Haah?"

"Oh?"

"WHAT?!"

The reactions of each of them progressively got worse. Then once again, the man began to go right back to arguing with Sugishita who this time began to scowl and look away in embarrassment. Then, the man before you began to laugh again.

Your head swung to look at him but in a flash he put his hands on your shoulders and began to guide you away from the scene.

"Ahah, I think we should go now yes?"

It wasn't an awkward walk back down than you thought it might have been. You were able to read the room and silently agreed it was also better if you'd leave in that moment. You continued walking behind him as you lead you to the exit of the school, he was humming an unknown song while he was at it.

"You don't speak much [Name]." He said out loud randomly as you two were now on the bottom floor.

"I don't?"

He chuckled, "You sure do, nothing bad about that though." He shoved his hands in his pockets. Although you couldn't see his face, you could tell by the way he spoke it sounded like he was grinning. Then, he turned his head to look at you.

"But..."

"You haven't even asked for my name." He concluded with a curious smile.

By now, you two were finally at the doors to the outside, but before you could step out, you jumped when you realized what he said was true.

"Oh! I'm so sorry! What's your name?" You panicked. He snickered finding the way your face went in shock to be amusing.

He opened to door for you to walk out first then shortly walked closer to you causing the door to close.

"Hajime Umemiya."

Chapter three

#wind breaker #windbreaker #windbreakerxreader #hajime umemiya #hajime umemiya x reader #haruka sakura #haruka sakura x reader #jo togame #mitsuki kiryu #taiga tsugeura #hayato suo x reader #toma hiragi x reader #tomiyama choji x reader #toma hiragi #kyotaro sugishita

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moonstruckme · 1 day

Note

hiiii love ♡˖꒰ᵕ༚ᵕ⑅꒱

i saw your post aksing about request for anyone other than the marauders and i was wondering if i could request some asexual comfort :o with whatever character you think is the most fitting !!

i was thinking maybe reader coming out to them and being very nervous about it since they're a sex repulsed asexual??

if your uncomfortable with this request pls just ignore this, i just really enjoy your content and am always looking for some ace comfort hehe

hope ypu have a great day, love ya <33

Hi lovely, thank you for requesting! Sorry for the wait, I tried re-writing this a couple of different times and tbh I'm still not very happy with it (which has nothing to do with you or your request, I just couldn't seem to write it the way I wanted to) <3

cw: mention of boner, reader experiences uncomfy feelings around Eddie's arousal, and lastly I’ve been told that sex-repulsed asexuals can still enjoy kissing as a sensual or romantic experience but I apologize if that’s inaccurate !

Eddie Munson x fem!reader ♡ 937 words

You like kissing Eddie, but you don’t get lost in it the way he does. You can feel him curtailing himself, turning his grip from ravaging back to gentle each time he realizes you’re only tracing the curve of his jaw with your forefinger, trailing a hand down his shoulder, twirling a piece of his hair.

He keeps his kisses soft the way he guesses, rightly, you like them. Slow and sweet explorations of your mouth without any of the heat you know he nonetheless wants. His hands splay over your back, pulling you closer to him, and you like being closer to him.

You don’t like what he brings you closer to meet.

It’s not Eddie’s fault, you know. He can’t control the bulge pressing into your leg, and even if he could he couldn’t know how you feel about it. It’s revulsion mixed with anxiety, dread heavying it all until it sits low in your stomach where you’ve been told the heat is for most everyone else.

You tense a bit. Eddie takes it for enthusiasm, his hold on you tightening. And you feel like crying, because in a minute it’s all going to be over. You’re going to have to tell him no.

You like Eddie. You like Eddie so, so much, love him even. You don’t want to end things. You’ve been putting off even thinking about it, the inevitability of this conversation and the certainty of its outcome. Eddie is kind, he’s been patient with you, but you’ve let him think you’re just setting a slow pace, and that sex is on the horizon. He doesn’t ever push you, because to him it’s an eventuality.

Tears sting your eyes. You’re so in your head you almost don’t acknowledge them until one escapes, catching in your lashes. You blink, and the next slips down your nose, transferring to Eddie’s cheek.

His lashes part like they’re stuck together with syrup, reluctant. His eyes meet yours where you’re already watching him, and you both pull back at the same time.

“Whoa,” he says, voice rough around the edges as you sit up on his lap to wipe under your eyes, “what the fuck? What’s wrong?”

“Sorry,” you tell him, croaky for your own reasons. “God, sorry.”

You move a few inches back on his lap, into a safe zone just above his knees, and Eddie sits up too. “Shit, am I really that bad?” he asks.

You laugh a little, but it’s too close to the truth. You tent your fingertips over the bridge of your nose as fresh tears blur your vision.

“Hey,” he sits up, looking somewhere between bemused and panicky as he sets both hands on your thighs, rubbing in an attempt to soothe you, “hey, what’s going on? Did I do something?”

“No,” you say, though that’s not exactly honest. “It’s not you.” That sounds like the beginning of a cliche breakup. You make yourself say it outright. “I don’t want to have sex.”

Eddie’s hands still on your legs, his eyebrows rising so sharply it makes his eyes look even huger than normal. “Wait,” he says, “that’s what’s got you so wound up? That’s fine, baby, we don’t have to. Shit, I wasn’t trying to.”

“No.” You shake your head, face hot beneath your fingertips. “I mean ever.” Eddie’s head tilts. “I don’t…I don’t have sex. I don’t like to.”

Eddie’s hands remain on your thighs, but they ease back as he sits up. You understand now why some people deliver news in letters or phone calls. You wish you could give your boyfriend the time and space he needs to pick the words to break up with you. You don’t mean to make it hard on him. He nods again, again, and again, brows bunching tighter with each one.

“Ookay.” He draws out the first sound, nodding again like that’s that. “That’s okay.”

“I’m sorry,” you say again. It’s easier, now, your tears slowing since you’ve ripped off the band-aid. “I wasn’t trying to lead you on, I just…” You just fully were leading him on, letting him think there’d be more when there wouldn’t. “I know this isn’t what anyone wants.”

Eddie’s mouth pulls. “Well, I’ve got bad news.”

You flinch internally. “Yeah?”

He nods, uncharacteristically grave. “I’m, like, super fucking into you.”

You pause in wiping under your eyes. “Huh?”

“Yeah.” Eddie shrugs. “I mean, obviously this was some way to get me to break up with you, but you’re going to have to try harder than that. This isn’t gonna work.”

“Eddie, I’m serious.”

“So am I, sweetheart.” He hooks his hands under your knees, tugging you closer on his lap. You find it’s a comfortable place to be, now that everything has calmed down. Eddie takes your hands, pulling them away from your face and looking at you intently. “I like you a lot, you know? This may be hard to believe, but you’re more than just a piece of ass to me.” You crack a smile at that, and he mirrors it. “So if this is your way of trying to get me to break up with you, you’re going to have to think of something else. Or just do it yourself, coward.”

“I don’t want to break up,” you say quietly.

He raises his eyebrows. “Seriously? Because it really seems like you’re trying to convince me to.”

You shrug. Your face is cooling now, but Eddie’s hands are warm around yours. “I thought you’d want to.”

“Yeah, well.” He makes a face at you. “Give me a little more credit next time, huh?”

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lov3jimin · 24 hours

Text

Paige X Reader

paige and reader having fun in the pool

It was a rare day off for Paige Bueckers and Y/N Between their grueling practice schedules and intense games, moments of relaxation were few and far between. Today, however, was different. The sun was shining brightly, casting a golden glow over the outdoor pool where they planned to spend their afternoon.

Paige and Y/N arrived at the pool, their laughter echoing in the stillness of the morning. Paige wore a sleek blue swimsuit that complemented her athletic figure, while Y/N opted for a vibrant red bikini that showcased her toned physique. They laid out their towels on the lounge chairs, already anticipating the fun that awaited them.

"Ready for some fun, Y/N?" Paige teased, adjusting her sunglasses.

Y/N grinned. "Always, Bueckers. Think you can keep up?"

With a playful glint in her eye, Paige raced towards the pool, diving in gracefully. The cool water enveloped her, a refreshing contrast to the warm sun. Y/N followed suit, her dive sending a splash in Paige's direction.

"Hey!" Paige exclaimed, wiping water from her face. "No fair!"

Y/N laughed, her eyes twinkling. "All's fair in love and splashes."

They spent the next hour playing various games in the water. Paige challenged Y/N to a race, and although both were competitive by nature, they couldn't help but dissolve into laughter every time one of them tried to cheat by splashing the other. The sound of their joy filled the air, mingling with the gentle lapping of the water.

After the race, they decided to take a break, floating lazily on their backs. The sun warmed their faces, and they let themselves relax, enjoying the tranquility of the moment.

"This is nice," Y/N said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Paige turned her head, smiling at Y/N. "Yeah, it really is. We should do this more often."

Y/N nodded in agreement. "Definitely."

After a while, Y/N's mischievous side resurfaced. She silently swam beneath Paige, grabbing her ankles and pulling her underwater. Paige yelped in surprise before being submerged, coming up laughing and spluttering.

"Y/N! You little—" Paige splashed water at her, unable to finish her sentence through her giggles.

Y/N tried to dodge the splash, but it only made her laugh harder. "You should have seen your face!"

Paige's eyes sparkled with a playful challenge. "Oh, you're gonna pay for that."

The two engaged in an impromptu splash fight, water flying everywhere as they chased each other around the pool. Their laughter was contagious, and even the lifeguard, who had been watching them with amusement, couldn't help but smile.

Eventually, they grew tired and swam to the edge of the pool, resting their arms on the side and catching their breath.

"You know," Paige said, looking at Y/N with a fond smile, "I can't remember the last time I had this much fun."

Y/N leaned in closer, her eyes softening. "Me neither. I'm glad we did this."

They shared a quiet moment, the world around them fading into the background. In the pool's crystal-clear water, under the golden rays of the sun, they felt an unspoken connection, a bond that went beyond their shared love for basketball.

Paige gently brushed a wet strand of hair away from Y/N's face. "You make everything better, you know that?"

Y/N's heart swelled with affection. "I could say the same about you, Paige."

In the serene silence, their faces inched closer until their lips met in a tender kiss. It was soft and sweet, a promise of many more moments like this to come. When they pulled away, their foreheads rested against each other, eyes closed in the peaceful aftermath of their shared joy.

The rest of the day was spent in a blissful haze. They lounged by the pool, sipping on cool drinks, sharing stories and dreams. As the sun began to set, painting the sky with hues of pink and orange, they knew this day would be one of their most cherished memories.

Hand in hand, they walked back to their car, their hearts full and content. They had found something special in each other, a love that was both playful and profound. And as they drove away, the sound of their laughter lingered in the air, a testament to the happiness they had found together.

sorry I have not posted in a min 😂🤗

#paige bueckers x reader #new poster #paigebueckers #uconn wbb #swimming pool #y/n

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coffeeghoulie · 2 days

Text

Mushy May Day 16: Cooking A Special Recipe

Cumulus, Mountain, and Dew introduce Aeon to the joys of kahlua chocolate chip cookies.

Thank you to @forlorn-crows for putting Mushy May together, and thank you to @ghuleh-recs for making the divider! <3

"Hey, junie, look what we got while we were out shopping!"

Mountain and Aeon both look up from the round of Mario Kart they're playing, Aeon cursing under their breath as their Toad crashes into a wall, the 'wrong way' sign flashing over his head.

Dew's stuck his head into the living room from the kitchen, holding up a brown glass bottle with a red and yellow label, shaking it. The full bottle sloshes, and Mountain perks up. "Oh shit, you got kahlua. I know what that means."

"Fuck yeah, you do," Dew crows, eyes wide.

Aeon's brow furrows. "It's ten in the morning on a Thursday, are we starting to drink this early?"

Mountain reaches over, rubbing Aeon's shoulder. "No, petunia, it's not for drinking, at least, not right now. We're making cookies."

"Oh, fuck yeah, cookies," Aeon pauses their game, spamming the button with such urgency that Mountain cackles, standing from the couch. "Is Cue helping?"

"It's her recipe," Dew says, leading the two other ghouls to the kitchen. There are grocery bags on the kitchen counter, things the Abbey can't grow or make themselves. Semi sweet chocolate chips, butterscotch pudding mix, the thick glass bottle of rum and coffee liqueur that Dew sets down with a clink.

Cumulus looks up from where she's sorting things in the fridge, hair tied back. "Boys," she greets the three of them. "You helping make cookies?"

"Unless that means you have too many cooks in the kitchen,'' Mountain says, reaching to grab the big bag of all-purpose flour from the top shelf of the cupboard. "Though I don't think Aeon's ever had your cookies before."

"You're in for a treat then, bunny. If it's too many people," she says, "I'll just kick Dew out."

"Hey!" he protests, but there's laughter in his voice; he knows she's teasing.

Aeon glances over at her as she pulls out the carton of eggs. "Can you get the cup and spoon measures out of the drawer by the sink?" Cumulus asks, moving to preset the oven. Aeon nods, scrambling to comply and moving out of Dew's way as he grabs bowls and a rubber spatula.

Mountain fetches baking powder ("Not soda, right, hummingbird?" "Yep, soda makes them flatter than I want them." "Like Dewey's ass?" "I can hear you!") and salt. He takes the measures from Aeon and shows them how to level the measuring cups of flour, dumping them into a bowl with the pudding mix. Aeon adds the spoons of baking powder and salt.

Dew takes care of the wet ingredients, both types of sugar and softened butter and vanilla and a healthy pour of kahlua. Cumulus takes the bottle when he's done, slyly pouring half a shot for all four of them.

"Add a little bit at a time," Mountain directs Aeon, taking the wet bowl from Dew. "I'll stir."

Aeon nods, biting their tongue in concentration, trying not to spill the dry ingredients. Bit by bit, the dough starts to form, and Cumulus adds the chocolate chips, all four of them trying to be slick and snatch a few while the other three aren't looking. Inevitably they catch each other stealing chunks of dough, cackling at the absurdity of trying to be sneaky.

Once the dough's ready, Cumulus goes to one of the cabinet drawers, pulling out an ice cream scoop . "Mount, there's a baking sheet with parchment paper on the counter, could you grab that for me?"

"'Course," he hums, already turning to grab it for her. Cumulus scoops the dough onto the baking sheet, evenly arranging them in rows. Once the sheet's full, she slides it into the oven.

"Alright, ten minutes on the clock," she hums, turning to gather the shotglasses and passing them out. "Cheers."

They down their shots before rinsing out the glasses and cleaning up the dirty dishes. Mountain keeps an eye on the stove clock as the kitchen fills with the scent of baked goods. "How long do you think it'll take for Swiss to come throw himself on top of these?" Mountain asks.

"I don't think hiding them on top of the fridge will work this time," Cumulus hums. "I mean. It'll keep Aurora and Dew from getting them at least."

"Wait." Dew's brow furrows, a look of distress falling over his features. "Is that where they went last time? I thought they were all gone."

"Oh, Dewey," Cumulus coos, laughing. "Oh, Dew, I'm so sorry."

"Cue!" He shouts, playing up his upset.

Mountain ruffles his hair, and the fire ghoul sputters, frantically trying to fix his hair. "Don't worry, firefly, we get first dibs."

Dew smiles smugly, settling back against the counter until the stove clock says it's been ten minutes. He gets up, turning to Aeon, leveling them with a serious look. "Please don't ever do what I'm about to do, I'm a fire ghoul, I don't need a hotpad. You will burn yourself if you try."

He opens the oven, pulling the tray out with his bare hands and taking the spatula from Cumulus, moving the finished cookies from the tray to a plate. They're round little things, golden brown and the chocolate chips gooey.

Cumulus waves her hand casually, using her wind to cool the cookies til they're just on the right side of warm. "Aeon, you get first pick. Enjoy."

She grins as Aeon picks one, tentatively taking a bite. The others all watch, grinning as their eyes go wide, a nearly pornographic moan slipping from their lips. "Holy fuck, Cue," they say with their mouth still full.

"Yeah?" she laughs, taking her own cookie. Dew and Mountain are quick to snatch one for themselves.

"That's really fucking good," they say, taking another big bite of cookie.

"They are," Dew says, biting off nearly half of his cookie. His eyes flutter shut. "Fuck. Just as good as I remember."

Mountain makes a similar noise to Aeon as he chews. "Yep. Uh-huh. We need to find a spot to hide these so they last for longer than an afternoon."

There's thudding footsteps, and Swiss skids on socked feet into the doorframe. "I smell kahlua cookies," he pants, eyes wide and a little crazed, a grin splitting his face.

Cumulus shares a look with Mountain and Dew, and all four of them burst into laughter.

#the cookie recipe they use is a approximate reverse engineering of my mother's 'secret' recipe that she makes once a year #i have been begging her for it since i turned 21 and it became legal for me to buy all of the ingredients #she is still keeping it close to her chest (i turn 23 in two weeks lmao)#they are fucking /heavenly/#the last time she gave me some i put them on top of my fridge to make it an inconvenience to eat them and try and make them last longer #i could have eaten them all at once they're that good i promise im not exaggerating #mom pleaseeeeeeeeeeeee (i say like she has access to my tumblr lmao)#anyways #dot's writing #mountain ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #cumulus ghoulette #aeon ghoul #swiss ghoul #mushy may 2024 #the band ghost #the band ghost fanfiction

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idontknowreallywhy · 2 days

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A little Teeny Scott wip snippet because the little Scooter popped into my brain as he often does when I’m a bit overwhelmed.

Tis another snapshot of my OC Primary teacher POV (oh oops I have two! No, not THAT one the other one! The one who taught teeny Scott rather than the one who trolls adult Scott)

💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙

Like many a primary class store cupboard, the one in Felicity Miles’ domain was crammed full of everything under the sun that could plausibly be “useful for craft one day” alongside all the more formal stationery supplies, first aid items, cuddly toys with their own bandages (often deployed to greater effect than the official first aid items).

She also had a small shelf, high up, she kept for the special pieces of work, the ones which demonstrated where a child had suddenly Got Excited - technicolour art, poetry with unashamed overuse of newly discovered adverbs, science projects, Scott Tracy’s poster about Pi. She always smiled to remember how after his initial disappointment about what the little squiggly symbol DIDN’T mean, how Absolutely he had adopted his new “favourite number”. She had a few from each class and when teacher life all got a bit overwhelming she’d take half an hour at the end of the day and reflect on why she did this in the first place. Retaining the space meant her marking piles were rather more crammed together and higgledy piggledy than ideal - her more organised colleagues would certainly raise an eyebrow - but it was worth it.

There was also a space about half a metre wide and about the same high on the very bottom shelf which it was important she kept empty. Again, the independent observer might have queries as to why, when space was at such a premium, this was necessary. She would probably just smile enigmatically and point at the tiny masking tape sign in wobbly 7-year old handwriting that said “The Octopus House” and leave them with more questions than they were ever going to get answers to.

The Octopus House wasn’t a secret but she didn’t advertise its existence. The few kids who knew about it found it because they needed it. The ones who needed to hide away for a moment, but not be too far away from the safety of their peers or the ones who needed to squeeze up small to process the big feelings without their limbs causing trouble.

It had received its name three years ago on that memorable day when she Lost a Student. He was just gone for at least 20 minutes which must have cost her at least a year of her life. Between the three adults in the class that day they’d subtly searched the corridors, the toilets, the lunch hall, the library and what could be seen of the playground but it was like the child had evaporated. Trying not to panic she’d sent the rest of the class out with the experienced TA and the very-green-but-compensating-with-extreme-enthusiasm NQT to do Olympic relay races on the playground (thank you Ancient Greek class project).

She leant on the back of the door for thirty seconds to catch her breath and psych herself up for the inevitable crisis meeting with the head and the moment at which that would turn in to needing to break the news to his Father.

The silence crowded in on her and she felt herself beginning to properly panic.

She didn’t even know exactly when he’d disappeared. He was there at the start of the lesson, seemed happy, seemed engaged. He’d been very excited about the task they had been given to recreate the Parthenon out of craft paper and had taken charge of his small group so naturally… they’d all been given their part of the mission and they were actually DOING it! Very effectively it seemed! She’d made a mental note to add “leadership skills” to the list of positive things she was going to put on his school report (because the previous few she’d read had made her nauseous with anger) and turned to assist a wailing child with no less than three glue sticks embedded in her hair. And that was… half an hour before? Oh hell that was a long time.

She and the other adults had been so busy mediating the minor battles breaking out in other groups that when a little voice piped up “where’s Scotty? He was sposed to make the lintels!” and her blood had suddenly run cold.

If he was hurt or in danger because she took her eye off him…

She blinked back tears and had just composed herself to pick up the phone to the head teacher’s office when she heard a tiny sniff and spun around to identify the source. Nobody was there.

Hardly daring to breathe, she tiptoed through the room checking under desks already checked three times.

Just as she was concluding she’d imagined it, there it was again - the tiniest noise but definitely a sniff and seemingly from the direction of the cupboard he couldn’t be in because the thumb turn bolt was still in the locked position.

Feeling like she was going crazy she unlocked the door and looked inside anyway.

Obviously it was empty. Her wishful thinking was wasting time. They needed to get a proper search party organised.

She turned to leave and heard it for a third time.

And it was that day, in her 5th year of teaching, she discovered just how small a ball a tall child could make themselves into. Seriously, the octopus had nothing on this kid.

The space was much smaller then, barely 30cm wide and only there at all because she’d taken out the long, thin box of baton-shaped sticks that had been wedged tightly in between stacks of who knew what. All she could see was a tangle of uniformed limbs and a mass of sweaty chestnut hair.

He obviously knew she was there and was holding his breath, clearly hoping not to be seen. Expecting to be in trouble.

Felicity picked up her phone and sent a quick “crisis averted” message to her TA and then, after ensuring the door was wedged wide open, she slowly lowered herself to the floor. Tucking her knees up to her chin to mirror his posture she rested her back on some boxes a few inches to the left of where he’d tucked himself away.

And she waited.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #scott tracy #tiny Scott #adhd!scott #thunderbirds oc #wee!tracys #WIP whenever

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manofbeskar · 1 day

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Okay, I am interested in your Dracule Uta posts now. (She's just so cute and I just know he embroidered that flower on her onesie!!) I need to know more!!

I don't have too much details yet but this is what I have for now:

While Shanks finds her in a treasure chest after raiding another crew, Mihawk instead finds her after killing some marines and discovering her on their ship, eating a devil fruit. He figures the Marines probably don't have good intentions for her so he takes her with him.

For the first few days/weeks, he tries to find another home for her. He thinks his life as a marine hunter and lone pirate is too dangerous to care for an infant. A bit of a Buddy Daddies thing in that way, that he's too dangerous to be around and frankly doesn't want the responsibility.

When he finds out which devil fruit she ate (still the Sing-Sing fruit), he realises he can't risk her falling into the hands of someone more corrupt who can manipulate her powers. He decides to go all in and try his best to raise her properly.

He goes to Shanks for help. He himself never had good parents, but he knows Shanks had a good relationship with Roger and his crew also has older men who may have advice to offer. He gets closer to the RHP this way, learning from them how to best care for a baby.

Shanks grows close to Uta. He likes that her hair makes her look like his and Mihawk's baby. He also treats her like she is their kid, always accidentally calls himself her father. Uta also thinks of him like that. Similar to Buddy Daddies again, Mihawk and Shanks both acknowledge they have parental roles in her life but, at this point in time, don't view themselves as romantic co-parents.

(Of course, they have feelings for each other but Mihawk is oblivious to his feelings and Shanks is secretly crushing hard. He loves how good Mihawk is with the kid and how hard he's trying)

Shanks likes to bribe Uta with sweets to talk him up to Mihawk. Always backfires on him because she's way too frank about it (learned that from Mihawk). She'll just say shit like, "Mihawk, Shanks told me he wants to kiss you!" and it embarrasses Shanks every time.

Uta loves being carried by Mihawk. He carries and controls Yoru so easily. Even teen Uta is practically weightless in his arms. It reminds her of when he first found her and rocked her in his arms as they rode his boat back to his home.

Uta sees Mihawk and Shanks's feelings for each other grow over the years until on her 12th birthday she told them to get a grip and go out already. They went out and have been together ever since.

Mihawk and Shanks figured out a co-parenting arrangement a few years before Shanks docked at Windmill Village. Mihawk thinks it will be good for Uta to go sailing with Shanks every once in a while as his experiences sailing with him have always ended with fun stories and meeting new people.

Mihawk wants Uta to get out there and appreciate the world's vastness. He often takes her sailing (if she isn't sailing with Shanks) and shows her all his favourite spots. Sometimes Shanks comes along and tells her stories of "that time me and Mihawk came here ourselves and this really cool thing happened"

Mihawk let Shanks take Uta for longer than before when he docked at Windmill Village as he wanted Uta to make long-term friends that weren't twice her age like himself and the RHP, so she still meets Luffy. While he is a loner, he wants Uta to experience everything and meet people from all walks of life so she can figure out exactly who she wants to be.

Mihawk trained her to be a strong swordswoman since young. She's very skilled with the blade but told him she wanted to be a singer. Mihawk supports her preference and is happy to listen to all her new songs. As he strived to be the greatest swordsman when he was young, he now wants to help Uta become the greatest musician. He tunes in for every broadcast she does and makes sure the RHP catches them too. Uta still cares a lot about her swordsmanship and practices it often to stay sharp.

She carried a bamboo sword as a kid, then got Shanks's old one with the red hilt as a hand-me-down when she was 15. For her 18th birthday, Mihawk had a Yoru-inspired blade crafted for her. She named it "Musica". It looks similar to Yoru but the orbs are red and heart-shaped, the blade isn't black, and it's shorter.

She lives at Kuraigana with Mihawk but splits her time between there and wherever Shanks is. When Perona moved in, they became close friends. Perona loves hearing about her Mihawk stories. She also regularly duels with Zoro when he moves in, insists he doesn't stand a chance against Mihawk if he can't even beat his first student.

Uta's favourite colour is teal because it's the colour Yoru's blade shines.

Her eyes have rings as Mihawk also taught her powerful observation haki (I don't know if the rings are directly relevant to that but I like how the rings look on her)

#ask #dracule uta au

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ashen-char · 3 days

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dating river - hcs (family edition)

ship: river (all souls) x gender neutral reader

warnings: mentions of death/graveyards/spirits as is canon-typical

notes: jade's such a big part of her life that this got a bit longer than i expected! will have a more general hcs up sometime soon. requested here

✦ river is BUSY. on top of the classes she takes at valley, dealing on the side, and the shit the cops makes her deal with, she dedicates all the time she has to her daughter

✧ as such, she definitely did not expect to get into a relationship. let alone to care about someone as much as she does you

✦ she was wary at first. river hasn't been in many, if any relationships. she didn't know how you'd respond to jade, if you'd understand that you can't be her first priority, or if jade would take to you

✧ so for the first few months you two were seeing each other, river swatted off your (requests) to take her home with a "maybe next time"

✦ in fact, the first time you met jade was an accident

✧ you were chilling in the park with some of your friends while river was taking her daughter to the playground. when jade noticed her mama suddenly brightening at the sight of you across the park, she asked why she was all smiley

✧ basically, river had to introduce her to you

✧ of course, you understood why explaining your relationship status to a 5 year old who's grown up with a single mom her whole life was complicated. so you wore the badge of "this is mama's special friend" with honour

✦ river couldn't hide how happy she was with you, though

✧ jade could always tell if her mama was coming home from hanging out with you. she'd be less stressed, her smiles brighter and laughter more frequent

✧ river couldn't help but to repeat your jokes (if they were appropriate) or gush about what you two did

✧ and since you made her happy, it was a done deal for jade. with all the love in the world for her mama, she hatched a plan to get you two together!

✧ so jade made up all sorts of excuses to have you stick around

✧ movie nights, tea parties, games - jade insisted things were more fun with you, and river couldn't keep saying no to her

✧ any small problem, you were called in to solve it. a jar needed to be opened? they couldn't reach something off the shelf? jade knew who to call

✧ "mama! we don't have enough pillows to make a fort... maybe we could ask your friend to bring some!"

✦ and river secretly loved how much her little girl took to you

✧ every time you showed up for them, it reminded river that she's not going it alone anymore

✧ river would catch you helping with jade's homework like you were a born teacher. rather than just giving the 5 year old the answers like it'd be easiest to do, you'd explain how to get the answers

✧ both of them appreciate how patient and understanding you are

✦ whenever you three were out together, you'd occasionally get compliments on your "sweet little family"

✧ jade would just wrap her arms around both of you and go "thank you!", not letting either of you rebut

✧ not that you wanted to, of course. you loved the idea of you three as a family

✦ you hoped that one day river would see that you'd love jade like she was your own and just make the damn thing official already

✦ needless to say, when jade accidentally caught a glimpse of you two kissing one night, she was ecstatic! she thought her plan worked perfectly

✧ when you two explained that you were actually dating all along, jade got a little huffy that you two were keeping a secret from her

✧ she made you promise to never do that again. but she did give you extra special permission to date her mama, with the addendum that you had to keep making her happy ok?

✧ and she made river promise to treat you good too

✦ river was very embarrassed when jade waxed poetic about how happy she is when she comes home after seeing you

✦ jade basically deemed you worthy of being her second parent before you two even told her

✦ the closest thing river has had to a co-parent was her mom, jade's nana. she had to learn how to let you support her, how to be a team when it came to raising jade together

✧ of course, it helped that you never tried to take over. river was in charge and ultimately, she knew best about what jade needed

✧ river appreciates the amount of respect you have for her decisions in raising jade

✦ it means the world that you're there

✧ you're there to attend jade's recitals, you're there when she scrapes her knee, and you're there when river is coming home late but jade still wants to hear a story

✧ you'll sit by river's side and cheer jade on. you'll carry her over to river so she can patch her up, making them laugh so it hurts less. you'll tell river all about jade's day so she never feels like she missed out because she was too busy

✦ with you around, they teach you their traditions and you teach them yours

✧ with jade being so young, it's nice to make lasting memories for her to cherish

✧ formative stuff, like camping trips when you teach her how to pitch a tent or you help her catch her first fish

✦ you help the kid learn how to ride a bike, and how to swim

✧ when you realise that river doesn't know how to do either (her family could never afford a bike or a pool), you teach her too

✧ (buying her a bike was a very necessary splurge when she smiled so wide because of it)

✧ river trusts you. she trusts you when you hold her hand and help her get used to the feeling of floating, of losing control. she trusts you when you promise to keep your hands on the bike

✧ when you see her balancing on her own, you let go and let her bike around for a bit. realising she had been duped, river cussed at you playfully for breaking your promise

✧ learning how to do these simple skills and being able to do them with you and her daughter, river's confidence shot up because of you

✦ they like to go to the graveyard on all souls day, wearing matching outfits and doing their hair and makeup the same. you let jade do your face paint and river laughs and kisses you because it looks all wonky

✧ when they take you to see nana's grave, you take the time to thank her for how great of a person river is

✧ you tell her how she'd be proud of how much jade's growing

✧ you introduce yourself and promise to take care of her daughter and granddaughter

✦ for your anniversary, river gets a tattoo of your name on her neck, just below 'JADE' <3

#mikey madison #all souls #river all souls #mikey madison x reader #river x reader

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hergrandplan · 1 day

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Wille's Month Day 5 ( @youngroyals-events ): Cooking/baking

Hi everyone! I am back from New York and so so excited to post again. For this prompt, there's surprisingly little Wilmon... but that doesn't mean it's not sweet ;) Hope you'll enjoy!

Also disclaimer: I used Spanish in some places here, I am nowhere near a native speaker but have been learning it for the past few years, and did some extra research on Venezuelan Spanish. However, I haven't had anyone check it so any and all mistakes are mine.

It's the last night of their trip to visit Simon's family in Venezuela. They help Simon's abuelita prepare dinner.

Read below the cut or on ao3 (the ao3 version has a translation key)

The radio is blasting a canción, the strum of the guitar and the deep baritone of the singer joining the smell of roasting meat, of onions and garlic filling up the kitchen.

Simon and his abuelita are singing along to the music, her gravelly voice and his smooth one creating a beautiful, joyous homely symphony. It’s off-key, at times, like when Simon grabs his abuelita’s hand to spin her around, and they are both breathless for a minute, laughing. Simon is less focussed on how he sounds, more happy to just sing, using the ladle like a microphone.

Wille’s heart aches with fondness at the picture, and he’s grinning when Simon takes his hand, remembering at the last minute to put the knife he was using to cut the onions down as his boyfriend pulls him into a waltz that’s very much not fitting the song and yet perfect. They’re jumping around the kitchen, dancing, laughing and falling into each other’s arms as they try to match the up-tempo beat of the song. Simon’s abuelita looks at them fondly while stirring the meat for their dinner tonight – pabellón criollo, their family recipe.

It had taken Wille a full week to convince lita – because she insists he call her that too – to finally let him help cooking. This was, after all, her domain, and Wille was a guest. Every time he’d asked her, she just told him, with warm eyes, that los invitados no cocinan aquí, cariño, and Wille could say nothing against that.

But finally, on this final night of their trip to Venezuela, she caved after Wille told her how much he loves cooking. And though it’s true that the sound of the knife falling against the wooden cutting board and the sizzling of vegetables in hot oil, the doing rather than thinking and never stopping grounded him, it wasn’t the only reason he had wanted to help her cook.

Wille has been received with open arms from their first day in Venezuela, the whole family just accepting him and doing their best to include him even if he can’t always follow along and Simon has to translate. They joke with him the same way they joke with Simon, ask him for any embarrassing stories about their primo and even despite the language barrier, Wilhelm feels like he is home. Like he’s always been part of this big, loud and loving family.

And for that, he wants to say thank you. By cooking, by helping Lita in the kitchen as they prepare this last feast before they fly back to Sweden.

Lita asks Simon something in Spanish that Wille can’t understand. Though he learned a bit of Spanish when he was younger for diplomatic reasons, and though he tried to brush up on his knowledge before making the trip over, Lita speaks so rapidly and with such a heavy accent, dropping d’s and s’s, that Wille often has a hard time following her. Like he has now.

Simon nods at whatever Lita told him (asked him, maybe?) and leaves the kitchen.

Lita and Wille cook in silence for a moment or two, the radio still playing, but only Wille is humming along now. Though he can only catch part of the lyrics, he’s heard the song enough times now to at least know the melody.

Wille finally finishes dicing the onions and goes to put them in a separate pan to fry them up for the beans.

“You make him happy, you know.”

Wille is so focussed on what he’s doing that he doesn’t even realize that Lita started talking to him, the Spanish much slower than she spoke to Simon a moment ago.

Surprised, he turns to face her. Her eyes are trained on the food, but the corner of her mouth has lifted up into a small smile.

“He makes me happy too,” Wille says after a moment, in careful Spanish.

“I’m glad he’s found you,” she continues, again speaking slowly so Wille can catch every word. “You two remind me of me and my husband, dios lo tenga en su gloria, when we were your age.”

Wille doesn’t reply – doesn’t know how to reply, didn’t expect this at all. It’s not that Lita never talks to him, but he realizes now they haven’t had a moment alone before now, always surrounded by at least one other family member.

Lita fully turns to him now and places a warm, rough hand that shows years of labor and love on his cheek. She looks at him with chocolate eyes, a piercing gaze that Wille finds all too familiar – they’re Simon’s eyes as well.

“I can tell you love him very much, and that he loves you very much. I hope you’ll continue to make each other happy for many years to come.”

And where at first Wille was just surprised, now he’s stunned into absolute silence. This, this seems important somehow. This feels like a blessing.

“I’m happy you’re part of the family, mijo.”

Mijo. Wille falters at the word, barely able to wrap his mind around Lita calling him son, truly welcoming him into the family. He’s actually part of this, of them, of this part of Simon’s life now. And she, this woman who holds so much love in her heart, sees how much they mean to each other. That they are each other’s forever.

Wille thanks her, flustered and stumbling over his r’s that still feel unfamiliar in his mouth. But he thanks her nevertheless, saying he hopes for the same, that he will do everything in his power to make Simon happy, to show Simon how much he loves him every single day.

Lita just chuckles and resumes cooking, the moment gone as soon as it started. That’s when Simon stumbles back into the kitchen, holding a giant bag of rice. He launches into another tale in Spanish, occasionally glancing at Wille, who’s still standing next to Lita and isn’t really paying attention anyways, too caught up in what just happened. Wille knows he must have the dumbest smile on his face because Simon looks at him, questioningly. Wille shakes his head. Later, he mouths.

Wille looks on as the scene settles back to what it was before – Simon and Lita singing along to the radio, continuing their cooking. But it’s changed, somehow. Wille’s heart feels… Fuller. Fuller than it ever has as he too softly joins in the singing. This has Simon even more confused before he shrugs, shaking his head in bemusement at Wille’s very off-key singing.

They finish dinner. Wille helps Simon carry it all outside, putting it on the large table so they can have it under the stars, with the cicadas singing their cacophony in the background.

It’s their family tonight that they have this final dinner with. Their cousins that jostle around for the ladle, that laugh loudly into the night sky.

His and Simon’s, forever.

#willemonth2024 #young royals #yr fanfic #yr fic #yr fanfiction #young royals fanfiction #young royals fanfic #young royals fic #young royals archive #wilmon #wilmon fanfiction #prince wilhelm #wilhelm eriksson now?#simon eriksson #wilhelm eriksson #wmday5

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luizd3ad · 17 hours

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Every Step Of The Way | Regulus Black x Reader

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ࣪˖⤷ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ ࣪ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ˖ ⤷

Pairing: Regulus Black x GN!Reader WC: 1,213 TW: heavy talks of depression, depressive episode, depressed reader, self invalidation, no use of Y/N. Author's Note: I've been having a hard time lately and I just needed a comfort fic, this is purely based off my own experience with depression and how I feel when I'm in a depressive episode. If you don't feel like me that's okay, mental health is different for everyone! Just remember you're so valid and so loved <3. Summary: You're just having a hard time but Regulus is always there for you.

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹

At some point your mind wasn't supposed to be your enemy anymore right? At some point the ‘teen angst’ was supposed to go away and you were supposed to be an adult with relatively healthy mental health right?

The crippling depression and anxiety was supposed to go away with puberty. At least that's what you'd been told, that things would get better and your mind wouldn't mess with you as much.That was what was supposed to happen, but when do things ever go as planned?

The only difference between now and your teen years was that you recognized the symptoms faster, you understood what was coming before it was fully there. Now every so often you can catch it, do things to make the bad thoughts go away or lessen, then other times… you would feel paralyzed.

The numbness would consume you, invite you in like an old friend, along with the loss of appeal to do anything. You didn't want to eat, drink, read, or listen to music.

You didn't want to do anything and sometimes without even realizing you would spent the whole day looking into nothingness.

Regulus would notice the mood change almost immediately. He would pick up on the sign and the overall change in your personality.

Not only would he notice because he was hyper aware of the behavioral changes around him (thank you Walburga. Sarcasm) but also because he dealt with the same feelings.

The emptiness and numbness of it all, it wasn't until Pandora explained it to him that he learned that those feelings were not exactly ‘normal’.

It was normal to be sad, to have a depressive episode here and there especially following a tragedy but it was the consistency that wasn't normal.

The feeling of emptiness that always felt like a shadow following you, the feeling of being the happiest you've ever been but still feeling that emptiness in the back of your head.

It was one of the things you both shared. Sometimes it wasn't a good thing. When both of you were in that state of mind it was hard to help each other, to be there for each other.

How could you stop someone from drowning if you're drowning yourself?

But other times it was a good thing. You knew each other's signs, you two could pick up on the signs before the other person even realized that they were slipping, sometimes. It gave you time to either try and stop it before it went too far or just get prepared.

This was one of those times Regulus knew he needed to prepare.

He had seen you starting to detach for about a day now. Regulus knew this was going to be one of those episodes he couldn't stop, the kind where you were there physically but not mentally.

You just were floating through your days, you were on auto pilot almost the whole day; you weren't really listening, hardly responded and if you did it was short.

Regulus preparing for this meant doing a few things, taking a few days off work, letting Sirius, Pandora and Barty know that he wouldn't be really available so that he could focus solely on you. Making sure your favorite foods were home and ready to encourage you to eat, having some of your favorite movies, books, everything and anything accessible in case you were in the mood to do anything or if you just wanted to try and distract yourself for a while.

It also meant mentally preparing himself to be understanding and patient since it wasn't exactly his strong suit but he'd do anything for you.

When an episode fully hits it isn't always you wake up and start to feel depressed. Sometimes you would be fine most of the day and then suddenly you were hit with a wave of nothingness.

Most of the time nothing would trigger it, nothing would happen, your brain would just decide that it was time to be sad, to be numb, you guessed.

“Mon Amore, would you like to eat something? You can have anything you want.” Regulus touched the side of your face and brought you out of your head. You just shook your head not really looking at him. “No, thank you.” You whisper.

He just nodded and sat next to you. He knew when to pick his battles and since you ate that morning he knew this shouldn't be the hill he dies on.

The rest of the night was spent mostly silence with a few words exchanged here and there, Regulus was there ready and willing to do whatever you needed him to do to make you feel better.

He got you to eat a little eventually and you shared a shower with him. He had helped you wash yourself since you didn't have any motivation or energy to do so.

By the end of the night you were both cuddled up in bed while Regulus ran his hand up and down your back just to let you know he was there.

He liked when you knew he was there, he felt like it helped even just a little, especially to make you feel a little less alone.

Eventually you broke the silence with a sight. “I'm sorry.” You felt regulus's hand stop moving, he stayed silent for a moment.

“Why are you apologizing? You haven't done anything.” By the sound of his voice you knew he was frowning, he knew exactly why you were apologizing but a part of him was hoping, praying, that he was wrong.

“For being this way. You shouldn't have to deal with this. We're not kids anymore, I should be over these feelings by now.”

Regulus sat up, making you sit up in the process, reaching over to the lamp on the bedside table turning the light on. “Do you choose to feel this way? Do you make the conscious decision to feel like this?” Regulus was looking you in the eyes with raised eyebrows waiting for a response.

“Not necessarily, but-”

“Exactly, you don't. You can't control your emotions. You didn't ask to feel this way nor do you choose to. There's no point in apologizing for something that you have no control over. Your brain is amazing and beautiful but sometimes it isn't the nicest to you and that's okay. Do you know why? Because even if your brain is mean sometimes it still makes you who you are and you're so amazing, mon cœur. We’ll take care of this together like we always do. It's going to be hard sometimes but it is not impossible, and I'll always be here with you every step of the way, because I love you more than anything, tu es ma raison de vivre, mon amour.”

Regulus cupped your cheek and whipped a few tears you didn't know you had shedded. All you could do was whisper a ‘thank you’ as you threw yourself in his arms.

You fell asleep that night in Regulus’s arms while he whispered sweet nothing to you.

You weren't better by any means but you felt loved, you felt understood. You knew that no matter how hard things got, Regulus would be there for you, every step of the way.

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹

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sportswriters · 17 hours

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traveling to his hometown - j. swayman

pairing: jeremy swayman x reader | f | established relationship | wc: 943 | warnings: none

welcome post!

you came up with the idea of traveling to anchorage for a few days to take care of your well being. jeremy found it great since it’s break season so he had a free week to enjoy before going back to training. he’s always been connected to nature since he was a kid going to hike with his dad, so it was nice for him as well. jeremy picked you up in the morning to go to his parents house so you could all go to the airport together. his sister would arrive a day later with her husband and the baby.

“hello, beautiful. did you sleep well last night?” he greets you with a kiss, then helps you with the baggage.

“just a few hours. i kept thinking if i was missing to pack something,” you confess. “i probably dreamed about it, i just don’t remember. you?”

“well, me too. can’t wait to rest and enjoy the view with you.”

“i’m so glad we’re going together. so glad you came from such a beautiful place, no wonder you’re the love of my life,” you hug his waist, leaving a quick peck on the side of his neck.

“you’re lucky we can’t be late. i could totally go back up to your place so we could smooch for a few hours.”

you just laugh and let go of him, leaving the teasing for when you’re properly alone.

the trip to his parents house and then to anchorage went by pretty fast. jeremy came from a family full of good people, so it was easy to talk to them comfortably. since it was a long flight, everyone took the opportunity to get some sleep — not even the excitement could control tiredness.

there wasn’t a proper plan to follow during the trip, so you hang out inside just enjoying the coziness of the house, taking every chance to cuddle by the fire or outside on the porch. sometimes you would take a walk around the neighborhood, eating delicious food and buying souvenirs. the other day you went hiking in his favorite place, then when you reached the top, your emotions overflowed when you took in how beautiful the world around you was. jeremy stayed by your side, waiting for you to calm down. he was aware of how hard work has been to you, but the difference was that you couldn’t let out this kind of energy like he did on the ice. he was aware that for now all he could do was being there until you got back.

and you did. within the safety of his arms, you felt lighter while you waited for your breath to normalize and your eyes were still puffy.

“thank you, baby.”

“always, my love.”

you and jeremy have been a couple for almost two years, but after these days being so domestic and behaving like a true dynamic duo in every situation, it made you both realize how great of an idea it would be to finally move in together. neither of you knew you’re thinking of the same thing, so a few hours before going to the airport, jeremy took you to the porch to talk, failing to notice that you said you also wanted to show him something. he was nervous, it’s cute, you would’ve paid more attention if you weren’t as much as a nervous wreck.

it’s not like you’re anxious or anything — neither of you —, it’s the expectation. the realization of how much you love one another. loving someone to the point you wish to spend your whole life with, to wake up beside each other, to wait for them to come home.

“you know you’re my home, right?” he asks.

“i figured i might be one of them, yes” you joke, knowing how important his family is to him. jeremy stares at you for a second with a silly smile hovering his features. he pecks your lips twice.

“okay, smartass. i meant to say you’re someone i’m sure i want to build a home with.”

his straightforwardness catches you out of guard.

“jer…”

“wait, listen. i’ve considered a lot of things, but i know you must have your own conditions…”

“baby, correct me if i’m wrong.” you hold his hands over your lap. “we’re each other’s home, that’s known. now you want us to build a home together? is that right? like living together?”

“yes, if you let me.”

“remember i said i wanted to show you something?” you let go of his hands to open an app on your phone, searching for a picture. jeremy is slightly confused by the subtle change of topic, but quietly waits for you.

you smile when you find it. it’s a picture of a cheesy welcome rug with a bear couple and lots of cute hearts. jeremy smiles right when he sees it, used to the silly stuff you send him everyday, especially the ones with couples that act like you two.

“that’s adorable, for sure… wait.” he tears his eyes off the phone to find you smiling at him with your eyebrows raised. “is this what i think it means?”

“i must add that this is one picture from a quite big pinterest folder. i named it our lil ol’ home, see?” you show him the title.

jeremy looks like he could cry at any second.

“my love…”

you stand from your seat to sit on his lap, hugging him with your whole body.

“we’re in this together. i love you so much, jer.”

“i love you, y/n. can’t wait to start buying couple’s stuff with you as soon as we arrive home.”

#jeremy swayman #jeremy swayman imagines #jeremy swayman scenarios #nhl imagines #nhl scenarios #nhl drabbles #nhl blurbs #boston bruins imagines #jeremy swayman fluff #sportswriters ❤

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rabbithub · 21 days

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You know the line, 'to be loved is to be changed'? I think that would work for Fallen Angel!AU.

#like hear me out #essentially Doppio isn't loved too much earlier on as a child and a scapegoat for other older angels #and so he starts sneaking out of Heaven to find some semblance of love or at least someone who doesn't dislike him #then one day he sneaks into a younger Diavolo's room when the latter is hiding in his room and nearly suicidal #so Doppio does the rare and unwise thing and reveals himself and starts talking to Diavolo like #'hi are you okay can we be friends?'#and Diavolo (being a kid at this time) hesistantly agrees because- well why not?#and they were friends for a few years until Doppio ended up being told to 'help' in one of heaven's libraries #so he couldn't leave for years (also he saw the fire and thought Diavolo died) except for rare moments where he still sneaks out of heaven #eventually he finds the truth out that Diavolo is still alive and the villian is planning something bad #so Doppio essentially says 'fuck this I'm out' to the villian and straight up falls out of heaven #and he ends up at the burned out church Diavolo used to go to and Diavolo happens to be there too #it takes a few days but they catch up with each other #and Doppio realizes all that shit he's been told about falling is bullshit and he's gotten braver if not ballsier over the years #sure he can't return to heaven but he's with his childhood friend and that's more than goddamned worth it #sorry for the wall of tags but #i have feelings for these rose colored bastarss #Aus #Fallen Angel!AU

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hum--hallelujah · 10 months

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like a sledgehammer to a disco ball - 3.9k words, Fun Ghoul angst and protective Kobra Kid

Kobra jerks awake at the first creak of the floor. The only person who has any right to be in his room at night knows better than to step where the floor creaks. Instinct takes over and he's holding his blaster at body height by the time his brain and eyes are awake enough to see through the dark.

"It's me, it's me, it's me," Ghoul stammers, holding his hands defensively in the air. Only, it sounds more like "'smee," because of the way Ghoul is slurring. And he's bleeding.

Kobra drops the blaster as soon as he realizes that the dark smear across Ghoul's face is blood. "What the hell, man," he hisses, groping in the dark for a light with one hand and trying to pat Ghoul down to make sure he's not like, actively dying, with the other. He could be blackout drunk or he could have gone out alone like he does sometimes and any number of things could have happened. The cold metal of an old flashlight meets his fingers and he flicks it on, shining the dim light over Ghoul.

"I did something stupid," Ghoul says. Only, it comes out as "Uh did su'hn stooid," wavering slightly, because the entire right side of Ghoul's face, from the corner of his mouth to his cheekbone, is sliced open. There's a horrific flap of flesh hanging loose that's supposed to be connected to the rest of his face. That's where the blood staining his face and clothes and hands is coming from, and why when he speaks, it sounds wrong.

"Holy shit," Kobra whispers, feeling cold Zone night air sting his eyes because they're open so wide. "Okay. Okay, what happened?" He holds Ghoul carefully by one arm, feels the way he's shaking. He's always shaking, except when he's got his hands in a bomb. This is worse than normal though. This is so much worse than anything Kobra's ever seen.

Ghoul shrugs, waves his hands vaguely and wildly. Kobra hisses a sharp breath through his teeth, frantically runs a hand through his hair. "Okay," He says again. "I'm gonna get-" He needs Jet, de facto medic, he needs Party, needs his brother-

"No," Ghoul says sharply, and that at least is completely clear. His eyes are wild from what Kobra can see in the dark. If human eyes could glow, his would. He grips Kobra's arms. "Please don't," he mumbles around the gruesome injury. His voice is high and frantic, and it has to hurt to talk. "Just you."

Kobra freezes. There's a slowly building feeling of dread, growing stronger by the moment. He pulls Ghoul off him, holds him by the wrists. "Okay. Just me," he promises, and feels sick about it. "Just me."

Ghoul noticeably relaxes, though he's still trembling head to toe, and lets Kobra drag him across the diner in near-silence aside from the occasional seemingly involuntary whimper on Ghoul's part, into the single-stall bathroom with a barely working lightbulb. Somehow, they make it past the front room where Party sleeps without waking him, much as Kobra wants to let his brother take care of this. He's practically trembling at how badly he wants Pois right now.

There's a medical kit in the cabinet that Kobra pulls out immediately. He knows how to handle this, physically speaking. It's whatever else, the shit he doesn't know and is scared to find out, like how this freaking happened, that makes him nervous. Ghoul stands in the flickering light like he doesn't know what to do.

"Sit the fuck down," Kobra snaps nervously, gesturing to the toilet lid. Ghoul does. Kobra pulls a dubiously clean rag from the cabinet and eyes it. It scares him to see Ghoul like this. Usually if he's scared, he fights. He hisses and spits and claws at whoever comes near him. More often than not, that's Kobra. But this, the wide-eyed jittering, is a whole other animal.

"This whole thing is gonna suck," he says stiffly. Ghoul nods. With a little more light, Kobra can see the thick, shiny blood streaming from the wound through his cheek. It isn't enough that Kobra's afraid Ghoul will bleed out, but the cut is so long and clear through and absolutely grotesque. He crouches down in front of where Ghoul is sitting, sideways on the toilet, and he can't tell if Ghoul is looking at him or through him, almost as if he's the ghost.

In a quick motion that startles both of them, probably, Kobra grabs the back of Ghoul's head with one hand and presses the rag to the seeping wound with the other. Ghoul's eyes go even wider and even greener, and what starts out as a shout of pain from him turns into a choked keening sound. Hearing it feels like being stabbed.

"What happened?" Asks Kobra again, when he's convinced that the bleeding has slowed enough to try and actually deal with this thing. He twists the handle on the faucet on and off, on and off, enough times that the ancient water pump starts up and clean water gurgles into the sink. He cleans the rag that way, then wets it and wrings it out before shutting the water off.

Ghoul's shoulders rise and fall in short, panicky breaths. "I'm sorry," he says. "I'm sorry. I'm- I didn't think, it was stupid, I'm sorry," he continues babbling like that before going silent again aside from the sharp sounds of his breathing.

In a testament to Kobra's selfishness, his biggest worry is that Ghoul took his motorbike out for a spin and crashed it. He can't think of what could have caused something like this. He has visions of his bike sliding out on a turn, crumbled metal and Ghoul's body flying through the air. But if that had happened he'd be hurt other than this. If that had happened he might be dead.

"Yo," he says quietly. "Chill. Just tell me what happened." He presses the now-damp rag to Ghoul's face, trying to ignore just how grotesque the wound really is. Maybe because it's fresh, maybe because of the fear, but somehow it's worse than the space where Jet's other eye used to be. Kobra never wanted to see an injury of that level on another person again in his life, let alone someone he cares about.

Ghoul flinches away, but Kobra shoots him a look and it must process somehow, because he stills and lets Kobra clean the already drying blood away from the edges of the wound with barely a whine. "It was stupid," he repeats, his voice shaking as much as it's slurring. "I don't know why I did it, Kid."

Something about the way he says that, voice small and wavering, sends a chill down Kobra's throat. Sudden understanding dawns on him. The blood on Ghoul's hands. He's not injured anywhere else. "You did that to yourself?" Kobra asks hoarsely.

Ghoul's eyes snap onto his and the rest of the color drains from his face. Kobra thinks he's going to pass out for a second, but he doesn't. He pulls as far away as he can, scrabbling awkwardly against the cold tiles and porcelain of the bathroom. "I don't know what I though, I was stupid, I don't- Kobra," he whines, with enough animalistic despair that Kobra wants suddenly to burst into tears, if he weren't so utterly stunned.

"Ghoul, calm down, I've gotta stitch it still," he says on autopilot. "Cool your engine, man."

Maybe it's the practicality of the thing that makes Ghoul momentarily stop panicking. "I'm sorry," he says again, tears welling in his eyes that he then blinks away half-frantically. Kobra's never heard him apologize for anything before tonight. He never wants to hear it again.

"It's okay, man. I've got you." He replies. If his own voice is shaking now, too, no the hell it isn't. "Come on, you have to let me..." he trails off, eyes wide. "Ghoul, why..." Then he shakes his head. He can't think about that now. He needs to disinfect the wound and stitch it up. And it's going to hurt Ghoul really, really badly.

He reaches behind him, grabs at the bottle of alcohol. This stuff is rare out in the Zones. They try to use it as little as possible. Only in emergencies. This is enough of an emergency, though. This is a fucking crisis.

He pours the bare minimum of the alcohol onto another piece of cloth, feels the cold soak in. Ghoul watches every move with jerking, stilted intensity. Kobra looks up at him from where he's now kneeling on the cold tile. He puts a hand behind Ghoul's head again. "This is going to hurt," he warns. They've nearly gouged each other's eyes out before, yet suddenly Kobra feels like he's going to be sick at the thought of causing Ghoul any more pain. Ghoul shuts his eyes in preparation.

Ghoul still nearly screams when Kobra dabs the alcohol over his wound. Kobra can see it in the way he holds his breath, the spring-tight tension in Ghoul's entire body. The only noise he makes is a quiet, drawn out whine, though. When a tear streaks down his cheekbone, Kobra catches it before a drop of salt can enter the wound.

"'Kay," he says in a ragged whisper. "That's done. Now I have to-" he gestures like he's sewing. Ghoul's eyes pop open to see what he's saying and he visibly forces himself to breathe again.

"'Kay," Ghoul says back in an equally torn up voice.

It only takes Kobra three tries to thread a needle. Medical supplies of any type are hard to come by, a whole new kind of commodity, but this stash has been here for as long as he can remember, just in case. Blaster burns, the most common injuries amongst 'Joys, come pre-cauterized. He's rarely had to sew sutures before.

Ghoul flinches back when the tip of the needle first touches the edge of his torn skin, and Kobra pauses. "Hold still," he grumbles, more out of familiar sniping than any real frustration at this point. He keeps his hand in Ghoul's hair the entire time he sews.

The feeling of a needle piercing flesh is horrible. The fact that it's his friend, someone he'd give his life for before seeing them hurt, is even worse. Kobra wants to fucking throatpunch whoever did this to Ghoul, or better, do the same thing to them, before he remembers with a sinking feeling in his stomach that Ghoul did this to himself.

He ties off the suture just barely keeping his hands from shaking. He doesn't know how Ghoul does this with bombs. Ghoul flinches again, violently, when Kobra cuts the excess line, and Kobra has to jerk back to keep from catching a flailing, uncoordinated fist in the face.

"Hey," he snaps. "Ghoul!"

Ghoul slips off the toilet lid and onto the floor almost as if he intended it but halfway as an accident and immediately curls in on himself. He pulls his knees to his chest and curls his arms around his head and Kobra can hear him hyperventilating. Kobra fucking freezes. He's used to fighting and wrestling and knee-jerk reactions that wind up with someone sporting a black eye. He is terrified right now. And there's still Ghoul's blood on his hands, too.

"Ghoul..." He cautiously reaches out, puts a hand on Ghoul's leg. Ghoul twitches, lets out a hiccupy sound that takes a moment to register in Kobra's mind as a sob. Ghoul, chaos loving, cackling Ghoul, is crying. And not just a single tear, now, his whole body is shuddering with the force of how hard he's crying. Kobra's heart is pounding with how hard he does not know what's happening, but he grips Ghoul's arm and lightly shakes him. "Hey, I'm still here, man."

Ghoul makes that keening whine again and Kobra thinks at first that he's going to pull away at best, or throw a real punch at worst. They fight enough, for any and no reason at all, that he expects it now. That's their normal. This isn't.

Ghoul scrambles to his knees, his hands finding the front of Kobra's shirt. This restroom is small, they're already in close quarters. But maybe unintentionally, maybe just scrabbling for a little purchase on anything, Ghoul winds up grabbing onto Kobra. And Kobra has always had a hard time letting anything go.

Ghoul's forehead crashes into his shoulder and Kobra instinctively puts his hands up, grabs back onto Ghoul in return. Ghoul's usual shaking is familiar to him, but the repressed wracking sobs aren't. Kobra clutches desperately around Ghoul's back, like he could hold together what he's just sewn up, like if he keeps Ghoul close enough he can't shake into pieces. No one should be able to break Ghoul. Not even Ghoul himself.

The edges of the cabinet dig into Kobra's back, but he ignores it. Ghoul is folding in on himself, making himself as small as he can against Kobra, and Kobra doesn't fucking know what to do. He's never seen Ghoul cry like this. He's never seen anyone cry like this.

"It hurts," cries Ghoul suddenly.

"I know," Kobra says, before he realizes that crying like this is probably making everything worse, that he'd worried about salt in the wound a minute before for this exact reason. He can't imagine the pain Ghoul is probably in.

"It didn't hurt at first," Ghoul mumbles, then chokes on a sob. "It didn't hurt when I started. And then it did."

Kobra wants to ask again, why? But he won't get anything intelligible. There's a part of him that doesn't want to know. He's terrified of knowing the truth. Instead, he threads his fingers through Ghoul's hair again and just repeats, "I know. I know."

A few minutes pass in speedy, spiraling silence. The only sound between them is their shared too-fast breathing.

"I can't," stammers Ghoul finally, after his cries have tapered out into raspy gasps. "I can't turn it on or off."

"Huh?" Is all Kobra can think to say. "Ghoul, you're not making sense, nothing about this makes sense," he snips, too quick and too tense. He's so beyond his depth. He wants Jet or Party to come help but he can't have it his way because he promised. He promised Ghoul. He wants to hit something. A wall, just to feel the impact. To imagine he's hitting whatever it is that hurt his friend so badly he hurt himself.

Ghoul sniffs. All Kobra can see of him is the top of his head and the cheek with the stitches. The wound is swollen and red and is going to leave a horrific scar. Kobra clenches his fist tighter behind Ghoul's back. "When I'm having fun or not," Ghoul says. "I can't. I am or I'm not. But."

"But what?" For fuck's sake, Kobra just wants to understand. He can read Ghoul like a book from cover to cover most times, and it scares him that he's so lost right now.

"It isn't good enough," he mumbles. "It's... It's in my fuckin' name, Kid, if I can't live up to that what am I?"

Kobra stares, wide-eyed, at the wall across from him. Something clicks. The clean cut through Ghoul's face, clearly from a recently sharpened knife, clearly intentional, reached from the corner of his lips almost to his ear. "Oh fuck no," he whispers. "Hell no. What the fuck. You're not-" He feels himself shaking suddenly, with restrained searing hot anger. Ghoul cut his head open, mutilated himself, to make himself permanently grin. "You're not fucking beholden to your fucking name," Kobra says. He never swears this much, only in his own mind. He's running out of words. "Fuck," he says, with feeling.

Ghoul shudders again. "I'm fuckin insane, aren't I?" He asks with sudden clarity.

It's exactly what Kobra had been thinking, for once completely unable to figure out Ghoul's mind, but he can't just say that. He can't just say that he's terrified because nothing makes sense and he's never going to freaking leave Ghoul alone again because this is all completely unhinged on so many levels that he can't even begin to sort through it. He can't say anything. He hopes Ghoul is sane enough to understand that, at least.

He just holds his friend tighter. He wants his brother more than anything right now, wants Party to come and take this weight out of his hands, but a part of him knows that even if he did, he wouldn't be able to let go of Ghoul. Why didn't Ghoul want anyone else but him? Why, after pretty much imprinting on Party like a feral kitten when they'd first met, to the point that sometimes Kobra thinks bitterly than Ghoul might know Party better than his own brother does, did he come to him? Why did he do any of this?

If a few tears of his own drip down Kobra's nose and land in Ghoul's tangled hair, no the hell they don't. He's never seen anyone go to pieces like this and he's struck dumb at the fact that it's literal. Very, very literally, Ghoul has gone to pieces. Taken a knife, that's probably still lying on the floor of his abandoned-office bedroom, and cut a line through his own cheek just so others might see a smile there.

There's crazy in his veins. Acid, maybe. And Kobra's always known that even if Party recognized it first. Watching your whole family die, failing to save your baby sibling, doesn't leave a person without any scars. Only, now, the scar is far too visible. Kobra's always known that Ghoul is more wild than any of them. Feral, unpredictable. He was raised by a pair of Killjoys who named themselves Hoot and Holler, and the thing is, a ghoul is just a ghost, and ghosts wail too. He should have known.

"I should've known," he says out loud, the first words in a while. He knows Ghoul so well. Better than he knows himself. He should have known something was wrong. He should never have left him alone. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He can't even blink. He stares hard at the opposite wall and tries not to scream.

Ghoul shakes his head against Kobra's shoulder and winces. "Nuh-uh," he mumbles. "I'm crazy, man. I'm insane." The fuzzy way it sounds around the stitches and the swelling just seems like proof. Just last night Ghoul's cheek was smooth and soft as he grinned across a table in triumph after winning a card game. How is it that that was just a few hours ago? He shudders again. "I'm scared," he says more quietly.

"Me too," Kobra says. As soon as the sun comes up he thinks he's going to storm out into the desert and find something, anything to beat up. Even a freakin cactus would do at this point. He doesn't know how he's going to explain this to Pois or Jet but he knows that much. He's gonna shake so hard he blows up, like a can of soda, unless he hits something. "I fucking hate you," he snaps suddenly.

Ghoul starts to flinch away, but Kobra doesn't let him. In fact, he curls tighter around him without even knowing why. "What the hell," Ghoul rasps.

Kobra hisses through his teeth. Speaking of living up to names. He fucking hates anyone who hurts his friends. But he can't say it. Hard as he tries, in the one moment of clarity about his own mind that he has, he can't speak.

"I fucking hate me, too," Ghoul says finally. The single dusty lightbulb above them flickers. If it goes out, they'll be in total darkness. Kobra thinks one or both of them might have a wicked eyeshine by now. The desert makes you wild. For some people, they're born that way.

"I think you're my best friend," Kobra finally manages to whisper. It isn't exactly what he was going for. It's not something he would ever say if he had thought of it before it popped out of his mouth. But Ghoul gets the point. Of course he does. Ghoul always gets his sharp edges, snakebite teeth and misspoken definitions and all.

"I think you're mine," Ghoul says back. "I'm-"

Kobra smacks the back of his head, like this is in any way normal, like they aren't collapsed on a dim bathroom floor in the middle of the night or the early hours of the morning and like one of them isn't mutilated for life by his own hand. Like this isn't the worst thing they've ever gone through together. "If you say you're sorry again, I'll cut you myself."

It's rough, and it's torn up and pained and choked, but Ghoul laughs. Just a short bark of laughter, hardly like the dry, rasping cackle that Kobra knows so well. It sounds like agony but it also sounds like the sun coming up. Kobra makes a noise in the back of his throat, more whine than laugh, but he's so close to blowing up that it's as good as it gets. He wants to freaking die if that would keep Ghoul in one piece.

Ghoul shifts in Kobra's arms and pulls away just far enough to look him in the eye. He clumsily wipes at the tears and snot all over his face and Kobra has to snap a hand out to catch his wrist before he unthinkingly swipes at the fresh wound and stitches. "Kobra," Ghoul says, shivering in the dark. The sun won't take long to come up once it starts but until it does, the Zones are freezing. "Kobra."

"Yeah, man, I'm still right here." Kobra forces himself to look Ghoul in the eyes and not the stitches. The wound takes up so much of his face. It's all Kobra can see when he looks at Ghoul, his best friend's mutilated mouth, sliced open by his own hand. Kobra flinches just imagining it. He focuses instead on Ghoul's green eyes, boring holes into his head with the desperate pleading in them. "I'm still right here," Kobra repeats, quieter. Reminding himself, too.

Ghoul doesn't blink. Kobra doesn't blink. Their eyes reflect the dim light back at each other. This is what wild animals must feel for each other. Terror. Uncertainty. Just themselves, each other, and whatever comes. Ghoul licks his lips, tongue flicking briefly, visibly, to the corner of his mouth that he cut open. "Don't let me-" Ghoul starts and then falters. "You gotta make sure," he says. "Don't let me- do stupid shit like this, don't let me go crazy again, Kobra, please."

Kobra stares back at him, matching Ghoul's trembling desperation. He's known Ghoul since the day their crew found him, shell shocked between the shelves of an empty gas station with the bodies of his parents and previous crew around him. Perpetually shaking hands and feral bared teeth, animal eyeshine. No one can match Ghoul for determination, and no one knows Kobra as well as he does. Even if Ghoul does know his brother better than him, the same is true in reverse.

Kobra Kid has a hard fucking time ever letting go of anything once he's got it. Fun Ghoul holds on too loosely. They're both terrified. What a pair they make. But when Kobra Kid makes a promise, he means it. He grabs the ends of Ghoul's hair and pulls, not too hard, but hard enough. That's their normal. Play fighting and hair pulling, and they both know it's a kind of language for when they can't speak. "Okay," he says, and because it's a promise, he repeats it. "Okay."

#uhhhh anyway. come to killjoys world with me #I keep calling these two my mongoose and snake #they take out their worst on each other but at the same time it's like they were *made* for each other #also a few notes in the tags: kobra repeats himself a lot. that's intentional. it's because I do it irl #quite honestly at this point I might almost have a stutter??#anyway also there's a TON of super vague song references in here. I almost called this ''a scar away from falling apart''#but I couldn't stop thinking about that one boygenius song while I wrote this. would you still love me if it turns out I'm insane?#also the two(2) minor refs to famous last words!!!!#and very very loosely the ''what a pair they make'' line is bc what a catch donnie came up on my playlist right then #also this is WAY more swearing than I would usually write but... it just felt right? like it helped the flow?? and fit the characters? idk #ANYWHOMST. random danger days precanon fic. the girl isn't here yet.#she speaks!#HMMM do I need a writing tag for this blog?#she writes!#danger days #the true lives of the fabulous killjoys #kobra kid #fun ghoul #K I think I've got it covered #wait trigger tags #self-harm tw #self mutilation tw

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mattodore · 8 months

Text

The BOLD THE FACTS tag with Theo (requested)

tagged for theo by @wldestluv-rs and @earthmoonz <3

The Rules are simple! Tag people and name a character you want to know more about! If you want to let the person you tagged decide who to showcase, then don’t name a character and they can pick somebody. Easy! The person who is tagged will then bold the remarks below which apply to their character &, if they want to, include a picture with their reply!

[ PERSONAL ]

$ Financial: wealthy / moderate / poor / in poverty / other (theo is financially dependent on his wealthy parents and technically has no money of his own) ✚ Medical: fit / moderate / sickly (he overworks himself, gets very little sleep, smokes frequently, and abuses drugs… he’s not doing so hot) / disabled / disadvantaged / non applicable ✪ Class or Caste: upper / middle / working / unsure / other ✔ Education: qualified / unqualified / studying / other ✖ Criminal Record: yes, for major crimes / yes, for minor crimes / no / has committed crimes, but hasn't been caught (theo uses illegal drugs) / yes, but charges were dismissed

[ FAMILY ]

◒ Children: had a child or children / has no children / wants children ◑ Relationship with Family: close with sibling(s) / not close with sibling(s) / has no siblings / sibling(s) is deceased ◔ Affiliation: orphaned / adopted / disowned / raised by birth parents / not applicable / other (while technically living with his parents and being raised by them as a teen, theo was raised more closely by his au pair when he was younger)

[ TRAITS + TENDENCIES ]

♦ extroverted / introverted / in between ♦ disorganized / organized / in between ♦ close minded /open-minded / in between ♦ calm / anxious / in between ♦ disagreeable / agreeable / in between ♦ cautious / reckless / in between ♦ patient / impatient / in between ♦ outspoken / reserved / in between (he can lash out but generally theo keeps a lot of his thoughts to himself) ♦ leader / follower (theo doesn’t like the spotlight) / in between ♦ empathetic / vicious bastard / in between ♦ optimistic / pessimistic / in between ♦ traditional / modern / in between ♦ hard-working / lazy / in between ♦ cultured / uncultured / in between / unknown ♦ loyal / disloyal / unknown (theo hasn't had enough people in his corner to answer this one with any amount of certainty) ♦ faithful / unfaithful / unknown (similar to the above, theo hasn't dated enough to give a general answer for this)

[ BELIEFS ]

★ Faith: monotheist / polytheist / atheist / agnostic ☆ Belief in Ghosts or Spirits: yes / no / don’t know / don’t care ✮ Belief in an Afterlife: yes / no / don’t know / don’t care ✯ Belief in Reincarnation: yes / no / don’t know / don’t care ❃ Belief in Aliens: yes / no / don’t know / don’t care ✧ Religious: orthodox / liberal / in between / not religious ❀ Philosophical: yes / no

[ SEXUALITY & ROMANTIC INCLINATION ]

❤ Sexuality: heterosexual / homosexual / bisexual / asexual / pansexual ❥ Sex: sex repulsed / sex neutral / sex favorable / naive and clueless / other (theo has sex regularly but that doesn't necessarily mean he's favorable... this isn't to say that he never wants or enjoys sex, but that he has a tendency to use sex in unhealthy ways. it's complicated.) ♥ Romance: romance repulsed / romance neutral / romance favorable / naïve and clueless / romance suspicious (doesn’t trust people not to hurt him) ❣ Sexually: adventurous / experienced / naïve / inexperienced / curious ⚧ Potential Sexual Partners: male / female / agender / other / none / all ⚧ Potential Romantic Partners: male / female / agender / other / none / all

[ ABILITIES ]

☠ Combat Skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none ≡ Literacy Skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none ✍ Artistic Skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none ✂ Technical Skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

[ HABITS ]

☕ Drinking Alcohol: never / special occasions / sometimes / frequently / Alcoholic ☁ Smoking: tried it / trying to quit / quit / never / rarely / sometimes / frequently / chain-smoker ✿ Recreational Drugs: never / special occasions / sometimes / frequently / addict ✌ Medicinal Drugs: never / no longer needs medication / some medication needed (headache meds regularly and sleeping pills a few months out of the year) / frequently / to excess ☻ Unhealthy Food: never / special occasions / sometimes / frequently / binge eater $ Splurge Spending: never/ sometimes / frequently / shopaholic ♣ Gambling: never / rarely / sometimes / frequently / compulsive gambler

tagging @wldestluv-rs for faye (i've got you nene ☝️), @veone for nick, @stinkrascal for vlad and also maybe amarie if you wanna, @omgkayplays for malaika, and @lucidicer for pogo and vincent whenever you come back from your break ♥

#river dipping #theodore doe #echthroi #oc extras #ts4 #i'm going through my activity feed veeeeeeery slowly rn. i know i know i'm shocked too #thank you both for tagging me in this <3 it was fun and quick to do which i'm not used to when it comes to answering things abt my ocs lmao #AND WHOSE FAULT IS THAT RIVER??? ...true #this is just a random screenshot that i took while in game the other day so this isn't even posed but theo's handsome so who cares #i tried really hard not to add a bunch of extra comments expanding on each of these answers bc it's fr not that serious...#still caved for some of them tho djhdkfgnhk #i have two more of these to do so i'll just tag a few ppl at a time #and i kinda wanna @ ppl in this for just their baldur's gate ocs too........#tho i'm not sure all of these would even apply in that case but dkfnkgjnh #but anyway let me get to matthias's and then i'll have to pause catching up on my activity feed to get in game #and take a pic of one of my other ocs for the @s i got for the tag game that didn't specify an oc...#i'm thinking about doing either imani or......... dionte? delphi? sehyuk?#idk............... i'll probably go with imani since i mention her a lot anyway irt matthias

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joonie-beanie · 7 months

Text

Doctor's Orders | [Wriothesley x Reader]

Summary: “Simply put, the Duke needs to have sexual intercourse to relieve his tension. After watching the two of you and seeing you interact on both physical and intellectual levels, I determined that you would be ideal partners for each other. So, I invited the both of you to partake in an aphrodisiac made from the herbs you gathered for me.” In which a simple tea time turns heated, and you get caught up in the consequence of Wriothesley not listening to his doctor. Content: Smut, Consensual Sex, Oral Sex, Aphrodisiacs, fem!reader Word Count: 7.9k

Sigewinne is evil.

You would have never suspected that such a tiny, cute body could contain so much malevolence. (Although, Sigewinne would personally argue that you’re confused, and that the word you’re looking for is actually benevolence. But, you digress.)

It all starts a few weeks into your employment at the Fortress of Meropide.

You’d spotted a job listing for a “personal assistant” in passing one day, and had immediately become interested thanks to the very generous salary listed on the paper. Seeing the job was located in Fontaine’s unofficial prison had, of course, caused you to have some second thoughts about applying, but at the end of the day, money is money.

Which is how you’d found yourself down on the ocean floor, waiting with a few other candidates outside the Duke’s office.

You’d be lying if you said that you weren’t nervous—waiting there to meet the head honcho of the prison. That when he stepped out to call you inside for your interview—all tall and beefy and scarred—your heart didn’t nervously flutter inside your chest.

…but to your surprise, he’s actually much softer than he appears.

“So,” he says, sitting down across from you at his desk. He folds his arms and smiles at you. “Why should I hire you? ”

Having been through this process before, you had immediately rattled off your qualifications and experiences. A few of which Wriothesley had proceeded to comment on and inquire about further. But it wasn’t until he asked—

“What benefit will I receive from picking you specifically?”

And you’d responded with—

“Errand girl.”

“What?”

“I can run errands for you. I’m sure the guards can be slow, going back and forth. But if you’re my direct employer, I can do whatever you want. Drop documents off, check in on things…pick up more tea.”

—that Wriothesley finally makes up his mind.

“Hmm. Very convincing.”

The next day, you receive a letter with the terms of your employment, and your official start date.

So, since then, you’ve been working for Wriothesley. Which is actually kind of…nice.

Your job mostly consists of going back and forth between the prison and the surface, so that Wriothesley can stay in the Fortress and better monitor his domain. The autonomy the job grants you is very rewarding, and in the same breath, Wriothesley also feels rewarded by how you take care of things without him needing to ask more than once.

Safe to say, the two of you get along.

…which Sigewinne notices.

You, of course, meet Sigewinne on your first day. Wriothesley makes a point of introducing you and showing you where the nurse’s office is located, in case you get hurt, or need to drop something off.

The human-like melusine enthusiastically welcomes you, and, at first, you see her as…someone sweet, and caring. A treasure of the prison.

However, over time, your opinion of her slowly starts to change.

Because she keeps looking at you. Specifically, whenever you’re standing next to Wriothesley.

“Why is she doing that?” you ask him one day, nudging him gently with your elbow. He immediately looks up from his meal, over to where Sigewinne is waiting in the lunch line, her pink eyes boring into you.

“She’s probably just double checking that you’re healthy,” Wriothesley responds, paying her no mind. “I often catch her staring at me, too. You must be growing on her.”

Despite his reassuring words, you can’t help but feel a little…put off…by the look in her eyes. Like she’s plotting something.

The second weird thing you notice is when you walk into the infirmary to drop off some herbs she’d asked for, and find her drawing. At first, you assume she’s doodling, since she seems kid-like a lot of the time.

But instead, when you lean over her shoulder and look, you see that she’s writing words. A big, black “DO NOT DISTURB”...with pink hearts and a few flowers drawn around it.

“What’s that for?” you ask her, forcing a smile.

“Oh! It’s just for a project I’m working on,” she responds, swiveling in her chair to face you. She happily kicks her feet, her eyes darting to the herbs you’re carrying with you.

“Ah, are those what I asked for? Thank you!”

You hand her the small bundle of dried flowers and grasses, watching as she immediately turns and places them on her desk next to some string, and cheesecloth.

“You’re welcome,” you respond, taking a small step backwards. “If that’s all, I’ll keep working on the rest of the tasks on my list—”

“Wait,” she says, grabbing your wrist. You instantly freeze, your eyes going wide as you turn back to face her. There’s a serious look on her face.

“How do you feel about Wriothesley?”

Her question makes your heart skip—heat rising on your skin.

“What?”

She doesn’t bother elaborating or giving you context, just waits for you to respond. You cough a little, feeling awkward, and wondering what kind of answer she’s looking for.

“Well…I mean. I think he’s a good boss. He’s friendly, and devoted to his job. He runs the prison well.”

Sigewinne nods, but doesn’t comment. Just keeps…staring.

Feeling pressured, you force yourself to think of more to say.

“Um…he’s deserving of his title and the respect he garners. I…enjoy speaking with him? Like when he invites me to partake in tea breaks. I dunno…he just kinda reminds me of a big, fluffy puppy. He looks scary but he’s actually pretty…cute, y’know?”

Finally, Sigewinne smiles. She takes your hand in her tiny ones, giving it a squeeze.

“Thank you for answering my question. You can go now.”

You blink at her dumbly, but nonetheless excuse yourself from the room.

Two days later, Wriothesley invites you to his office for tea. And to your surprise, when you walk in, you find Sigewinne waiting there as well.

“Thank you for coming!” she says as you enter the room. You flash her a smile, taking a seat in one of the open chairs around the table.

“Of course!”

“Sigewinne has a tea she wants us both to try,” Wriothesley explains, a fond look in his eyes as he watches the resident nurse flit around—pouring hot water into the teacups that have been set out.

You nod.

“I see.”

“Although, I don’t know why you won’t just steep the tea in the pot,” Wriothesley complains to her, just as Sigewinne places individual tea bags in each cup. “Are we not all being served the same tea?”

She cutely huffs.

“For your information, no we are not. Your and Y/N’s tea is unique.”

“Oh?” Wriothesley leans forward to look into the teacups as the colors from the herbs begin to bleed into the water. “What’s so unique about it?”

“You’ll see,” she responds with a playful look, one that causes Wriothesley to amusedly raise his eyebrows. However, he doesn’t say anything more—simply waiting for the tea to appropriately steep.

“...are you using the herbs I brought you?”

You can’t help but notice the smell wafting from the cup in front of you is a little familiar. Sigewinne nods.

“Wow! I’m surprised you noticed.”

“Ah, so this must be the reason you wanted me to lend you Y/N for a task the other day,” Wriothesley chimes in, his icy blue eyes once again shifting to Sigewinne.

“Do I get to know what herbs you requested Y/N to bring you, exactly?”

The resident nurse shakes her head, quietly laughing when Wriothesley sighs and deflates back into his chair.

“It’s meant to be a surprise! I want to see what you think about the taste without knowing the ingredients.”

“I suppose that’s fair.”

Folding your hands on your lap, the office descends into silence for a brief moment, the three of you intently watching the teacups in front of you. Then, Sigewinne finally claps her hands and declares—

“Okay, they’ve steeped long enough. Go ahead!”

“Finally,” Wriothesley happily mumbles, reaching forward to pick up the pristine little plate on which his cup of tea resides. He brings the cup to his nose, inhaling deeply, and then takes a tentative sip.

“Hmm…”

He frowns, his brows pinching as he tries to discern the flavors he’s tasting.

Curiosity getting the better of you, you take a sip from your own cup—wincing as the hot liquid accidentally burns your tongue.

“So?” Sigewinne prompts, staring excitedly between the two of you.

“It’s…pleasant,” you respond, clearly not as big of a tea connoisseur as the Duke. “It has a hint of sweetness.”

“It tastes like a Rainbow Rose smells,” Wriothesley adds, taking another sip. His gaze slides to you. “Did you pick some for her?”

You shake your head.

“No, I didn’t. Or…at least I didn’t pick any fresh ones. I did go to a vendor and purchase something in a bottle that looked like crushed, pink dust.”

Sigewinne cutely laughs.

“As expected of you, Your Grace. Yes, one of the ingredients is dried Rainbow Rose petals. Do you like it?”

Wriothesley makes a pleased sound.

“I do. The taste is light, but pleasant—like Y/N said.”

“Good! I want both of you to drink up.”

Sigewinne finally picks up her own tea, and you can’t help but notice the difference in color when compared to yours and Wriothesley’s. She really is drinking something different…but why?

“Aye aye, captain,” Wriothesley responds, which makes Sigewinne laugh. You smile at the cute interaction between them, and have some more of your tea as well.

Together, the three of you engage in friendly conversation—catching up about recent topics while indulging in tea and a few different snacks that Wriothesley had pulled out for the occasion. As you drink, you can’t help but notice you feel…warm. A heat that spreads out from your stomach, and slowly creeps into your limbs.

You’ve never felt this way before but…maybe the tea is just extra hot today?

You glance up to Wriothesley and notice that he’s a little flushed as well. Which is…reassuring? You think. Since you’re obviously not the only one affected.

“Oh! Y/N!”

Sigewinne’s sudden call of your name draws you from your thoughts, and you look over at her. She smiles.

“I forgot to ask, but are you dating anyone?”

“Sigewinne,” Wriothesley gently scolds. He leans forward and sets his teacup on the table, the cup now empty.

His tone practically says “It’s not appropriate to ask questions like that” without actually saying it. Sigewinne pouts.

“Aww, c’mon. We’re all friends here! I wouldn’t ask otherwise.”

Hearing that the melusine considers you to be a friend, you decide to grace her with an answer—ignoring the tingling of the taste buds on your tongue.

“No, I am not seeing anyone,” you inform her with a polite smile. Sigewinne nods happily at your answer, which makes your smile waver.

Is she happy you’re single?? Ouch.

“Okay, good,” she says. “I’d feel a little bad, otherwise.”

You blink in confusion at her words, watching her as she pops off her chair and heads towards the door. Wriothesley raises an eyebrow at her.

There’s sweat beading on his brow.

“Where are you going?”

“Away,” she responds. “To give you two some privacy.”

You and Wriothesley glance at each other, mirroring each other’s confusion.

Your tummy starts to ache.

“Why are you leaving us alone, exactly?”

Stopping just in front of the office doors, Sigewinne turns on her heel to face the two of you. There’s a smug grin on her face.

“This is what happens when you don’t follow doctor’s orders.”

You frown, raising a hand to your chest, wondering why your heart is suddenly racing.

What’s this about doctor’s orders?

You glance over at Wriothesley…only to see that he’s frozen in shock—his eyes wide with realization.

His pants feel too tight.

“Sigewinne, you did not—”

There’s an edge to his voice when he speaks, his eyes narrowing. He plants his feet on the floor and prepares to stand and confront her, but before he can blink, Sigewinne has drawn her pistol—a tranquilizing bullet hitting him square in the chest, where a little patch of skin is showing.

He makes a noise of surprise, and quickly flops back into his chair to avoid falling on the floor—his limbs immediately going numb.

“Sigewinne!” you gasp. You’re not sure what’s going on, but the fact that she’d just shot Wriothesley is…

“It’s okay,” she says with a little sigh. “The effect will wear off in a few minutes. And…I’m sorry I scared you. Let me explain…”

She holsters her gun and smiles at you, trying to calm you down.

“As the nurse of the Fortress of Meropide, it is my duty to look after all residents, including Your Grace. And over the last few months, I’ve noticed him becoming more… irritable.”

“Sigewinne…,” Wriothesley mumbles, but the girl waves him off.

“After observing him for a while, I realized that his stress levels were getting high. And as his doctor, I recommended him a way to manage his stress, but he refused. He insisted tea was enough to soothe his nerves, but that’s simply not true. So…when you started working here, and I saw how well the two of you were getting along, I…got an idea.”

Sigewinne glances over at Wriothesley, noticing how he’s begun to shift his boots against the floor.

Her tranquilizers won’t be in effect much longer. They never work as well on people Wriothesley’s size…

So, she decides to cut to the chase.

Reaching into her pocket, Sigewinne pulls out the DO NOT DISTURB sign you’d seen her making the other day. She holds it in front of her, and beams at you.

“Simply put, the Duke needs to have sexual intercourse to relieve his tension. After watching the two of you and seeing you interact on both physical and intellectual levels, I determined that you would be ideal partners for each other. So, I invited the both of you to partake in an aphrodisiac made from the herbs you gathered for me.”

“You…you drugged us?” you gape, completely thrown by everything she’s just told you. She immediately gets defensive, her cheeks puffing.

“I medicated you,” she corrects. “And in the end, I’m only acting as a doctor. This all could have been avoided if Your Grace had just taken care of his own needs, as I’d insisted. Since he didn’t, I could only logically assume it's because it’s his preference to have a partner, rather than going at it solo. So, if you want to blame anyone for this, please blame him.”

“Sigewinne—”

Gripping the arms of his chair, Wriothesley breathes out a heavy sigh and begins to push himself up. You can’t help but notice his face is much redder now, and you’re not sure if it’s from embarrassment, the effects of the drugs, or both.

Seeing that Wriothesley has nearly regained his strength, Sigewinne hurries to exit his office.

“Anyway! The effects of the tea should wear off in a few hours, but only if you relieve yourselves. Otherwise, it will last much longer. So I suggest you let loose and indulge yourselves. You like each other! Enjoy this time!”

Wriothesley opens his mouth to say something, but his words catch in his throat the second Sigewinne opens his office door. He doesn’t want anyone outside of his office walls to hear him or know what’s going on.

“I’ll hang this sign on the door,” Sigewinne continues, her voice hushing. “So no one comes in while you two are…busy. Just remove it once you’re done, okay? Have fun!”

With a supportive little fist pump, Sigewinne then closes the door, leaving you and Wriothesley alone.

A few long beats of silence pass, then Wriothesley finally sighs.

"I…apologize for this. I never meant for you to get roped in."

You turn to look at him, only to find that he's standing with his back to you, his hand raising to rub at the back of his head.

You can see his muscles flexing as he does so, and you hate to admit that it causes the heat inside you to grow.

"It's…not your fault," you respond, laughing a little awkwardly. "I doubt it's easy to follow directions when your doctor tells you to jack off to rectify your hardass-ness."

Wriothesley glances at you over his shoulder.

"Have I been acting like a hardass?"

"You've been a little snippy at times," you tell him, smoothing your sweaty palms down your legs. Seriously, your clothes are starting to make you feel claustrophobic…

"Not to me, specifically. But I've noticed it towards some of the prison residents."

"Shit," he sighs, rubbing his temples. You continue to watch him, your eyes wandering the expanse of his back. For a second, you don't understand why he won't face you. Then it clicks.

"...are you…hard? Is that why you're not turning around?"

"It's…pretty bad," Wriothesley admits, his shoulder sagging in defeat. "I don't know what all was in that tea but…as an aphrodisiac, it's doing its job."

"Yeah…," you agree, swallowing heavily. You can feel wet arousal pooling on the fabric of your panties. His office has also started to feel like a sauna, but you're not sure if it's the air that's hot, or your body.

However, you're still not willing to breach the topic of "relief" with him. You haven't reached that level of desperation…yet .

So, you think of something else to carry the conversation in the meantime.

"So…Sigewinne said you like me?"

"Ah, you caught that."

He laughs a little, and begins pacing around the room, still careful to keep his back to you. You can't help but notice his stride is a little…impeded.

"If I'm being frank—yes, I do. You've been…a pleasure to have around, since I hired you. Actually, one of the reasons I picked you in the first place was because of how you acted during your interview. Most people are scared of me and therefore talk cautiously. You're certainly respectful, of course, but…you're a bit playful, as well. And I found that quality to be attractive."

"Ah, so I charmed you," you respond playfully. "Remind me to add that point to my resume later. "Managed to woo the Lord of the Fortress of Meropide". That sounds pretty good—"

"And there you go again," Wriothesley laughs. He steps behind the chair he'd been sitting in previously, and then finally turns to face you—the back of the chair tall enough that his lower half is out of sight.

"Although, if I recall her words correctly, Sigewinne stated that we "like each other". So, is there something you'd like to say as well?"

Your eyes go wide, and you feel more blood rush into your head. Wriothesley smiles, wide enough to show teeth.

"C’mon now. It's not fair that I praise you and get nothing in return."

You pout.

"To be fair, I didn't know why Sigewinne suddenly asked me what I thought of you…"

"That’s understandable, but still. I'd like to know what you told her."

Wriothesley maintains his playful demeanor, despite the way his knuckles begin to turn white at his sides—a deep-seated need slowly sinking its claws into him.

You sigh.

"I just…told her that you're a good boss, and are deserving of your titles and the respect you garner…"

You trail off, suddenly remembering the last thing you'd told Sigewinne during that conversation. Wriothesley clearly notices there's something you're leaving out, one of his eyebrows raising.

"And?"

You take a deep breath.

"That you're a cute puppy."

He blinks in shock.

"...excuse me?"

Oh god, you wanna phase through the floor.

"I said that even though you look scary, you're really just like a big…cute…puppy."

For a moment, Wriothesley can only stare at you. Then, he throws his head back and laughs.

Embarrassed, you plant your palms on your thighs and push to your feet, instinctively wanting to run away…only to realize that your legs have gone weak.

With a distraught noise, you flop back into your chair.

Out of the corner of his eye, Wriothesley notices.

He coughs, pulling himself back together.

"Well, I've certainly never heard myself described in such a way before. I can't say I totally hate it, but I'm not sure if I agree with the term "puppy"."

You force an awkward laugh, finally losing steam as the arousal inside you begins to cloud your thoughts. Sigewinne obviously wasn't messing around when making her aphrodisiac…you've never felt so horny before that it has literally hindered your mental and physical faculties.

The office is silent for a few tense moments, but finally, Wriothesley heaves a heavy sigh. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, his shoulders slumping as he hangs his head.

"You may revoke your good opinion of me, considering how inappropriate it is for a boss to even consider such a thing, but…I think my dick is gonna explode soon, so I'll just come out and ask."

You swallow, anticipating his next words.

"Would you be…interested in having sex?"

Your body shivers in excitement at the idea, the lustful part of your brain screaming at you to jump him already.

"I…would," you admit, managing to keep it together. Wriothesley's entire body jolts impatiently at your words, but he’s able to keep himself grounded.

"I don't think I'll be able to survive…this without some relief. And…I trust you. So…"

"So we're in agreement," Wrioslethely supplies, waiting for your confirmation. You nod your head.

"We are."

In the next beat, he's is crossing the space between you, a "thank god" barely making it past his lips before he crashes them into yours.

Immediately, you’re groaning into him—your arms wrapping around his neck and his hands finding the backs of your thighs. He lifts you from your chair easily—your chests pressing together as he holds you close.

You’ve always been acutely aware of how large Wriothesley is, but you don’t think it fully sinks in until now—as he manhandles you with ease, quite literally carrying you with one arm as the other sneaks beneath your shirt and tugs it over your head.

You’re forced to break the kiss as he does so, but the second the fabric has been discarded, you’re tangling your fingers in his hair and dragging him in for another.

Your action evokes a pleased little rumble inside his chest.

“You taste sweet,” he mumbles, his palm roaming over the exposed skin of your back. The warmth of his skin against yours makes you ache.

“It’s probably the aphrodisiac,” you reply breathlessly, a shiver raking your spine when you feel his fingers toy at the waistband of your pants.

“Hmm, shall we posit your theory?”

Before you can even think to ask what he means, the room is spinning—too many things happening at once. However, it’s nearly impossible to miss the feel of your pants being shucked down your legs.

When everything settles, you find that you’re no longer chest to chest with Wriothesley, but rather, face to dick.

“Wh—”

Your cheeks heat up as you finally digest the position he’s put you in—your ass in his face, and his crotch in yours—his body now firmly planted in a chair as he spreads his thighs and makes himself comfortable.

“Wriothesley!” you say in shock, your palms gripping his legs for support as you attempt to turn and face him. However, you quickly realize with the position he has chosen, you’re fairly helpless to do anything—completely at his mercy as he locks his arms around your legs and grips your ass in his hands.

“Hm?” he responds nonchalantly, one of his fingers slipping under the edge of your panties. You shift a little, trying to glare at him, but only succeed in having his clothed dick poke you in the cheek. He tenses at the sensation, and you feel his cock strain helplessly against the fabric of his pants—begging for more friction.

“I’m just testing your theory, like I said,” he continues, a surprised mewl tearing from your throat as he leans his head forward and nuzzles his nose in the damp fabric of your panties.

“If you think it’s the aphrodisiac making you sweet, let’s see if it’s also having that effect elsewhere—”

Before you can protest, Wriothesley is tugging the crotch of your underwear aside—his tongue licking a hot, languid strip between your folds. You gasp at the feeling, your nails digging into his thighs through the layer of clothes that he wears.

Above you, the Duke makes a pleased sound, repeating his previous action—noting the way your body writhes against his hold. His fingers grip your ass tighter, his brows furrowing as he presses his tongue inside your entrance—your arousal quickly coating his taste buds.

“Yep,” he mutters after a moment, his voice tight and his throat bobbing as he harshly swallows. “You taste…addicting.”

His words have your cunt squeezing around nothing, although he quickly dives back in and rectifies that problem—stretching your walls out around his tongue.

“Fuck…,” you pant, your head dropping as your strength wanes. Your muscles progressively start to feel like jelly, thanks to his ministrations. Especially, when he moves his mouth to your clit and begins rolling his tongue around it—a whine escaping you as the desire inside of you sears white hot.

And yet, despite the way Wriothesley presses on—groaning into your pussy as he eats you out—you’d be remiss to forget about the fact that he’s currently affected by the aphrodisiac as well, and has his own needs that need to be taken care of.

So, gathering what strength you have, you manage to push yourself up onto your forearms—your hands moving to the waistband of his pants. You frantically work open the button and zipper of his slacks, and then hook your fingers under the elastic of his underwear, tugging the band down.

…only to have his freed cock immediately spring up and smack you in the face.

Your eyes go wide, and in normal circumstances, you’d expect Wriothesley to laugh at the comedy of what has just occurred. However, too immersed in the way your cunt tastes and feels, and the way your body continues to twitch in his hold, he doesn’t even notice. And, too amazed by the sheer size of Wriothesley’s dick as you finally lean your head back and get a good look at him, you don’t bother saying anything.

No, instead you simply part your lips and take the head of his cock into your mouth—sucking lightly, your tongue teasing at his slit. The groan that’s immediately torn from his throat is involuntary—the sound becoming muffled by your pussy as he momentarily stops to savor the feeling of your mouth on his dick—your tongue flattening on the underside of his shaft as you slowly take more of him into your mouth.

Then, he goes back to eating you out with renewed fervor—your eyes nearly rolling back into your skull when he sucks at your clit.

The room quickly fills with the sound of sloppy and messy oral, your head bobbing up and down Wriothesley’s cock. Saliva drips down his length, his pre-cum smearing against your tongue, and you can’t help but moan.

Everything feels so good—from Wriothesley’s tongue on your cunt, to the way his cock fills up your mouth…

“Fuck,” Wriothesley growls. His fingers move to pull at the folds of your pussy, spreading you open wider. You can feel his hot breath on your skin as he moves his mouth back to your clit, where he then stays—his tongue flicking rhythmically against the sensitive bundle of nerves.

The pace and motion he settles on is one that you know will very quickly damn you, and he figures this out as well based on the way your thighs begin to shake in his grasp. Your body attempts to jolt away from him—trying to escape the onslaught of pleasure he intends to give—but he leaves no wiggle room. He holds you tighter, enjoying the feeling of your mouth on his cock, and how your efforts slowly start to crumble along with your sanity.

“I…,” you mumble the word around dick, trying to warn him of the orgasm you can feel quickly approaching. Your entire body swims with arousal, your head feeling light.

“Keep going, sweetheart,” he pants. “Let’s cum together.”

You feel his cock throb against your tongue, and, dutifully, you do your best to continue sucking him off—your lips once again suctioning around his shaft. Your actions immediately evoke a pleased groan from the Duke, and you feel his thighs tense in your grasp—his own orgasm quickly approaching.

However, despite your best efforts to continue, everything falls apart the second your climax finally crests.

With a cry, you come undone—your body writhing in his hold. You go brainless almost immediately, the strength in your arms wavering, and Wriothesley’s cock stuffing into your cheek—your hot breath fanning over his length.

Luckily, the vulgarity of the entire situation is enough to push Wriothesley over the finish line—his dick painting the inside of your mouth with his cum. And to his surprise, once he’s spent, you actually pull your head back, close your lips, and swallow.

Shit, he thinks.

His dick is just starting to soften, and yet somehow, it’s also already getting hard again.

There’s a few beats of quiet that are filled only with the sound of you and Wriothesley panting. Then, once he’s caught his breath, he says—

“Let’s get you right side up.”

—and the world spins again.

Honestly, the fact that he can manhandle you this easily is criminal.

“You okay?” he asks, sitting you on one of his thighs. He brushes a few stray hairs from your face, staring at you with a hint of concern.

You nod your head, grateful that the carnal desire you’ve been afflicted with is clearly less, now that you and Wriothesley have both gotten off. But…even despite that, you still feel hot and tingly. Like you want more.

You glance down at his lap.

“Mmm. Seems like you’re in the same predicament as me.”

“Think you can handle another round?” he asks. You meet his eyes, playfully raising your eyebrows.

“I’m almost tempted to say no, and see what you do.”

Wriothesley rolls his eyes, his hands grabbing your waist, and in the next moment, you find yourself slung over his shoulder.

“Hey—!” you protest, attempting to look at him, but he only caresses your ass with his free hand.

“If you have that much spunk left in you, you can handle another round,” he says, carrying you down the nearby staircase, to the floor below his office. “But, I’ll be kind this time and make you more comfortable.”

His boots echo against the metal floor as he walks, and for a second, you wonder where exactly he’s taking you. But, soon after, Wriothesley pushes through a nearby door, and you find yourself in a moderately sized bedroom.

It must be his, you realize, feeling a little silly that you’d never pondered before now where the Master of the prison actually sleeps.

“Here we are.”

Wriothesley gently deposits you onto his bed, and then immediately reaches for his tie. You watch him with bated breath, your heart doing a tiny flip as you realize that he’s finally stripping out of his clothes. He opts to leave on the leather belts encircling his arms and neck, instead focusing the bulk of his time on shedding his suit, and undoing the many buckles on his boots.

By the time he’s finished—his erect cock once again sitting heavy between his legs—you’re practically drooling at the sight of him.

His lips twitch into a little smile.

“I’m happy to know that you like what you see. However, in the time I spent undressing myself, you couldn’t be bothered to remove what little clothing you have left? C’mon now, are you waiting for me to wrestle you out of them?”

Still feeling cheeky, you flash him a grin.

“Hm, I’d like to see you try.”

Wriothesley immediately cocks an eyebrow, his eyes glinting at the challenge you’ve just issued, and your attitude wavers, realizing what it is you’ve done. You open your mouth to say you’re only teasing—your hands already raising behind your back to undo the clasp of your bra—but it’s too late.

In one swift motion, Wriothesley grabs your ankle and twists you onto your stomach—his weight settling above you as he kneels onto the bed. You shiver when his knuckles brush against your skin—his fingers swiftly undoing your bra.

“You’re just a little brat, aren’t you…”

He speaks the words fondly, with a hint of amusement, and yet, they still go straight to your cunt.

“Don’t say things like that,” you respond, instinctively raising your hips when Wriothesley hooks his fingers on your underwear and begins tugging them down your thighs. He stares intently at your backside as he does so, an idea popping into his mind.

“Why? Because you like it too much?”

He discards your panties on the floor along with the rest of the clothes you’d both shed, and then grabs your knees, forcing you to spread your legs, so he can properly settle between them.

Another blush rises on your face at his words, your tongue feeling heavy in your mouth. At your lack of response, Wriothesely continues.

“In my understanding, brats tend to like it a little rougher, so…”

His hands ghost up your thighs, to your hips, and he grips you tightly—forcing your lower half off the bed until you’re propped up on your knees—his cock sitting heavy against your ass.

“...what say we continue like this, hm?”

Bracing yourself on your forearms, you turn your head back to look at him—your body tensing as you watch him fist his cock and drag it downward, between the lips of your pussy.

His icy eyes catch yours.

“Any objection?”

“...no,” you mumble, your fingers anticipatedly fisting in the sheets.

Wriothesley nods—

“Good.”

—and then presses the head of his cock inside you.

Immediately, you drop your forehead against the mattress—willing your body to relax for him as he slowly inches inside of you.

His tongue had certainly been enjoyable, but this? Fuck. Nothing compares to the sensation of him slowly stuffing you inch by inch—the girth of his cock positively delicious as he forces your cunt to stretch to accommodate him.

It’s so much that by the time he’s fully seated inside of you, your body is shaking—your breath coming out in quick, desperately little pants.

Seeing your reaction, Wriothesely soothes a hand up your spine, his warm palm settling between your shoulder blades. He decides to start slow—to give you a little more time to adjust to him.

And honestly, he’d love to take his time in general—to really savor the sight of you beneath him, your cunt swallowing his cock so perfectly, but alas. The effects of the aphrodisiac make him impatient with need, and it’s not long before he’s moving faster—little gasps and whines finding their way past your lips as he begins fucking you back onto his cock.

“Ahh…seriously you’re…so fucking tight,” he curses. His fingers dig into the plush of your hip—his jaw clenching, and his racing heart pumping lust through his veins.

Your cunt clamping on his dick seriously might be his personal slice of heaven.

“Wrio, I—,” you can’t even get the words out, your brain short-circuiting. You can’t think straight anymore—not with his cock rubbing you in all the right spots, making a mess of your insides, and quickly rocketing you towards another—

Wait, no, it’s only been a minute—!

“Fuck! ”

You choke the word out, your spine curving and your knuckles turning white as your second orgasm of the night is unexpectedly forced out of you—your pussy spasming around Wriothesley’s dick.

The last of your strength officially drained, you collapse forward onto the mattress, your cheek smushing into the covers.

…however, Wriothesley doesn’t allow your lower half to fall along with the rest of you—his hold on your hips keeping your twitching pussy firmly planted on his still-hard dick.

“We’re not done yet, sweetheart,” he reminds you, his cock continuing to languidly drag between your walls, drawing out the tail end of your pleasure.

You can’t help but whimper at his words, already feeling a bit oversensitive thanks to two consecutive orgasms. Wriothesley does his best to soothe your frayed nerves.

Leaning over you, he gently tangles his fist in your hair—coaxing your head off the mattress so he can kiss you.

The kiss is messy, but sweet—the angle of your bodies forcing his cock deeper inside of you, his hips completely flush against your ass.

“You’re doing so good,” he tells you, peppering a trail of kisses against your cheek, and across your jaw. His praise causes you to whimper, a shiver raking up your spine when his tongue drags across your skin—his teeth nipping at the nape of your neck.

His actions successfully get you to relax—your body becoming more pliable in his grasp as he once again begins to move. And soon enough, the wet sound of sex fills his bedroom once more.

Wanting to help him cum (and to feel his seed fill you), you do your best to help Wriothesley along—purposefully flexing the walls of your pussy as he fucks you. However, in doing so, you accidentally start yourself down the path of yet another orgasm…

Feeling the familiar, aching pleasure beginning to build inside of you once again, you quickly stop what you’re doing. You think that a third orgasm honestly might kill you, but…it’s too late.

Wriothesley has already noticed your growing arousal, and decides that he likes it better when the two of you cum together.

So, he sneaks one of his hands between the apex of your legs, and begins rubbing at your clit.

The garbled, desperate cry that leaves your mouth immediately becomes seared in his mind for a long time to come.

“No, Wrio, I…I can’t. I—”

Your words come out jumbled, tears beading on your lash line.

Momentarily removing his hand from your clit, he once again reaches forward and grips your hair—pulling your head back so he can kiss you. His lips swallow up your worries.

“You can,” he insists, his voice whispering in your ear, and his hot breath fanning over your skin.

“I want you to cum with me, pretty girl. You can do it.”

You give no protest aside from a cute little whine, and that's good enough for Wriothesley.

Releasing your hair, his hand finds your clit once more.

He then proceeds to fuck you into the mattress—pursuing his orgasm with abandon. A groan leaves his mouth at the way your pussy starts clamping on his dick once again—tightening up with each pass of his fingers across your clit—your pussy slick and messy with your own arousal.

Unable to think straight, you can only hold on for dear life—clinging to his sheets like a lifeline. You can’t even process the sounds that are coming out of your own mouth—a damned, desperate symphony moans.

To Wriothesley, it all sounds like a siren's cry—beckoning him closer to the edge.

“Shit,” he pants, feeling his cock throb, and his balls tighten. The motion of his fingers on your clit quickens—your toes curling as the coil of pleasure in your tummy continues to wind—so close to snapping.

Sweat beading on his brow, Wriothesley leans forward, curling his body against yours. His teeth nip at the shell of your ear, his husky voice sending goosebumps across your skin.

“So good for me…,” he breathes, his hips smacking into your ass. His broad strokes deteriorate into needy rutting, and the sensation has you quite literally sobbing—his cock now incessantly grinding into your g-spot.

You can’t take it anymore.

Shoving your face into the mattress, you bite the sheets and scream—your entire body shaking as you cum for a third time, your cunt milking around Wriothesley’s cock.

He curses at the feeling, his face burying in your neck. Wrapping his arms around you, he hugs you to his body—fucking inside of you a few more times before finally joining you in ecstasy.

His teeth sink into you as his orgasms peaks, a heady groan muffled against your skin as his balls empty—pumping you full of his cum.

It’s not until the intensity of his pleasure has died down that Wriothesley ultimately releases you from his hold—your lower half immediately flopping down onto the bed, and his softening cock slipping out of you.

The Duke takes a moment to simply look at you, and how fucked out you are. Your eyes bleary, skin flushed, and the imprint of his teeth engraved in your flesh.

He grunts at the sight, and settles in beside you—his arm curling around your waist as he tugs you back against him. His tongue immediately begins lapping at the bite mark he’d inflicted, attempting to soothe the sting.

After a few seconds, you begin shaking, and Wriothesley immediately pauses, scared that he’s hurt you in some way.

…only to realize that you’re laughing.

“...puppy…”

He props himself up, glancing at you.

“What?”

“You really are like a puppy,” you giggle, your finger lifting to brush a stray tear from your eye. “The way you bit me, and then immediately started licking at it in apology. So cute…”

You break into another tiny fit of laughter, and Wriothesley rolls his eyes, yet can’t help cracking a smile.

“Well, I’m glad to know I didn’t break you, at the very least.”

His hand rubs against your waist.

“...right?”

Finally getting ahold of yourself, you roll onto your back and smile at him, your hand reaching out to cup his cheek. He immediately leans into your touch, and it makes your heart flutter.

“I’m not broken, no. Just…sore. And gross. And sweaty.”

Wriothesley chuckles.

“Well, I think I can rectify some of those issues. I do have a bathroom, with a tub.”

“Wow,” you respond, watching him as he scoots to the edge of the mattress and gets to his feet. He waits a second for you to join him, but you don’t move.

“My…limbs feel like jello,” you admit, raising your arm and flopping it back down bonelessly for emphasis. Wriothesley rolls his eyes, but nonetheless leans over the bed and scoops you into his arms.

You rest your cheek against his chest, admiring for the first time how soft it really is.

“Whatever shall I do with you,” he playfully sighs, carrying you into the adjacent bathroom. He sets you on the vanity, moving over to the tub and turning on the tap for the hot water. You hum.

“Mmm, I can think of a few things you can do. The first of which is helping me into the bath once it’s ready.”

Wriothesley quietly chuckles. Returning to your side, he takes your hand, and brings it to his lips.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Once the tub has filled, the Duke keeps true to his word—once again carefully cradling you in his arms as he seats himself in the tub basin, before positioning you in the space between his legs.

The steaming water immediately soothes the ache of your body, and you sigh in relief—sinking back against Wriothesley’s body. He lightly wraps one arm around your waist, the other resting on the edge of the tub.

For a few long minutes, the two of you bask in silence, simply enjoying the refreshing feel of the bath.

…then, you start to notice something beginning to grow—pressing at your back.

“...really? Is the aphrodisiac still getting to you that much?”

“No,” he admits after a beat, leaning forward to kiss your neck. “I think this one is actually all me.”

You roll your eyes, but nonetheless crane your head to the side—allowing him access to more of your skin as his mouth begins to wander.

“I thought I made it clear that my limbs are jello right now.”

“I can work with that,” he responds, and you feel him grin. His hand slowly trails down your stomach, and between your legs.

“I’ll do all the work. You just get to make pretty sounds and feel good.”

His fingers slide between the folds of your pussy, and you jolt as he passes over your overly-sensitive clit. But seriously…how are you going to say no to him?

“What am I going to do with you?” you sigh, echoing his earlier words. His chest rumbles with laughter, and he grabs your chin with his free hand—turning your head so he can kiss you.

“Mmm, I can think of a few things.”

The next morning, you find yourself in a back in your clothes, standing beside Wriothesley just inside his office door.

“I’ll go first,” you say, to which he nods. “I have some errands to run anyway. You can wait a minute and then come out after me.”

“Sounds good.”

The two of you stare at each other for a second, before you finally square your shoulders, and reach for the door handle.

Before you can twist it, Wriothesley catches your wrist. When you look back at him, you find that there’s a blush on his cheeks.

“So, I’ll…see you later?”

His suddenly bashful demeanor causes you to smile. Pressing onto your toes, you cup his cheeks and softly kiss him. He immediately grabs your waist—deepening the kiss.

“You’ll see me later,” you promise.

With that, the two of you finally separate, and you disappear through his office door.

Wriothesley takes a deep breath at your departure, combing a hand through his hair as he waits for the right moment to make his own exit.

To be safe, he decides to wait a good few minutes. But finally, he opens his door—preparing to venture into the main area of the fortress, and make his normal rounds.

…however, he only makes it a step before remembering the sign Sigewinne had made.

With a sigh, he immediately backtracks and tears the DO NOT DISTURB sign off of his door, crumpling it between his palms.

When he turns back around, he nearly jumps—Sigewinne standing right in front of him.

“So,” she says, a pleased grin on her face. “How’d it go?”

Narrowing his eyes, Wriothesley only stares ahead, and walks past her. She easily follows after him.

“The fact that you’re out and about this early in the day means something likely happened between you and Y/N.”

“No comment,” Wriothesley responds, which makes Sigewinne giggle. They pass by a few prisoners as Wriothesley makes a B-line for the elevator to the production zone. Once there, Sigewinne squeezes herself in along with him.

As the elevator begins to descend, only a few seconds pass in silence, before Sigewinne asks one last question.

“As your doctor, it’s my recommendation that you continue to regularly relieve your stress. So, are you going to be dutifully carrying out my orders from now on?”

Wriothesley makes a little face, glancing away from her.

“...maybe.”

Sigewinne smiles.

That’s good enough for her.

[A Dragon's Constitution] ->

#wriothesley x reader #wriothesley smut #wriothesley genshin #genshin fic #bean fic #fic #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin smut

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